"Anticipation has a habit to set you up

"Anticipation has a habit to set you up

For disappointment in evening entertainment but

Tonight there'll be some love…"

The music over the tannoy was making Frank Lundy cringe. It was one of those moments when music can define what the outcome of a situation is. It's why he preferred the classic composed pieces. No words to influence a decision, just music to define the pace of making a decision. This band was way too chaotic for his liking anyway. Some British stuff, according to the young boys in front of him in the check-in queue.

Oh to be young with no troubles, except where bands are from and what their new albums sound like, again. No being hurt over broken promises. They could just get on with their lives. Not Lundy though. Deb said she would be here. She promised him. So why wasn't she? What could be more important than having a happy life? The two of them could be really happy together, and yet, she still hadn't walked through the automatic doors. Lundy's heart began to sink.

He'd had his hopes up. Who was he kidding? He was old and past-it. Seriously why would Deb want to be with someone like him?

These thoughts didn't stop the heartache that struck every time the queue moved forward. Each step he took moved him further from her.

"My strength is sapping,

And my heartstrings are snapping…"

Yet again the music was correct for the occasion. How they did it, Lundy would never know. Surely he wasn't showing his heartache? He looked around, trying to be subtle whilst scanning people's faces, failing miserably though. The people were looking at him as if to say "sad old man", or "bless him, travelling alone at his age".

He had to distract himself, to get answers. Pulling out his phone, not quite sure what he'd say, he dialled Deb's number. His hand shook slightly as he put the phone to his ear. "Damn, it's engaged. Bloody typical" he thought, pressing the off button with unnecessary force.

Perhaps this was it. This was his life. Hope where hope is useless, being alone when someone should be there, growing old with nobody to care. He would never be happy. Ok, the job-satisfaction was enough to carry him through for a while, but what about when he had to retire? What would he do then?

It was official. He, Frank Lundy was a failure. A failure and alone.

"Despair in the departure lounge,
It's one and they'll still be around at three,
No signal and low battery;
What's happened to me?"

Lundy had finally got to the check-in desk. He'd handed over his passport and ticket, put his suitcase on the conveyor belt. Only just under the weight limit, thank god. Lundy turned and leant on the desk, facing the doors.

"Is that all sir?"

No, it wasn't all. He wanted Deb. He needed Deb, she needed him. They were good together. No, they were great together. He made her feel safe, she said it herself. And after everything she had been through, being the Ice Truck Killer's fiancé and being in the same police department as the Bay Harbour Butcher, she needed security.

But her brother had been that too. And her brother wasn't about to retire because of age. He was around her age, and they were so close. Could he really live with the guilt of taking Deb away from Dexter?

"Sir, you're holding up the queue."

"Yes, that's all."

She was better off without him, regardless of his feelings for her. He, Frank Lundy, was a better man than that.

"Ok then sir. If you would walk this way."

With one last, longing look, Lundy replied "Sure". As he walked away, he mentally said his goodbyes and apologies to Deb. Old man suffers so a young girl can have a life, right?