I wake before the alarm as the sunlight filters through the blinds of my room, slicing the bed and my body into thin slivers. My eyes open and I feel nothing. Again. I look at the white ceiling, the usual cracks, the spider's web I never bothered to move, why should I disturb another predator's home? Mine has been disturbed enough for both of us.

I don't look at the empty side of the bed. It's a conscious decision, like the same one I made yesterday and the day before. For the last three weeks since Harrison's birthday, since Lumen left. I try again to be happy for her, to wish her well in her life without the Darkness but it feels like a lie. When my mind begins the inevitable replay of events, the burgeoning of emotion in me for this broken, strong woman, the brief happiness, the devastation of her leaving, then I get up. It's bad enough that the universe seems to conspire against me without my own brain joining in.

Like an automaton, switching off my thoughts, I shave, brush my teeth, floss and get dressed. In the living room Cody and Astor curl up on their makeshift beds, Harrison is awake, standing in his cot and grinning at me. I look at them all, my family, the people I am left with after the tornado which has battered my life. We are all survivors here.

As quietly as I can I cut the oranges and squeeze the juice. I can't make coffee without waking the kids; we're going to have to rethink this living arrangement. All my life is about finding space for people, having too much space, having too little. I'm thinking too much.

"Dex," it's Harry, leaning on the counter top, looking concerned. "Dex, I'm worried about you. You need to get motivated, occupy yourself." Is my dead cop, stepfather really advising I kill someone? I look at him sideways as I drink my juice.

"Thanks for the suggestion. Are you going to baby sit for me while I 'occupy' myself?" I raise an eyebrow, he purses his lips.

"You can't let your situation interfere with your piece of mind Dexter. How long is it since you felt ok?" I look into my juice. The red and vermillion liquid frothy in the glass. I watch a piece of mangled orange slide into the bottom of the glass. I know how long. I know exactly how long but I'm not going to say it. My brain went down that route as soon as he said 'motivation'. Jordan Chase's favourite word. And suddenly I see it all again.

Lumen's face, angry as she grabs his cheeks and shouts at him, her arm slashing back and the thud of the knife going into his chest. The look on his face, on her face. I close my eyes. Stop it, I tell myself. But it's too late. My mind reels the film on, Deb's voice through the plastic sheeting, the gun shot, the running away, the bags on the boat, the morning after. I close my eyes tightly, the blood pounds in my eyelids. Harrison cries.

I whisper to him something soothing as I step over Cody and Astor's sleeping bodes and pick him up. As I carry him into the bedroom to change his diaper I hear the other two waking up. At least now I can have coffee.

Sonja arrives and I head off to work. The drive which used to bring me some peace before the blood and gore of my job does nothing to soothe me today. Other drivers irritate me, seeming to do so deliberately as thought here's been some announcement on the news. 'Annoy Dexter Morgan day'. I sigh as another cyclist swerves in front of me. One day I'll just mow one of the spandex suited idiots down.

My attempt to get to my desk without being spotted is thwarted by Deb, of course it is.

"Hey!" she says chirpily, sauntering over with two cardboard cups of coffee. She hands one to me and answers my frown. "Astor texted that you were on your way so I got two." Great now the independent satellites of my fragmented family are communicating. I wonder briefly what they say about me.

"Anything interesting?" I nod my head to the briefing room where LaGuerta is talking at length to the team, her hands gesture fluently telling them all that this is important, they'd better crack this case soon. The usual talk, pressure from the Chief, the press, the people of Miami. Debs looks in the direction I indicate.

"Oh, that. Right. Yeah some cocksucker's offing little girls downtown. Bastard's done four already." She shakes her head; I know sometimes the job appals her. It's why she's such a good cop, she uses that caring as her motivation. That word again. It's like a theme for the day, what is this? Sesame Street?

"I haven't been called to the crime scene?" I frown. She drinks her coffee.

"No, well, Masuka took the last two, you were busy and we've only just linked the other two murders to the same guy." I nod, slightly worried that they're asking Masuka over me. "Anyway Dex," she touches my arm, "you needed a break from death." I don't look at her because this is one of those moments where I don't know what she's saying. Is she talking about Lumen leaving? Her perception of my mood since my mysterious 'tenant' vanished? Or is she referring to what she thinks she knows about me? My part in the murder of the Barrel Girls Boys?

Quinn bangs on the window of the briefing room and impatiently waves us in. I follow Deb, taking a deep sigh as I do, maybe some brainwork will distract me from this lethargy, maybe Harry is right, I need distraction.

Masuka really enjoys being the lead blood guy on this case. He doesn't exclude me exactly but he mentions a couple of procedures which I invented but he doesn't bother to say where he learnt them. I don't care. I've already started to think of how I can find a new distraction.

Masuka flashes up the crime scene photos. Small bodies crumpled in the same way, discarded by a greedy monster. I feel my Dark Passenger wake up. The death of children pokes it in its cave.

I'm mentally searching the area in which the bodies were found, trying to remember if there's a likely place for the killer to live when Deb brings up a map of the area on the board. Using a whiteboard pen she starts to draw lines on the board, triangulating the crime scenes and thinking aloud about where the perpetrator might be staying. Sometimes she's too damned sharp. I can't be chasing my own department again; I have to find my own person to hunt. What I need is a missing persons case that ended badly. Someone they're not looking for any more.

I'm leaning at the back, against the glass, arms folded in the way I like to stand in briefing. In front of me is a female officer I have not seen before. Her long blonde hair is catching the bright Miami sunshine and I watch the gold and silver glitter in the window's beam. My chest feels tight; Deb's voice fades away as the woman in front of me becomes a ghost. A ghost who makes the room suddenly claustrophobic. She is my mother, she is Rita, she is Lumen. I start to cough. Deb looks up confused and Masuka turns to me, his face concerned.

"You ok dude?" he whispers. I nod, still coughing, feeling my gorge rise. I leave the room.

Back behind my desk, secure in the gloom from the black closed blinds I can breathe again. I need to do something about this now. The neat compartments of my history have started to bleed into each other. The phone rings.

"Dexter Morgan."

"Hi, look, I know this is unorthodox but well, our bloody guy's sick and Vince said you weren't busy." He did? I look up and prise open the blinds with my fingers; Masuka is in full flow, loving the audience. Has he got designs on my job?

"And?" I try not to sound abrupt but I know that I don't succeed; the guy on the phone doesn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, right, well. We've got this missing person case, woman, twenty seven, missing from her apartment for two weeks. We need someone to process the scene. I know it's not really your thing but…" The guy's voice tails off. I fill in his blanks. Missing person? Is the universe listening to dear old Dex again?

"The address?" He reels off some place in the suburbs and i scribble it onto the notepad. I open the blinds and scan the office floor. Quinn is making his way over but he sees me and veers off to his desk. He's not being friendly these days but he is avoiding me. I suppose it's a good response to what he must be thinking about me.

I'm waiting for the lift when Angel comes over. He's wearing a new hat. He smiles warmly.

"Hey Dexter. You ok?" He's intimated a couple of times that he's there for me if I ever need to talk. Obviously my carefree widower act is not holding water. I nod.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired you know, with Cody, Astor and Harrison all staying with me in the apartment there's not much room." I don't mention that this close proximity to children is stopping me thinking about Lumen, about my life. Angel's hand squeezes my arm.

"Let's go out sometime Dex, like we used to? I'm sure Maria would sit for you." I smile, thinking about how Maria will feel about this offer. She loves Harrison but I'm not sure how she is with older kids. I'd probably come home to a LaGuerta/Astor showdown.

"Thanks Angel. That'd be great." I've got to start piecing some kind of life together again. I think back to those awful 'boys' nights out' with Vince and Angel. I suppose Quinn would be coming this time too. The lift comes, just saving me from that thought.

It's strange arriving at a crime scene not being worked by my own people. The detective in charge shakes my hand and leads me through the tape and into the apartment. I'm instantly aware that something is wrong.

There are no photos in the whole apartment, nothing to show this girl's past, her family, nothing. Yet it's clear she's lived here a while, no unpacked boxes and the sort of untidiness which points to months of routine. A coat on the back of the chair, shoes left abandoned inside the front door.

It's also obvious she hasn't left of her own accord. In the bedroom the bedclothes have been ripped from the mattress, pooling in a corner like a nest. Someone was frightened here. My Dark Passenger can scent the fear.

"So, an abduction?" I ask and the detective nods and points.

"Yeah, we've no name. Just a neighbour saying there was some noise and that she's gone. The name she was leasing under is false. It's all a bit... odd." He trails off. Good, I like odd.

"Plus, it looks like it. We found these." He shows me some scrapes along a wall, by the back door which leads to the fire escape.

"Fingernails?" I ask, looking at the scraping which starts off deep and becomes fainter as it scores along the plaster. He shrugs.

"That's why we've got you in. Vince said you're good." I look at him, did he? The detective blinks.

"Right, well Dex, I'll let you get on with it then. Yell if you find anything." I kneel down and unzip my bag. By the bottom of the wall is a small half moon of a nail. I take some tweezers and bring it up to my face. There are tiny spots of blood on the edge of the nail. I bag the evidence and then pocket it. This is my hunt.

I stand up and let my eyes pan the room, switching off my thoughts to allow in the silence which is most conducive to deduction. What's wrong here? What is out of place? What tells me the story of what happened?

The polished wood floor gleams dully in the light filtering through the net curtains, by the door some dark scuffing mars the smooth surface. I cross the room and scrape some of the residue into a bag. The detective comes back.

"Anything?" I shake my head as I stand.

"No blood. There's some scuffing might be from where she was dragged but," I shrug, "it might be where she caught her foot and tripped. I took a sample anyway." I hold up the bag in my latex gloved hand and give it a little shake. The detective frowns and nods.

"Well, thanks anyway. Can I call you if anything else comes up?"

"Yeah, sure." I duck under the tape and go back to the SUV.

I drive back to the lab; I turn the radio on but then turn it off again because the news is about the disappearance of Jordan Chase. I don't want to be reminded of her but my mind is replaying again. Damn.

Lumen's skin, flushed and scarred, lying back on the deck of my boat. The smell of her, the taste of her. Her hair like a silk rope between my fingertips. The sound of her breath hissed out over her teeth, her soft lips under mine.

My head is pounding, I can barely see the road, the images of her are so vivid, so paralysing. I pull over to the side of the road, startling a couple of young kids walking on the sidewalk. They glance behind them and walk faster but I'm not interested in them.

I rest my head on the steering wheel, breath ripped out of me. I wait for the pounding, the waves of cold shivers to finish.

"Dexter, focus Dexter." Says Harry from the passenger seat. I slide my eyes sideways, forehead hurting against the vinyl of the wheel.

"I am trying." The words are staccato, pained. Harry frowns.

"What about this missing girl? Get to the station, run the blood on that finger nail. Give yourself something to think about." His voice is urgent; it drills in between the flashes images of Lumen, visceral, more real than reality.

"I know, I know." I grit my teeth over the next wave, her voice saying my name, her hands in my hair. What is this? How can I kill and feel no remorse, no regret and yet this woman unravels me. I trip over my own thoughts. I am shaking.

I sit there, feeling the sweat on my shirt growing cold as I ride the storm of emotion. When I can concentrate I start up the SUV and drive back to the station.

I can't see Deb, not like this. She'll know something is wrong in an instant. I dial the number of the station. Angel answers.

"Batista." He sounds tired.

"Hey Angel, it's Dexter. Is Debra there?" I imagine him looking across the office.

"No, it looks like she and Quinn left early, if you know what I mean." He chuckles. I grimace and force myself to laugh.

"Oh, ok. I'll try her cell. Thanks." I hang up; at least I know she won't be at the station.

I take the blood down to the lab myself. I fill out the stub with a case I've been using to hide things in for the last few months; it helps to know which cases are still open. I hang around, making it clear that I am prepared to wait for the results. The woman in the lab coat sighs and rolls her eyes but she processes the sample anyway. Two hours and three cups of awful machine coffee later I have a name.

Jessica Daniels. I chant it like a mantra as I take the lift to my floor. No one stops me as I make my way to my part of the office and close the blinds. I log in and type her name into the all states database. It scrolls through the possibles and eventually her face and details come up.

She's twenty seven, born a long way from here, Chicago. She's been pulled in twice for stealing. Mainly little things but then there's this mad stage where she's reported missing from home and she steals a car. The neighbour who owned the vehicle didn't press charges. I frown at the slight, blond woman. What aren't you telling me? I ask her silent image.

Her father's name is hyperlinked, so I click. Bryan Daniels. His record is extensive. Time for assault, mainly of his wife and former partners. Time for sexual abuse of the younger sister, the brother. A picture starts to form in my head. I know this kind of monster.

I print the details of them both, stuffing them into my bag as Masuka comes into the room, unaware of my presence.

"Dex! Jesus man! You scared me! What you doing in the dark?" I log off the PC and rub my eyes. "Oh man, are you sleeping here?" I nod sheepishly.

"It's just so hard at home Vince. Don't tell LaGuerta, please. It was just a half hour." I look at him pleadingly, rubbing my hands in my hair knowing it will stick up at all angles and make me look even more sleepy. He pats me on the shoulder.

"If you need a place to rest your head away from the dependents, just call ok?" I nod gratefully and he leaves, shaking his head. I can almost see him deciding never to have children. Not that this decision should pose a particular problem for him, I think.

I drive home thinking about Jessica Daniels. Something tells me she's been running. From her father? Maybe he's caught up with her? As I pull into the kerb I see a woman, blonde, wearing jogging pants and a sweatshirt. She is standing outside the complex of my apartments. She sees the car pull in and she jogs away.

That night, when the children are all asleep and there is nowhere for me to go, I stand on the balcony and open a beer. The soft moonlight plays on the palm leaves, the windows of the apartment. It silvers the pool which sloshes gently below me. I turn my gaze from the sea and out onto the street. She is there again. For a moment we look at each other. She steps back into the shadows and is gone.

Ok if you read my last Dexter fic then you'll know I loved the Lumen/Dexter relationship. So I was gutted when she left him. This is how I'd like Season 6 to start... Let me know what you think. Cx