Title: Worth It.
Summary: On the anniversary of Ellen Wolf's death, Maria thinks about her relationship with her more-than-friend, and what it has meant in her life.
Rating: M for sexual descriptions.
Word Count: 1001
Other Chapters: No.
Disclaimer: Showtime owns Dexter and all rellated trademarks. I do not in any way profit from the use of these trademarks.
Pairings: Maria LaGuerta/Ellen Wolf (mentioned); Maria LaGuerta/James Doakes (mentioned); Maria LaGuerta/Migeul Prado (mentioned)
Contains: femslash, bisexuality, angst
Warnings: character death
It was hard not to think about her on the anniversary of her death, and Maria wasn't sure that she wanted not to think about her, anyway. If the day ever came and went and Maria didn't think about her, it would mean that it no longer matter to Maria, and even though it hurt, Maria wanted it to matter. Right now it mattered more than Maria could put words to, and she wanted it to stay that way.
It had been brief. Just a few days, and just one fuck late one night while they were both still sober enough to drive. It hadn't been enough, but it had been vast and it had changed absolutely everything. Maria didn't know her sexuality anymore. There were words in Spanish and words in English and all of them felt as foreign on her tongue as they would if they were in Korean. She didn't know what she was anymore. She wasn't even sure of what she wasn't.
All she knew was that Ellen Wolf's arms were soft and her warm breath on Maria's neck felt nice, and that she'd never feel either of them again so she wasn't entirely certain it mattered.
Ellen's tongue in her mouth was exciting and Ellen's tongue on other parts of Maria was a Heaven that might be worth going to Hell for.
Maria didn't believe that Ellen was in Hell, whatever her sins had been. Maria got a bit more nervous when she thought about her own eternal soul, though. Maria was sure that Ellen had been a good person, more than deserving of Heaven despite what she did with other women when she got them into her bedroom. Maria was a bit less certain that she was a good person, and though she'd never dreamed of condemning anyone else, a few select verses from a Bible she'd long ago stopped reading suddenly seemed serious and frightening when she thought about them in relation to herself.
But it had only been once. Maria still didn't want to decide whether or not it would ever be twice. Maybe with the right woman at the right time in the right place, but there were so many variables that, right now, she didn't think she could say whether or not she'd ever be able to do it again.
She'd been nervous. It had been completely ridiculous, because Maria was a sexually experienced woman who'd seen things that would make other people—probably including Ellen—sick to their stomach, but as she waited on her knees on Ellen's bed, she trembled like a cadet who'd just seen her first shooting. She'd been perfectly willing and she'd trusted Ellen not to judge her, but she'd wanted to give as good as she was getting and to live up to all of the expectations Ellen must have had for her, and she hadn't thought she could do either. Well, Ellen hadn't complained. Maria had never gotten any complaints from men, either. She needed to have more confidence in herself.
Or maybe she needed to stop falling in love. Miguel (Just thinking his name twisted her stomach into knots and made her taste ash. How had she ever...), James (No. No no no no.), and Ellen (Ow.) made a terrible pattern. Cuban, black, white, cop, lawyer, male, female... In the end, they all broke her heart and left her trust in herself shaken to the core. She still didn't know if she was haunted more by Ellen's rotting body, dumped unceremoniously in someone else's grave like her killer couldn't be bothered to put any effort into disposing of her, or the fact that James had no body left to rot or to be dumped. Every. Single. Time. Reputations were destroyed. Families were destroyed. Maria was destroyed.
The men she was attracted to had a bad habit of turning out to be killers. The women... she still wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road.
It would have been worth it, though, wouldn't it? Worth it to see that smile and the glint in those eyes? Worth it to have a reminder even on Maria's worst days that there were good people working for the legal system, and that they believed in this country and wanted to keep it safe just as much as Maria did? To be able to remind Ellen that the police did the very best they could to protect Miami, and that they made hard decisions not because they were vengeful or violent but because they wanted the city safe? Worth it to lie in those soft arms at night and whisper with her in secret? To have a friend and a partner again?
Worth the pain? Worth the looks and the whispers and the judgment? Worth the risk to her career?
They could hide it. She could hide a relationship. And if they couldn't, Ellen was a lawyer, and a damn good one. She had a way with words and a way of shaming people for discriminatory practices.
It would be worth it. Maybe it had been worth the pain.
Sometimes, in the middle of long and sleepless nights, Maria prayed. Sometimes she prayed the rosary, because the smooth feeling of the beads in her hand and the familiarity of the ritual soothed her. Sometimes she just prayed, kneeling at the edge of her bed like a child. She prayed for herself. She prayed for Ellen. She prayed for James. With knots in her stomach and ash down her throat, she'd prayed for Miguel once. She wasn't sure what was left to pray for on behalf of an innocent dead woman, but whatever there was, she wanted it for Ellen, and she wanted Ellen to know that she was thinking of her, and that she still thought of her often. For James and Miguel, she only hoped that there was peace and salvation for them yet. For herself, she only hoped that there was peace and salvation for her yet.
