Author's Note: I do not know much about criminology or forensics so I apologize if my facts about some things are a bit off or inaccurate. I do not own Dexter in anyway. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

State of Grace
"This is a state of grace, this is a worthwhile fight." - Taylor Swift, State of Grace
Chapter One:

"You know," Dexter said, leaning back slightly in the hard, wooden chair, "It's not safe for you to go back to your house now."

Deb winced, coddling her side in her palm, "I know that," she said through gritted teeth, "That is why I will be staying with you. At the apartment."

"I...I don't know if that's such a good idea..." Dexter decided the splotch of chipping plaster on the wall opposite of him was a better thing to focus his eyes on than to stare directly at his sister, "I mean...with Harrison and all."

"Harrison can go to Orlando."

"His grandfather is still recovering from that heart attack he had last month, Deb. Between Astor and Cody...it just wouldn't be a good idea to send Harrison there too."

"So where the fuck am I supposed to go?" Deb tried to shift her weight against the hospital bed and let out a soft gasp, surprised at the pain, "Fuck, Dexter! I get shot and apparently my own fucking house isn't safe and I can't fucking live with you because I'd be putting Harrison in danger...where the fuck am I supposed to go?"

Dexter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Deb had a point. Where was she supposed to go? It wasn't her fault that she had been the target of new Cuban gang. Deb, being Deb, had refused to move out of her house. Dexter tried to convince her to stay in a motel under an assumed name, but she wouldn't do it. 'I won't be a fucking victim. If these cock-sucking mother-fucks think I am going to run away with my tail tucked under my ass...' had been her exact words. So she had stayed in her house. And things had been fine for the first few days since the gang had sent her the first message at one of the crime scenes. But two nights ago, after getting home from work and popping open a beer, there had been a drive-by. Her house was riddled with bullets. One caught Deb right in the side.

The cops stationed outside notified dispatch. They had gotten by thanks to bullet proof vests. But Deb was not quite so lucky. An ambulence arrived a few moments later and rushed her to Passion of the Sacred Heart Hospital. She had to undergo emergency surgery to extract the bullet. It had almost hit her spleen. She had to have a blood transfusion as well due to the copious amount of blood lost.

Now, she was stuck in a hospital bed with two uniforms stationed outside her hospital room door. Only doctors and nurses and Dexter were allowed to pass. According to the doctor's she had to wait the remainder of the week just for observation. Then she'd be discharged to go home.

But her home was now a crime scene and staying with Dexter meant putting him and Harrison in the line of fire as well. She knew she couldn't do that. Of course, she could get a motel like had been the original suggestion. She could use an assumed name. Wait for Metro to finally get what they needed to nail those bastards. But she was scared. Not that she'd ever say it out loud. But she was really scared. The thought of being alone in a strange motel horrified her.

"We'll think of something," Dexter promised, "Why don't you eat your jello?"

"I'll tell you where you can put that jello," Deb winced again, the pain visible on her face.

"When do you get more morphine?" Dexter asked.

Deb nodded towards a white board on the wall. It was a schedule of nurses and pain meds and antibiotics. She still had another two hours to go before she was allowed to have more morphine. Dexter hated seeing her in pain. He saw pain everyday - caused others to feel pain - but with Deb, it was different. With Deb, he'd kill to take her pain away. He felt useless just sitting in that wooden chair. He should be out hunting the members of the Los Rojo Brothers. That's what he should be doing. He should have them on his table, wrapped in plastic. Not sitting here trying to get Deb to eat her jello and swallow her chicken broth.

"Fuck, Dexter," Deb shook her head, "Fuck."

"Look, Deb...I have to get back to work. I'll let everyone know you say hi."

"Whatever," Deb rolled her head to the side.

"I'll be back to check on you later. You really should eat your jello..."

"Fuck you and fuck the Christ-fucking-jello!"

Dexter gave her a small wave and left her hospital room. He took a deep breath once outside in the hallway. He felt like he could finally breathe again. He just needed to get away. Focus his attention on something other than seeing Deb in pain. When he arrived back at Metro, everyone was eager to hear about Deb's condition.

LaGuerta ushered Dexter to the middle of the briefing room and said, "I am sure we all want to know how our Lieutenant is doing. Dexter, will you please give us all an update before we start the briefing?"

Dexter nodded curtly, "Deb is still recovering quite well. She is mostly...frustrated with her situation than anything. And she wishes she were here helping catch the guys that did this to her..." Dexter caught Angel's gaze, and his friend nodded solemnly, making a silent oath that they would catch them for her, "Right now though...she does not really have a place to go home to once she is discharged."

"Can't she stay with you?" LaGuerta asked, a touch of annoyance in her tone.

"No, not with my son being there. I could normally send him to his grandparents, but this isn't a good time. If it wasn't for Harrison, she could stay with me. Wherever she stays, she's going to need tighter security."

"She could stay with me. There's...only one bed though," Masuka grinned, then suddenly became embarrassed with himself and took to staring at the tile flooring.

"Alright," LaGuerta stood next to Dexter, clasping her hands together, "Lieutenant Morgan is one of our own. One of us would be more than happy to have her stay with us for her own safety, until we catch the Los Rojo Brothers and put a stop to their terror."

There was a silence that fell over everyone. Dexter knew all too well that Deb was difficult to put up with. Especially a frustrated Deb in a lot of pain. He pitied the poor soul who's task it would be to put her up. Whoever it would be would have to know how to handle her without getting frustrated or snapping and murdering her. Dexter's gaze fell on Joey Quinn. Joey reluctantly looked up. When he saw Dexter had been starring...

"Oooh no," he held up his hands in surrender, "I am not opening up that can of worms."

"She needs a place to stay," Dexter plead, "And your place is pretty secure. We would station uniforms...right?"

"Of course," LaGuerta nodded, "Security for Lieutenant Morgan is a priority right now. We will up the security. It will just be until she's safe to return to her own home. And if I remember," LaGuerta smiled one of those lethally overly sweet smiles, "you two had a nice...friendship."

Joey rolled his eyes. He knew he was going to do the right thing. But that didn't mean he couldn't put up a little fight about it first, "I don't know if it's the best idea for her to stay with me right now..."

"Of course it is," Angel grinned, clapping his partner on the back, "She trusts you. She knows your place well. She would hopefully feel almost as safe there as she would at Dexter's."

"It'd just be for a couple of weeks, tops," Dexter rocked on his heels, "What do you say?"

Joey sighed, deciding to put on some theatrics before agreeing. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head, "Fine. Deb can stay with me at my place."

"Alright!" Masuka raised his hand for a high-five from Quinn, "Gettin' it!"

Quinn squinted at him, giving him his best side-eye, "Go play with your slugs or something."

"Slugs, got it," Masuka lowered his hand.

"Thank you, Quinn," Dexter nodded towards him, "That means a lot."

"Sure," Joey rolled his eyes again. As he returned to his desk, he shook his head. The hell did I just get myself into.