Spoiler Alert: Season 6 finale alert, haven't seen it then don't read this.
Disclaimer: Dexter is not mine, no matter how many times I try to alter the wiki page to say it is.
AN: Dexter POV after the last scene in "This is the Way the World Ends". First Dexter fic so don't expect much. Slash or no Slash, take it as you like.
"Oh god,"
An awkward silence fills the room as I say the first words that come to mind, oddly enough their rather fitting giving the scene I find myself in. Dearly devoted Dexter, brother and family man is standing before a grotesque alter worthy of the DDK killer himself. A bloody tableau of death that I imagine is quit the unbelievable sight.
Although I can believe it, I've seen it all play-out before. My ritual is as common to me as breathing or blinking is to anyone else, just another part of the beast that is Dexter Morgan. A part of me that Deb is now aware of.
I stare at Deb's unmoving form before me, I imagine much like a deer stuck in the headlights of an approaching car, panic filling every fiber of my being. It's funny, I've always knew that this might happen. I even suspected that it might have been Deb to connect the dots, knowing me as well as she does, but every practiced excuse I've ever rehearsed in my mind dies when I see the devastated look in her eyes.
I don't feel emotions, not like Deb does but I can recognize that I've hurt her. Odd, I've harmed many people in my life, mostly those who've deserved it but that look she has cuts deeper into me than any slice I've ever inflicted.
The silence stretches, enveloping everything in the church much like my Dark Passenger has now enveloped so much of my life. I'm trying to think of something to say that will undo the damage, something that will take everything she saw back, make things normal again.
"Hey Deb," I say, trying to muster as much of the old me into my voice as possible, the Dexter she's grown up with and known for all of these years.
At first she doesn't respond except to open and close her mouth a few times, failing to think of anything to say. Finally she settles on returning the greeting with a mumbled "Hey," of her own before her knees give out and she's on the floor crying.
I look on as she pulls her knees up to her face and begins balling her fists and yelling profanities at the room, even in shock she still has the foul mouth of a sailor. I'd smile at the small amount of comfort that thought brings me but I feel it wouldn't be appropriate in this situation.
I continue to stand by Travis's body as she vents her frustration and grief into the room, I've always envied that about her. How she seems to always have so much emotion inside her that it always overflows into every aspect of her life. But seeing her now I know their tearing her apart from the inside, leaving me to watch her self-destruct.
I've never been good at comforting others, aside from the eternal comfort that comes from death. So I rely on what I've observed from others in (not so) similar situations. I remove my rubber gloves, slowly approach her and put my arms around her in what I hope is a supportive hug. I expect her to try and turn away, to yell at or even attack me but she just sits still for a few moments before burring her face in my chest and sob.
I wish I knew how she felt, maybe then I could really help. But all I can do for her is this, because even though I don't feel things like normal people do, I do know that I don't like it when she cries.
Well, I hope I got the character even remotely close. This was the best finale yet, can't wait for season 7.