'Don't get caught.'
Sure I can clean up after my kills and even keep my colleagues from finding out about Dexter's Dark Passenger, but sometimes I feel like I don't care about getting caught, I just need to kill someone. Now I've been beaten to two, two of my prospective kills and my Passenger claws at me from the inside. And sure, I cleaned up after the Charles Pinkard fiasco–I really don't want my failed kill to be on display, not so that some other vigilante can mock my apparent ineptitude in the kill room–but I'm tired of resisting my Darkness. Dexter will not be defeated.
"So what does the blood say, Dexter?" Angel asks me as I remember that I am, in fact, at a crime scene. "It looks consistent with the other stabbing from last week," I tell him, "and of course," I regrettably say, "that infinity symbol over there probably matches the blood from our vic. I'll tell you as soon as I run the blood work, Angel." He nods and says, "Thanks."
Yes, you heard me right. It's another killing from our vigilante friend. The funny thing is that I had no (immediate) plans on killing this guy. I've had no kill plans since the last incident. So that makes me wonder, has my newfound nemesis moved on?
My Dark Passenger tells me so.
As I enter my small but sufficient lab, my Passenger is still gnawing at my insides. Its deafening whispers torment me, 'Hang the code, Dexter. Just kill someone, anyone. I won't tell,' 'I wish it were that easy,' 'It is. Trust in me.'
I can't even hear Harry's voice any more–he's entirely disappeared from my conscience. Hell, does my conscience even exist, or am I just trying to mimic one? Tonight's the night where I at least need to try; I'm having yet another dinner with Quinn.
Laguerta is sitting in her office when Captain Matthews enters and closes the door behind him. She is aware that he was supposed to stop by: she arranged it. She knew that she'd have to make a press statement about the vigilante killings.
"So Lieutenant, what are you going to tell them?"
As I enter the restaurant, I see Quinn at a table and take a seat. Before I even get the chance to ask him why he invited me to dinner, he says, "I need to get your opinion," as he nervously takes a small box out of his jacket pocket. He opens the box to reveal a ring with a rather large diamond. I forgot how much money he had.
"Wow, it's really, uh, big," I say, and a young waitress with colorful makeup stops at our table and whispers to me, "Say 'yes!'" Wait, what? Quinn shoots her a confused look and she winks at him, then he bursts out laughing awkwardly as she heads for the kitchen.
"Wait, did she think that we were…together?" I say confusedly, "I think so," he says, "but seriously, Dex, what do you think?" "She'll love it."
After we finally get into a conversation about Deb's taste in flowers, the same waitress returns. She's carrying a piece of cake with two forks. "Congratulations, you two!" She says in hushed tones as to not draw attention, especially because of the odd looks from the couple at the next table.
When she leaves, I slide the cake towards Quinn and say, "At least we got a free dessert."
Dexter is still asleep in the morning having only finally been tired enough to ignore his Passenger for the last two hours. It's been a tormented sleep that is quickly stopped when his phone rings. Dexter sluggishly answers.
"Hello?" "Hey, turn on the TV Dex. Fuck, this is not my day. Laguerta totally blindsided me," my sister answers, "Oh, ok" I manage to respond before making my way to the TV and turning it on. Gotta love portable phones.
Laguerta is on the news–it's an early-morning (well, early for someone who's tired) press conference.
"…But anyone who has any information on the vigilante should contact the Miami Metro Homicide Department…"
I don't know how to react, but for now I'll play the role of an over-worked brother and blood-spatter analyst who's too busy to think clearly. "She didn't tell you about this, Deb?" "No. I just wish we had something on this guy before she said something," "It could be worse, maybe someone will call in with a good lead," "Yeah, but this guy's practically fucking Houdini. If someone knew something we'd at least have some evidence to get this guy."
Tell me about it.
"Bye, bye Harrison," I say to my son while anxiously trying to leave him with Sonya and get to work…late.
"Can I talk to you for a second, Dexter?" "I really have to go–" but I'm cut off, "Now, I don't want to make any assumptions, but I have a feeling you're not being completely honest with me, or Debra," oh, great, "I'm sure you're just busy, but I don't want a repeat of what happened before where you left me with Harrison much longer than what you told me. I just want to make sure that you're there for your son, and that everything's okay." She finishes speaking and I am without an idea of how to react. Where are you, Harry, when I need you?
I look at her confusedly, what happened? "Debra stopped by a few weeks ago, and you weren't here when you said you were going to be. I thought that wasn't a big deal until it happened again with her, and with all the phone calls you've missed–is everything okay?" I wish Quinn had given me a bit more of a heads-up, like these kinds of details.
"Yeah, everything's fine. Can we talk about this later?" "Sure, take care" She says, smiling, as I head out the door.
"Lieutenant, can I ask you something?" Deb asks Laguerta from the door of the Lieutenant's office, "Sure, come in Detective. I kind of figured you'd want to know what was going on," "No shit. We don't have any evidence on this vigilante guy–or whatever he is, and you told the press?"
Laguerta studies Deb, and then asks, "You didn't catch my whole statement, did you?" "Wait, what the fuck are you talking about?" "Ask Masuka," Laguerta replies, and Deb leaves to talk to the lovesick lab rat.
Dear Dexter can't even get his morning coffee without seeing newspapers that have either of my colleagues mentioned on the front page–Laguerta, and the vigilante of course. As I try to read the newspaper of a guy sitting at a table nearby, someone taps me on the shoulder, "It's your turn," "Oh, thanks," I say to her. Dazed Dexter definitely does not want decaf this morning.
"You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape my–" "Hey lover boy," Deb interrupts Masuka, "SO, Laguerta said that you know something about my vigilante," "Right," he says, rolling his office chair across to a purple folder. Handing it to her he says, "Turn to the picture of the back door where our killer walked in," she complies, and studying the written part of the report she spots something…
"Oh my God–"
Dexter walks out of the elevator and into the Miami Metro Homicide Department. Before he makes it into his office, he's practically ambushed by Deb and Masuka.
"Dexter, you're never gonna believe this," my sister tells me, "we've got the vigilante's hair," is it all over? Has Vince Masuka found the DNA of the killer who's tormented my Passenger?
"So you have his DNA then?" I ask them, "Well, I'll explain…" Masuka tauntingly tells me. "What do you mean?" "Her hair's been coloured, a lot. It's too damaged to get DNA from it. So that's probably why no one's been able to get her. But she finally tripped up," "Vince, what are you trying to say? So the killer is a woman now? I'm hoping you have blood," I say.
"Yes, she is. And she pricked herself on the bushes outside. She probably didn't even realize that she'd cut herself. I almost couldn't see the blood…but I'm awesome so –" "Masuka, please," Deb interjects. "Okay, okay. She's not in the database, or any database for that matter, but at least we have a start," Masuka says, with confidence.
"Wait," I say, "then how do you know that this woman is the killer?" "Ah, I was hoping you'd ask that," Masuka says, "because I found some evidence from the Tommy Gray crime scene that I hadn't really noticed until now," he pulls out an evidence bag, "I found her DNA on this lipstick that I found at that club, 'Fever,' and it stuck out to me because the club is almost exclusively male, and we found tons of other DNA from the makeup we found there. But this DNA was female."
"That means," says Deb, "I have a lot more witnesses to question."
'They'll catch her before you do anyway. Just kill someone, Dexter. What are you so afraid of?' 'You're right.'
Dexter storms out of his lab, knife in hand, and proceeds to stab Masuka in the middle of his rendition of Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" until the two of them are completely soaked in blood. As Deb attempts to stop him, he pushes her aside and stabs Quinn repeatedly. With his two colleagues dead, Batista is handcuffing Dexter while Deb presses a gun into the side of her brother's head. Just as Captain Matthews storms into the room, Dexter manages to shove the throng of cops off of him momentarily before he falls to the ground on his side, losing his hearing in one ear to a distant ringing sound.
Suddenly, both ears are functioning and he hears music again.
"…Let you put your hands on me in your skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight…"
Dexter quickly realizes that he is at his desk, and Masuka and Quinn are both alive.
Huh. Why would I bring a knife to work?
Batista walks into my office and I am reassured that I haven't killed anyone, "Hey Angel, here are the blood results you needed," I hand him the folder, "The blood from the vic matches the blood from the infinity symbol." "Thanks, Dexter."
Quinn and Deb are finally home from work. While Deb looks over a file, Quinn is in the next room. He re-enters with a bouquet of white roses.
"Deb," Quinn says softly, and Deb looks up, "We need to talk," he continues, giving her the flowers. "Are you okay?" she asks, "Never better." He moves across the room towards her, slightly shaky, but then reassures himself and becomes steadier.
"Deb, I love you and I can't see myself with anyone else but you," he says, going down on one knee beside her and taking out the enormous ring he bought. She begins to tear up slightly.
"Will you marry me, Debra Morgan?"