A/N: Okay, so this chapter didn't take as long to do as the last, so, yay for that! LOL

Thank you to all the kind and wonderful people encouraging me with this fic with your reviews and followings. It's a very full on world with a lot to delve into, so it's nice to know that you're in the ball park of entertaining folks. :D

This chapter and the next ones are kind of important ones for this fic, so I hope they end up making sense to you all. Lots of introspection after all that drama.

Hope you enjoy and thank you as always for reading...

Chapter SEVEN

"Sometimes, pain is all that lets you know you're alive."
Robert Jordan

Crossroads of Twilight

An eight year old Debra crawled into the small space afforded between some neatly clipped hedges and tucked her knees up to her chin. She blinked back tears of rage and self-pity as her wet swimming costume continued to dry in the warm Miami sun. She hated them all, Debra told herself fiercely and she didn't need them. She didn't even know why her parents had made her come to the stupid birthday party in the first place. Todd was a jerk and just because his parents were friends with hers that didn't mean Debra had to like him. He was always calling her names and being mean to her. She could still hear them all laughing in the pool, not even caring she was gone.

Hot tears of outrage stung Debra's eyes as she buried her face in her knees at the memory of her beloved father yelling at her in front of everyone at the party for punching Todd in his smirking face. Debra had tried to explain what had happened and why the game of Marco Polo all of the kids had been playing in the pool had gotten ugly but he wouldn't listen. Embarrassed and upset Debra had just run away, not wanting to be around anyone ever again. Todd's parents house was on a huge block of land, all carefully landscaped and maintained and Debra had just run and lost herself in one of the many rows of hedges. She sat there, sniffling into her knees and wishing a giant meteorite would crash down on the entire party. That would show them.

"Deb?"

Debra lifted her head at the sound of her brother's voice. She blinked back tears as she peered through a break in the shrubbery to see Dexter's bare feet as he wandered around, looking for her. Not ready to give up on feeling sorry for herself, Debra didn't respond. She watched Dexter's feet as they walked around.

"Come on, Deb," he cajoled her, "don't hide. You know I hate it when you hide from me."

Dexter hadn't been there when Todd had swum up behind Debra in the pool as they'd played Marco Polo and undone her bikini top when her eyes had been closed. Everyone had laughed when he'd taken her bikini top and even though there had been nothing to show on her eight year old's body, the humiliation had been too much for Debra. She'd punched Todd right in the face to get her top back. Only her dad hadn't seen any of that, just heard Todd's side of the story when he came crying to his parents that Debra had hit him. She wasn't ready to forgive any of them yet, that jerk Todd, her Dad or even Dexter for not being there to protect her like he always did. She stayed perfectly still, watching Dexter look for her.

"You know I'm not going to give up," reasoned her brother, "so you may as well."

Debra bit her bottom lip, suddenly feeling safe in knowing that was true. No matter how well or often she hid from the world when things went badly, it was always Dexter who sought her out and brought her back home.

"Marco," he called out, reverting to the game she'd only just been playing.

Despite herself, Debra smiled. "Polo," she called back and then immediately scurried away from her hiding place and finding another. She could hear Dexter's voice was closer this time.

"Marco."

"Polo," Debra responded and then quickly moved once more, being careful to keep out of Dexter's sight. She knew Dexter would patiently play this game with her for however long it took for Debra to feel like she was ready to go back and face the others. It made her feel safe and like she wasn't alone anymore. No matter how crappy her life got, Debra knew her big brother was always going to be there for her, come what may.

oooOOOOooo

Small pinpoints of light exploded behind Debra's eyes as a sudden roaring in her ears had her snapping her eyes open. A warm breath filled her lungs but it wasn't her own. She felt soft lips firmly pressed against her own, barely having time to register their owner before she was coughing up salty water and spitting it up over the both of them.

"Onto her side, Dexter, quickly."

Debra heard Vogel's voice give the order and then strong but gentle hands were rolling her onto her side to cough up the last of the saltwater in her stomach.

Those same hands stroked her head reassuringly. "It's okay, Deb, you're okay. I've got you." Dexter's voice attempted to be soothing but she could still hear the anxiety there.

Debra's head was spinning as she tried to work out what was happening to her. The events of that day groggily made it back into her consciousness as she remembered being taken by Yates and what he'd done to her. With those memories came the image of Dexter caught in the broken slats of the dock. Debra remembered the panic she'd felt in seeing her brother so vulnerable as Yates had closed in on him with that knife. She hadn't thought, she'd just reacted, throwing her whole body at Yates to protect Dexter. Debra hadn't expected for them to fall into the water and then for Yates to get tangled in her ropes. Ropes she could feel being cut from her body by a concerned Vogel.

"Debra, just take slow, long breaths," she cautioned the younger woman over Debra's rasping grabs for oxygen.

Easy for her to say, Vogel hadn't just swallowed half a fucking ocean. Debra sicked up another mouthful of that ocean as she felt Dexter wrap his arms around her and hold onto her shaking body. The image of Dexter's face under the water was the last thing Debra remembered before her world had gone black. He'd saved her. Somehow her brother had found and saved her once again. Debra went limp in Dexter's arms, overcome with all that had happened to her.

"We need to get her to a hospital," said Dexter urgently.

"I'll take Debra to hospital," Debra heard Vogel offer. "You need to find Yates."

"He's long gone."

Debra could hear the frustration in Dexter's voice. Yates must have made his escape while Dexter was saving her life. Debra immediately felt guilty.

"Then you need to clean up this scene," insisted Vogel. "Yate's van, it can't stay here."

Vogel was right. "Go," rasped Debra, forcing out the single word through numb lips.

"Deb." The way Dexter said her name, she knew he was torn.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "You-you need to do as Vogel s-says."

"I'll take care of her, Dexter," said Vogel reassuringly. "I promise."

Debra attempted to sit up and show her brother she was indeed alright. It was a harder than expected action to complete and in the end Dexter had to help her. She leant into the strength he offered as she managed to sit up. "I'm alright," she said on reflex, not really knowing if it was true. Debra's gaze focused on Dexter's face, lined with concern for her, water still dripping from his wet hair. Her gaze drifted down his soaking clothes which were clinging to his body and her attention was immediately caught by the ugly red stain spreading over one trouser leg. "You're hurt," she whispered in distress.

"It's nothing," Dexter dismissed easily. "Just a scratch. It's you who needs a hospital." Without waiting for further debate on the subject, Dexter moved to pick Debra up. He stood up, Debra in his arms and marched them purposefully towards his car, with Vogel quickly following. Dexter laid Debra down carefully on the backseat as Vogel climbed into the driver's seat. Despite herself, Debra slumped down on the backseat, feeling ridiculously weak as Dexter now spoke with Vogel.

"Are you alright to drive?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? You were knocked out." His voice hardened. "I don't need you driving yourself and Deb into some kind of four lane pile up."

"I'm perfectly alright, Dexter. If I wasn't, I'd say so. I have no interest in being the martyred hero in this little tale."

There was a long pause, as though Dexter was weighing up Vogel's words but then he must have decided she was alright to drive. "I need to change my clothes," he said abruptly. "Pop the trunk. And there is a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Pass it out to me so I can stop my leg from bleeding."

Debra lay on the backseat, struggling to keep her eyes open as Dexter swiftly changed his wet, torn and bloodied clothes for something dry. She didn't ask why he had spare clothes in the car, they all knew the answer to that. Debra was losing the concept of time when Dexter appeared in the doorway again. "I'm going to meet up with you both at the hospital, okay?" he quizzed her. "I'm going to take care of everything. You're safe now, Deb."

Debra hoped she managed a smile but couldn't be sure because her face was still numb. "Okay," she mumbled.

Dexter threw the blanket he had over his arm over her body and tucked Debra in. "I'll see you soon," he promised her.

Debra nodded, eyes drooping a little in exhaustion. Dexter was closing the car door then and Debra could hear him have a quick conversation with Vogel, but their voices were too low for her to hear. The next thing she knew, the car engine was being turned over and they were moving. They drove in silence for about ten minutes and then Debra forced herself to sit up.

Vogel's concerned gaze met hers in the rear view mirror. "Just lie down, Debra. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"I'm not going to any fucking hospital," she muttered. The thought of answering all of those questions about how and why she was the state she was in was too much for Debra. "Take me home."

Vogel's tone had that tinge of motherly patronisation to it. "Now, Debra, you've been through a terrible ordeal and-"

"And I fucking want to go home!" Debra snapped, her outburst sapping most of her strength. "You fucking take me home now or I'll fucking get out and walk!" She wasn't sure how she'd manage such a feat given the way she felt, but Debra knew she'd try. Vogel's eyes were on her again in the rear vision mirror. Debra glared back at her, letting the older woman know she wasn't bluffing.

"I'll need directions," said Vogel quietly.

Debra looked out the window to get her bearings. "Turn left at the next lights and keep going straight."

Vogel dutifully complied and within fifteen minutes Debra was home again. She didn't wait for Vogel to help her out of the car. She slipped off the backseat on unsteady legs and made her way to her front door. Vogel was by her side, hand hovering around her lower back in case Debra needed to support. They stood at her front door.

"Dex has a key to my house on his key ring," Debra informed her dully.

Vogel quickly found the key and opened the door for her. Debra staggered in and started to limp towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower," she said abruptly. "There is a first aid kit in the kitchen for your head." Without looking back, Debra made a beeline for her bathroom. She gingerly stripped her clothes off, body making every bruise and ache painfully obvious to her but Debra ignored them, desperate for that clean, hot water to wash away the horrors of the day. She stepped under the stream of water, not caring she'd made it too hot. Slumping against the cool tiles, a choked cry escaped her lips and Debra quickly put a hand over her mouth so Vogel wouldn't hear the sign of weakness. It was too much though, as the trauma of the day overwhelmed Debra. The fear she'd felt being at Yate's psychopathic mercy, the feeling of what felt like the last breath leaving her body, it all pressed in on Debra and she slid down the wall, the sobs overtaking her bruised body. She couldn't stop the sound of her crying bouncing off the walls as her body became wracked with painful sobs.

"Debra?"

Debra could barely hear Vogel's concerned voice over the sound of her own crying but then the other woman was letting herself into the bathroom.

Her face softened with compassion at seeing the crumpled Debra curled up on the shower foor. "Oh Debra," she said softly. Vogel walked over and knelt by the shower cubicle, not caring she was getting wet as she pulled Debra into a warm embrace. At first Debra resisted but it had been so long since she'd known anything remotely like a mother's touch that she didn't last long. Debra slumped into Vogel's arms and cried her heart out for every shitty thing which had happened to her in the last year, not sure she'd be able to stop.

oooOOOOooo

Debra stepped out of her bedroom to find Vogel sitting on a chair and looking out the window to the ocean off in the distance. The woman looked as neat as always, only her damp hair hinting at the break down in the shower. Debra grimaced as she lifted an arm to attempt to towel dry her own still dripping hair. "Sorry about getting you all wet," she said stiffly, embarrassed by the flood of emotion she'd shown Vogel.

Vogel turned and smiled at her pleasantly. "My blouse is silk. Silk dries quickly in this part of the world. There was no harm done and I think it was good for you."

Debra limped to the sofa and took a painful seat. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean for you to see any of that." She avoided looking at Vogel. "I don't like people seeing me cry."

"Crying doesn't mean weakness, Debra," said Vogel gently.

"That fuck it doesn't," retorted Debra.

"It's a way of acknowledging our feelings and letting them leave our body, rather than leaving them to pent up and fester."

Debra gave a humourless laugh. "Fester, yeah, that sounds about right." She stared unseeingly out of the same window Vogel had just been looking out. "I think I died," Debra shared abruptly. She forced her attention back on the other woman. "I think, under the water, I died for a bit. I was dead." The words sounded alien to Debra's ears.

"And how does that thought make you feel?"

"Relieved," said Debra without thinking.

"You think of death as a source of relief?"

Debra grimaced. "It has to be easier than living, right?" She frowned over at Vogel. "Don't worry, I'm not suicidal. It's not in me to take the easy way out." Debra snorted in self-derision. "I never do anything the easy way."

"Debra, it's alright to feel like everything that has happened is too much for you to deal with. You don't have to pretend otherwise. The thing is, that is where the talking should start, not stop. That's the difference between falling into a dark hole where death feels like the only answer and getting better."

"You think I'm sick?"

"I think you're unhappy," replied Vogel gently.

Debra moved restlessly in her seat, feeling the way her broken toes were throbbing. She needed to get the conversation off her. It already felt like Vogel had seen too much when it came to what was going on inside of her head. "What's taking Dexter so long? Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Dexter's nature is to be careful," said Vogel reasonably. "He'll take as long as is necessary to do the job properly."

"Yeah," said Debra sarcastically, "that's my brother, always careful when breaking the law and killing people."

"I meant you, Debra," Vogel countered. "Dexter's nature is to be careful with all things involving you."

Debra stared at her. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Dexter is meticulously protective of you, Debra, as a person, of your relationship with one another."

"And what, you're saying that isn't normal?" asked Debra tightly.

"No, I'm not saying that, only that everything about you two seems to have a heightened sense to it." Vogel pursed her lips. "You and Dexter..." she trailed off, looking off into space, seemingly lost in thought.

Debra stiffened. "Dexter and me what?" she asked sharply, suddenly worried there was some way the other woman could see what the two of them had done in the early hours of this morning. If she found out Vogel no doubt would order the two of them to never see each other again. The thought panicked Debra. As messed up as she was when it came to Dexter, the one thing she knew was that she couldn't live without him and had given up even trying.

Vogel returned her attention to Debra and looked thoughtful. "I thought I understood who Dexter was, his potential. Psychopaths follow a very similar trajectory with how they progress. But Dexter-" She shook her head. "He's surprised me and I'm not an easy woman to surprise. I've spent my life defining the parameters of people like Dexter only to find the one who started me on this path is the one who is the exception to the very rules I've used to define him."

Debra blinked. "Am I supposed to understand what the fuck you just said?"

Vogel half-smiled. "Do you know the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, Debra?"

Debra wrinkled her nose. "No."

"It's a child's book which tells the story of a stuffed velveteen rabbit who was given as a gift to a young boy but was rejected for toys of superior quality."

"Okay," said Debra slowly. "Is this meant to be making any sense?"

"The oldest toy in the nursery told the rabbit that there was a chance of becoming real if a toy is extremely adored and loved," Vogel explained. "The Velveteen Rabbit knew there was little chance of something like that happening to him but then the boy lost his favourite toy one day and the Velveteen Rabbit was able to be a soothing substitute. The little stuffed rabbit became a beloved toy of the boy and was ultimately transformed into a living rabbit." Vogel sat back in her chair and regarded Debra with intense interest. "The way you love Dexter, Debra, the way Harrison does, the way Harry and Rita did... you've all transformed him into something far more than his original design intended." She gave a little smile. "It's utterly fascinating."

Debra scowled, suddenly feeling like she and Dexter were exhibits in some kind of freak show and Vogel the curious crowd who'd paid money to see the abominations of nature. It wasn't a great feeling and Debra suddenly understood how Dexter must have felt his entire life. To be apart from the rest of the world and feeling like you were living in some kind of cage. Debra closed her eyes as fresh exhaustion overcame her at the depressing thought. She just wanted to know Dexter was alright and safe. Debra just wanted him her brother with her and somehow that was going to make everything alright.