Taking a Shot
Setting: "Dexter"

As the elevator rocks to a stop, I set my jaw, consciously make an effort to square up my posture, try to make myself believe I'm not in the process of making a mistake. A hard thrill of nerves and excitement pounds through my core as I step out into the hallway. I don't know why I took Dexter's advice. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to walk into the central precinct dressed like a five-minute fuck. Don't know why I didn't just drive home and put on clothes, or a uniform, or literally anything else. A bath robe. This was a fucking mistake. But it's too late to turn back now.

I swear to god in this moment I've never wanted anything more in my entire life.

I hesitate a couple yards from his office. Dexter was right about this much: Matthews is my best bet to get onto this case and into Homicide. I've never gone to him before to ask for a favor because I was never sure how he'd respond to me wanting one, but at this point I'm out of ideas, and I half don't care anymore. I just want him to help me. I want him to remember my father and I want him to feel some compulsion to help me.

I start moving again, but falter as I look through the glass. As I recognize who's sitting on the other side of it. LaGuerta.

God fuck me sideways.

Before I can decide whether or not to retreat and form a new strategy, Matthews' gaze shifts from Homicide's LT over to me. His brows rise, and he stands. "Debra," he says, gesturing me forward. "Come in. Come in." At the sound of my name, LaGuerta turns to look at me, and her own eyebrows plummet.

"Captain," I say, smiling somewhat awkwardly as I push his door the rest of the way open and step inside. "Lieutenant." I pull the door back to how it was behind me, then let my hand fall to my side. I don't quite know what to do with it.

Now that I'm actually standing here in my Brandy outfit, and he's actually looking at me in his suit and tie, I realize I've never felt more self-conscious in my entire life. That at this moment I'd all but welcome being shot out of this office through the ceiling, through the atmosphere, directly into some distant, astral body.

Swallowing, I push all that away. Because I'm here. Because I already decided to do this, that I want this. That I want this more than I want to protect myself, apparently. LaGuerta's an added obstacle I so didn't fucking need, but maybe it's better she's here. "How are you, sir?" I open. Very politely.

"I'm doing very well, Debra," he says. "How're you?"

"I'm also doing well, sir. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's good to see you." He walks around his desk and leans against its edge. "Maria, this is Debra Morgan. She's Dexter Morgan's sister. Right now she's with Vice."

"We've met," LaGuerta says, flashing me one of her fake smiles. Her eyes are stone hard, and I know instantly that she knows exactly what I'm doing here. "Nice to see you again, Officer."

I nod. "Same to you, Lieutenant."

If Matthews feels the undercurrent, he doesn't look like he wants to comment on it. "So, Debra, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He's not smiling, but then again he's not much of a smiler.

Looking at him fills me with a lot of strange, fragmented feelings, a lot of memories, some good, some really not. He's the most tangible link to Dad besides Dexter, and I knew him growing up. Sometimes he joined us at family dinner. Barbecues. A couple holidays. And he was at Dad's funeral. He occasionally checked up on us after that, randomly stopped by to see how Dexter and I were doing in that old house by ourselves.

And he helped me get into the department when I applied. Walked me through the board. Fast tracked me a slot into the Academy.

Sometimes I wonder what he thinks about me. What he thinks my father would've thought about me.

And I wonder what he sees in me now, as I'm standing in front of him dressed like a fucking whore. I should've gone home.

"I," I take a breath, "would like to request to…" I can feel LaGuerta's eyes boring through the side of my head. Clenching my molars together, I just let it go, "Sir, I want to be put on the investigation of the homicide at the Seven Seas Motel. I think my experience in Vice could be useful, especially since I've been working that particular motel for a little over a week now."

"Really?" he says. His brows bump up.

"Yes, sir," I say. "I really think I could be of help."

"Interesting." He leans back.

"Sir," LaGuerta speaks up, "all due respect, but we believe this homicide is linked to the other two murders, and there's no reason to believe our killer spent any significant time at the motel except to dump the body. I'm not sure that Officer Morgan has the experience to work this high profile of a case."

He glances at her. His expression is a little flinty. "We all have to start somewhere, Maria." I feel a little flicker of hope at his words. "Besides, Homicide's in this girl's bones. As you know, her father was my old partner and one of my best friends." He flashes me a small, warm smile.

"Sir—" she starts.

He cuts her off. "Besides, I think she's right and she may very well be useful to you. You haven't been able to get anyone to talk to you at the other scenes. Now that this has officially upgraded to a serial killing we need to work any lead we can find, however small, and her experience undercover may be an asset. Debra has had an excellent record with Vice since she started there."

He straightens up. I feel dazed.

"I'll grant you temporary assignment to work this," he says, offering me his hand and another smile.

For a single, extended second, my brain jams, and my tongue feels thick and stupid in my mouth. I didn't expect it to be this easy. I'm not sure I expected that this would work at all. "Thank you so much, sir," I say, when I finally remember how to talk. "I promise I won't let you down."

"I don't doubt it." He glances at LaGuerta.

Apparently catching his drift, the LT holds out her hand. "Welcome to the team," she says. Her voice is as pained as her smile.

I feel a little wave of pleasure at her unhappiness, as we, briefly, shake hands. But, for the hundredth time, I wonder what her problem with me is.

"Well, Debra," Matthews says, and I look back at him, "as happy as I am to see you, Maria and I need to finish our conversation. But please come by again. I would like to catch up with you."

"Thank you, sir," I say. "I will. I'd like that too."

He nods.

The grin breaks across my face as I step out of the office, and I don't bother trying to repress it. LaGuerta follows me to the door, and for a second I think she's going to come into the hall with me, but then she shuts it behind me. I glance from her to Matthews through the glass, and he waves at me. Still smiling, I return it, then quickly make my way back toward the elevator.

"Fuckin A," I murmur.

I'm in. I'm on the case. I finally fucking got my shot.

Finally.

I catch my reflection against another window, and I grin at myself as I pass. No more fucking sex suit. This is the end of it. I'm fucking finally gonna get onto Homicide. I'm going to prove to LaGuerta that I belong there. That she's gonna want me there. I'm gonna prove it to Dad. Prove it to myself.

I've wanted this for so long. Five fucking years. Longer. I always knew, since the second I filled out my application to Miami Metro, that this is where I wanted to end up.

I tap the elevator button, bark a laugh. I feel a wave of something stronger than relief.

Matthews may've said temporary assignment, but I'm not planning to return to Vice. No fucking way am I going to let this get away from me.

This is it. What I've been waiting for.

When the doors open I practically skip into the elevator.

"Oh, fucking fuck yes," I hiss as they close again.

I get to go home and change. Rub off all the cake on my face, the glitter, the sparkly eye shadow. Peel off the fake lashes. Get the fuck out of this fucking Target top and burn it in the dumpster outside my complex. I will never have to be that person again. Ever. I'm certain.

Because today is the first fucking day of the rest of my life.