The Black Queen's Rule Book
Saturday, March 13th.
06:34
Waking up alone, Deb pulls on her clothes from yesterday. Finding the children still asleep, she pads down the stairs.
"Tea?" Vogel, surprises her on entering the study.
Feeling her throat horse, Deb clears her throat. "Got anything stronger?", she asks the older woman sat behind her desk, typing away on her Mac.
"Coffee?" Vogel asks, closing her laptop screen, before walking out the room.
Deb follows.
"Coffee would be perfect".
"You're analysing me", Vogel observes, smiling, as she pushes down the filter on the coffee pot.
"No", Deb meekly tries to defend herself, "I was just ... watching you make coffee... I'm pretty fucking serious about ... my coffee". Deb bites her lip, cringing at the utter rubbish that is coming out of her mouth.
Vogel nods knowingly. "It's only natural for you to be analysing me", she states, reaching to get two pristine white coffee mugs, and then a small matching milk jug and a sugar pot.
She repositions everything so that they are evenly apart, and Deb once again cringes, being reminded of Dexter's unnatural impeccableness.
"Human extinct, to want to know more about the person who has been keeping your brother away from you".
She moves suddenly, and Deb has to take a quick step back to allow, Vogel, access to the fridge.
Deb's eyes follow her like a hawk.
"Or is he your lover?" the older women smiles opening the fridge, and retrieving the milk. "He can't be both", Vogel states, pouring the milk into the empty container.
Deb bites her lip and lets out a laugh, "Jesus fuck, Dexter, said you were good".
"I am. Especially when it comes to, Dexter. And perhaps, when it comes to you". She smiles again at Deb's confused frown. "What has, Dexter, told you about me?" she asks, putting back the milk.
"Not a fucking lot", Deb mutters.
"You wish he opened up to you more?".
Yes.
Deb shrugs. "I guess that is just who, Dexter, is", she drawls, rubbing her finger against a coffee mug irritably.
"But you wish he wasn't?"
"I can't change him", Deb forces out a smile.
"Exactly", Vogel concurs happily.
Deb grits her teeth, narrowing her eyes on Vogel.
She watches the older woman pour her a mug of coffee.
"Milk?"
Deb shakes her head.
"Sugar?"
Deb nods, "two please".
"Ah, the exact polar opposite of, Dexter", she smiles.
And Deb grits her teeth again. "So, where is Dexter?" she asks, taking a sip of coffee.
"He didn't tell you?" Vogel muses, perching herself against the counter. It is now her turn to analyse Deb.
Deb turns her face away from the inquisitive face, and shakes her head.
"Well, I better not tell you then".
08:52
She left Vogel's as soon as the children woke up. Taking a cab back to their cluttered, multi-coloured, bungalow by the sea.
...
"Harrison, come on, lets go", Deb calls from the front door.
Their patience waning, Astor and Cody are already outside, clad in factor 50 suncream, sun hats and swimming costumes; towels draped round their neck, and a plastic bag in hand – or slung over the shoulder, in Cody's case - of picnic food. Cody has his boogie board over the other shoulder. Astor, her replaced iPhone in tow - curtosy of Dexter for her birthday, what more does a fifteen year old girl need...?
Deb, dressed in her swimwear too, hers and Harrison's towels draped around her neck, the sun umbrella in one hand, and her hand bag slung over one shoulder - her cell is set on, Loud, should Dexter call.
Harrison rushes from his and Cody's bedroom in his blue lyrcas; almost tripping over, as the brim of his sun hat mars his vision. "Me 'n Cl'rence, 'an't f'ne, Moos'i, an'where".
Moo'si, or Deb is pretty sure he is meant to say, Mooshi, is Harrison's imaginary friend.
"Awwr", Deb pretends to care, because Dexter, far from unimpressed, has really been on her back about his son's non-existent passenger. "Maybe she is already at the beach - Quick grab your bucket before she uses all the sand".
Harrison frowns, "Moo'si 'an't take all san' in the whole 'each", he says seriously.
"Yes, Harrison", Deb rolls her eyes, "I was being silly. Now lets grab your tools, and go!"
"Hurry up, Harrison", Cody whines.
"I 'ant f'ne, Moos'i!" Harrison shouts over.
"That's because, Moosi, doesn't exist".
"Does-"
"- Doesn't"
"Does -"
"- Doesn't"
"Does- ".
"Boys!" Deb silences them.
"Doesn't", Cody mumbles quietly.
"God, Cody", Astor scolds, "he is three years old".
"Yeah, the most annoying three year old in the world, who I have to share a room with-", he grumbles back.
"- Good-Morning".
Everyone turns to the man walking up their front porch steps.
Deb squints ...
... She has never seen him before.
"Debra Morgan?"
"Who wants to know?" Deb asks, striding over before he can get any closer to the children.
He stops at the second before last step.
His eyes trail over her bikini exposed body.
"I'm hoping to speak to, Dexter Morgan, about, Hannah McKay, being back in Miami".
09:28
Changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Deb presses the filter down on the coffee she prepared, before running a hand through her wet hair. Desperate to cool down, it had been her second shower this morning.
She takes a seat on the sofa facing the front door and waits.
Her short finger nails clicking irritably against one another.
...
"Where are the kids?" Dexter asks on entering the bungalow.
"Jamie", Deb answers reaching to both pour them coffee. She puts a swig of Bailey's in hers, before filling it up to the top with black coffee, and then proceeds to pour some in Dexter's. It's strange that it was only this morning that she learnt that, Dexter, likes milk in his coffee and no sugar. She had always just made his the same, and he had always just gone along with it.
"Milk and no sugar?" she asks.
Dexter takes a seat on the opposite sofa, "whatever", he says.
"How would you like your coffee, Dexter?" she asks tersely.
"Uhh, milk no sugar... so how is, Jamie?"
Deb shrugs, "as expected. But now that she has a surveillance team watching her and the kids, per request of the US Marshall that visited us this morning", she shoots Dexter a pointed look, "she feels a lot safer".
"... Have you told the kids about, Cassie?" he ignores her opening.
"No. Not yet", she sighs, passing him his coffee, before taking a sip of her own.
Dexter takes a sip of his too.
"So. Hannah fucking McKay...", she smiles sweetly at him...
Before dropping her face.
"When the fuck where you going to tell me, that blood sucker was back in Miami".
"Uhhh", Dexter's thumb rubs against his mug, before taking another long sip.
Deb frowns, suddenly unable to keep her eyes open.
"R-"
"- Dex", she cuts off, slight panick in her voice.
"What is it?" he asks, going over to her.
"I ..., I ... don't feel so good", her hand rests across her perspiring forehead. Dexter's joins there too.
She can feel her eyes roll back.
"-Deb", Dexter catches her in his arms, picking her up with the aim of driving her to the hospital, but he falls back down under both their weight.
"Please, let me be OK", she whispers, "I'm –", her words are lost.
"Fuck".
Her throat is parched.
Fuck.
Her head aches.
"Fuck".
All of her aches.
Fuck.
Her stomach pangs.
It is cold, she can feel it on the tip of her nose.
Dank. As though it is clogging her bones.
Dusty. Making her breath raspy.
She feels around her in the pitch-black darkness...
Wall...
... ... Wall...
... ... ... Wall ...
... Wall ...
Heart rate racing, she stands...
... reaching knee high before she knocks her head.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck".
She has managed to find a light.
'Use Me', is written in neat joined up writing.
Bottled waters, packaged food, and a book.
Whoever left her in here, obviously does not want her to die straight away, not of dehydration, starvation, or boredom.
'Drink Me', 'Eat Me', 'Read Me'.
She does not know what the time is. Her cell and watch have been taken.
How long has she been out...?
A couple of hours could have passed ...
... a day ...
... maybe a whole week...?
The last thing she remembers is Dexter's concerned face, and her asking him to let her be OK.
She has given in, and taken a sip of the water.
Her stomach was also begging her for some food, so she has eaten some of the pumpkin seed crackers – Whole Foods, nonetheless. Whoever left her in here has expensive tastes.
And she has a good idea who too.
Back against the wall, knees up, she sighs, lolling her head backwards so that it rests against the cool smooth rock.
Her eyes flick to the lamp, and wonders how long the batteries will last.
How long her sparsing food will last...?
Water...?
Her eyes then trail down to the book.
'Read Me'.
Giving in with a heavy sigh, she brings the book over to her.
Black.
Hardcover.
By the feel and smell of it, new.
Not particularly weighty, could not be more than 200 pages.
'The Code'.
She turns the cover, and reads the first page.
Stuck in a daze.
There are chapters left but she cannot bring herself to read to read anymore.
Her eyebrows further knitting together is the only sensation she can feel...
Stuck.
In.
A.
Daze.
She turns off the lamp, the light suddenly scorchingly blinding.
She misses Harrison...
... misses his smiles.
The warmth of his head against her chest.
His smell.
She misses Astor and Cody too.
She wonders how much time has passed.
How people have explained her absence.
How many people will have noticed ...?
Her eyes flick to the two litre bottles left of Evian, and the three items of packaged food.
She has tried to ration but her stomach has been begging her for food, and it just so god damn dusty in here.
... Wherever 'here' is...?
Some sort of cave ...
Cold and dank, and very dark, if it was not for this light... but then, batteries eventually run out.
She knows she has to get back.
But how...?
And how much longer can she last...?
Half a litre left, and a few crackers.
Curled up on the floor, her prayer hands, comforting her head – she hears noises coming from outside.
Talking.
An adult's voice...
... now a child's voice...
... ... another adult's voice.
... Higher pitch tone...
The sounds start to move away...
Scrambling up, through a croak, she shouts for help...
Monday
Dexter's apartment
18:34
Sat amongst the excited chatter around the dinner table. His fingers lodged in his mouth, Harrison studies the woman he was so happy to see but now unsure.
The woman, who had filled an unknown missing warmness in his heart, which had now started to chill.
Mooshi stares uncertainly at her too.
Maybe it is because of the flicks of uncertainty his father sometimes shoots her in between his big happy smile.
His father's short but frequent gazes to the front door.
It seems like they are looking out for the same person.
Unstealthy - unlike his father, he gets caught out. She smiles sweetly at him, and pulls out his slobbery fingers and kisses them, one by one.
Just like his mama would have done.
He smiles.
His worrying thoughts get giggled away.
21:19
Washed and dressed in a stranger's house and clothes. It is with a weary and heavy step and heart that Deb returns to her empty bungalow by the sea. The waves, drift almost melodically up and down the shore line. Again, contraire to the heavy load that it is carrying, splaying uncaringly along the coast.
Maybe it is exhaustion?
A lack of concern?
Maybe it is something else...?
It turns out, she was only absent for fifty six hours...
She places her spare keys which she retrieved from underneath the frog in the front lawn, carefully on to the kitchen island. Then the book. Before resting her entire weight against it with her two hands.
She eyes the book which she considered leaving, there, in the cave, but despite everything ...
She still feels for him.
... But, those fifty six hours have been enough time for her to be replaced.
She lets out a heavy sigh, a sob on the cusp of her thro-
"Dexter...?" a woman's voice calls, and Deb whips her head around to be confronted with yet another blonde lady.
Lumen.
Another blonde lady with her blonde baby.
And a malicious thought crosses her mind, as to whether that baby is Dexter's.
Before she has time to let that thought or anything else develop, she grabs the keys and heads back into the night.
Tuesday
08:01
"We should really get up you know", Quinn kisses her shoulder, trailing a finger across each soft mound on her bare naked chest.
Uncomfortable by his actions, she shys away from him so that his fingers fall on to her rib cage.
They do not belong to him.
He then proceeds to trail along the bones of her ribcage.
That does not bother her so much.
Laid up on her back, she had been lying awake for half an hour before she had woken, Quinn, up for another round of de-stressment... She is not even quite sure how she got in here ...? in his bed...? One moment, all she knew was she had to get away from her bungalow. The next moment, she was outside Quinn's opened door, initiating a very searing kiss.
"So...?" Quinn asks through butterfly kisses down her shoulder.
They have a tingle, but not the same wantonness as Dexter's. But still ... it was nice, and she could get used to it she guessed.
" ...how ... do ...you ... feel about ... your brother moving to ... ... Argentina?" he reaches the cusp of her breast, and again, she squirms away uncomfortably. "Must be pretty cut up...", he nuzzles the golden hairs on her shoulder lovingly, "about him taking the boy away from you-"
With a comfortable distance between him and her breasts, she frowns, taking in his words. She sits up, suddenly and he looks up at her bewildered.
"What?" she asks in disbelief.
Quinn frowns going to answer, when his front door is opened, the sound of soft footsteps walking towards their bedroom door. Quinn swings out of bed and Deb reaches for the sheet to cover herself just as the bedroom door is opened.
"Guess what –", a chirpy voice starts to sound.
But just like the smile that greets them, the voice falls, and Jamie slams the door shut, storming out.
"Fuck", Quinn mutters. "We are – were kind of seeing each other".
11:24
"So what is that book that you are carrying around with you like it is your fucking Holy Grail?" Quinn asks over the black hardcover.
Unfortunately, there was no spare key to Deb's office, with the locks being changed just last week after, Dexter, breaking and entering last week; she had not yet made a duplicate. So, the locksmith had to be called in, again, to break the lock, and set a new one in place, again.
Deb eyes glare at, Quinn, cautiously.
"Did you read any?"
"No", he says laughing over her terse voice, raising his hands in the air, "just, you're so protective of it".
And she is.
And is also not quite sure if she believes him... ...and what would that mean ...?
She pushes that troubling thought aside, and locks the book in the top drawer of her front desk, which is luckily code locked.
'The Code', locked by the code – how ... ironic. Her mind allows itself to be amused by the situation.
"... so what is it?" Quinn asks again.
Persistent.
Annoying.
Hovering.
He has been following her around all morning like a lovesick puppy. And there is only so much of that, Deb, in her current state of mind, can take.
She sighs exasperated, "it's just something that was very important to me ... it was my ... father's", she lies, but it does the trick becase he drops the subject.
...
A key tries and fails to turn office door's new lock; Deb and Quinn both turn, frowning.
There is then a quiet knock.
"Come in...?", Deb asks, intrigued as to who it might be. Her fingers reach for the comfort of her gun, but of course it is not there.
The door opens, and it is not who she expects it to be.
Astor and Cody ...
Followed in by Dexter.
- So where is Harrison...?
Despite herself, her eyes lock on to Dexter's, begging him the question.
He closes them slightly, with loving grace, telling her that he is not in immediate danger.
But the thought of who he might be with makes her sick, and she sets a piercing glare on him, before removing it to settle kindly on the children.
"Aunt Deb - ", Astor, chirps, moving in for a hug.
She can hear, Dexter, gruffly ask, Quinn, to leave.
"- did you have a nice holiday?"
Quinn, mutters something, not so amicable, and not so quiet.
Deb's, Astor's and Cody's heads all turn towards the men.
Quinn's, back is to them.
But Deb, can see that Dexter's, fists are clenched so tightly, they have gone white.
"Quinn", she soothes, "don't you have somewhere you need to be...?"
Quinn tilts his head to one side, "that's right", he directs at, Dexter, "doing my job", he sneers, before storming out the room.
All eyes fall on Deb, and she grabs, Cody, into her hug too. Happy to have them close again, despite the embrace being one two-footer short.
Dexter, clears his throat.
"Aunt Deb, and I have to talk", he addresses the kids dismissively.
Deb's smiling eyes are trained on, Astor, but she can feel, Dexter's stare, burning into her.
"Did you have a nice time?" Astor asks, not ready to let go.
"Where did you go?" Cody asks, "why didn't you take us with you?"
Deb, widens her smile down at the teenage boy, but directs her next words at, Dexter. "You wouldn't have had any fun. It was very cold and wet. The catering was poor, and so was the entertainment. And ...", she rubs Cody's back lovingly, her voice smoothing, now she is directing her conversation to the kids, "no electricity".
"Ah. Boring", Cody exclaims, "how did you not die of boredom?"
"I almost did", she smiles.
Dexter obviously cannot take anymore, as he moves swiftly to Deb's side. Gently removing the children from her side, and with one of his hand's ghosting her neck, he leads her towards the office door.
She can almost feel it tightening around her.
"Stay in here while me and your, Aunt Deb, talk", he asks them.
...
Outside in the corridor, Dexter's hand moves round to the front of her neck and he grips it tightly before placing a fierce kiss on her lips.
Her stomach swoons.
"Dext-", she tries to pull away, but he just deepens his kiss and his hold, forcing his tongue's entrance, crushing his body deeper into her. His hand's clutch tightens around her vocal chords.
As with many of situations she finds herself in with, Dexter, she could not even cry for help if she wanted to.
In a gasp of air, she manages to bite down on his tongue, and he pulls his lips away, but not his hold.
He frowns at her, but her frown is deeper, and he allows her to push him away.
She straightens up the clothes that are not hers, and frankly, too big. Rubbing her hurting, swollen lips.
Eventually, she makes eye contact with Dexter's military-style boots. They are not laced with same red dusty chalk that her clothes, and skin were engrained in; turning the shower water a deep brown when she had washed the only reminiscents from her ordeal that could ever be washed off.
They instead seem almost, clean.
Obviously he was not that worried about her absence.
She frowns.
Clean trousers.
Her eyes trail up.
Clean shirt.
Finally, she allows her gaze to flick on to his face. And for all the times, Dexter, has looked shit this year, he has never looked more.
His kind, sorrowful eyes are bearing into hers.
"I – ", he starts.
She does not want to hear though, and holds up her hands to walk away.
But he grips onto them, and pulls her up flush against him.
Locking her.
His breath breathing heavily down the left side of her turned away cheek and throat.
She feels nothing though.
Except, maybe a steady heartbeat in the pit of her abdomen somewhere.
"I was so worried", he pleads.
His voice broken.
She does not feel sorry though.
Except, for maybe the steady heartbeat in the pit of her abdomen somewhere.
She finds her voice, clearing her throat, but drops her gaze to the floor.
"You're good at loosing people, Dexter", she feels his grip slacken on her wrists, and she pushes out of his hold. "Although, once again, all you had to do was report it to, Miami Metro, and you would have found who you were looking for".
She goes to move, again; and again, he moves to grab her, as if afraid of loosing her.
But she dodges him, "please Dexter, this is way to touchy for brother and sister, anyone would think we were something more".
Wednesday
07:12
Deb kept in her office for the remainder of the day, in an attempt to not encounter her brother again. Although, she recognised her BMW distantly tail her all the way back to Quinn's apartment. She wondered how long he would wait outside, until he understood that she would not be.
Quinn flicks her nose in an attempt to get her attention.
She turns her thoughts away from, Dexter, to face him, the pillows rustling as she does.
She smiles.
"You were miles away?" he muses.
"I was. Shit fuck, I am", she stares back up at the ceiling, before returning her attention to Quinn, turning so that her whole body is facing him.
"So, what's your fucking problem with, Dexter ... with my brother", she stumbles.
She needs to get used to saying that, seeing him that way again.
Quinn breathes out a full body sigh, and turns so that he is flush against his back, and stares up at the ceiling. "Fuck, look, I know you love your fucking brother. But he is such a FUCK asshole sometimes".
Deb laughs.
And Quinn smiles, nestling beside her again.
"Fuck. I promised him I wouldn't tell you. But, I no longer give a fuck about being in his good books", he laughs again, and Deb joins in, for consistency sake.
He tucks her stray hairs behind her ears.
She does not like it. It reminds her too much of Dexter ... her brother, and nudges his touch away.
"So...?" she asks impatiently.
"So...?" he frowns, grinning, confused, but grinning over the fact that he once again as her back in his heart and in his bed.
"So, what did, Dexter, not want you to tell me?"
"Oh", he says, rolling back on to his back, staring back up at the ceiling.
Deb sits up, resting her weight on her elbow, so as not to miss anything to the rustling of the pillows or the sheets.
Quinn makes a face, "I don't really know why he was so fucking intent on you not knowing. I mean you would be more of a fucking help then he shitting has been. At least you would actually care", he compliments, shooting a smile at her, which she quickly replies too, so he will hurry up with his story. "Operation Duckling. We all agreed-"
"- We?"
"Me, Angel, Miller, your brother", he says darkly, "even Masuka, when you bribed him with porn enough", he chuckles... "anyway, we all agreed that there was something not quite right about it. That we were on to something, and then it got conveniently swept under the rug by the FBI. So, we've been going into it a bit more"
"More how?"
Quinn blows out a puff of breath, " all we have really been able to do is to go through case files. It's amazing how much some of the trafficking case files show similar stories".
"And have you found anything concrete?"
He shakes his head. "The CCTV is what really would have helped us- "
"But the CCTV was checked. It didn't help fuck, there was no fucking footage"
"That's what they say. But this is America, and there is always someone fucking watching you", he says seriously. "And soon, I will – ", Deb's silence his paranormal rambling, before resting her head back on the pillow. Confused as to why, Dexter, would not want her to know about that.
"You know, if you really want to make a headway on these trafficking cases, who could really be of help to you is-"
"You", Quinn replies, stealing a kiss.
She smiles, accepting his kiss.
"Winslop".
"Lieutenant of Vice?"
"Yeah, he-"
Her speech is interrupted by the sound of the front door shutting.
They both frown in the direction of the bedroom door.
"Jamie?" Deb wonders dubiously.
Quinn makes a face, and swings out of bed.
The bedroom door swings open, and a figure whose face is hidden by a black balaclava enters the room.
Shotgun at the ready.
Before Deb's heart even has time to spike, a shot has been fired, and she is painted with blood.
She can feel the warm, cumbersome liquid, splattered on her face.
On her neck.
Her shoulder.
Her chest.
She is in too much shock to scream.
Her eyes widening further in horror, as the barrel is then aimed at her head.
Nothing flashes before her eyes.
No thoughts, except for the one that she is sure she is going to die.
But then the barrel is lowered, and the unknown masked gunmen sighs, before exiting quickly out of the room and the apartment.
08:24
Recounting the attack as best as she could, they had escorted her out of the bedroom.
She no longer had to be in the same room as Quinn's brain splattered remains, but she could still feel it all over her face, upper neck and shoulder.
As fresh as when it was first splayed.
Burning into her skin.
Would they really ever go away...?
She spots his corn yellow eyes zoning in on her through the small crowd of people in what was, Quinn's small living room.
Their eyes remain locked until he is standing in front of her.
She cannot read the expression in his, all she knows is that they are here for her.
Like a hawk, she follows them when he turns to talk to someone. Her eyes focus on his lips, to try and workout what he is telling them, because all she can hear is white noise.
She thought herself strong for getting through this past half an hour.
The questions, the photographs, the stares.
But now, with Dexter in front of her. All she wants to do is run into the safety of his arms and burst out crying.
She feels his fingers on the small of her back, as he escorts them both away.
...
08:29
He perches her on the closed toilet seat, and runs the hot tap in the sink.
Testing the water, he retrieves a folded face cloth over the shower rail, before starting to wash her dead lover's blood and brain matter off of her face.
"It's evi – ", she starts to protest.
"They have enough", he cuts off, and Deb closes her mouth, lowering her gaze to the tiled floor.
But his hand jerks it back up and she is forced to look at him.
His eyebrows are knitted in concentration.
His lips pursed in a thin line.
She challenges herself to look into his eyes... they are not looking at her, but they are just as tiresome as they were the other day in her office. He is starting to look his age... maybe older.
"There", he says when he is finished.
And her gaze bounces to make contact with his averted one.
"I brought you some clothes", he indicates to the bag on the floor, "that", he swallows hard, "were at mine. I thought maybe you could use them..."
His eyes catch hers, and he looks away, hurt.
Deb bubbles, her emotions brimming at the surface, before she can no longer hold it any longer and bursts out crying.
He hesitates.
But then slowly, Dexter extends his arms, and she launches into them, muffling her loud cries in his chest. He grips onto her tight, a hand rubbing the back of her head lovingly. She feels his own tears fall on the top of her head, and then his searing kisses, and all of a sudden she needs to feel one on her own lips. Lifting up her head they share a searing kiss. She can taste his salty tears... maybe its hers? Or both?
"Why?" he asks, pain lacing his voice, "why, were you here?" through a pepper of kisses along her face. "You're so stupid. I almost lost you. Then who would I be?" he asks.
She pulls away and finds his broken face.
"I don't know. I'm sorry", she cries into his shirt.
To say that Deb feels better after her shower, is a definite long shot. But she definitely feels more collected and in control. Although it is weird that she gained it in the bathroom of a dead lover, who only an hour and a half ago, brains were splattered over her.
It also thus presented another nagging idea:
Why was she saved?
Sat in contemplation on the toilet seat, drying slowly in her towel; there is a knock on the bathroom door and Dexter enters, closing the door behind him.
Already she can feel a change in the dynamics from half an hour ago, when they were both crying in the others' arms. And by the way he looks over her wearily, so does he.
She stands, running fingers through her wet hair.
"Where are the kids?" she asks.
"With Jamie"
She raises her eyebrow. Not the answer she expected.
"So, I take it she does not know about Quinn?" she asks, feeling guilty over the compromising position she last saw Quinn in, and what would always be her lasting memory of him.
Dexter shakes his head. "I'll take you home when your dressed".
Deb turns to look at her reflection in her mirror, her eyes are still puffy and withdrawn, but then, that is to be expected. "There are a bit too many blondes crowding my home for my liking", she snaps, startling him. "... No, Dex", she says in a much softer voice, "I'm going to stay here and try and help. Do they know anything more?"
Dexter shrugs, "I don't know, I was just waiting outside the door until I heard the shower stop", he explains quickly, "- but Deb", he takes a step forward, and she turns, raising her hands to stop him from advancing any closer. "You need to rest", he tries to reason. "You are probably still in shock, and then you won't be help to anybody".
"I am fi-ne, Dex", but the croak in her voice tells him the opposite. "I need to stay ... I need to help ... I need too know... why", she says truthfully.
He nods, "but I need you safe ...
... why were you here?" he asks again, hurt, again lacing his throat.
"Do you really want to know the answer, Dex?" she asks, her tired, abused eyes finding his.
They lock with hers for a while before turning away.
"Do you still love me?" he asks, in a confused childlike voice.
Deb snorts, "I don't know, Dex. I don't know what it is I feel for you, but it can't be love".
Except, maybe for the steady heartbeat in the pit of her abdomen somewhere...
There was more, ending on a twist/cliff hanger, but annoyingly I had to cut it out for plot purposes. I think it will work better in the next chapter anyway. Until next update!