And chapter eleven is here. Thank you, S.:-)
As usual, read and review, you know how it goes.:-)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Oliver Saxon puts his phone and his wallet into his pocket and then takes off his jacket. He folds it on the passenger seat of his truck and then slowly gets out of his vehicle, taking a frightened girl with him. He strokes her head to calm her down, but she still cries, her long brown hair falling over her face and duck tape that covers her mouth.
"Shhhh, angel. It's all gonna be over soon. Don't be afraid." He soothingly says, and when she thrashes he grabs her hair roughly and hisses at her. "Stop resisting you, fucking whore." He takes her to one deserted yard, going behind the house into a garage.
Once inside he ties her to the chair and slowly proceeds to take his tools out of the bag. She is actually still alive when he starts to cut her skull open, and he enjoys the terror the girl is facing, turning one mirror toward her so she can see what he's doing to her.
"You see… This is how your life ends you little worthless piece of shit. But don't worry, in your death you'll be more useful than alive. I will use you…" He kisses the top of her head, his mouth bloody and the girl pulls at her restraints one last time before falling unconscious, "to send a message to one old friend."
He turns around and takes one glass. Taking out the small piece of her brain he carefully sets it down, his tongue licking the blood off his lips, and then he slowly closes the glass and sets it beside him.
He covers the table in plastic, and then takes the girl's clothes off, setting her onto the table and then wrapping her up. Finally, he takes the knife and plunges it into her chest, sound of plastic and tissue splitting under the force of cold steel blade brings him so much joy.
"Oh mother, you're going to be scared shitless." He says, placing few of Evelyn's hairs on the table. He leaves the garage and then goes back into house, taking out of the basement the owner of it. He tied him few hours ago and made sure that he stayed in as much uncomfortable position as he can be, so man is already beyond frightened when Saxon returns.
"Albert Yates." He calls out, when man opens his eyes, terrified. "How very thoughtful of you to choose a house so secluded of from the looks of curious strangers. You made this easy for me…No witnesses, nothing. You know, I made a mistake once. I let my guard down and my girlfriend's brother followed me. I killed him." He hovers over his prey. "Stabbed him. That's your favorite method, isn't it?"
The man's muffled screams bring him back to his business, and he stretches out his hands.
"My mother betrayed me. But she is a killer, too. She killed two of her patients, do you know that? You were a lucky bastard, you could have been the third one. She gave you the same treatment, after all. Cutting your brain up, that's not nice thing to do. " He chuckles. "Oh yes, you guessed it out right. Evelyn Vogel, that's my mother. She betrayed me, just like she did to you. But I'm the smarter one. I'll get back at her, for both of us. She was supposed to love us, to keep us safe. Instead, she did what she did. So, don't worry you'll have your revenge. But first." He gets up and secures a rope, making preparation for suicide scene. "you'll have to do something for me."
He takes out the paper of his pocket and dials police.
"Read this, and you might get through all of it unscratched ." Oliver says calmly. Albert obliges.
Fifteen minutes later, Saxon has everything cleaned up and he sits in bar a talking to his date, a hooker he picked up in "Romero's". They have short, unpleasant sex, and he leaves her grumpy. He decides he should make his final move.
An hour later, Albert Yates' hanging corpse greets the police bursting through his front door; Joseph Quinn is the first cop on the scene.
He makes a call to Debra, but doesn't reach her. Feds follow soon enough, and Angel Batista shakes his head cursing because two of the people from his team are still missing, and Crawford looks too amused for Angel to handle.
He says angrily to himself. "Jesus Christ, Morgans…"
One large man stands in front of Deb and points one threatening finger at her for trying to come to the back side of club. I myself have gotten into tricky situation, my sister made it clear that it's forbidden for me to interfere.
On her part, she seems determinate to keep this civil.
"Listen, jerkface." She takes his finger into her left palm, and pushes herself an inch away from his lips, man obviously confused by her behavior." If you don't let me see Santos, I'll blow your balls of before you can say "Fuckballs". And yes, that thing between us, beside your obvious boner, is my fucking gun.. So don't fuck with me or might find yourself on the wrong side of dick. Do you get me?"
Well… at least she said it in the cold and calculated tone. That part is civil. I think.
Apparently, Deb choose her dress not to fuck with my mind, but to hide her gun on the upper side of her thigh. So one more of her actions goes misinterpreted my way. She's getting really good at this.
"Miss, you cannot pass." He stubbornly says, but she gives him one chilling smile, that makes both him and me back off. She grabs her gun before he can react and pushes him it towards his temple. She's fast. I wonder how the hell did I manage to subdue her that night…?
"Does this fucking convince you?" She asks elegantly, and then the voice calls out from behind.
"Debra "Fucking" Morgan." Very short man comes our way. "Nigel, you stupid fuck. Deb, forgive him, he is fucking retarded."
"She looked like cop." Nigel defends himself, as Deb returns her gun back into holster fixed on her leg.
"She isn't a cop, you fucking moron. This girl is my friend." He hugs Deb tightly. The way he acts, I think that Masuka might have Mexican twin brother, if that makes any sense.
"Sorry, let's go to my office." Santos leads us in his place. I'm surprised to see it's full of cameras. Deb was right, they are really having this neighborhood under surveillance. "So Cockroach, what brings you here? You wanna have a drink?"
"No thanks, I'm good." She says.
"And your partner here? Now, you know I love you, but this isn't place for bringing fucking cops, Deb." She shoots him one look." Hey, except you. You're okay."
"He's not my partner." She answers.
"Oh, shit? He is Mister Cockroach? Sorry, man. But I can't help hitting on her." Santos apologizes, and I'm still as confused as I was when we came in.
"He's not my boyfriend, either." Deb laughs. "We do have a same last name, but he's not my husband either."
"Fuck! You're Dexter "Fucking" Morgan. That superhero, almighty, perfect brother of yours. That blood splatter analyst? Last time we met, you lived at his place, right? Man nice to meet you!" He extends his hand.
"It's "spatter", not fucking "splatter". And yes, that's him." Deb says.
Yes, it's me. Deb's superhero, almighty, perfect brother. One constantly good thing in her life. I close my eyes for briefest moment, just to shake the sudden discomfort away.
"Hello, brother Cockroach." I shake his hand and curiously ask why does he gives her this kind of nickname.
"It's because you could have goddamn Armageddon heading our way, and this girl would be only one surviving it, that's fucking why. You put her in any place on Earth, in any fucking shithole, and she'll survive." He smiles at me. "One tough bitch, that's her."
Actually, I remember Deb throwing up on her bathroom floor, and me picking up her bony, thin body and taking her to her bed, where I took what's left of her just few hours before. I remember how broken and lost she looked after she killed Laguerta. That is not Deb anymore.
She could survive anything, anything except me. I killed her.
"Hey man, how come you don't swear?" He asks me, as Deb keeps watching the videos and pretending she doesn't hear us.
"No…I usually don't swear that much." I answer.
"Brother to Deb Morgan doesn't swear?" Santos asks almost disgusted.
"He is adopted." Debra says from the other side of room. I inhale through my nose, holding myself together not to comment. Here, Santos, let me give you translation of what she means by that. He is NOT my fucking brother at all. Actually, he is the worst fucking thing that ever happened to me. That's what Deb meant.
"Oh, that explains a lot." He says. "You're lucky." he gives me one knowing look, keeping his voice low. "Because it's not so fucking healthy when someone swears that fucking much."
"This guy." Deb says, showing him Saxon photo. " Do you know who this guy is? Have you seen him around? He hangs out in "Romero", that was what I've heard."
"Oh, I don't know. I see a lot of people here." Santos answers taking a photo and thinking." He looks so.. ordinary. Which might mean a trouble for him." He grins. "Because we don't have much of ordinary people here. Most of them are dealers, and macros and some of them are even killers. I can hook you up with someone in "Romero" to check it out, if you want. But you need to stay quiet, no more that cop bullshit of yours. One day you'll get yourself killed with that attitude."
"I won't, I'm fucking cockroach, remember?" She smiles at him. "You need to keep this low profile. This favor, I'm asking from you. Because the fucking cops could be taking over this place pretty fast, if you know what I mean. And that's not something you would want too, right?"
"We got corrupted, are we?" He playfully smiles, and Deb doesn't answer..
Yes. I've corrupted her.
"That's what dating to a fucking serial killer does to you." She jokes, and they both laugh.
Or having a serial killer as a brother does to you.
Santos takes his phone and absently says. "I'm sorry little fucker killed himself. It was too good death for him, after what he fucking did to you. I wish he fucking died by your hand."
"In a way, he did." She silently says, and glances at me, her eyes haunted. We look at each other, and I see true love and regret in her eyes. She still can't forgive herself for Brian. Even after I broken her in every way possible, she is still the one that has the strength and humanity to regret.
But I don't feel regret. I would have killed him thousand times if I had to. You deserve it, Deb. She comes closer while Santos talks to someone, and she holds out shaky hand to me. I take it and rub her palm with my thumb.
" 'm sorry" Deb whispers.
"I'm not." I answer with all the certainty in world.
"I'm going out for a short while." He says. "I'll take this photo with me, and you'll have your information soon enough. Just sit here, and Cockroach, avoid Nigel, please. He's a sweety but can be really unforgiving when someone puts a gun to his temple. Okay?" He pats Deb on her back, and gets out.
We look after him, our hands still joined.
Vogel goes through her records for the third time, trying to figure out what's missing. The Brain Surgeon obviously didn't take everything, he only took what seemed the most important to him. That would also mean that he was here more than once, and the he went through her stuff in detail before Dexter installed her cameras. In the end she counts her CD's and stops dead in her tracks when she realizes that one is missing.
Last record of her and Harry Morgan. The one that could destroy both her and Dexter, if anyone sees it. She sits down, shocked. All her senses are numbed down, she is sinking, she is feeling hot and cold at the same time.
And then, low voice comes behind her just before she faints.
"Hello, mother."
"His name is Oliver Saxon, he is a regular at "Romero's". This is his license plate, and this is where he usually took his hookers. Now, this is interesting, he took one of them in this place, some old psychiatric hospital, ain't that scary? I think you can find him here. " He gives us address.
I'm impressed. I was stalking this guy, but this Santos, who never knew met him in person, found out everything I needed in one simple phone call and twenty minutes of conversation with his contacts. Deb's right, contacts are a miracle.
"The most important part is that he's got a date. Tonight. With Hyena." He proudly writes down girls phone number.
"Fucking Hyena? That's her fucking name?" Deb asks in disbelief. " Wow, thanks Santos, I owe you for this one."
"You don't fucking owe me. You saved my ass, remember?" He kisses her hand.
"Yes, by accident." She replies honestly.
"Yes, but you did it anyway. And Santos never forgets." He follows us out. "I have to work now. I won't have a single break in next two days, can you believe it? Running a club, even a salsa club is fucking exhausting."
We get out of his office and into the crowd, and some songs starts, so Deb moves her hips and starts dancing. Funny thing is that someone watches her right new, he would never guess she wears manly boots and swears like sailor.
She looks beautiful.
Deb notices my look, and there it goes again, one of her masks is on. Something is off this entire day, the way she forgave me, after our fight yesterday, and the way she acts around me screams red alerts, but I ignore it. She takes my hand and forces me to dance, laughing when I stumble on my feet. We haven't danced since my wedding, so it feels strange, when she takes my hand once again, putting it over her lower back, and coming closer.
"What are you doing?" I ask her dangerously, and she sees I'm not pleased with her actions. She backs off, and smiles again, even more dishonest than before, and calls out for me to follow her.
Once we're out of the club, she once again complains about her heels, and says how good music is in the club, but I ignore all of that, and once we're in the car I stubbornly refuse to talk to her. We're driving trough dark deserted ally when I suddenly hiss, "Pull over." I hiss at her. " Pull over!" I grab her hand forcing her to face me. I catch my own reflection in mirror. I have eyes of a wolf that picked up the scent of blood. There is no blood, but clearly there is one big, fat lie hoovering over us.
She seems surprised by my outburst, but she doesn't oblige. Instead, she goes faster. I don't speak anymore. Only my grip on her hand hardens, until the point I think her bones might snap, yet she stays silent.
We get to her house, and she takes her heels off and heads to the beach, leaving me alone in her house. The air in the house suffocates me, and I decide to get out and finally get behind the real motive for all of this.
"Deb." I call out for her, but she just walks away. I run after her, and stand just in front of her. She doesn't look at me, but there it is, my hurt, ruined Deb once again shows her face. So this entire days was just an act.
Wonderful. Fucking perfect.
"What?" I ask, and she looks up. "What?!" I repeat louder. It kills me I don't know how to handle her. And it kills me that it kills her, obviously.
"Nothing. It's nothing." She replies. "Please, leave me alone."
"I'm not leaving until you tell me everything, you hear me?" I'm disturbed by all of her behavior. It took some time, but I realized, it's not all about me. It really isn't. I know I do love her, and even if I do make poor choices, that only she seems to regret instead of me, that doesn't change the fact that I care about her in my own fucked way. "What are you thinking about? Tell me, just … Tell me everything."
"You wanna talk? You wanna know…? You really fucking wanna know? " She asks and I nod.
Deb sniffs, and takes a deep breath, her gaze going upwards. "About your wedding." Her voice comes out soft, defeated.. "About dancing at your wedding, with you. Before all of this. Before Trinity, before Travis, before Hannah, before Laguerta", Deb dares to meet my intent stare." Before I found out who you really are. Before I found out you're not the one I thought you are."
"Deb." I don't know what to say to her. We had this kind of conversation before, and it always ended in fight, or in Deb crying and me apologizing. But it feels different this time. It feels…final.
"And then… Then I think of Rita's dress… The one I took from your house, the one she's got buried in. I think of Harrison covered in blood, screaming in my arms on the front lawn, and those Fucking Bunch of Idiots running around. I think about Astor and Cody and how broken you looked when they left."
"I was broken." I tell her quietly, my voice soft so I don't scare her off.
"But you found Lumen soon enough. And you went on like Rita never existed, Dex. She gave her life for you, she gave birth to your child, and you forgot her. Just like that."
I see where this is going. She thinks she's going to end up like Rita, forgotten. But I haven't forgot my wife, I see her in Harrison every day. The scary part is that I start to see myself in him, too. And that's a legacy I don't want for my son.
Deb shouldn't be scared like this. Even when I leave with Hannah, Debra is going to be in my thoughts. She shouldn't be afraid that I'll say goodbye to her forever. I can't be without her, she should've known that. Yes, it's truth I was the worst brother one could have in the previous month, and I was especially that way in previous month, but she has to understand that I'm confused and conflicted. My desperation led to another fatal mistake, me sleeping with her.
That's the worst thing I've ever done to her. But somehow I can't regret it. Because the way it actually felt…
Deb continues, and I listen to her carefully.
"You were there to fucking pick me up after every disaster in my fucked up pathetic life. I keep thinking about your arms around me when Mom died, when dad's heart gave up in that fucking hospital, in that ambulance, after Rudy, Brian put me on the table, when I mourned Lundy…." Her voice starts to tremble. This is one of things I love about her. She can be loud and strong and dangerous and capable, like she was tonight in that club, but she still has a vulnerable and innocent side, one that should've never been touched by my darkness. "You were there, Dex. But ever since I admitted what I found out in that therapy… You showed that fucking Dark Passenger of yours to me countless times, and I don't know if anything we ever had was truth."
"It was." I desperately start. "It is, Deb. Please."
"It doesn't matter, all those times you screwed me over in my police investigation. It doesn't matter I had to let you and Lumen go. I don't even mind burning that church with you. But what I did to Laguerta.." She shakes her head, an agonized look on her face. I suppress the urge to ask her forgiveness once again. It's pointless, I think."It changed me. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to blame you. I still want to blame you. And then, at night I close my eyes and I see Harrison for the first time. I see your beautiful house in the fucking suburbs, and your happy family and I see my father and how much love he gave you and I see us running away from waves… I see that proud look on your face when I became Lieutenant." She swallows and her voice becomes broken. "Sometimes I pretend I'm in Joe Driscoll's house and that Rudy is some normal guy, and that Rita is still alive and that you and I are still brother and sister." Tears are flowing freely down her face, she chokes on them, breathing hard.
"We are still brother and sister, Deb." I try to reach out for her, but she extends her hands as if saying "don't touch me". It happened already, in that parking lot after Lundy's death. So I understand, and take one step back. I guess I did learn thing or two over the years. She will break soon enough. And I'll be here to pick her up. Just like I always did. Just like it was supposed to be.
"I still feel your hands around me when you said you loved me for the first time in your life. I had my whole world under my feet back then."
Don't say the next part Deb. Don't do it. "But when I shake of all of that, all of those fucking layers you've put on me during my lifetime, the only thing that stays is constant feeling of your hands on me."
It was just question of time when this conversation will come up. I was fool to believe otherwise. We had sex. Nothing matters now, nothing that we went through as brother and sister. Everything is stained by the fact that I fucked her.
"I'm so sorry I did that." I squeeze my hands shut." I'm so sorry for hurting you."
"You wouldn't fucking stop." She says accusingly.
"That's not the truth." I argue. " I…I was…" I fall silent for a moment. She did ask me to stop. It was only when I saw her crying I forced myself to slow down. The feeling of her hair in my hands as I pin her down burns me, and I feel sick in my stomach. What have I done?
We fucking had sex!
"You wouldn't stop because you know I actually didn't want you to stop." She painfully says. "Because you were right. Because when you love someone for your whole life... No matter what happens, it's hard to shake it off..." She sighs and covers her eyes. "You don't know your strength, Dexter. You were hurting me that night. And I still manage to…I still love you. Not, not you…but the idea of you." Her voice grows stronger, now that everything is painfully laid out. "The idea of slack tide, of perfect undying love. Of fucked up life, that still managed to be beautiful because I had our family. Because of Harrison, and Astor and Cody and Rita. But mostly because I had you. And now it's all gone. Done with. Taken fucking away from me .And I'm lost. Like someone pulled the fucking rug under my fucking feet and I'm about to fall…It feels that way all the time."
She composes herself, wiping her tears away.
"And I have nothing left. I don't know who I am anymore. It was you defining me, you and Dad. And I found out that none of you were someone I would look up to. But it's to deep inside, this cancer, this love I feel for you." She continues. "I have made so many mistakes loving you, but I lived to regret them… And now the only thing I want to do, the only think I would fucking die for is to protect the only innocent part that's left in me and my life."
"Harrison." It finally hits me. Realization dawns upon me as she confirms my suspicion by sadly smiling.
"Harrison." She says, voice breaking over my son's name.
"I said that Elway was a threat to our family, and you left him… But not because of me, but because of my son." It's not a question. "But why, Deb? You had a chance to be happy with him." She gives me one disapproving look. "Yes, Deb I do hate him, but still…and your behavior today… I thought we got back to normal…You acted like before and I.." It hurts me that it was all an act. Spending time with her today was more than pleasant and it reminded me of our days before the shit hit the fan. It means so much, so much more than any f us could imagine.
"I wanted to ask you something…I know I fucking can't talk you out of leaving with Hannah fucking McKay. And I'll be honest, Dex. I want you gone." Tears stars to build anew, but she proudly shies them away." I want you gone, so I can rebuild my life from the ashes, to find my path. Without you. But I can't…I won't let you take Harrison. I would rather die than have him taken away. Not because I'm selfish. It's because I fucking love him. I love him and I want to save him."
"Because you couldn't save me. No one can save me. It's useless to try that." I gently say, pain griping me once again. "But Deb… He is my son."
"He could be my son, too." She quickly says. "I would give my life to protect him from anything. Even from you, Dexter."
I'm not leaving Harrison in Miami without his father. Why is she so stubborn?
"So that was your grand plan? Break up with Elway, return to the force, patch things up with me, at least superficially." I count on my fingers. I don't know should I be angry or amazed by her behavior. She had me almost fooled. Almost. "You should've known better, Deb. I'm not giving up on him. I love him."
"You said you love me too, yet you're more than willing to leave me behind." She rebels forcefully.
"That's for your own good, too."
"And it would be for Harrison's own good if you left and never returned!" Deb bitterly says. " He killed his first animal. He killed and you left that out, you didn't said that to me. And he is going to follow your paths, if I don't stop it. I may be late, but I am going to step in one way or another."
"What do you want from me?" I ask, getting slightly irritated. "Don't you think I haven't been scared enough when I heard that?"
"I'm too late to preserve my innocence, Dexter! And I might be too late for Harrison. But that doesn't mean I won't fucking try, do you hear me?" She warns, and I see her in much different light. "I told you a long time ago that you'll have to decide between your activities and your family. You can't have both."
"I don't have to decide. That's my family, Debra." Now his conversation sounds more than familiar.
"Don't give me that crap about you being in control." She heatedly growls. "You weren't in control with Brian. Doakes, an innocent man, died because of you. If there wasn't that crazy bitch, Lila… You would be the one that would have his ass fried, and on the fucking electric chair. And regarding gross English titty vampire, she was the reason why I didn't leave with Frank when I should've! And now he's fucking dead! Gone. One more on my panifully long list of loses." Her voice escalates. "Or Rita. What about Rita, Dexter?Hmm? How easily you forget about her being I fucking fault? Oh and If you have every fucking thing in your control, how come I discovered you, hm? Hannah almost killed me! I killed Laguerta! I fucking shot her! And if you have everything in your control how have you gotten yourself in situation to fuck your fucking sister just so you could keep her close?"
"I fucked you because I could and because I wanted to!" I snap at her, and she stops breathing for one second.
We both stop breathing.
I fucked her because I wanted her.
One simple slip of tongue explained it all. I wasn't thinking about it, it just came out. The ugly truth.
No more stupid excuses, no more lying to myself. I wanted to have sex with her and I did it.
It wasn't Brian at all. I just covered my dark desires, I clothed them into the image of my older brother, so I don't blame myself. But it was my doing.
Debra blinks once, then twice, and tilts her head like she didn't hear me well. She walks few meters, and then gets back, like she doesn't know where is she.
"Jesus Christ, Dexter…" She whispers. "Jesus Christ. What are you doing with Hannah, then?"
"I love Hannah!" I raise my voice.
"You love Hannah? Seriously?" She repeats. "What the fuck am I to you?" Deb is still shocked.
"You're my sister!" This is not going to end well. It's escalating pretty quickly, and I can't let myself be guided by my emotions anymore. It always ended in horrific choices. One of them was us in bed. "Please, Deb I don't want to fight. I can't fight with you anymore, please. It's been months this way, and it ended how it ended, I know it was a horrific choice, but…Deb."
"Brothers don't fuck their little sisters, Dexter." She tearfully says, trying to catch her breath, her hands coming to rest on her knees as she bends over, movement similar to one I saw when I killed Briggs in front of her. "Dear God…"
"I don't know why I did it, okay?" I yell at her, but she just stares at me, her face blank.
"You just said you did it because you wanted it." Deb doesn't blink, doesn't move. I'm speechless, it feels like she has me by my throat and it's so unpleasant. "But you love Hannah…" Deb smiles disgustedly, shaking her head, like she knows something I don't. Her posture unnerves me, and I suppress the urge to shake her with the last bits of my will.
"Yes. Because she doesn't judge me, because she doesn't run away from my dark side. I am what I am, Deb. You can't change it! And I'm tired of feeling judged by you. I am so fucking tired. I'm not good person, Deb, I know it. But I loved you, and I love you, and I know I hurt you everyday by my presence. We both agree I need to leave. I will leave both of my apartments to you. I'll sell the "Slice of Life" and.."
"I don't need your fucking money!" She cries out. "I just need you to get the fuck out of my and Harrison's life! Because if you did love us, you would've found a way to put us above your fucking need! If you loved me you wouldn't force me on the bed, fuck me senselessly and then leave to go back to that fucking poisoning bitch that fucking tried to kill me!"
We're both silent for few moments. She is playing it brutal. Now I see just how dangerous she has become, she somewhat adopted my manipulating skills and she's using them against me at full force. She will go at any lengths to hurt me, and I don't know where, but somewhere along she marked me as her enemy and now her only goal is to get Harrison out of my grip. And she would say anything that comes up in her mind, because this is war, a war she has been fighting this entire day, and I, on the other hand, haven't seen it that way, so my defenses are down and I'm not taking her low blows so well..
We are not so different, after all. I pleaded to her to let me back in her life, I threatened her and I ended up hurting her physically, just because she wouldn't do my way. Now she's doing the same to me. It's a stalemate, but I won't give up on my son. No matter how much I love Deb, she can't take him away from me. And by having him on my side, I'll force Deb to stay by my side, too. She is not getting away from me that easily.
Deb looks uncomfortable by this turn of conversation, and I'm glad when she decides to shift it the other way.
"Dexter…" She rubs her forehead tiredly. "Just think. What kind of life could Harrison have with two serial killers? Even if Hannah doesn't betray you in the end…"
I interject harshly. "Hannah has proven herself, and enough with that. You, on the other hand… You played me, this entire day. You played me masterfully, I have to admit it. And only few people have managed to that. You made me wonder, how exactly far would you go to get it your own way?"
"I told you I would've done anything for him. And I fucking mean it. If I have to beg you, I will. I don't give a flying fuck about pride, I only want to save your child."
"I will take care of my child, Debra." And just to make her back off, I add a warning, but without any real threat behind it. "Don't test me anymore. You might not like what I'll do."
"What exactly could you do? Take my clothes off and put me on the fucking table?" She challenges. "Fucking stab me with your fucking knife through my chest?" She comes closer, her eyes deathly. "Or it would be your dick sticking into me?"
I'm numb.
How naïve of me to think that maybe, just maybe we could forget what happened. Deb is not forgetting it. She is pressuring me into thinking about that night. Her words were "I will never forgive you this." I should've known better than to think that I could get away from what I've done. Deb is a dangerous opponent once she sets her mind on something. The last time it was running away from me, and it was her behavior that forced me to take drastic measures. Now she is determined to punish me for my mistake. But.. "I fucked you because I wanted to." It still plays in my mind.
Oh shit.
Deb has clearly won this round, so she turns around and goes to her house. Few moments later, she calls out for me like nothing happened.
"Dexter… Angel called us."
It is first rule of survival to be prepared for anything. I lived that way long enough. Detached from my emotions, always following rationality, always thinking twice. The lack of feelings made me a perfect killing machine, and I never minded it. The real problems started when I acknowledged them, and let them interfere in my everyday life.
It was my desire for connection that gotten me into trouble with Lila, Miguel, Travis… So many of them found their unique way to betray me, and each one of them met my blade and suffered from my retribution. I'm not an easily forgiving person, but Hannah must be the exception. She's the only one to survive my wrath so far.
Yet, I've found myself in a very tricky situation now. No matter how cold and detached I am, walking into this particular crime scene makes me feel really troubled. Given that I'm not in a very good state of mind after the last round of fighting Deb and I had, this is just a little too much to handle right now.
The Brain Surgeon managed to be creative once again. He made a perfect replica of Deb's crime scene, the one where she almost became a victim. The girl strapped on the table looks a lot like my sister, and the second Masuka warned me to follow Deb and be close if she feels sick, I knew it's serious. My perverted little friend didn't laugh, or joke, and it was safe signal for me that something is really wrong.
But the way Deb's face went pale really worried me. She was staring at the girl's corpse for two minutes before Quinn softly called out for her. Even my anger at her disappeared and I forgot how utterly fucked our situation is.
This is one more strike to Deb's mental health, and I'm suddenly thinking how stronger she is than me. Life keeps punching her, but she keeps holding on. Harry really did pick the weaker child to teach how to live.
"Good thing it's over." Crawford says. Albert Yates, man hanging in house took responsibility over these killings in his phone call to police, and according to the Fantastic Brilliant Inspectors, the case was very clear. The troubling part is evidence pointing in Evelyn Vogel's direction once again, and Angel swallowed hard when Crawford asked him about Vogel.
They tried to call her, but she wasn't picking up her phone. But it's not Vogel that has my full attention right now.
Deb plays it brave, and no one notices the tiny fracture in her voice as she talks, or that her hands are slightly trembling as she takes a closer look to at a girl whose fate Deb almost shared. She glances at me few times and I give her sympathetic look, but it doesn't do any good. Her stare only hardens and she makes herself look even tougher.
Both Angel and Crawford agree that this is murder/suicide, and Deb doesn't even argue, although it's clear to both of us that Yates is not our killer. But I must give a hand to Oliver Saxon for closing the investigation on him effectively. He must've notice that the feds might get him pretty quickly so he decided to handle this one like a champ. But the way he played with my sister's trauma was certainly not needed, and I'm going to nicely explain it to him before I cut his bowels out, and get rid of his head with my power saw. Preferably, while he's still awake.
On the other hand, Evelyn's situation doesn't look good at all. She should really answer her goddamn phone.
After we finish our work on the crime scene, I decide to try to talk to Deb, but she insists on visiting Vogel. Once we get there, Evelyn is not in her house, and I wonder if I'll maybe visit her crime scene tomorrow. A wave of nausea hits me, and I suppress it, thinking that at least we got head start on Saxon. Once we find him and I get my proof he's definitely responsible for this, it will all be okay.
I don't have everything under my control right now, but I will have it soon enough.
But I look at Deb, and shadow that covers her eyes warns me that devil's play is far from over.
In fact, the real mess hasn't even begun.
I wake up at Deb's place just little before six, and I try Vogel's phone again. When Evelyn finally answers my phone calls, she sounds happier than I heard her in a long time. She says she went for a drive last night, and she didn't take her phone with her, but I know better. Something is terribly off, my lizard brain warns me that I shouldn't trust her right now. We agree we'll meet today to discuss this situation with Yates, and she says she might be busy, but she'll call me to arrange a meeting later on.
I warn her about evidence pointing her direction, but she sounds like she almost doesn't care at all. What the hell happened last night?
I wander through Deb's bungalow, where I came back after our busy night at the crime scene, and she's still not up. Our drive home was tense. She asked me if I wanted her to drive me back to my apartment, and I found some excuse why I didn't want that. Surprisingly enough she doesn't question me, and lets me be with her. I think we both understand that she didn't handle that crime scene well, and I'm willing to give her a break after our fight. But I'm not willing to let her sleep alone in the house after seeing one of her worst nightmares right there in front of her. Though she is still pissed at me, Deb looks actually grateful for not being alone after all of that.
Maybe sometimes I do manage to do something right.
I'm sipping my coffee on her porch when I hear her wake up. She wanders through house, dressed in her boxers and long shirt and it seems she forgot I've been sleeping at her place. I confessed that I wanted to sleep with her last night. Is it really smart of her to walk around me dressed like this?
She notices me and we look at each other for very long moment. I silently get up and get into kitchen, preparing to make breakfast for her.
Deb doesn't say a thing. She sits on a chair, taking my cup of coffee and drinking it absently. I don't object, it's actually calming me when I see her this way. She reminds me of her old self.
"You had nightmares last night." I break the ice.
She gives me questioning look.
"You were shouting something in your sleep, so I came to check up on you." I explain, putting a plate in front of her. She nods ands starts eating slowly, but then sets the fork down. "Is something wrong?" I ask.
"I don't feel well." She answers. "It's too stressful, these past fucking months…I… I think it's taking it's toll on me." She takes the small package on her table, flipping it, and then forcing herself to eat once again.
I eye the black circles under her eyes, and the way she tries hard to swallow her food sets something off in me. I worry about her, but I don't want to tell her that, because she either won't believe me, or she will tell me to fuck off. So I decide not to comment.
"What's that?" I ask instead, and she shrugs, opening the package and finding a CD inside.
"Maybe it's a mistake.", she takes another bite, and sets the package down. "I'll see what it is later. Can't think about it now, it's too fucking early."
"Well, you slept for three hours only, so… I'm actually amazed you got up this early. You've never been a big fan of getting up before noon if you don't have to."
"I promised Angel I'll be at the station at nine." Deb wipes her mouth and finally gives up on eating. But she mercilessly drains what's left of my coffee, and I get up and start making another one.
"I got Vogel on the phone. She gave me some excuse why she couldn't answer, but basically I think she hides something. And I'll pay Oliver Saxon a visit today. No way that Albert Yates did that thing last night. And he had no motive to copy Brian's crime scene", I abruptly stop at that. Her nightmares were about Brian, I shouldn't mention that.
"Do whatever you want." She says tiredly, obviously not in the mood for action. "I would love to see him arrested, but I know it's fucking impossible, given that it's you on his fucking tail."
"He obviously knows who I am, Deb. What he did to Matthews, what he did in that crime scene last night, it was a warning. To me." I push the subject further.
"Or maybe you're coming up with an excuse to kill him." She sarcastically adds. "Like your Dark Passenger needs any excuse."
I contemplate on what she just said. It has been a long time since I killed. Very long, in fact. Almost a month. It seems that my darkness was satisfied when I dropped those two into the sea. But the scary part is that I felt something better, much better, when I was with her. That night.
"I felt sick last night." She suddenly says. "when I saw that girl. She died just because she looked like me. That's so fucking unfair."
"It's not your fault." I try my best to soothe her, but she just purses her lips in her familiar " don't fucking patronize me" way.
"I know it's not." She finally says.
"Deb."
She gets up from her chair, slowly opening a fridge, and taking one beer out. Her behavior unnerves me, and I' about to object with her being this poorly dressed in front of me and with her choice of drink in six am, when she sets the bottle down.
"This fucking stinks."
"Then don't drink it. It's too early anyway." I take the bottle and drain it in the sink, cleaning up the kitchen.
"Would you fucking stop it?" She suddenly bursts out. "I'm not touching your kitchen, so you leave mine alone."
"That's the problem. You're not touching your own kitchen, too. Look at this place, it's a fucking pig sty, Deb." I'm just stating the obvious. "It's like a hurricane went through your bungalow."
"You're a fucking hurricane." She whispers, snatching the plate out of my hand and washing it herself. She is standing close, very close and when she turns to face me we almost crash, but I manage to take a safe step back just in time. Deb stops dead in her tracks, her wet hand finding my chest, as if to push me away, but she actually does nothing. She just places it there, and watches damp dots forming on my shirt. Her palm is the cold opposite to my own hot skin, and the contrast almost hurts, in spite of that I don't do anything to remove her hand.
"I was scared shitless last night." She admits timidly, looking down where her skin meets with fabric of my shirt.
"I know." I answer, coming closer to her, my left palm slowly pushing her hair behind her ear. Her hair is soft. "I'm here. You're safe."
I want to hug her, and I make small movement, but her hand tightens like she's stopping me, so I give up. Why can't she just give in when I offer comfort? So many times in our life I faked it, I held her while she cried, and I felt nothing, or at least I thought I don't feel anything, and now when there are so many emotions that I can't or am too afraid to define, she pulls away.
We can't stay like this forever. She can't be content with feeling my heart beat. Either she has to break the contact or let me get lost inside her embrace. I miss those days when she would run away from demons and ask comfort in my arms. It made me feel humane, almost worth of her love.
But Deb just stays there. She doesn't feel the urge to change something. She seems not to notice my inner turmoil. Here is my sister, the most important person in my life. And she keeps hurting me by simply doing nothing.
I don't know for how long we stay unmoving, I don't know what actually happens but when she meets my eyes, hers are so bright and clear and I'm lost in her look.
"I don't feel fucking safe around you." Deb's voice is so small, and so honest, but I don't take time to consider what she just said. She just takes my hand and closes her eyes, her lips close to mine. Too close.
My heart sinks in disappointment. This is not truce between me and my sister. This is her finding new method to achieve power over me. Risky, deadly method. Is it really possible that our relationship is not sacred to her anymore? Is she really done with me, that she would go this far?
I hate her for doing this. The same thing happened last night when she pulled me to dance with her, but at the time I had my doubts about her intentions. Now I see it clearly. She is seducing me.
And I'm letting her do that. I'm walking right into her trap. dammit, Deb. Dammit!
My defenses are down once again, and when I get to the bottom of her true motives it feels like she slapped me into face.
"Don't play games with me." I warn her, deep, hurt, inhumane growl pierces the space between us. Her grip on me tenses and I respond backing her against the counter, advancing on her. We're even closer now. She licks her lips and swallows hard, her hand traveling to my neck, tracing my mastoid muscle.
"Or you'll do what?" She asks, stroking my neck, but I suddenly turn her around, her back pressed against me, my left hand under her chin and right one pointing to the mirror in front of us.
I might be cruel, but the way she's ripping my heart out right now is nothing less than monstrous. I'm just trying to defend myself. I'm trying to defend us. From her.
"Take a look at us and tell me that you're sure what door you're opening." My voice is hot and dangerous right in her ear. " Tell me you're not going to ask me to stop this time."
She is staring at our reflection, her eyes almost horrified at my words. I know what she's doing but obviously she still doesn't understand to which lengths this war off hers could go. Deb is smart, but is she really ready to face the consequences of her decisions for trying to outsmart me?
She doesn't say anything at all, and I roughly pull her shirt just little up, stroking small of her back. I push her forward and she bends over the counter, her hands grabbing the one hand that's holding her chin, as my other hand moves to her stomach, caressing lightly. Fingertips play with her firm muscles, tickling her, and then traveling upward, toward her breasts, my touches becoming more sexual which makes her breathe frantically. I stop right under her left breast, not to close and not too far.
I could cross the boundaries any moment if I want to. Just few inches upward.
Deb is still holding her ground, not giving up. But I know that soon enough she will break. I've taken the power away from her effectively and she's struggling with herself, various emotions playing over her face.
If she can be ruthless, I can be, too. Two can play this game.
I watch her intently in the mirror, removing my hand from under her shirt, and she shuts her eyes tightly when the buckle on my belt clicks. I slowly push her boxers an inch down, and one involuntary whimper leaves her mouth.
"Say it, Deb. Say it while you still can." It's a clear challenge, and the roughness of my tone suggests her to react. She starts slowly shaking, and I meet her gaze in the mirror.
Why did she had to ruin that perfect moment we had by provoking me? Why does she keeps fighting a battle that makes us both loosing side?
One more groan escapes me, and Deb recognizes the threat, as my anger reaches boiling point, and she finally gives up. "…Stop" she mutters.
"What was that?" I ask tilting her head so my head rests in the crock of her neck. "Say it again."
"I said stop. I want you to stop." She repeats louder this time.
We breath just like that, me holding her chin, while the other hands keeps resting on her boxers, just one movement enough to take them off her. Deb clenches her teeth as if she's bracing herself for what comes next, and I know what I have to do.
"You're not going to get your way, Debra. Manipulating me this way is really below you." I free her hastily, moving away a comfortable distance. Deb places both of her hands on the counter, releasing one deep sigh of relief. I could see how afraid she was of me, of possibility that this could go further.
And I want it to go further. That's the worst part of this situation. It's not that she's ready to let me do something like this to her just to keep the upper hand in this game of wills, but the fact that I'm on the very verge to use it against her and take advantage of this situation.
Hannah doesn't matter right now. The fact that Deb is doing all of this just to keep Harrison with her doesn't matter right now. The only thing that matters is that right now is that I'm trapped by these limitations, and I want to take her clothes off and fuck her on that counter.
The raw and painful truth that I'm actually attracted to her is out at last. Tasting her once was enough to open Pandora's box, and I finally understand all those weird emotions I've felt during our teenage years.
I keep looking at her, expecting for her to come to her senses, but she is still breathing hard, trying to compose herself.
"You're my sister and you should respect yourself and me. This behavior of yours is way beyond insulting." I narrow my eyes at her, determined to shatter her illusion of fooling me and managing to hide her real motive for this. Determined to remind myself that she is the only person in the world I can't ever touch. " Whatever you do, I'm not handing Harrison over to you. Remember that next time you parade yourself around me. It's offensive and I won't tolerate that."
Round two goes to me.
I take my car keys and move past her, ignoring that she looks like she's going to break in two.
She broke my heart that way, so be it. I don't care even is she does shatter. She deserves it right now.
I reach for the knob and without turning around exclaim, "Don't ever do that again. Ever."
Once outside of her house, I walk toward my car and shakily climb into it. The street is deserted and this silence is anything but comforting. I stare in front of me for long time, before desperation finally hits me.
"Fuck!" I roar, hitting the steering wheel. "Fuck!"
