A/N: Good to see you guys all back again! Thanks for the lovely reviews (Jacqueline...I don't have a real life, are you kidding me? Sometimes I feel like Dexter is my life hahaha), they are very encouraging! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well, let me know what you think!
Make It Go Away Without a Word, But
Promise Me You'll Stay and Fix These Things I've Hurt
Harrison was asleep by the time Quinn carried him back into the house with Deb trailing behind. They were both trying to be overly quiet but kept bumping into each other, stifling giggles and glaring at one another. After seeing Deb and Quinn coyly acting like teenagers who'd just shared their first kiss, Dexter couldn't help but wonder if all of Miami was sharing the elation that was slowly starting to creep into his system. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this sensation building inside his chest right where Harry had convinced him two decades ago his heart would never be. He'd lost it along with any normal sort of human emotions or reactions and he'd long since given up hope that there was anything that he could do to get it back again. He'd been born in blood, the human Dexter washed away with the crimson stains on his clothes and skin; he was like Lumen's velveteen rabbit, hoping to become real. But with his lips still warm from Lumen's kiss and where she'd laid her hands on his chest when he'd pulled her close, he still felt her touch, making him happy and hopeful in a way only she had done before.
Dexter laid Harrison down on his bed, pulling the covers tightly around his son's sleeping body. He didn't bother to try and put him in pajamas, because if Harrison woke up now no one in the house was going to be getting any sleep that night. The older Harrison got, the more it became clear that he was going to take after his father instead of his mother, at least in the looks department. Dexter didn't care about whether Harrison had his eyes or Rita's, he was just thankful that Harrison was going to have the childhood that he'd been denied so that looks were the only thing of his father's that he mirrored.
Shutting off the light, Dexter crept back to his bedroom, turning off the hall lights as he did so. When he opened the door, he thought he might be the only one in the apartment that was still awake because Lumen had all ready laid down in bed, still wearing her dress. But when he went to sit down beside her, her eyes opened and she turned to face him. "How's Harrison?" She questioned, her tone languid with oncoming sleep and contentment.
"Unconscious." Dexter laid down on the pillow that Lumen was currently occupying, resting his head against her shoulder. Now that he'd crossed that line that had existed only in his mind, it was like he couldn't keep himself from touching her, even if it was in the smallest of ways, as though he had to keep reassuring himself that she was real, just like he had two years ago whenever he unlocked the door to the home he'd once shared with Rita and wasn't convinced that he hadn't just dreamed up Lumen until he laid eyes on her again. But he'd all ready lost her once before, so he figured a little reassurance that she was still there wasn't uncalled for. He was trying not to think about her walking out that door again. "Deb and Quinn always tire him out."
Lumen was silent for a minute, tracing circles on Dexter's palm with her thumb. "I have a niece." She said finally. "My older brother's daughter. She's seven now. I wish I had spent more time with her." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I doubt she even misses me."
Dexter lifted his head so that he could study Lumen's face. He wished he had known who she'd been before her ill-fated trip to Miami but at the same time, he was glad that he had met her when he did, otherwise he doubted he would have ever attracted her attention. Or was he being pessimistic? Was it tragedy and violence that had brought them together or something more? "I'm sure she misses you."
Lumen opened her eyes and gave him a doubtful look. "That's nice of you to say, Dexter, but I doubt that anyone back home misses me." Especially not if the conversation with her mother was any indication. "They're probably happier."
Dexter leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I missed you." He whispered, feeling vulnerable as he admitted that fact for the first time. "I thought about you every day." Another truth that he had kept even from himself.
Lumen rested her palm against his cheek, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you." She said softly, hoping Dexter could hear in those two words how good it felt to mean something to someone.
In the morning, Dexter awoke to find that he was alone. Quickly, he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of the woman he had curled up next to hours before. But the bedroom was empty and the bathroom door was ajar and he could see it was unoccupied. Dexter slid out of bed, unable to keep from hurrying into the living room; the anxiety he suddenly felt made him feel foolish but that didn't make it go away.
Lumen was standing in the kitchen, staring at the coffee pot that bubbled and hummed on the kitchen counter. There was a mug of coffee all ready in her hands but she was watching the pot as intently as a caffeine junky, as though her stare would help it brew faster. Dexter moved over to her, resting his hand on the small of her box. Lumen jumped, dropping the mug that she was holding, jumping backward as it shattered around their feet.
"Shit." She looked at Dexter, surprise and contrition on her face. "I am so sorry." Lumen covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. "I didn't know you were there."
"I didn't mean to scare you." Dexter apologized at the same time, moving her away from the shards of mug and stepping over the mess to grab a towel. "Are you all right?" He looked at the clock above the stove and saw it was still a few minutes shy of six. "How long have you been awake?"
Lumen knelt down across from him to help clean up the broken mug. "A while." She tossed the pieces of mug into the trash. "I'll buy you another."
Dexter waved his hand dismissively. "Couldn't sleep?" He hoped restlessness was all that had kept Lumen awake and that she hadn't caught herself sleepwalking again. He wasn't doing a very good job keeping tabs on her, seeing as he hadn't noticed her get out of bed.
Lumen got to her feet, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet. "No." She shook her head. "I kept hearing these noises outside and I thought I kept seeing someone walk by the window, but whenever I got up to look, there was no one there." Again, she shook her head. "I thought I was going crazy but I swear I heard someone."
Dexter had seen this Lumen before. The one who slept in a closet, the one who's hands shook so badly sometimes she couldn't hold onto anything, the one who made pot after pot of coffee to keep from falling asleep because she was sure that the second she closed her eyes she would be a sitting duck. Lumen picked up the coffee pot, only to put it down again as it quickly became clear that she would never be able to pour with trembling hands. "Maybe I am crazy."
Dexter took Lumen's face in his hands and kissed her softly. He wasn't used to being the type of person who wanted to do these things, who initiated contact because he wanted to, not because it was expected of him. Lumen closed her eyes and almost looked more at peace, like he could possibly have that effect on her. "You're fine." He said softly, reassuring himself along with her. She was fine, she was not broken, not some miscreant destined for the bottom of the bay. "It was probably just a dream. You aren't crazy." And if she was…? With her so close, it was impossible to think about the answer to that.
"Are you sure about that?" Lumen smirked but her eyes were still closed and that sublimely happy look was still on her face. "I feel kinda crazy."
"Then I think you're in the right place." Regretfully, Dexter moved away from her. "I need to go wake up Harrison."
Lumen nodded and turned toward the fridge. "I'll get started on breakfast." Her hands, at least, had stopped shaking.
Could this be domestic bliss? Is this what my life could be like? Could I really be normal without trying to fool anyone? Could I want this for myself? He wasn't sure he could answer those questions.
Dexter roused Harrison, helping his groggy son get dressed and brush his hair. When they went back in the kitchen, they found Lumen in the middle of making French toast and Harrison hurried over to her, hugging the back of her legs like he, too, was relieved to see that she was still there. Lumen turned around and ruffled the boy's hair, giving him a smile that almost made Dexter jealous and made him wonder, yet again, if this was how his life was supposed to be. Had Lumen come back for a reason? Did he even believe in such childish ideas as fate and destiny? He knew what Harry would have to say on the subject.
Harrison drug a chair over to the counter and helped Lumen finish with breakfast while Dexter showered and dressed for another day at Miami Metro. He had several cases that required his attention and if luck was on his side, he'd be in for nothing more than a day of paperwork. But there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind assuring him he wasn't going to get off that easy.
By the time Dexter emerged from the bedroom, Lumen and Harrison had made enough French toast to feed the entire building. Dexter looked at the plate of towering breakfast food and raised an eyebrow. Lumen shrugged. "He kept throwing bread onto the pan." Harrison looked pleased with himself.
Between Harrison and himself, they managed to make quite a dent in the French toast supply, though Dexter noticed that Lumen didn't do much eating, just a lot of picking at her food and making use of that childhood trick of pushing her food around so it looked like her plate was emptier than it really was. He didn't say anything to her about her sudden lack of appetite, but he felt worry begin to blossom in the back of his mind, though he quickly shoved it aside. There were more important things to worry about than whether or not Lumen was in the mood for French toast.
That more important thing quickly reared it's ugly head in the form of a phone call received just as Dexter was walking out of Harrison's pre-school. "Morgan." He answered without bothering to check the caller ID.
"Where the fuck are you?" There was still no need to check the name on his phone.
"Dropping Harrison off at school." Dexter responded, checking his watch. He was running a little early, not due at the station for another half-hour. But Deb sounded irate. "What's going on?"
Deb exhaled and said, "I need you right now, down by the pier. Just come straight here."
Dexter pursed his lips, getting behind the wheel of his car. "I need to get the kit from the station. Unless there's no blood." He'd meant it to be a sarcastic comment but Deb didn't seem to find it funny.
"Of course there's blood. There's a shit ton. It's a god-damn mess." Dexter could hear his sister's anxiety and frustration even through the phone. "Just hurry." She hung up without further instruction.
Dexter decided to heed her words, earning a few honks and harsh words from the drivers around him as he hurried to the station. Masuka either had yet to arrive or was all ready on the scene because the lab was empty, leaving no one to hold him up as he ran in, grabbed his bag and hurried out again.
Though Deb's directions had been vague at best, Dexter didn't have any trouble finding the crime scene because the street was lined with police cars that were painting the fronts of the neighboring buildings blue with the lights from the top of their cars. He managed to squeeze his car between Deb's and a brick wall, flashing his badge at one of the cops guarding the perimeter. As could be expected, there were several spectators standing around, trying to get a glimpse of a real life tragedy, something Dexter could never understand.
Carolina was sitting on the curb, her back to the area where Deb, Quinn and the others stood, her face buried in her hands. She looked up as Dexter passed by and he saw that she was pale faced and a little green around the edges. She shook her head. "I don't know how you do it." She moaned before returning her face to her hands.
Dexter didn't bother to stop and chat, heading over to where Deb was standing. Her lips were pursed in a tight line, her knuckles white as she dug her nails into her palms. She looked over at her brother as he approached. "Another fucking cop." She growled, shaking her head. "I can't believe it."
Looking from Deb's livid expression to the scene laid out before them, Dexter raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips. Deb hadn't been kidding when she'd said the place was a mess and he understood why Carolina was sitting several feet away from the scene. The body lay spread eagle, the man's sightless eyes staring up at the perfect Miami day. His face was the only thing still recognizable at him, though that was stretching it, seeing as the slashes on his cheeks and forehead had left his skin sticky red. Immediately, Dexter could see what had ultimately led to the man's death, though the dozens of other stab wounds on his body had done a pretty good job of hurrying him along; there was a single, deep stab wound right above his heart, a point of entry that would lead to almost instantaneous death. Which was exactly why he chose to use it to dispatch his own victims.
Though, nothing else about this murder was neat or tidy. Judging by the heavy amount of blood around some of the wounds and the lack around others, the murderer had kept stabbing long after the man had died. This predator was not his level-headed brethren but someone who's rational thought had left them. Despite the fact that it was clear that the person who had done this was unbalanced (to put it nicely), Dexter couldn't stop his eyes from zeroing in on the wound in the man's chest. His calling card. He remembered showing Lumen how to kill a man, correcting her posture and technique in the living room. Though it was strange to admit, he'd been like a proud father, swelling with pleasure and maybe even love as he watched her hold the knife and practice the proper stroke, imagining what it would be like to see her plunge the knife into the chest of one of the men who had broken her. Now Dexter couldn't help but wonder.
"Dexter?" Deb gave her brother a gentle push, startling him. He blinked and looked back at her. "Everything all right?" She raised an eyebrow.
Dexter nodded. "Just trying to get a feel for what went on here." He still had a job to do, one that didn't involve jumping to conclusions or playing Clue: Lumen on the pier with a butcher knife. He shook his head. What would Harry say.
"Any ideas?" Deb questioned, glancing back at the man. The crime scene photographer was moving around the body, snapping pictures at every angle like it was some sort of pre-prom fashion show.
Dexter knelt beside the body, studying the variety of cuts and stabs on the man's body. "I'm guessing his was stabbed." He remarked, looking up at Deb with a smirk on his face. Deb, as always, impressed him with her colorful choice of words. "Any idea when this happened?" He questioned casually. Hopefully an hour ago, maybe even two; he was surprised by how strongly he wanted this man to have been murdered when Lumen was standing in his kitchen breaking his dishware or making breakfast with his son. But the blood told a different story.
"Witness found the body 'bout an hour ago." Quinn replied. "But he looks like he's been dead a lot longer than that." Dexter looked over at him, wondering when he'd become such an expert. Quinn shrugged defensively. "Isn't that your job?"
Dexter decided not to respond, figuring that he was supposed to play nice with his future brother-in-law. Instead, he opened the kit he'd brought with him, pulling out the necessary tools to collect and test the blood back at the lab. "Who did you say he was again?" Again, he went for nonchalant, focusing on the task at hand.
"Jim McCourt, head of Internal Affairs." Deb answered, shaking her head. "Can you believe it? The day after LaGuerta gets killed, someone else from the department gets killed. They even worked together." She looked at Dexter and Quinn. "That can't be a coincide, right?" Dexter could all ready see the wheels in his sister's head turning, launching her into detective mode, eager to get on the trail. Dexter was proud to admit that his sister was born to be a detective; she had intuition unlike anyone else he'd ever known, even though that intuition often caused him trouble he only barely managed to escape.
Quinn shook his head, squaring his jaw. "We'll catch the bastard who's doing this." Dexter wasn't sure if he was reassuring Deb or just making a blanket statement. "He had to have left behind evidence."
"She." Deb interjected and Dexter looked over at her, surprised. "If this is the same person, it's a women. Remember?" She raised an eyebrow.
How could I forget? Dexter got to his feet, picking up his kit. "I'm going to take this stuff back to the lab, see what I can find out." Deb and Quinn bid him goodbye and good luck and Dexter headed back to his car. He passed Carolina again, but this time she didn't look up.
Silence settled around him after he'd slammed the door shut to his car but Dexter didn't find it comforting. Usually, he enjoyed the silence because it let his mind wander and allowed him to think without distraction. But, at the moment, he didn't like where his thoughts were taking him, leading him away from rational thought and facts to coincidence and intuition and suspicions. Could this all lead back to Lumen? Is Deb right, is this somehow more than just a coincidence? Is her Dark Passenger running the show now?
When he dealt with those who murdered innocents, there was no grey area. There was only guilt and evidence that proved guilt. Anything else was irrelevant: motive (in most cases) meant nothing, reasoning and rational had nothing to do with whether or not a person ended up on his table. It was only evidence and punishment and he was the judge, jury and executioner. But with Lumen there was only the nearly incapacitating need for her to be innocent, for this to have absolutely nothing to do with her. He needed her to be innocent because he did not think that he could live without her and proving that Lumen wasn't responsible was the only thought that kept popping up in his mind. He realized his disadvantage, his weakness, how vulnerable he had made himself. Because, if his past was any indication, things would not end well; history would repeat himself, Lumen would leave, only this time, he would have her blood on his hands. How had he let himself get to this point?
Quinn had been right when he'd said there would be evidence and that evidence would either prove that he was worrying for nothing or that he was going to have to be judge and jury all over again. And more than he'd wanted anything before, Dexter wanted the evidence to condemn someone, anyone, else. Things were much simpler when Lumen just wanted him to kill the world's most popular self-help speaker.
After Dexter had prepared the blood he'd collected at the crime scene, he decided to take an early lunch. Granted, it was more like a late breakfast, but since Deb was still at Jim McCourt's crime scene, she was hardly in the position to argue with his phrasing. The cases piled on his desk could wait a few more hours.
From outside, his apartment didn't look inhabited, but he hoped that Lumen was inside, that she still possessed her tendency for laying low even though there was currently no one out there who wanted to kill her. Except maybe her mother, but that seemed like a family matter.
When Dexter stepped into the apartment, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his senses and made him wonder just how many pots Lumen planned on consuming that day. She was definitely going to be leaving the apartment eventually, even if it was just to stock up on caffeine. He didn't see her in the living room, but movement in the kitchen told him where he would find her. Lumen was standing by the drawer that held the knifes he used for cooking, her fingers on the handle, her face wary but she relaxed as soon as she saw who was standing in front of her. Exhaling, Lumen shook her head. "Jesus, Dexter, you scared me." She stepped away from the drawer.
Dexter raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk in unannounced into my own house." He smirked and Lumen rolled her eyes. "What are you doing?" The television wasn't on, there was no music playing, not even a book open on the table.
Lumen pointed to the kitchen table and when Dexter turned he saw that she was well on her way to completing the 1,000 piece puzzle he'd received as a Secret Santa gift years ago from a clueless co-worker. "I used to love puzzles when I was a kid, I would do them all the time." Lumen confessed, shaking her head. "I'm such a nerd."
Dexter smiled at her. "No, I think it's impressive." He said, regarding the picture that she had all ready put together, some elaborate mountain scene with lots of grass and sky that all looked the same to him. "I don't have the patience for puzzles."
Lumen looked at him doubtfully. "I find that hard to believe, since you spend hours covering rooms with plastic wrap."
She had a point there. But Dexter could only shrug. "That's different." He knew he wouldn't be able to explain why but Lumen didn't press the issue and he knew that she understood. Because she had been there, she had stood beside him and unrolled foot after foot of plastic sheeting, operating under the knowledge that one gap could leave behind the evidence that could be their undoing. And it hadn't been so bad with her there beside him, working as a pair, operating with a common goal in mind. He wanted that again, not just in the darkest part of the night, when every second could mean discovery, but every morning, every afternoon, every moment he wanted to know that she was there. There was no longer any point in pretending that wasn't the truth, because he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding that idea from himself. In fact, the only one who probably didn't know exactly how he felt about Lumen was Lumen.
Dexter moved closer to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her softly at first then with more desperation, as though he could somehow break the hold that the Dark Passenger had over her, resorting to old fairy tale tricks. Lumen put her arms around his shoulders and though she was half his size, he found comfort in her presence.
When the kiss was finally broken, Lumen had that transcendently happy look on her face again, like she didn't have a care in the world. Dexter wanted to be like that and wished that her kiss was enough to assure him that all was right, that she was as innocent as Harrison.
"What are you doing home so early?" Lumen questioned, moving back to her seat at the kitchen table and beckoning Dexter to join her. "Come to help me with my masterpiece?" She raised an eyebrow.
Dexter sat down beside her, moving the chair so that their knees were touching. "I'd just mess it up, you're better off without me." He assured her. He picked up a piece but quickly put it back down again because he couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Lumen picked up the same piece and quickly put it in its place. "So why are you home?" She looked at him. "Is everything all right?"
Dexter wasn't sure how to answer her question. Well, she might be committing acts of murder without even realizing it but other than that, yeah sure, everything was all right. Better than all right, perfect in fact, if he was able to ignore the aforementioned idea. "I…" There was something about Lumen that seemed to draw the truth out of him. "I wanted to see you." Because if he could just see her, somehow he could convince himself that everything was going to be okay. So far it was working.
Lumen put down the piece that she had in her hand and turned her body toward him. "You know, you're pretty good at saying exactly what someone needs to hear." She remarked but Dexter could tell that he had done exactly that, said exactly what she'd needed at that moment, to know that she wasn't alone. She leaned forward and kissed him again.
Two years before, Lumen had come to him asking for his help, finding a savior in a monster. He had been the only one who could make every bad and hurtful thing in her life go away, her ogre in shining armor. And now, Dexter knew he was going to do that again, make everything go away; if Lumen was the one that was committing the murders, than he was going to make sure that no one knew it but him. Only this time he wasn't making it go away for her, but for himself.
TBC
