Heya. I love all your awesome reviews. :) You guys are fantastic.

I may have rushed this a bit to get this out to you for chrsitmas but I thought you guys deserved a gift :D

Merry Christmas!

Ps. I hope to see y'all soon but I have revision to do :( So i'll try. :)


It's crunch time.

Literally.

Rita's small table doesn't really fit more than four people around it, however right now there are six of us. 'More the merrier' has never been a falser expression.

Rita.

Cody.

Astor.

Gail.

Lila.

Me.

Honestly I'm not sure why the kids are with us; I think it's to delay the inevitable. Rita hasn't even mentioned to the kids who Lila is, thankfully I think there too young to comprehend the idea sponsors and N.A meetings. Apparently Paul didn't bring his sponsors home or even listen to them for that matter. Rita looks at me knowingly then shuffles the kids off to bed; it's nine, already past their bed time.

The orange caramel tart that once melted deliciously into my wanting mouth suddenly turns sour. Its time. Rita returns, her usual shuffling now quicker and more frequent, her fluttering further repeated. After about five minutes of it she finally sits.

It's the moment of truth.

Well not entirely but then if it were I wouldn't be speaking it to devil mother, more likely my defence attorney.

Gail begins her usual snide remarks still prevalent.

"So, Lila, was it? How did you come to sponsor Dexter, Previous experience tells me this arrangement is very odd?" she doesn't quite burn a hole in her daughters head but it's a close call.

Lila smiles and Rita's incredibly strained face smoothes slightly.

"Oh, we have similar experiences, not just the same drugs but we've both had family in prison as well, and apparently it's quite a triggering factor. Not to mention Childhoods."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My face feels like thunder and from Lila's gasp it looks it to. How am I meant to explain this to Rita? I was hoping to take the cowards' way out and never tell her but obviously that's not possible now.

Well we can't all be Prince Arthur can we?

I slowly look to Rita, my eyes seem glued to Lila's seemingly genuinely apologetic face, I don't think I want to see my girlfriend's reaction.

But I do ultimately forcibly rip my cold eyes from Lila and compel them to travel the small distance between the two women.

I'm rather astonished actually, there's nothing. Her face is devoid, hollow, empty… nothing.

Like… me.

God, am I infectious now?

Anger begins to swim into her eyes but it's gone as quick as it came.

Oh good. I'm not.

Rita suddenly directs a glare to me so powerful that I feel my brain imploding under the pressure, oh she's pissed.

She turns to Lila and smiles.

.

It's another hour before Lila leaves and it's possible the most awkward and painfully anxious hour I've ever had to live through. Rita was all smiles to anyone but me, Gail glared a smouldering hole in-between my eyes and Lila didn't seem at all inclined to help me end the torment by leaving.

She finally did but now I'm on the wrong side of an interrogation table with a visibly angry girlfriend glowering down her nose at me. Gail removed herself from the situation; my evaluation of her is going up, I almost want to worship at her feet. Almost.

"So Dexter," Rita begins, her pacing becoming rhythmical to my ears,

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap…Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Anything else I should know about you?" she utters still appearing calm and composed.

Umm….. Well… about that…

Apparently silence isn't a good thing.

Rita blows.

"What do you take me for Dexter? Huh? I've tried I really have, but I can't … god I can't be with you if you keep keeping these secrets from me. Big Secrets from me."

I say nothing. I can't, if I told her anything I'd be dumped for sure, well in prison most likely but there's nothing worse than looking on the down side of things.

Rita sighs. "Fine, fine. Don't tell me… But Dexter I do what to get more involved, please tell me about something, your brother, sister, mother, father! I don't… please just let me in."

I tell her the least damaging thing I can think of.

"My mother was murdered." I hear her gasp but I continue, "by four men, in a shipping container with chainsaws, I... we were left there for 3 days in her and some other men's thick sticky blood. Harry found us and adopted me."

When I awaken from my muse Rita has moved from her pacing position of power to slumping down in the wooden seat opposite looked rather a fresh tone of green.

She looks afraid to ask but does anyway. "…we?"

Damn.

I have to tell her about Brian now.

I swallow, "my brother and I."

"And… wha…what happened to him…?" she looks like she really doesn't want the answer but I respond anyway

"He…umm… got sent to a mental asylum."

Rita tries to regulate her breathing but all this information is obviously difficult for her to handle

"Why's he in prison Dexter?" her suddenly confident voice surprises me a little.

Truth it is then

"He's awaiting trial for the murder of at least five prostitutes and a doctor, also stealing the identity of the Dr. Rudy Cooper."

Crash.

Huh?

Oh.

Rita fainted.

.

.

Its four o'clock when chaos strikes at the station, Deb's got a lead.

"… fucker, you don't get it do you douche? Every fucking one of these vics has a criminal record and guess what's fucking more? They all got off on a case, ever single cock sucker here, every single one. We've got ourselves a motherfucking pattern bitch."

I was just coming out of my office when I first hear her acclamation but I think anyone who knows Deb could guess the first part of the sentence.

But I'm missing the point here aren't I?

Deb, my sister, my wonderful glorious foul mouthed sister is now ten steps closer to my truth.

I do wonder Why she has to be so good at her job, I often have moments I really wish La Guerta was lead on my case; I'd never get caught then.

I look into the case room, it's a mess. Deb's working environment if there ever was one. Files are spread on the floor like butter on toast and the far wall is pinned with my many conquests.

It's strange seeing all my old friends again, I'd never expected too, I think I'd kinda assumed that I'd never see them again, that the ocean would simply swallow them up like little black liquorice blobs to Augustus gloop.

Apparently not.

The glossy flat images stare back at me, their hollow empty eyes accusing, well what I assume is accusing anyway; I can't feel it.

All thirty-six of my dear old friends lined up on the wall.

Ha!

Thirty-six Bottles of Beer on the wall…


Hello again wickedly awesome people, the review button is below I've heard it loves being pressed. :) ( Is it just me or does that sound dirty to you.?)