A/N: Better late than never :p so glad you guys liked that last one because I certainly enjoyed writing it! As always, thanks for reading :)

Prompt: Destruction of furniture/property/domestic violence

The frame whizzes past his ear and hits the wall behind him, making a cracking sound on impact. When it hits the ground he can hear the shattering of the glass and he glances away from her towards the fallen object. The frame holds his favorite picture of them, the one taken right before she graduated from the academy; the two of them smiling, his arm around her. The picture lies beneath the fragmented glass, the spidery veins cutting across their image. It seems accurate, seeing their faces broken apart, just like their lives.

He forces himself to look back at her, across the destruction she has wreaked in his living room, to where she stands, glaring at him. She picks up the next closest item on his desk, his stapler, and hurls this at him as well. He has to jump out of its way, because Deb's pitch has always been accurate and strong.

This moment strikes him as oddly cartoonish. His belongings scattered about him, his sister lividly throwing them at him. He wishes he could laugh at the absurdity. He wants her to laugh as well, until the tension leaves the room. Then they can pick up the mess, grill up a few steaks, enjoy dinner together like they used to. But he realizes that this hope is absurd as well.

"Deb, please." He uses his best calming tone, the one he reserves for putting his son to sleep. "Can we just talk about this?"

"Fuck you!" She picks up the file sitting on this desk and chucks this at him as well. Half the contents fall out of the manila folder, flutter up into the air and float back down, white sheets swaying between them. When the air clears he can see her, bent over the desk, her body trembling as she sobs.

He steps tentatively towards her, hesitating as he reaches her side. He places one hand on her back, moves closer, and is caught off guard when she swings around and shoves him back. He stumbles back into the refrigerator, and struggles to stay on his feet to face her.

"Deb?"

But she won't look at him, her body turned away, one hand holding onto the desk for support as she continues to sob. He can't tell anymore if she is angry or sad, but as usual it is his fault. As with most situations that cause her pain, this is definitely his fault.

He knew this would not be happy news to her. He wasn't even entirely sure that it was happy news for him. Running away was never something he had wanted to do. But he thought this might be right. Escape Miami before he's found out, before things become even worse for Deb. Get out while the getting's good and all that. After all, had Harry really expected that he could survive his entire life in Miami, unseen as he lurks and kills?

So a new place seemed smart. He had faced enough suspicion over the years to know that it was only a matter of time before it all caught up with him. And look what happened last time. Look at what it did to Debra.

Still, he wasn't all that excited to go. Not as excited as Hannah at least.

Argentina. A future bright with possibilities. That's what she kept telling him.

Hannah: the right choice. The choice that made sense to him, he thought. Hannah was a killer. Hannah understood his needs. Hannah wouldn't be hurt by what he was. And that seemed especially important after the last six months, after the things that Deb had been through.

If he allowed himself to ponder what this future would look like it might make him stop. Which was why he pushed through, the reason he latched onto Hannah's certainty and hope. Even now as he watches Deb's shaking figure he thinks that it's only right to spare her any future pain. She's been through enough because of him. It's time she had a fighting chance at happiness.

But he's also not sure she'd agree. He still remembers that night on her patio vividly. And he thinks now that her confession rang true, even if he thinks it would be better for her if it wasn't.

So leaving is best. Even if it means breaking Deb's heart now. Even if there is nothing he can do to console her.

He watches as her body stills, as she swipes her hand across her face and brushes the moisture onto her jeans. She turns slightly until her profile is visible in the dim light of his apartment and he can see the redness in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks.

"You've never loved me." Her tone is as resigned as her posture but the words cut him wide open. How can she not understand that he is doing this for her, because he loves her?

"Have a nice life." Deb whispers as she slides towards the door.

"Deb. It doesn't have to be like this. I need you in my life. I'll call, I'll visit…you're still my sister."

Deb sighs a little. "And you'll always be my brother. But you can't just leave me here and act like it's all fucking okay." She turns around finally, leaning back against the door as she considers him. But before he can say another word she moves. Her long legs close the gap between them, her hands wrap around his neck and her lips graze his.

His eyes slide close in immediate response, warmth starting at their joined mouths and sliding across his chest, sinking into his stomach. He leans into her further, his hands latching onto her hips so he can pull their bodies together. She deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing his lips so his mouth opens for her.

It's a long a languid minute before she finally pulls back just enough for their lips to separate. She looks into his eyes, open and vulnerable, a side of Deb that few people see. "Just once. I just needed to once."

He can see the tears forming again in her eyes and she drops her hands, steps out of his grip. She's still holding his gaze, but he can feel her slipping away from him. "Goodbye Dexter."

He can't find any words. Nothing that will make her stay. Nothing that will bridge this divide he has created. He knows now that he has made his choice, even if it was the wrong one.

He watches her leave because there is nothing else he can do. She pulls the door shut behind her and he stands there lost, adrift. He has lost more than a sister, more than a love. He knows now that he did have a soul. The only problem is it was hers. And now that it is gone, there is nothing left but the void.