I've always really fucking hated hospitals. I don't know…something about being surrounded by a bunch of people that are facing death has just never been my thing. Isn't it funny that I'm one of them now? Even funnier that I'm the reason I'm here. No, that Dexter is the reason I'm here.
Okay, maybe that's not completely fair; but if he'd never come into my life, I surely wouldn't have done…what I did. Sometimes I fantasize about how my life would be if Harry never brought the poor kid home. I'd sure as hell be dedicated to my job, and I'd probably still have pretty strong morals. Maybe I'd even have a few kids by now. Actually, no…I don't think kids would ever be a part of my future. Not in this universe or some parallel one. I'm not exactly mother material.
I chuckle at the thought of me trying to raise a kid. Me! The lady wrapping up my wrist turns to face me and her expression just screams judgment. Ha! Nurse Ratched over here obviously doesn't think I'm very funny. Wait, she can't even hear what I'm thinking about right now. She probably thinks I'm psychotic, laughing after I've been brought to the ER with a slit wrist. Jesus Christ, I really am going off the deep end.
"Ms. Morgan, do you have any family or friends with you today?" The nurse asks.
I open my mouth, ready to ask her how the hell she knows my name, but I close it when I realize she probably recognizes me. Ever since I became Lieutenant, I've been getting a lot of face time on the local news. Greeeat, just what I need, all of my shit going public. I can see the headline now: MMP Lieutenant attempts suicide! Why did no one see the signs?
The last thing I need is the entire department up my ass trying to help me through this. As if they have even the slightest clue how to fix me.
"Yeah, my brother's outside. Dexter Morgan." I reply as the nurse finishes bandaging me up. Turns out that the cut wasn't that deep, and honestly, I'm relieved. I don't think I actually wanted to die. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find out that this had all been some sick dream.
The nurse returns after a few minutes with Dexter following closely behind her, clutching Harrison strongly to his chest. Man, that kid can sleep through just about anything.
"I'll give you a little while with her, then we'll transfer her to psych." The nurse says. As she walks away I turn to glare at my brother.
"Did she just say psych? As in psych ward?" I question, careful not to raise my voice too high in case the nurse is still lurking close by. No need to give her another reason to think I'm a basket case.
"Yes," Dexter answers as he places Harrison down on a chair beside me. "She asked me if I think being placed on 72 hour suicide watch would be good for you and I said yes."
"Wha-what the fuck would you do that for!?" I ask. I hear my voice crack and feel my eyes start to water and the embarrassment floods to the surface. I don't like acting so vulnerable around Dexter. I hate letting him see how much he affects me sometimes.
"Deb, you tried to hurt yourself. Trust me, I'd bring you home and watch you myself, but you're sneaky. You could get away from me and then it'd be too late, and I can't risk that. You'll be safe here, and it's only a couple of days. Please."
I'd bring you home. Home. His words echo in my mind and I blink away the tears I feel starting to form, refusing to let them fall. Does Dexter really think of his home as mine too? Or is this just a manipulation tactic to get me to agree to stay? No matter how much he claims to love me, I know that Dexter is cold and calculating, and I don't put it above him to use my own feelings against me.
"Please?" He repeats.
"Please?" I snort. "You're asking me please as if I have a fucking choice in the matter, Dexter. Ugh, I really can't fucking stand you sometimes."
"Well, you staying here means that you'll be around to not fucking stand me, so I'll take what I can get."
"I wasn't going to kill myself…" I reply, but the look on his face tells me that he doesn't believe me. If I didn't really know him, I'd say he looked…worried. Maybe the stoic bastard actually has feelings after all.
"Deb, please, don't try anything. Just cooperate with the doctors, answer whatever questions they ask, and don't give anybody a hard time."
"Answer whatever questions they ask? Truthfully? And what about when they asked me why I tried to off myself, huh? What do I tell them then?"
As soon as I finish speaking, Harrison's eyes flutter open. This kid couldn't have worse timing. He's been getting smarter lately, and more observant. Something tells me that he's going to be begging for an explanation of what happened tonight, and I'm fresh out of cover stories.
"Hey buddy, you're awake!" I say in the cheeriest tone I can manage.
"Aunt Deb, what's going on?" Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes.
I look towards the clock on the wall. It's almost 4 AM. I can't imagine how tired Harrison must still be, and the guilt hits me like a ton of bricks.
"Aunt Deb had an accident, but the doctors patched her up and she's all better now. No need to worry." Dexter replies.
Harrison makes a face just like the one Dexter made a minute or two ago, letting me know that he doesn't completely buy Dexter's excuse, but he doesn't say so. Instead, he smiles at me and says "Okay. You hurt yourself a lot lately."
Dexter winces, clearly affected by Harrison's words. Does he actually feel bad about how much he's hurt me this past year, or does he just regret that his son was able to notice?
The nurse comes back into the room and Dexter leans down to place a kiss on my forehead. He lingers long enough for it to be on the brink of awkwardness.
"I'll visit as often as they let me. It's just three days, and you'll probably end up getting released early. Please Deb, no bullshit."
I roll my eyes then look into his and I can't help but smirk at him slightly. I do it quickly, hoping he won't notice; but of course, he does, and he flashes me a smirk of his own before picking up Harrison.
"I love you." He says, and then he's gone.
The rest of the morning passes by in a blur, and so does most of the day. Mostly I just sleep, not realizing how tired I really was. When I wake up it's 6:30 in the afternoon, and Dexter is sitting across from me, staring.
"How long have you been here?" I ask, shifting to face him completely.
"An hour." He replies, still staring. We sit like that for a while until I break the silence.
"Err, don't you have work today?" I ask.
"Called in sick," he answers. "I had somewhere more important to be.
"Man, this place. I swear they want to drive people crazy. Having nothing to do but stare at a white wall for days and nothing to eat buy shitty hospital food that they don't even give you utensils for isn't exactly stimulating for the mind." I complain. "I can't believe I have to deal with two more days of this shit. Get me out of here, Dex."
"You know I can't," He answers. "Besides, you already seem...better, a couple more days won't hurt. I brought you something." He says, holding up a worn copy of the Catcher in the Rye, my favorite book. I must've read it twenty times already, but I appreciate the gesture.
I roll my eyes and he smiles. This time I don't just flash a quick smirk in return, I give him a full smile of my own.
"I'm glad you're okay," he says. "I couldn't bear to lose you. You know that, right?"
I slowly nod my head yes, just as his phone rings. He picks it up, listens to the person on the other end and says "Okay, I'm on my way."
"Where are you going?" I question, not ready for him to leave me yet.
"That was Angel. Laguerta and Estrada…they've been found."