Hi guys! As always, thanks for reading and/or reviewing, it makes me all fuzzy inside to know that there are people who actually look forward to reading something that I've written. It still hasn't completely sunken in yet though haha. I noticed that I've gotten a couple of new follows and favorites, so to those of you who are new here, welcome aboard! :) I'm really excited to see how you all feel about these next two chapters, because I've been looking forward to getting to this point. I'm going to address some big things that I think were missing from season 8, which was why I started writing this story in the first place.
I wasn't going to update until Sunday, but notverypatient, your comment made me put this up a day early ;) I hope you all enjoy!
"Deb, are you almost ready? We really should get going now." I mumble as I lean against the bathroom door.
After my revelation about Quinn, Deb spent the rest of yesterday avoiding me. Even when we went back to my apartment after work, she barely said two words to me. I decided that it would be best to let her have her space for once, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss hearing the sound of her voice. I wanted her to berate me, or even to call me a "fucking moron" again. I don't like it when Deb's angry with me, but if forced to choose, I'd rather she be angry and expressive than angry and silent. Silence from Deb is never a good thing. I fear that if she keeps things bottled up inside for too long, she'll self-destruct.
I'd spent a few hours pretending to watch TV as Deb laid in the middle of the floor playing with Harrison. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was watching, but Deb occasionally turned away from setting up the elaborate toy train set to look in my direction. She still didn't say a word to me, but I felt a reassuring sense of tranquility in the air all the same. Long ago, I'd accepted the fact that I would never function like a normal human being, but as I sat there and watched Deb play with my son, the only child she would ever have, it felt like we could actually be a normal family for once.
I put Harrison to bed around 9:30. That was much later than his usual bedtime; but the first time I tried to get him to bed, he pitched a fit, declaring that he was having too much fun with Deb, and of course I couldn't argue with that. Once Harrison was finally tucked into bed, I went to my room to get some much needed rest of my own. I have no idea how much time had passed, but soon I felt Deb hesitantly crawl into bed beside me. I turned and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her muscles stiffen with my touch. She remained rigid for a short while before she gave up and sighed, finally tired of being angry with me. She nestled her head against my chest, and I started to lightly run my fingers through her hair, trying to lull her to sleep.
"I remember when you used to do this when we were kids," I said as I twirled a few strands of her long, silky hair in my hand. "You always waited until you thought I was asleep to come to me, but I never was. I even started waiting up for you some nights, and if you didn't come, I'd just lie awake for hours. It was like I couldn't fall asleep at all if I didn't know that you were near me."
"I felt so alone sometimes, especially after mom died." Deb replied after a pause so long I thought she had fallen asleep. "It seemed like dad couldn't give less of a shit about me, and you were distant too. I chalked that up to you thinking you were too cool to hang out with your stupid little sister, even though you were such a fucking nerd. So at night, I looked forward to being near you. Just listening to the sound of your breathing and watching your chest rise and fall, it made me feel less alone."
"I never knew you felt that way, Deb. You don't have to feel alone anymore, because I'll always be here. I love you."
"I know," she replied as she took her head off of my chest and locked eyes with me. The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, but there was no mistaking the pure devotion I saw looking back at me. "I love you too, Dex. Even when I'm calling you a fuckface or a moron, you better know that I love you more than anything, okay?"
"I've never doubted that," I said after placing a kiss on her forehead. "And I never will. Sometimes I wonder why you feel that way about me when I'm no good for you, but I'm thankful."
She softly placed her head back onto my chest, and together, we drifted off to sleep. We both slept peacefully through the night, but as soon as I woke up, I knew that the serenity couldn't last. Today's the day. LaGuerta's funeral will be Deb's true test. I know that I can put on a brave face, but can she?
The bathroom door swings open and Deb steps out wearing a knee-length black dress and a tight fitting black blazer. She looks absolutely stunning, but I decide against complimenting her, given the current circumstances.
We drive to the funeral in silence. When we arrive at the church, Deb grabs onto my hand tightly and this time, she doesn't let go as we make our way inside and sit down in an empty pew. She still clutches my hand in hers as Batista approaches us, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. His eyes are puffy from crying, but he forces a smile before addressing us.
"Dios te bendiga. I appreciate the two of you being here." He says, leaning down to place a kiss on Deb's forehead. "Deb, I know this is short notice, but it would mean a lot to me if you could say a few words."
"You mean like…give a eulogy? Angel, I…" Deb chokes out.
"It doesn't have to be a full blown speech, but I just can't…" He pauses to wipe away a few tears. "I don't think I can pull myself together in time, and you meant a lot to Maria. I know she never said it out loud, but she really respected you. She saw you as more than just a coworker."
"Okay," She replies. Her voice is shaky, as if she's on the verge of tears. "I'll do it."
As Deb steps in front of the podium, we lock eyes and I flash her an encouraging smile. She nods at me and then clears her throat before delivering what I'm sure is the most difficult speech she's ever had to make.
"Maria LaGuerta…" she begins, her voice cracking as she utters the name of our fallen captain. "Maria LaGuerta was more than a celebrated member of law enforcement. She was an inspiration to her community, and to me as well. She was…she was a hard woman to get along with at times. When I first made detective, I thought she fucking had it in for me or something," she pauses, shutting her eyes and mumbling 'sorry' before continuing.
"I thought she had something against me because she didn't exactly welcome me into the department with open arms. But when I really started getting to know her, I realized that it was just her special brand of tough love. She pushed me because she wanted me to succeed. She wanted me to be the best that I could be, and I don't think I would be where I am now if not for that push. I worked harder and harder to prove myself, and somewhere down the road, I really grew to respect her."
She pauses again, and this time, the tears start to fall.
"She didn't deserve any of this," Deb sputters through the tears that rapidly stream down her face. "None of us should be here reflecting on our memories of her, because she should still be here making new ones. I'm just…I'm just so sorry that any of this had to happen. If I could take it all back, I would."
My eyes widen at the sound of her apology. Surely she can't be doing this. My mind races with the thought of bolting to the front of the church and telling everyone that this is all too much for her. Maybe I could even drag her out of the church kicking and screaming if it came to that. I can't stand idly by and watch Deb dig her own grave. One more slip of the tongue and we're both fucked.
"I'm sorry that her life was cut so tragically short." She says.
I exhale the breath that I hadn't even realized I was holding in. Well, that was close.
"There's nothing I can do to bring her back, but I promise to make sure that Maria didn't die in vain. Moving forward, I think it's important that we all keep that in mind. Thank you."
Deb steps from behind the podium and quickly makes her way back to me. I grab onto her violently shaking hand and she rests her head on my shoulder. Her sobs echo loudly against the church walls as everyone sits in silence, reflecting on her touching tribute.
"You're okay, I'm here." I whisper. "We're going to be fine."
It's hard for me to leave Deb after the near breakdown she just experienced, but this Quinn situation needs to be handled. I tell Deb that I shouldn't be gone for more than an hour, and then I slip out of the wake as planned and head to Quinn's apartment.
For a cop, he isn't very smart...at least not when it comes to securing his domicile. The spare key is exactly where Deb told me it would be, but I find that there's no need for it when I turn the knob and the door opens right up. This is the guy who thinks he can put me away? He can't even properly keep track of himself! Am I really supposed to believe that he's been sleuthing on me for longer than a few days? It's highly unlikely that Quinn is armed with anything but his suspicion, and that's meaningless without proof to back it up. Ask James Doakes. Ask Maria LaGuerta.
I slip on a pair of gloves as I enter the apartment. It's absolutely filthy, and I almost trip a few times over greasy pizza boxes and piled up magazines. I make my way into Quinn's bedroom and notice a picture of him and Deb from a year or two ago sitting on his nightstand. I chuckle to myself at the thought of Quinn still pining over her, and then power up the laptop that's sitting on his bed. There's a folder labeled 'BHB' and I click to open it, assuming that it stands for Bay Harbor Butcher. My suspicions prove to be correct, however, the folder's only contents are articles about Doakes and conspiracy theories suggesting his innocence that Quinn must've stumbled upon online. None of them are right of course, but I applaud their creativity.
I thoroughly inspect the rest of his apartment and find nothing of substance. That should relieve me, but I can't quite shake the feeling that something isn't right. Quinn is a detective, albeit not a particularly good one, but surely if he's been theorizing about my guilt and following me around to find concrete evidence, he would've documented something.
I think back to when I was interrupted in the warehouse. I don't remember seeing any lights or even a camera, but maybe that's because Quinn turned the flash off. If that's the case, whatever picture he took can't be very clear, but with the luck I've been having lately, it'll be what seals my fate. Still, I can't worry Deb. I have to maintain the façade that everything is under my control, because she's much too fragile after today's events. I can't risk her doing something impulsive like trying to hurt herself again.
I pull out my phone to call Deb, partially to hear the sound of her voice again and to make sure she's okay, but also to ask her about Quinn.
"Are you on your way back yet?" She asks.
"No, not yet. I need you to do something for me. Is Quinn with you?"
"No, he's talking to Masuka by the buffet table. I've been keeping an eye on him, though."
"Good. Do you think you'd be able to get a hold of his phone? I haven't found anything here, but if he took a picture of me in that warehouse, I'm sure it's on that phone." I explain.
"Okay," she sighs. "I'll call you back soon. Hurry the fuck up."
She hangs up the phone before I can say anything else. I put my phone back in my pocket and to my surprise, Harry is now seated across from me on an old leather recliner.
"This is dangerous territory, Dex." He says.
"I've handled worse." I snap. "First rule of the code is don't get caught. You're the one who taught me that, remember?"
"Of course I remember, but you're not thinking this through. I taught you to protect yourself, but I didn't teach you to be reckless."
I roll my eyes at the pesky ghost of my father. He always comes to me and acts all high and mighty, as if he wasn't the one who lead me down this path in the first place. I experienced trauma as a child that played a part in shaping who I am, but who knows what could've happened if dear old dad had gotten me professional help instead of teaching me the code? Deb thinks there's good in me, and I'm actually starting to believe her. Maybe I could've had a shot at a normal life. Maybe Deb, Harrison, and I could've actually been a normal family. Well, normal for us anyway.
"What if your sister does find a photo on that detective's phone? Once he's notices that it's been erased, he'll know she was the one responsible, and then you'll both be going down." Harry asserts.
"No photo, no proof. Quinn can scream that Deb deleted the picture until he's blue in the face, but no evidence is no evidence. Believe me, I've thought this through. I'd never do anything to put Deb in danger."
"But you already have, son." My father challenges.
With that, he's gone and I don't mind one bit. I've been seeing less and less of him lately, and that's fine by me. I don't understand why Deb used to want his attention so much, because I'm sick of it.
My focus shifts when I hear the front door opening. I quickly retreat to the closet and crouch down inside. It's a tight fit, but I manage to squeeze the door closed almost completely.
"Joey? Are you home yet?"
Jaime.
Anxiety hits me with the sound of her voice. I remove the M99 that I'd kept strapped inside of my pant leg, hoping that I won't have to use it. If this were anyone else, I would immediately rush out to sedate them, but this is Jaime. She knows me. She babysits my son almost every day. If she were to see me here, it would be damning. I can't think of a single good excuse as to why I would be in Joey Quinn's apartment and not at LaGuerta's funeral.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes to life. I turn it on vibrate, quietly cursing myself for not doing so before I got here, but it's too late. Jaime calls out a hesitant "Joey?" before entering the bedroom.
I hold my breath and sit as still as possible. All I can do is hope that Jaime doesn't come any closer, more for her sake than mine at this point. The wait is agonizing, but after standing in the middle of the room for a few seconds, she leaves. I wait until I hear her close the front door of the apartment before exiting the closet.
Once I hear the sound of her car peeling out of the parking lot, I leave the apartment and walk a few blocks to where I'd parked my car almost an hour before. I check my phone and see that I have a missed call and a voicemail, both from Deb.
"Dex," the message begins. Deb's voice is quivering and it sounds like she's on the brink of tears, which worries me. I start my car and prepare to head back to the church as the rest of the message plays.
"I'm so fucking sorry Dexter, h-he left. I was talking to Miller for two minutes tops, and the next thing I know, Quinn's fucking gone. Masuka too! I fucked up. I fucking fucked everything up. I need you."