When Dexter returned hours later, Miranda had already cleaned the bathroom and lined the three paintings along the kitchen counter top. As Dexter slowly opened the door, he peeked in, gazing around the living room. Miranda had not stopped with just cleaning the kitchen; it looked like she had straightened the entire space, including the kitchen. He stepped all the way into the door, softly dropping his keys in the key bowl. She had pulled one of his button downs out of his closet and pulled it on, rolling the sleeves up. Miranda's back was towards him. She was watching the television, which she had turned up very loud and had on some sort of music channel that was playing videos. Dexter moved towards her. Bouncing in place, Miranda was singing softly to the song that was playing through the television speakers. Dexter smiled a little. Gently, he snaked his arms around her waist. He felt her inhale, startled, before she craned her neck to look at him.
"Oh, hello there. You're home." Miranda grinned.
"Yes, I am indeed…" Dexter let go of her waist, stepping back a little. Miranda turned to face him, away from the television.
"I'm sorry I have it on so loud… This is how loud I usually have it when I'm home." Dexter nodded as Miranda snatched the remote off the coffee table and pointed it towards the screen. Green bars flickered at the bottom of the picture and began to decrease. "How was work?" She asked, sitting down on his couch.
"It was… work." Dexter sat down slowly next to her. Miranda sat with her ankles and knees pulled close together, her arms wrapped around her waist. She slumped into the cushions. Dexter's posture was stiff, his hands clenched tight. "Oh, did you want to go over to your apartment?" Miranda looked up at him with a studying look for a moment and smiled.
"Yeah. Can we?" Dexter nodded, running his hands up his legs towards his knees before standing up again.
"Let's go, then." Dexter said as went to the key bowl yet again. Miranda nodded as well, standing. She tugged awkwardly at the large button down she was wearing as she followed Dexter towards the door.
"Oh, I borrowed your shirt." As she stepped out on to the landing outside the door, Dexter chuckled.
"I saw." The deadbolt slid into place and Dexter tucked the keys into his back pocket. "It looks good on you." A satisfied smirk seemed to cross Miranda's face as the two descended the stairs into the parking lot.
They were talking about music when Miranda unlocked the door to her apartment. Before she got the door halfway open, a banging sound erupted from inside. Miranda looked up at Dexter, who pressed his arm against the door, glancing inside.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Dexter's voice sounded large in the tiny apartment. The two of them took a few small steps inside. Miranda reached for an umbrella that leaned against the inside of the door jam.
"Who's there?" Miranda called into the bedroom, and then looked toward the kitchen. Abruptly, there was another thump. Dexter quietly stepped forward into the kitchen of Miranda's apartment.
"Miri?" The voice came to the left of them, from the living room. Miranda walked through the hall and looked over the side of the couch. Oliver was lying there, looking quite at home with Miranda's comforter and a throw pillow.
"Oliver?" Miranda shook her head, looking back at Dexter, who shut the door. Oliver sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had apparently been asleep. "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"
Oliver exhaled, leaning over his knees. "Sloane and I go into a fight last night after dinner." His neck slumped, his head hanging between his shoulders. Miranda looked to Dexter again, who hovered in the connection hallway to the living room.
"But… why are you here? Who let you in?" Oliver gestured, pointing forward to the wall.
"The chick who lives next to you. She had a key 'cause she said she watered your plants when you were gone sometimes." Oliver lolled his head back, rubbing his neck as he spoke. He finally looked up at Miranda. "I thought you were just getting in late or something. I fell asleep." Miranda looked toward the television's clock.
"It's past 9 o'clock at night. What, did you spend the whole day here?" Miranda's jaw was clenched, her hands on her hips. Oliver did not pick up on the frustration.
"Well… yeah." Oliver looked up at his sister, shrugging. "I needed a place to crash." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "So where have you been? It's been, what, twenty-four hours since you've been home?"
Miranda cleared her throat, glancing once again to Dexter, this time apologetically. Oliver finally saw her look towards the hall and looked over the back of the couch to see who it was standing there. Oliver scoffed.
"You've been over at his house, huh?" Oliver was shaking his head. He looked up at Miranda slowly, condescendingly. "I thought you said last night that you weren't dating." Miranda ground her teeth, giving Oliver a stern look.
"We're not dating, Oliver." Miranda grabbed her brother by the arm and jerked him up. The comforter crumpled to the floor. "Now, get out please."
Oliver pulled his arm out of his sister's grip, smirking now. "You know, Miri, I thought you'd left that sleeping-around slutty crap behind you a long time ago." He looked at Dexter pointedly. "Apparently I was wrong." Miranda froze, her mouth falling open in astonishment. Oliver looked back at her, seeing her face flush with anger. Smiling, Oliver stepped past her, walking towards Dexter as he spoke again. "Did you know Miranda was quite the nympho in college?" Dexter held his gaze icily. "Yeah, it started right around the time when our parents died. Our therapist said she was trying to fill some sort of hole in her life or something." He came to a stop, right beside Dexter and turned to look at Miranda. "Personally, I just think she wanted attention." Oliver looked back to Dexter, grinning. Dexter stepped back a little, clearing the hallway. Miranda had sunk into the living room arm chair.
"I believe Miranda asked you to leave." Dexter's voice was low and arctic. Oliver's grin began to fade into an unfeeling gaze.
"Whatever, man. She's your problem now." Oliver took a few steps back down the hallway, holding Dexter's stare. Dexter watched him until he had closed the door behind him. Slowly, he turned to Miranda, who had crumpled over her folded arms that she had lain over her knees. When he sat down on the side of the couch that was feet from the arm chair, she lifted her head slightly, resting her forehead on her hands. They sat in silence for a few long minutes.
"People deal with death in lots of different ways." Miranda seemed startled when Dexter spoke. She looked up and he could see that she had been crying. After looking over him softly for a lengthy moment, she inhaled and raised her head back. As she wiped her face off, she shook her head.
"I'm just so embarrassed he said that." Miranda looked back over at Dexter, rubbing a hand over her mouth. "He was just angry with me. He's so selfish." She inhaled again and this time it was shakier. "I don't… I don't like to think about that time in my life." Miranda leaned forward again, covering her face with her hands. The sleeves of Dexter's button down had unrolled and fell around her elbows. Dexter watched her from the couch, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. Slowly, he slid off the couch and kneeled in front of Miranda. She looked up, hearing him shift off the couch.
"I can honestly tell you, Miranda…" Dexter took a breath, rolling eyes his toward the ceiling. Miranda kept her eyes on him. "You could've turned out a lot worse. I—" His eyes fell back down on her. "I lost both my parents, too." After a moment, when a silence had fallen after Dexter's confession, Miranda reached out and touched a hand to his cheek lightly. They sat like that for another long silence until Dexter stood. Miranda's hand fell to her lap. "I'm going to make you some coffee." Dexter hovered for a while before walking into the kitchen when Miranda nodded slowly.
Clinking sounds traveled from the kitchen into the living room where Miranda still sat in the arm chair. She slunk back, stretching her legs out in front of her. Looking over to the couch, where her brother's makeshift bed still lay, crumpled, Miranda blinked. She looked toward the hallway, unable to see Dexter walking around in the kitchen. Quietly, she pulled herself onto the couch, folding her knees into her chest. As her eyes closed, she heard Dexter call her name from the kitchen.
She was standing in an endlessly white hallway. Miranda's breath became shallow and her palms felt sweaty. She had been here before. Panicked, she looked around for Elina. Standing next to her, looking straight, ahead was Dexter. He didn't look at her, but instead seemed fixated on something else in the hall. Miranda followed his gaze and there, were nothing had been before, was Elina's mangled body. She looked like she always did at the end of Miranda's dreams. Miranda began to cry, reaching out for Dexter's hand. He met her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. As she continued to look at Elina's body, a figure began to walk down the hall. It drew closer to Elina and Miranda wanted to call out, even though she knew Elina was dead. The shadow approached the body and Miranda squinted, realizing she had been mistaken: the figure was actually two figures. Genna Baird kneeled down to Elina's body and whispered something in her ear. Elina's eyes opened. Miranda took a step to run to her, but Dexter's hand pulled her back. Genna helped Elina stand up. The two girls stood in front of the third figure, which pushed past them and came into the light. It was Oliver. As he began to walk towards Miranda and Dexter, the girls followed him. When he was feet from them, he reached out his hand. Elina and Genna continued walking, reaching out their hands as well. Genna's outreached hand eventually touched Miranda's cheek. Elina reached for Miranda's free hand. Miranda looked over to Dexter. Dexter was looking at her, shaking his head. Then he turned to Oliver. Elina was starting to pull Miranda forward, towards Oliver. Miranda felt Dexter's other hand reach up and grab the forearm of the hand he held. Miranda turned back to Dexter, trying to scream. Genna fingers were starting to pull Miranda's hair. Elina's nails were digging into her hand. She could feel Oliver wrap an arm around her waist. Dexter's hand was starting to slip.
Miranda jolted, kicking her knee into the side of the couch. It hit a spring. She sat up, cursing. It was pitch black in her living room. Letting her breathing slow, Miranda pushed her hair away from where it was stuck to her sweaty face. She swung her legs over the side of the couch, brushing her hand over her leg. Miranda looked down. She wasn't wearing pants.
Making her way along the hallway, Miranda ran her hand along her wall. One of her kitchen lights was on, but she couldn't see anything else. "Dexter?" Her voice was quiet, soft. Had he left? "Dexter?" She spoke louder this time, turning a corner. The bedroom door was open a few feet from her. Miranda took a few steps, peering into the doorway. "Dexter?" In the light of the streetlight outside her window, she saw her bed sheets move. Miranda stepped into the doorway.
"Miranda?" Dexter sounded sleepy. She heard him roll over and shift, maybe sit up a little. "You're awake."
"What time is it?" Miranda was whispering. There was a sound like Dexter checking his watch that lay on the bedside table.
"4 o'clock in the morning." She heard him groan.
"I'm sorry I woke you up. I—" Miranda grumbled slightly. She felt like a child. "I had a nightmare."
"What was it about?"
"Oliver." There was silence. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"
"Uh, you kicked me." Dexter laughed. She wished she could see his face.
"Oh. I'm very sorry about that." Miranda felt her hand brush against her bare thigh. She tugged at the hem of the button up she was still wearing. "Um… did you undress me?" Dexter laughed again.
"I just took your jeans off."
"Why?"
"You asked me to? Right after you roundhouse-d me." He was still laughing. Miranda smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see her. There was another silence. "Come here." Dexter's voice filled the silence loudly, louder than Miranda thought was right at four in the morning. Her footsteps were soft as she crossed from the doorway and crawled onto the bed. Dexter shifted over as she slid under the covers. Miranda felt Dexter slide down, too. The two of them pulled the covers up, around their chins. Yawning, Miranda lolled her head to the side, looking over at Dexter. He was looking at her. Miranda blinked, sleepily and yawned again. She rolled over, away from Dexter, lying on her side and clutching the sheets to her chest. Her thoughts became foggy with slumber, but she felt Dexter shift next to her. He rolled over and Miranda felt the pressure of his arm lying over her hip. And Miranda fell asleep thinking that Dexter's breath on the back of her neck was a nice thing.
The mattress shifted and Miranda groaned. The curtains on the window next to her bed weren't drawn and sunlight was leaking in generously. She blinked and yawned, stretching her arms. Her right arm connected with something. Looking up, Miranda saw Dexter's face. From a weird angle. Her head was lying on his chest. "Oh." Miranda sat up, leaning on one elbow. "Sorry." She looked down at him. "You're not wearing a shirt." Dexter laughed nervously.
"Yeah, well… you're not wearing pants." Miranda, snatched at the sheets, pulling them towards her chest. Dexter slid out of bed.
"How… how long have you been up?" As Miranda spoke, Dexter pulled his watch off the table.
"Oh, I don't know… half an hour? I didn't want to wake you…" Miranda had to look up into the sunlight to see Dexter's face. She shook her head.
"Yeah… I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to—" Dexter shook his head, raising a hand.
"No, don't worry about it." As he talked, he walked out of the room, into the kitchen. Dexter's voice sounded distant when he called to Miranda. "Do you have any eggs?" She could hear him opening and closing cabinets, then the refrigerator.
"Eggs?"
"Yeah, I'm in the mood for eggs. How do you like yours?" Miranda rolled out of bed, walking to her mirror that hung over her chest of drawers. Frowning, she ran a hand through her hair.
"Over easy, if you don't mind?" She walked out into the kitchen.
"Dexter? I think I'm going to get a shower…" He looked up from the carton of eggs he had just placed on the counter.
"Oh, okay. I'll have breakfast ready when you get out." Miranda nodded, walking into the bathroom, watching Dexter as she closed the door behind her.
When she got out, Miranda wrapped a towel around herself, realizing she forgot to get a change of clothes. Carefully she opened the door, clutching the terry cloth. Dexter was occupied with the eggs, his back was to her. Miranda softly took a step into the hall, the carpet cushioning the noise. Almost in the doorway, she heard Dexter speak.
"Miranda, what are you doing?" She turned, holding the towel with both hands.
"Uh, well, I need to get dressed? So I'm just going to do that now…" Miranda raised a hand to her forehead, shaking her head as she walked into the bedroom. By the time she was dressed and walked into the kitchen, she could hear the water running in the shower and Dexter was nowhere to be seen. A plate of eggs was waiting for her on the table.
Miranda was almost done with her breakfast when Dexter came out of the bathroom, wearing the same clothes that he had on earlier. "Do you want to go back to your apartment and get some clean clothes?" Dexter sat as Miranda spoke.
"Yeah, I guess… " Dexter picked up his fork, but hovered over his eggs. "Do you want me to… leave?" Miranda looked up, setting her own fork down on her plate.
"Well… no." Biting her lip, Miranda cleared her throat, standing up with her plate in hand. She heard Dexter's fork drag across the ceramic plate. Sharply, Miranda turned. "I'm sorry if you feel like you have to hang around here. You really don't." Dexter looked up from the table. Miranda leaned back against the side of the sink. "I'm a big girl." After a second, Dexter dropped his fork and stood up. There was silence as he walked toward her, stopping to stand in front of her, his bare toes just barely touching Miranda's.
"I know I don't have to be here. Miranda, I'll tell you something—" Dexter brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing them before using the hand to gesture to Miranda. "I think you're in serious trouble with your brother. I did some research and linked the Genna Baird case to the murder of your friend Elina Consuela." Miranda felt her knees give out. Her hands gripped the sink as she doubled over, gasping for air. "Miranda?" Dexter caught her, carefully lowering her to the tiled floor. Her body began to shake with sobs.
"Are you saying that you think Oliver killed Genna Baird, too?" Miranda looked up, her fingernails digging into Dexter's shoulders. He didn't flinch.
"Yes. And I don't want you to get hurt, too." Shaking, Miranda leaned against Dexter. Her sobs came farther apart.
"I'm sorry." Dexter almost didn't hear her.
"What did you say?" Taking a hand to her chin, Dexter tilted Miranda's face up to his.
"I said… I'm sorry." Miranda licked her lips, taking a shallow breath in. "I know you never meant to get mixed up with an… emotionally crippled skeleton expert with emotional baggage to the tune of a psychopathic brother." Miranda thought she heard Dexter chuckle.
"Yes, I never meant to." Dexter was looking away from her now, off into space. "But now that I've met you…" He smiled when he looked back to Miranda. "You can't know how happy I am."