Ok, well I really wanted to write something and because of the fact that I had writer's block on my other two stories I decided to continue this one. Besides, I had one really encouraging review, that made me really want to continue. So, chapter 1.

CHAPTER 1

The roaring sounds of the ambulance as it races past houses, cars, and people. Usually I'm the one it races past, but today, I'm the one in the ambulance. Not that I need any medical attention, it's the boy. He wouldn't let go of my shirt. So I was convinced…sorry, pushed into the ambulance by my ever so caring sister.

I looked down at the boy. I didn't know who the boy was. All I knew was that somehow I was now holding him. How did this happen? Oh…right. I was studying the blood along with Vince Masouka. My "friend." They found the boy lying in a pool of blood. His small bloody wrists had been chained to a pole in the corner of the room. His clothes had been torn and tattered. Clearly he had been brutally beaten. I was taking pictures of the blood when Angel Batista another "friend" gave me the boy. He had grabbed my clean and polished camera out of my gloved hands and replaced it with a bloody boy. Take care of him Angel had said. Man…of all the luck.

The boy shifted a little from his current position. I looked down again. He was awake. Looking down at the floor with blank, glazed eyes. One of the medics came over with a needle. A sedative. He brought it closer to the boy's neck. He clutched my shirt even tighter and whispered quietly.

"No…"

I looked at the boy. No? Why no?

"It's going to be ok," I whispered into his ear. "You're going to be ok now."

"No…" he said again. His voice was shaky. "No more…"

The paramedic looked at me with a confused expression on his face. I shrugged. I wouldn't know. I just met the boy today. Tough luck for the medic I guess. The medic left and again I was alone again.

"What's the matter bud?" I asked. He didn't answer. What could have possibly happened that this young boy would be so deeply disturbed.

"How old are you?" I asked again. This time hoping for some sort of answer.

"Six…" he whispered after a couple minutes.

"What's your name?" He didn't say anything.

"What's your name?" I asked again.

"Devon…" he whispered. He coughed.

Devon, huh? Dashing Dexter is taking care of Dear Disturbed Devon. I wondered what would happen to the boy. Would he also carry a passenger of his own? Would he have the Need like I do? Would he, too, have a Dark Passenger in his back seat? If he did who would take care of him? Who would show him how to take care of himself? To survive in a dog eat dog world? Could I? Would…I even be willing?

Absurd. Absolutely not. Besides, I've already got two kids…apologies step-children to take care of. My beautiful new wife Rita's children. Her ex-husband was abusive, and now dead. Not that I killed him, heavens no, the man didn't do anything to me. But he did do things to Rita. He left two children. A female and two males. Astor, Cody and Harrison, Astor being the oldest. Harrison is my own child with Rita, a recent addition to the family. The three children are fun to be around, despite Cody and Astor's troubles in the past. Cody is different from me. Both of them are. They continue to ride the rollercoaster of life with out anymore bumps. To them all seems to be forgiven. They have no harsh or ill will towards their now deceased father.

We arrived at the hospital and I was asked to carry Devon inside. I couldn't say no. Not that I wanted to, but he still wouldn't let go of my shirt. When we got inside they immediately got him…sorry us, into ER. After a lot of prying and soft convincing we were able to pry his small hands off my shirt.

"Please keep the clothes. They're evidence," I said. The medics nodded as they cleaned the boy of blood. They gently put him to sleep and asked me to leave the room. I did. What else would I do there anyway? I was on my way to leave when something stopped me. No, nothing of a physical barrier…but something else. Instead of leaving the hospital I ended up sitting in a chair outside Devon's room. What was I doing? I didn't know. All I knew was that I was going to sit here and wait.

My cell phone rang. I answered it.

"Dexter Morgan." I said into the speaker.

"Dex?" my sister said into the phone.

"Hey, Deb, what's up?"

"Nothing much…you know just wondering where the Hell you are!" she yelled. I couldn't help but smile. Ever since she had a near death experience with my brother she wasn't really the same. But now…

"I'm still in the hospital," I said.

"Waiting for what?" she asked. "For that boy to wake up?" I didn't answer.

"Aww, shit Dex. Why would you wait for him? I need you here!" she said.

"Need me to do what?" I asked.

"You're report!" she exclaimed.

I pulled the cell phone a couple inches away from my ear. At this rate I'd be deaf. I switched from my right ear to my left.

"Sister, you haven't the need to yell…We're talking on cell phones. I think I'm deaf out of on ear."

"Sorry Dex, it's just…this thing really bugs the hell out of me. I mean who the hell would do this to some poor kid?"

"No idea Debs but I promise I'll be at the station soon." I said then hung-up. Debra had recently recovered from a horrible boy-friend issue. The whole thing was just her boy-friend tried to killer her. No, I'm not speaking figuratively, I'm speaking literally.

I guess the really hard part is having your boyfriend, someone who you were really falling for and had just proposed try to kill you. He had been known as Rudy Cooper. A doctor specializing in Prosthetic Limbs. He was also the Ice-Truck killer. A means he used to get to me. He would murder victims. He started off with prostitutes. Cutting off their limbs and draining them of all their blood. The first time I saw one of the murder scenes I felt like a small child receiving a present. I guess it helped that most of the body parts were wrapped up. Everyone else was clueless of his true intentions though. Little by little he'd leave little clues. Just for Devious Dexter. No one else saw it thank God…at least if I had a God. Up to now no one knows he's my true beloved brother.

One of the doctors came out. He sighed deeply.

"Are you his guardian?" the man asked.

"Oh, no, I was just…well I was at the crime scene, and well, I was the one who rode with him in the ambulance." We were quiet for a couple minutes. "Will he be ok?"

The doctor looked at me. From the nametag his name was Doctor Terry Ferguson. He was a young doctor. Mid-twenties, blond, green eyes and glasses. His blond hair was cropped short. He wasn't well built, but he wasn't grossly over weight either. I guess he was just a normal person.

The nice doctor took off his glasses and wiped them on his white coat.

"We're not sure. He's under heavy sedation right now. Irregular heart beat. Lots of bruises and cuts. He seems to have been beaten several times. Lots of blood loss."

"Thanks Doc," I said. I stood up to leave.

"You're not staying?" he asked.

"I've got to get back to the station. I need to file my report," I said starting to walk.

The doctor frowned. "Oh," he said in a disappointed tone.

"Should I stay?" I asked stopping.

"Huh? No, you don't have to. But please. Come back soon. The boy seemed really attached to you when you came in. I'll give you a call Mr.—"

"Dexter. Dexter Morgan," I said. "I should have introduced myself earlier. Here's my number, and please, do give me a call. Oh and just call me Dexter."

"Yes, we'll call you when the boy wakes," Terry said.

"Devon," I said matter-of-factly.

"Sorry?" the doctor said. He turned around before entering the room.

"Devon," I repeated, "it's his name."

___________________________________________________________________

I walked towards my small sanctity in the office. No one bothered me as I walked. It seemed everyone had been deeply affected. It was pretty gloomy. I guess no one could get the gruesome images out of their heads. I took my camera before I enter my room. I closed my doors behind me, shut the blinds and sat in front of my laptop. I opened it and waited as it loaded. Might as well get started on that blood report right?

I carefully examined each and every photo and took a couple blood samples and handed examined them. I cross referenced each blood sample with our system and came up with three hits. Robert Michaels, Amy Michaels and Steven Lowell. That was weird, no Devon.

I checked the blood again, this time trying to find a different sample from the ones that they'd collected. Perhaps they'd missed it. I sighed. Ah, well, might as well just go back tomorrow right? After all, I'm not doing much am I?

I checked out the backgrounds of the three victims. Robert Michaels first. Robert Michaels was married to Amy Michaels. There was no record of any pregnancy, births or adoptions so Devon couldn't possibly be their child. I dug deeper. James once served time for child molesting and pornography with his wife Amy. They had no official records of sons or daughters. They would get innocent children and rape them. The monsters. How horrible. Sadistic creeps. I grinned. I was one too. But there was a difference between us. I wouldn't ever get children. I never knew why, but I always tried to defend the youth. Perhaps because they help the keys to tomorrow…to catching me. Perhaps because they really didn't do anything wrong to be deserving of such horrible trauma. Or perhaps, the one I usually go with, is because I, myself, was traumatized as a mere child.

I put the thoughts aside and decided to get back to work. It wasn't me that was the victim or this investigation. It was dear Devon who was the victim. This time.

I left my quiet cubicle and went over to Vince Masuka. I had to ask him whether he had missed anything, like Devon's blood, before I would go back tomorrow.

"Hey, Dex," Vince greeted. "What's up?"

"Hey, Vince, did you miss any blood samples or anything like that?"

"Uhh, don't think so, Dex. Why?"

"Well, I'm missing one of the samples needed to identify the kid."

"You are?"

"Yeah, but you know, it's probably nothing. I'll just go back tomorrow—"

"Umm, we've already cleaned the place up Dex," Vince interjected.

"What?"

"I told them that I'd wanted it to stay like that for a while, but you know, they said it'd creep out the neighbors if they lived near a house that had blood everywhere in room."

"Oh," I said disappointed on the inside but not quite showing it on the outside.

"Sorry man, but you know, it's not that much of a loss since the kid's still alive right?"

"Yeah, right," I said. I went back to my cubicle and started to pack up. Someone knocked on my door.

"It's open!" I called out.

"Dexter?" LaGuerta, our departments lieutenant, asked as she stuck her head inside the room.

"Yes?" I answered, shouldering my bag.

"A Doctor Terry Ferguson called my office. He wanted me to tell you that Devon woke up. Who's Devon?"

"Oh, it's the kid from the crime scene," I said. "And he's awake?"

"Yes," she said. "Would it bother you if I came along?"

Yes. "No," I said. "Sure you can come along."

"Great, let me just get some stuff and we'll be out of here," she said.

I went for the elevator and waited at the front of the building for LaGuerta to come out. Lieutenant Maria LaGuerta, a wonderful well meaning citizen of Miami, willing to catch her killer. She was a nice woman with lots of good in her. Though she seemed to dislike the advancing of my sister in her department…they have a "frenemy" relationship.

After about ten minutes we were off, in her car. The ride was quite and awkward, so I decided to try and talk about something. To be normal.

"So…" I started. "We're missing the blood sample of the young boy."

"Are we?" she asked.

"Yeah. Hey, I've got a question."

"Ask away."

"Did the doctor ever tell you why he didn't call me cell phone?" I asked. I was curious, after all, I'd given him my number.

"Oh yes, he had called you several times, but you weren't answering," she said. I pulled my cell out of my pocket. It was out of battery. Huh. Who would have guessed… I would have to apologize to the kind doctor.

It was silent after that. We didn't talk after wards. I just sort of stared out the window, watching LaGuerta speed through the usual traffic. The violent streets of Miami. The honking horns of angry, late Miamians, the usually "Fuck off!" reply. It was quite amusing…at least for me it was.

We had made it to the hospital in thirty minutes…more or less. I walked over to one of the nurses.

"Dexter Morgan," I said. "I asked Doctor Terry Ferguson to contact me if…eh Devon woke up."

"Oh, yes of course, sir. He'd told me to tell you straight away to head over to room three sixty-five," the young blonde nurse said.

"Thank-you," I replied. She giggled as I walked away with LaGuerta trailing close behind me. There were ten floors in the hospital. The first number would tell you what floor you needed to go on; from there you just find the number. Devon was three sixty five. Floor three, sixty-fifth room.

I knocked when we arrived. The door was opened by the kind doctor.

"Hello Dexter," he said. He shook my hand.

"Hello, doctor, how is he?"

"Fine…in a way," he replied. "Here come on in." He opened the door fully to let me in. He stepped outside and decided to talk to LaGuerta.

As I entered the room I saw a nurse helping Devon put on a clean white t-shirt. I caught a glimpse of bandages around his chest. There were bandages around his arms and around his forehead. His old, torn and blood stained clothes were on the ground. Would any of that blood be Devon's? The nurse nodded and left the room. I walked over to Devon.

He didn't look at me. He looked at his bandaged hands, with blank eyes. I sat beside him and stared at him.

"What's your last name?" I asked. I can't believe that was the first question I asked. It took him a while to answer.

"I don't know…" he whispered.

"You don't?" I asked him. He shook his head. Was this kid hit hard in the head...or was it something else?

He lay down, I helped him out. He was clearly tired…even though he had been asleep for a while. I moved his hair away from his face as he fell asleep. Well, he wouldn't be talking much anymore.

I stood up and walked towards Devon's blood stained clothes. Perhaps a bit of the boy's blood would be here. I carefully placed them in a bag and left them near the door. Again I sat beside Devon. Poor kid. His chest rose up and down as he took breaths. He was hooked up to several different machines; EKG, BP, ECMO. I didn't understand. How badly injured was Devon that he'd need a life support machine like the ECMO? I stared at his EKG status. Weird, I studied medicine a while a go and I'm pretty sure what I'm seeing right now isn't right.

"Doctor Ferguson?" I called out. He entered the room, followed by LaGuerta.

"What is it Dexter?" he asked.

"Is this right?" I asked pointing to the monitor. Devon's heart rate was weird. It didn't seem normal, it seemed…too fast.

"No…" he replied. "That's not right at all."

He ushered us out the door. What was wrong? Why wouldn't he tell us? Soon there were three nurses, two male and one female, running towards the room. They entered. I heard movement inside, but wasn't sure of what was happening. They soon rushed Devon out of the door.

"Wait where are you going?" I asked.

"ER," the female nurse said. "There's something terribly wrong."

Chapter one, chapter one, oh how I have finished thee. Was it good? I had to research and stuff for this story, and it was quite complicated with the medical stuff, but you know, wanted to make it professional. Just search up some of the medical terms that you might not get. So anyway, I'm just going to start working on chapter 2. Hopefully I'll have time to finish it soon.