The duo walked down the country road, chatting side by side. "So, is Dewey your real name?" Gale asked. She was surprisingly nervous. Whether it was from the creeping fear of a killer or from Dewey's charming smile, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered nevertheless.

Dewey took a long pause – a little too long for such a simple question – before answering. "No, it's Dwight," he admitted.

"Dwight?" Gale had to keep herself from giggling. It wasn't quite what she was expecting. He looked more like a David or Daniel, but Dwight? That name sounds like it belongs to the old man who always sits in the back pew at church. "Oh, I'm sorry." She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for almost laughing or for the sad fact that his name is Dwight. Maybe both.

"That's alright. Dewey's just something I got stuck

with a long time ago." There was a hint of dejectedness to his voice.

Gale could sense the man's discomfort discussing his name. She tried to distract him with another meaningless flirty comment. "I like it. It's sexy."

"Sexy?" He looked at her quizzically, unaffected by her advances and more confused than amused by her peculiar wording. "Nah… it's just this town's way of not taking me seriously." He sounded utterly despondent. While Gale was trying to make basic conversation, she accidentally opened what was apparently a sore subject for him. His goofy grin and friendly attitude had diminished over the course of the conversation until all that was left was the downcast deputy next to her.

If he started to emotionally withdraw from the conversation, she wouldn't be able to build rapport with him and that would impede her investigation. She needed to keep him talking.

"What about Gale Weathers? I sound like a meteorologist or something," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his mouth momentarily rose to form a weak smile, but his eyes betrayed him. His expression quickly fell as he gave up the forced face. Gale decided to go out on a limb and divulge some of her own personal feelings. If she couldn't redirect the conversation, she'd adapt to it. "People treat me like the Antichrist of television journalism."

Dewey removed his gaze from the ground to look at the woman beside him. Simultaneously, she turned her head to face him. There was a shared silence between the two. The sudden eye contact took them by surprise.

Dewey stared at Gale like a deer in headlights, her sharp, saxe blue eyes robbing him of his words. She had an inexplicable effect on him. This sight of her triggered a sick feeling in his stomach. What felt like a dense mass manifested in his diaphragm, radiating heat throughout his torso and making its way up his neck. The warmth gathered in his cheeks and ears, causing a blush to overtake his face, revealing his inconcealable infatuation with the captivating woman before him. Blinking a few times to pull himself out of his trance-like state and back into reality, he struggled to remember what she was saying before he – as cliche as it sounds – got lost in her eyes. "I don't think you're that bad."

"No?" she questioned playfully.

"No," he mindlessly replied without hesitation. He was completely mesmerized. The nervous fiddling with his jacket pockets and occasional flashlight shines at the woods had ceased and Gale had his undivided attention.

"I think that's just cause you kinda like me," Gale teased. She was pushing to see just how smitten he was and she got her answer. She had Dewey wrapped around her little finger. "So tell me, deputy," she started, knowing how much he enjoyed being addressed by his title. "Are all the local boys as sweet as you?" Dewey's blush grew more intense.

Ever since their eyes met, they were locked on each other. Neither of them dared break away, lest they lose the palpable tension bonding them together. They were so distracted by each other, they almost didn't notice the set of bright headlights speeding towards them. Gale was the first to reluctantly turn away. She asked, "They're going a bit fast, don't you think?"

There was no response. Dewey seemed to be too lost in thought to notice, but his eyes were still fixed on Gale. She turned back to him to get his attention but noticed something different about the man.

He was no longer smiling.

Instead, he wore a pained expression. He regarded her with the same reluctant lenity as an animal who had to be put down. It was the same way one would look at a dead deer at the side of the road: with present, yet indifferent pity. Those eyes that once resembled a lovesick pup now had an empty air of despair coupled with a twist of… guilt?

Gale looked back and forth between Dewey and the car and tried to redirect his attention. "Uh, Dewey?" she started to back off of the road, but Dewey wasn't budging.

Still standing with the same lost and hopeless gaze, ignoring the oncoming vehicles, Dewey spoke with a brittle voice, "Gale, I-"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, DEWEY!" Gale screamed as she grabbed the man by his jacket and put all of her strength into pulling him off the road. Their combined weight and momentum sent them both tumbling down the wooded hill and into the roadside ditch as the cars full of drunk teens sped past.

When they came to a stop, they were a panting, tangled mess of limbs. Gale was on her back with Dewey lying face down on top of her. With the both of them covered in forest floor debris and still coming down off the adrenaline rush, they hadn't immediately noticed their compromising position.

After catching his breath, Dewey propped himself up on his arms after realizing he was accidentally straddling her. He sheepishly apologized. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said breathily.

He removed Gale's leopard-print headband and tenderly brushed her blonde-streaked brown hair out of her face, not bothering to sweep his own hair back into place. His hand lingered on her cheek, cradling her sharp jaw.

For a while, they said nothing. Just stared into each other's eyes. They weren't sure how long they stayed like that, fully enraptured by each other. Gale felt her accelerating heartbeat spread from ribcage to shoulders until it drowned out the rest of the world. Time seemed to slow down for the couple, allowing them to savor the moment. Their faces inched closer and closer, unbeknownst to Dewey. He was subconsciously being pulled in by the woman's enchanting visage. It was as if a mysterious magnetic force drew them together. Gale lifted her head to meet him, finally closing the gap with a kiss. After a second of shock from the unfamiliar feeling of her thin lips on his own, Dewey fervently surrendered himself to her.

An outstretch of arms. A mutual understanding of the other party's wants and needs. A timeless moment of true connection between two souls devoid of any congenial veneer they had once worn. Both off their guard, they were no longer trying to beguile or impress each other with awkward pleasantries and flirtatious small talk. While their lips locked, their bodies, minds, and hearts were fully intertwined until Dewey drew his head back, breaking them apart.

When the two separated, they were silent once again. Still recovering from their shared beat of passion, they stared into each other's eyes in awe. It didn't feel entirely real. Despite being as hyper-aware of their senses as they'd been for the previous minute, they were so caught up with each other, they almost couldn't grasp the memory of it. It was like a vivid dream you can't quite remember after waking up. But they knew it happened. They knew because the residual sensations from the experience remained fresh in their memories. The fluttering heartbeats, flushed warm faces, prickling of skin up their arms: all irrefutable evidence of the couple's physical encounter.

Dewey diverted his gaze and turned away from her. She couldn't see it, but Gale could imagine the bashful smile he was likely trying to hide. She had to admit, it was endearing how embarrassed he was over it. He wouldn't even look her in the eyes. "Sorry," he shamefully apologized. He sounded more guilty than embarrassed, even though he wasn't the one who initiated the kiss.

Gale couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle as she lolled her head to the side. From this new angle, a glint of light in the brush caught her attention. Squinting, she discerned what looked like the tail end of a car peeking out from behind a tree, the moonlight reflecting off its rear lamp.

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. The car! Her mind was so busy with playing different angles and juggling objectives, she had completely forgotten the reason they came out here in the first place. Dewey certainly wasn't helping her be any less distracted. She had gone from playing him for information to psychoanalyzing him for curiosity's sake to kissing him for God knows why! The reporter was unsure where her friendly charade stopped and genuine affection began.

Despite her initial plans, Gale had managed to accidentally develop real feelings for the man. So much for remaining professional. Now when she reported on these grizzly murders, she'd have to omit the part where she made out with the town's deputy in a ditch. A detail like that could lose him his job and she couldn't allow that. Whether she liked it or not, Gale had

come to truly care for Dewey and she wasn't content leaving him as more collateral damage in her storm through Woodsboro.

Gale tried to put them back on track by pointing out the abandoned car to the deputy who still wouldn't face her. Dewey followed her eyes and glanced in the direction of the car before looking away. He shuffled atop her, fumbling with his belt, blindly searching for – what Gale assumed to be – a flashlight. He stopped moving and Gale awaited a beam of light to shine through the woods, but it never came.

"Is that what you were looking for?" she asked, gesturing to the vehicle. Before she could turn to him, she felt a sharp pain in her side. For the first second, it felt like a punch, like Dewey had accidentally leaned his elbow into her. It was not the nagging ache of a cramp nor the sting of a cut, but a new unbelievable stabbing pain. Her hand moved to the source of the injury and felt a warm, slick, liquid leaking onto her the leather of her trenchcoat. Gale looked up in confusion at the man before her, searching his eyes for an explanation, but she didn't find concern or reassurance.

Instead, Dewey smiled. "My whole life," he replied, pressing a hunting knife into her abdomen.