A/N: Hey guys! So I know that 1 AM isn't exactly the best time to update but I'm not going to be home at all tomorrow and I wanted to get this up. Thank you for the great reviews on the last chapter. I'm so happy that you're all enjoying this fic. I'd estimate that we're about halfway through it right now, but I can't say for sure. I have planned the entire thing through so I'm hoping to start updating more consistently.
As always, reviews are appreciated! xo
Debra stands in front of her brother with her hands on her hips. The sun has started to set just behind her head, the pink light illuminating everything around her.
Dexter watches as she paces back and forth before ultimately deciding to take a seat. He backs up against the wall, standing close by the door just in case their guest wakes up early and starts itching for a way out.
"Okay…okay…just...just give me a second." Deb says, chewing on her bottom lip in consideration. "I'll come up with something."
"Why? I told you to let me handle this, Deb."
"And since when have I ever done what you've told me?"
Dexter sighs out, crossing his arms over his chest.
She has a point.
"Debra, this is serious. Quinn knowing whatever he thinks he knows...it's dangerous. And I don't like you in danger. Ever."
"You don't think I fucking know that?" She asks, her shrill voice prompting Dexter to bring a finger to his lips in an attempt to silence her. "But you can't just kill your way out of everything, Dex. That's not how this works."
"Why not?" He wonders, only half jokingly.
Deb shoots him a death glare, her hands balling into fists in her lap. "Why not? Because when someone has a body count as large as yours, people are going to start noticing. Doakes noticed. LaGuerta noticed."
"I wish you would stop bringing them up, Deb. They're both dead."
"But your problems aren't. You get rid of one and another sprouts up in its place like a goddamn weed. Pretty soon the whole garden will be fucked."
"Oh come on, this is Quinn we're talking about. Do you really believe that he had the foresight or even half of the good sense to tell anyone about his findings before he rushed over here like an idiot? No one else knows about what I did and no one else has to. Not unless we let Quinn go."
Deb hangs her head, rubbing at her temples. She knows that what Dexter says is true, but she's too good a person to accept it.
Dexter made a mistake believing that she would be okay with this. Maybe that night on the boat really was just a drug induced gaffe. Maybe she isn't ready to embrace this part of him yet.
"What exactly does he know?" She asks, peeking up at him. "Tell me everything."
"There's no way for me to know for sure." Dexter answers. "Masuka said that Quinn saw me stealing the blood samples this morning. I knew that I had to deal with it fast so I called him and said that you wanted to see him."
"So you lured him to my house under false pretenses. Nice."
"I had to think on my feet, and it's clear that he still has a soft spot for you. Do you disagree?" Deb goes silent at that, and Dexter continues. "But anyway, what he saw…it's nothing he can prove. When I spoke with Masuka he agreed to take the fall, but I still can't risk — "
"Wait, he what?"
"Masuka confronted me about it this afternoon, basically accused me of trying to fuck him over to make myself look better in Angel's eyes so I went with it. I fed him some sob story about struggling to make ends meet and luckily he bought it. Masuka is gullible but I don't think Quinn will be as easy to deal with. No, this won't end without someone getting their hands dirty. I would prefer if it were me."
"So that's all Quinn knows? That you fucked with the blood samples?"
"Like I said before, Deb, there's no way for me to know for sure. But I do know that Quinn has had it in for me since the start. If he could find something, anything to implicate me in his little conspiracy — "
"His conspiracy that happens to be pretty fucking legit, by the way."
"Exactly whose side are you on here, Deb? I'm starting to get confused."
"You know I'm with you dickwad. I'm always with you."
"Good. So you know that I can't afford to take chances. Not anymore. If Quinn has something on me then I don't doubt that he's prepared to use it. I have Harrison to think about now, Deb. I can't just sit around and weigh my options here. Time is of the essence."
Deb stands, nodding her head in agreement. "Do you still have Briggs' gun with you?" She asks.
"Yeah, I was going to deal with it today but I never got the chance." He replies. "It's still in my car."
"Okay, that's good. Bring it here."
Dexter wants to question her, to find out why she suddenly seems ready get be involved with this, but before he can say anything his words turn to dust on his tongue. He nods in her direction before making his way over to his car, returning a minute later with the gun in hand.
Deb then takes it in hers, tucking it securely in the back pocket of her jeans.
"Alright," she says, taking a deep breath before turning to face Dexter. "How much longer do you think he's got?"
"Not long," he answers. "I only used what I had with me, and that was less than a quarter of a dose of M99. I'd say it'll only be a few more minutes now until he wakes up."
Deb starts for the door without a word, signaling with a quick jerk of her head for him to follow behind her. Once they make it back inside of the living room, Dexter watches Deb as she watches Quinn. She stands over the couch, her eyes moving up and down the length of his body.
He lays completely still save the rise and fall of his chest, and there's a tenderness in Deb's eyes as she watches him, as if she's just begun to reminisce on their past together. She must have seen him like this hundreds of times before, sleeping peacefully at her side as the sun set just outside their window. Her heart must ache, knowing that this could very well be the last time she sees him again.
Dexter wishes that he could at least pretend to be upset for his sister, but emotions are a concept that come scarcely to him as it is, so he can muster no sympathy for the man who has been, at best, a rusty old tack in his side for years now.
Suddenly, Quinn groans.
"Shit." Dexter growls, keeping his voice low so the man won't hear him. "He's regaining consciousness."
He grabs Deb by the arm and leads her out into the kitchen, his gaze darting from her to Quinn and back again. The man hasn't fully woken up yet, but the low moans that fall from his mouth let Dexter know that he's pretty close.
"I thought you said we had a couple of minutes." Deb says through gritted teeth, her nails digging into Dexter's forearm as she claws at him for support.
"It was a ballpark estimate, Deb."
"Did he see you? When you knocked him out I mean."
"No, I came up from behind him so he didn't see me. But we were the only two people here. He's stupid but I'm pretty sure he can put two and two together." Dexter answers. "I'm not letting him walk out of this house."
"Whatever you say. Punch me in the face."
"What!?"
"You heard me. Punch me in the face or kick me in the ribs or something. I don't care which just make it quick and make it hurt."
"No, Deb, what the hell?"
"We don't have time for this shit! Fuck it. You're more useless than a match in hell. Just follow my lead, brother. I'm going to get us out of this. That's a promise."
Without warning, Deb points one finger and raises it dangerously close to her face, poking herself right in the eye. She blinks a few times and the tears start streaming down the right side of her face in rapid succession. Dexter looks on in horror as she goes for the second eye, impossibly confused at how hurting herself is supposed to get them out of this mess; but before she can finish the job, Quinn groans to life. He sits upright on the couch with a wild look on his face, clearly disorientated as he starts to come back to his senses.
Deb rushes over to him, sinking down to her knees in front of the couch. "Joey!" She cries out, visibly shaking now. "Oh, thank God you're okay!"
"I...Deb...there you are. What the fuck just happened?" He asks.
Dexter makes his way into the living room, still fairly confused about what game his sister is playing. Wherever she's going with this, it's a very inspired performance. Perhaps that week she'd spent in the drama club back in high school before she'd realized how much she hated it has actually paid off.
"You fucking passed out in the middle of my living room, that's what the fuck just happened." She answers. "You scared the shit out of me. I thought that you were dead or something. I was so close to calling the police."
Quinn shakes his head from side to side. "No. No I didn't pass out." His eyes find Dexter's from across the room, but if he wants to say something more he keeps it locked inside.
"Uh…yeah, you did. I saw you go down." She lies. "Have you eaten today? You know how I am with grocery shopping but I could probably find something edible in the fridge."
"No, I'm fine. I think." Quinn says. His jaw is locked, his eyes steely with determination as they remain trained on Dexter's face.
He knows what happened here, so why won't he just come right out and say it?
"What about you? Are you okay? Dexter told me that you were hurt, that's why I came over..."
"Yeah, I'm better now." She says.
The smile that tugs at the corners of her lips is undoubtedly fake, but that doesn't stop the heat from rising in the pit of Dexter's stomach.
"Hey Deb, do you think we could maybe talk alone for a few minutes?" Quinn asks. "No offense or anything, Dexter, but I think this is between me and your sister."
Deb is quick to shut him down. "No." She says, wiping the few remaining tears from her cheek. "Anything you have to say to me you can say to my brother. You know that."
Dexter can see it in her eyes. She's begging for him to keep his mouth shut, to make the wise choice instead of the one that will inevitably end with him tripping down the gulf in a small collection of garbage bags. But Joey Quinn has never been a wise man.
"Okay," he says, finally standing up. He's wobbly on his feet thanks to the tranquilizer that's coursing through his system, but he finds his footing eventually, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest,"I didn't pass out. I think your brother did something to me."
Deb snorts with laughter. "That's crazy. What, are you telling me he slipped you a fucking roofie? No offense, but I don't think you're his type."
Clearly angry now, Quinn reaches down to pull Deb up on her feet, sending Dexter straight into action. His vision clouds, and all he can see is the man's bony hand on his sister's arm.
"Let go of her." He grinds out, seconds away from killing him right where he stands.
"Dex, it's okay." Deb tries to assure him, staring Quinn down until he loosens his hold on her sleeve and tucks both of his hands safely in his pockets. "Now, let's talk."
"You can't do this." Quinn tells Dexter.
Dexter, bemused, lets his lips quirk up slightly. "And yet, here we are."
"Jesus, you two, enough." Deb says, moving to stand in between the men. "Listen, Joey, you're right. Dexter did lure you here under...pretenses that were less than truthful. But it's not what you think."
"Yeah? Well there better be a damn good explanation, then. None of this is making any fucking sense, Deb, and if I didn't think LaGuerta was right about him before, now I've definitely got my suspicions."
"So let me get this straight. You think I'm a serial killer? If that were true, would you even still be alive right now?"
Quinn flinches, a genuine look of fear flashing in his eyes. "Are you threatening me?"
"Me? No." Dexter gasps, feigning offense. "I would never. Though to be honest I'm not really a big fan of being accused of mass murder. Especially not while my sister is standing right next to me. Just a little something to consider, I guess."
"Yeah? Well maybe if you didn't walk around doing shady shit all day then no one would have any reason to wonder about you." Quinn says.
"Shady shit? And by that you mean…?"
"I saw you this morning. When you brought Deb to the station and made everyone think that she was happy to see us — "
"I didn't make Deb do anything." Dexter interrupts. "She's a grown up woman capable of making her own grown up decisions. Or am I a puppeteer now, too?"
Deb elbows him in the gut, clearly not a fan of this immature repartee. But Dexter doesn't care. It's not like he started it. But as much as Dexter detests the low rent detective, he knows that he needs to be on his best behavior for Deb's sake. It seems like she's intent on keeping Quinn alive somehow. As long as the man watches what he says from here on out, Dexter just might be able to keep his sister happy.
"Okay, I'm just going to come right out and say it," Quinn starts. "Was this morning just a setup so you could steal blood evidence from Masuka's lab? Because I know what I saw, and I'm not afraid to tell Angel if that's what I have to do."
Well...so much for Quinn making it out of this alive.
"It was." Deb suddenly admits, much to Dexter's surprise. He'd been seconds away from killing Quinn with his bare hands, but Deb's play stops him dead in his tracks.
"Sit down, Joey." She says. "I can't lie to you anymore. It's about time you know the truth."
The smaller man hesitates, his shock written clear across his face. Whether the reaction is because he wasn't expecting a truthful answer out of either Morgan or because he wasn't expecting Deb to have actually been in on this morning's theft, Dexter doesn't know.
Eventually Quinn shakes off the revelation and does what he was told, taking a seat on the couch, his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap. Dexter sits on the chair opposite him while Debra remains standing.
"So you know that I've been working for Jacob Elway for a couple of months now," she starts, waiting for Quinn to nod his agreement before continuing. "Well, my most recent job was to trail this guy named Andrew Briggs. He's a small time thief that somehow found himself a big time score, and if I could bring him in then I would get a cut of the stash and Elway would finally start taking me seriously. It sounded easy enough, you know? Just some dude who thought he was a bigger deal than he actually was. I handled his type a thousand times before back in vice. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Fucking stupid."
She pauses to lick her lips and take a deep breath before telling the rest of her tale. "Two nights ago, he said that he was going to meet his fence. I had no clue who the fucker was, just that he was probably pretty dangerous. Well, fast forward to a few hours later and Briggs still hasn't shown up at the motel we'd been staying at. I had no way of knowing what happened, but I thought maybe he'd figured me out and bailed before I could bring him in. It was either that, or his fence took him out. Whatever happened, all I know is he was gone, so I decided that I was going to see if I could find the jewels myself. He'd hinted at where he'd been keeping them so I figured it was worth a shot to at least check it out."
This is where she starts to tear up again. Of course, Dexter doesn't know for sure, but he thinks it might be genuine this time.
Recalling the moment you killed a man. It must be tough for someone who hasn't been taking lives for more than half of their own. Dexter really has no way to know what that pain must feel like, but he tries to sympathize with his sister's internal struggle nonetheless.
"So, uh, I drove up to the storage facility that Briggs was supposedly using, and my suspicions were true because I found his stash. But it turns out I wasn't the only person who had that bright idea. Before I could make it back out to the parking lot...this guy...he fucking came out of nowhere. I didn't know what else to do, Joey. It all happened so fast!"
Quinn's face softens while Deb's crumbles.
"What is it Deb? What happened? Whatever it is you can tell me and we'll deal with it, okay? I promise."
Without a word Deb reaches for her shirt, fumbling with each of the buttons until the last one is undone. She slowly begins to turn around so that Quinn can see the full extent of her injuries, and he flinches at the gruesome sight. The bruises are mapped out on her body like stars; the marks on her stomach still an angry red while the ones on her side have turned to a darkened shade of purple.
"Jesus, Deb," Quinn sighs, reaching out a hand to touch her before thinking better of it and crossing his arms back over his chest. "Who did this to you?"
"E-El Sapo," she chokes out, turning away from the man until she is properly covered up again. "He was Briggs' fence..."
"El Sapo? You mean Javier Guzman? Well fuck, that guy was found dead in…Oh, Deb. Deb, you didn't."
She nods sorrowfully in his direction, reaching into her back pocket for the gun. She holds it in two shaky hands, gulping down spit before she speaks.
"I shot him." She confesses. "I killed him."
Quinn, rendered speechless, stares up at the gun. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again, repeating the action at least three more times before accepting that nothing he has to say could ever change the truth. Deb is a killer.
"I didn't know what else to do so I just left him there," she says. "After it happened I ran straight to Dex's apartment. I was so traumatized, I couldn't even make myself speak for hours. I kept looking over my shoulder thinking maybe he would end up coming after me…fucking crazy, I know."
"Deb, you are not crazy," Quinn assures her. "You were scared. It's not your fault. You said that asshole snuck up on you, right? He hurt you. In my eyes that's self defense. Angel and everyone else at the station are going to see it exactly the same way."
"No, no, please, no! You can't tell anyone!" Deb desperately screams. "I'm begging you. This has to stay between the three of us."
"But Deb, you were in the right here. Trust me, the best way to end this thing is just to tell the truth. I'll protect you. We all will. You have my word on that."
"The best way for who? Surely not for him." Deb says. She points a finger at Dexter, her bloodshot eyes meeting his for only a brief second before she turns back to Quinn. "I'm a piece of shit who used my own brother to hide my guilt. I told him to steal those blood samples. That was all me. And he did it because he loves me and he didn't want me to go to jail."
Dexter looks on soundlessly, thinking it better to lower his head in shame than to add to Deb's lament. She means it. She truly does feel bad for asking for Dexter's help, and that is something he just can't understand. After everything that she's done for him he'd tamper with a thousand crime scenes if it meant keeping her safe from harm. Hell, even if she hadn't been there for him after she found out his secret, he would've done it for her anyway. That she thinks he could ever resent her is mindboggling. She could turn him in and he would love her all the same.
"Let's say I confess to this," Deb continues. "Let's say Angel pulls some strings in court and the jury feels bad for the poor little former police Lieutenant and I get a slap on the wrist. Probation, a year in prison, still unlikely, but not impossible. But this doesn't stop with me, Joey. Dexter committed a federal offense, and I can't stand here and watch him go to prison for me. Even if it's only for a year or two. What kind of sister would I be if I let that happen?"
Quinn's jaw tightens, he looks to be deep in thought. He hates Dexter but deep down he still loves Deb, and one doesn't exist without the other. The truth of that must click in his mind as he rises to his feet, placing a hand over Deb's. She lets him take the gun from her, looking up at him in near disbelief as he pockets it.
It must feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders, and deep down Dexter might just resent that. He was supposed to be the one to make this okay, not Quinn. Who does he think he is, swooping in to save the day like that? If only Dexter had been more careful. If only he had bothered to pay more attention to his surroundings, then this halfwit wouldn't need to be anywhere near Debra's mess at all.
"Tell me what to do and I'll do it." Quinn says, cupping Deb's face in his hand.
"Oh, Joey, I couldn't let you risk your freedom for me, too. I already feel like shit as it is. Just keep what you saw this morning quiet, please. That's all I can allow myself to ask for."
"But somebody's gotta make this go away," Quinn insists, patting his pocket twice. "I'll get rid of it."
"You would do that?" Deb asks, looking up at him with those sparkling doe eyes. "But what if you get caught?"
"I won't."
She places both of her hands on Quinn's chest, tightening them into fists as she holds on to his shirt. She slowly starts to lean in and Dexter thinks that she's going to kiss him for sure. It's only pretend. He tells himself. It's just another tactic to keep Quinn on her side.
Deb surprises him by dropping her head low so she can rest her forehead against Quinn's.
That was close.
"You've always been so good to me," she says. "I'm sorry that wasn't enough. If I could go back, maybe..."
"Sssh, it's okay," He replies, pulling away so he can look her in the eyes. He reaches out a hand, rubbing a thumb along her damp cheek. "I will always protect you, Deb. I mean it."
She nods, smiling through the tears. "I haven't seen or heard from Briggs for a couple of days now. I have no idea what happened to him, if he's dead or worse, but..."
"That's a good thing," Dexter interjects. He decides to try his hand as the dumb but well meaning lab geek who's in way over his head, hoping that Quinn will find the routine believable. Better to let him think he's come up with a plan on his own than for him to realize he's being played. "It might be a long shot, given his line of work, but if the gun is registered in Briggs' name and the police find it, then they'll think they have their man and close the case. Right?"
"I'll make sure the gun ends up in the right hands," Quinn promises. "Odds are this Briggs guy isn't going to turn up any time soon, and with the blood evidence out of the way the case should be open and shut."
"I hope so." Deb says. "Listen Joey, I know I've already asked for too much but I didn't wipe the gun down for prints or anything and — "
"Consider it done."
"Thank you," she smiles, pulling him in for a hug. "For everything. I don't know what I would've done without you."
Get away with murder like you were supposed to before this idiot started poking his head in places it didn't belong?
Quinn's gaze lingers for a beat too long. Even as he pulls away he stands just an inch too close, dropping both of his arms to his sides before turning to face the other man.
"Uh, Dexter," he starts, wetting his lips before trying again. "I gotta apologize. I didn't mean to…I shouldn't have…it was really out of line for me to accuse you of the shit that I did, okay? I know that you have no reason to accept my apology and really, I don't expect you to. But I just wanted to put it out there, I guess. Clear the air."
"That's really big of you, Joseph."
"Yeah. Sure it is." Quinn replies with a dry chuckle.
"No, I mean it," Dexter says. "You've never liked me, but that's okay. You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours and we shouldn't have any problems. Nothing has to change. It's just good to know that when it really matters, we can put all of that aside. For her."
"For her," Quinn agrees.
Deb looks to both of them and smiles. It's an uncomfortable one for sure, his sister has never enjoyed being the center of attention, but Dexter is happy to see it.
Quinn clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation as well. "I guess I'll see you guys around, then. Take care of yourself, Deb. I'll call you when it's done."
Before he can leave, Deb pulls the man into her arms one last time. She hugs him tight and long, whispering something into his ear before sending him off with a single kiss on the cheek.
Dexter waits until he hears his car pull away for good before addressing his sister.
"Debra, what the fuck?" He asks, plopping down on the couch. He holds his head in his hands, only bothering to look up when Deb takes a seat beside him. "I can't believe I let you do that. I can't believe it worked."
"How many times do I have to tell you that you've never let me do anything?"
"That was risky, Deb. Fuck, how do we know that we can trust him?" Dexter asks. "I think I should go after him."
"You're not going after anyone. He's going to come through for us, Dexter." She insists. "You know he is. Just admit it."
Dexter knows that he can't argue with her. When Dexter was the only suspicious one in the family, Quinn wouldn't have had any problem throwing him under the bus. In fact, he would've backed over him once or twice more for good measure. But with Deb now guilty by her own admission, there isn't a chance that Quinn would sell her out.
Love. It's a powerful concept that could render even the strongest man helpless.
Dexter releases the breath he'd been holding in, taking Deb by the hand. "Well, that was close."
She stares blankly ahead. Clearly she isn't doing back flips in her head like he is. They're going to get away with this. She should be happy, not…whatever this is.
"Quinn is…he's sweet but he's an idiot. A well meaning idiot." She says. "A year ago I would've never had the stomach to take advantage of him like that. And the worst part is, I don't even feel all that bad about it. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway and goddamnit if I wouldn't do it again."
"You're not the villain here, Deb. You saved his life." Dexter assures her, squeezing her hand. The cut on his palm burns, and the bandage itches to be changed. "I would've killed him. I wish I did."
"Really? So even after he came through for us you still wouldn't hesitate to put a knife through his chest? Really?"
"No. Not even for a second," Dexter says. "He came through today but that was because he was the one looking to ruin everything in the first place. Don't mistake what happened here today for genuine concern. Not for me, anyway. If Quinn could sell me out without implicating you in any of this he'd jump at the chance."
Deb says nothing. She knows he's right.
"And if he betrays us in any way then my original offer still stands. No one threatens me or my family and gets away with it."
"He isn't going to betray us." Deb tells him.
She sounds sure of herself. Sure of him.
Dexter wants to tell her that there's no way she can truly trust the man, but there's no use in that. He's learned to pick his battles with her, and this is not the hill he wants to die on. Quinn has proven to be an upstanding man where Deb's concerned, and maybe that's enough.
For now.
"You look hungry," Dexter suddenly declares, tightening his grip on her hand so he can yank her up off the couch. "How about I make us something to eat?"
"Like what? I've got jack shit in here."
"I'll think of something. But first you need to sober up. How about some coffee?"
"I don't need to sober up I need to…sober down," she says, guiding Dexter into the kitchen. "I think I've got some Jack left over from last Christmas…."
"No, I think you've had your fair share."
"You're such an ass," she groans, sitting down at the table. "Oh yeah, don't think I forgot. I'm supposed to be mad at you for before. So we're officially not talking right now. You can get out of my house so I can drink in peace, thanks."
"You're not mad at me." Dexter states matter of factly. "If anything I'm the one who should be mad at you so don't push your luck, sis."
"Whatever. Hurry up with the fucking coffee, then. I'll take anything at this point."
Dexter gets the coffee going, electing to make a whole pot just to be safe. Deb waits rather impatiently, rapping her fists on the table to pass the time.
The minutes pass in silence (more or less), but there's a strange thickness in the air. Dexter turns to face Deb. Her eyes are focused on the table, but he knows that she can feel him staring.
"Uh, Deb?"
"Yeah?"
"What did you say to Quinn?"
"What do you mean what did I say to him? You were standing right the fuck there."
"I mean right before he left. You whispered something in his ear. Is there anything that I should know? It's important that we handle this entire thing correctly. One wrong move could put all of us in danger."
A smile spreads across Deb's face, and she chuckles loudly at his stupidity.
He loves the sound of her laughter, the sight of her eyes sparkling; not with joy, but maybe something close to it. This is a picture that's all too rare, and he'll gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of their lives as long as it means he'll be allowed to see it every day.
"I just thanked him again, Dexter. It was the least I could do," she says.
He knows that he should believe her but that little voice in the back of his head tells him not to.
"Dude, are you seriously jealous again? That's funny."
"I'm not jealous. I don't get jealous…I'm just saying, you didn't have to kiss him. That's all."
"Oh come on, it was on the cheek! I kiss people on the cheek all the time."
"No you don't. Especially not people you used to be engaged to."
"Hey, I was never engaged to Quinn. I turned him down, remember? Things between us have been over for a while."
"Yeah, well you should tell him that. I think he might need a refresher."
"Psssh, you're being ridiculous," Deb replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He helped me because he cares about me but it doesn't have to go any further than that. He knows better than to expect anything more."
"I don't know, Deb. You didn't exactly rule it out. What was it you said? Oh, 'if I could go back, then maybe….' Leaving that up to interpretation, who knows what fantasy he'll concoct in that little brain of his?"
"You think he expects me to sleep with him now? Dexter, stop it."
"When's the last time that someone has done anyone a favor in this world without expecting something in return?"
"People do that all the time, Dexter. It's called being a good person, maybe you should try it sometime," Deb says, rolling her eyes at him.
It's playful, but he knows that deep down there's still a part of Debra that genuinely still thinks there are good people in the world capable of doing good things. It's in her bones, that intrinsic belief that this all has to be worth it somehow, and if Dexter is thankful for anything, it's that.
He smirks at her before reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a pair of mugs, pouring coffee for the both of them.
"Okay, you can believe what you want," Deb says, taking Dexter's silence as disagreement. "Yeah, people are greedy, so good person or not, Quinn is going to expect whatever he expects. Doesn't mean he's gonna get it, though. I don't put out every time a guy does something nice for me. I'm not a whore — don't say it."
"What? I wasn't going to say anything negative. That was very presumptuous of you."
Dexter makes his way back over to the table, sitting Deb's mug down in front of her before taking a seat himself. He picks up his cup and blows, seconds away from taking a sip just as the doorbell rings.
"Oh, come the fuck on," Deb groans. "I'm getting visitors now? Since when?"
Dexter shrugs it off. "Probably just Quinn again. You want me to get it?"
"Would you? My side is fucking killing me. If I stand up again i'll probably end up tipping over."
"Have you been tending to your bruises? Do you want me to put some more ice on them? Here, go lay down on the couch and elevate your back with some pillows. That should help a little bit with the pain."
"Just go get the fucking door!"
"Okay, okay."
Dexter rises from his chair and starts off toward the front door. The visitor has already started to grow impatient, ringing the doorbell a good three times in just as many seconds by the time Dexter gets there.
He can make out a male figure through the window, an inch or so too tall to be Joey Quinn. When the door is finally open it's Elway that Dexter sees, dressed in a navy blue suit with a loud patterned tie to match.
"Oh, hey Dexter. Am I interrupting a family reunion?"
Dexter hesitantly nods, holding the door open no more than a crack. "Uh, I guess you could say that."
"Well…sorry, I guess. But I was hoping to speak with Deb. She around?" Elway leans in closer. He presses his palm flat against the door and pushes on it a bit, trying to get a peek inside without being too obvious about it.
The man is clearly determined, and Dexter figures that there's no way out of this confrontation besides the obvious. Deb will handle him just as well as she handled Quinn, he's confident of that. But hopefully for their sake she won't go confessing to murder to her boss. One sketchy character is enough to worry about. Two is where things start to get really tricky.
"Yeah, she's here," Dexter answers. "This is her house."
"That's never any guarantee with her," Elway says, sidling past Dexter so he can step inside the house completely. "I swung by here a couple of times when she first started ignoring my calls and the place was practically abandoned."
"It wasn't abandoned, I just wasn't home. Is that allowed?" Deb calls from the kitchen. "But now you found me, so, congratulations?"
She rises to her feet, slowly making her way over to where the two men stand. Dexter notices that her limp is quite a bit more severe than it had been earlier in the day. He would be concerned if he couldn't sense that she was exaggerating due to Elway's presence.
"I thought you were dead, to tell you the truth," the man says. "And Jesus Christ, Morgan, you sure do look it. What the hell happened to you?"
"Car accident," she quickly lies. "I'm okay, but some poor old lady's car definitely isn't."
"You crashed into somebody's grandmother?"
"No, somebody's grandmother crashed into me. Everything's fine but you know how insurance goes. Those guys are sharks. I'm guessing it'll be over a year before I see even a hint of a check."
"I could call up one of my lawyer friends and get this thing settled for you right now," Elway offers, making a show of reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. "You look like you're in a really bad way, Deb. I almost feel bad for hounding you so much earlier."
"There's no need for that. I honestly don't think I'm gonna end up pressing any charges. Like I said before, she was old. She probably couldn't see worth shit. It wasn't really her fault."
"Sounds like it was exactly her fault," Elway insists. "When did this happen?"
"Last night. It was dark out, I ran into the street right when the yellow light was about to turn red. It was an accident, really. No need to worry about it," she says, trying to convince him with a sweet smile. "I really look worse than I am. It's just a couple of bruises, maybe a sprain. I should be back to work before you know it."
"Yeah, I guess…" Elway finally acquiesces. "So what about Briggs? Still no sign of him?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he just bailed. He's probably out of the state by now," She says. "It sucks, but you can't win 'em all, I guess. Damnit, I really wanted to catch that fucker, though."
"You and me both. Apprehending him would've made me thousands. It actually would have justified your salary, for starters."
Deb blushes, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "Yeah…I'm really sorry about that."
"I'm sure you are," Elway says. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie before continuing. "Listen Deb, I didn't want to do this in front of your brother, but…"
"It's okay. I'll leave." Dexter quickly interjects.
He starts for the door just as Deb holds out her hand and signals for him to stay put. "No, Dex. You don't have to leave. Go ahead Jake. Whatever my punishment is, I'll accept it. But if you're firing me, I'd appreciate a little notice. I don't have any jobs lined up, you know…"
"Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I might've wanted a little notice before you disappeared for weeks on end without so much as a phone call? Or does professionalism only matter when you're the one whose finances are on the line?"
Deb says nothing. She knows that he's right.
The tension in the room is palpable and the air grows thicker with each passing second.
"Uh, Jake, can I get you a cup of coffee?" Dexter asks, looking to dismiss himself from what should clearly be a two person conversation. "I just made a fresh pot a few minutes ago, it should still be hot."
Elway waves him away. "No, Dexter, I'm fine."
He turns back to Deb with his hands on his hips. She crosses her arms over her chest, jutting her chin out as if that will make her feel more in control of the situation. But Dexter can see right through this facade just as he does with all the rest of them. She's scared. She knows that she can't afford to lose this job; not because she fears that no one else will accept her, but because she knows that there's another job waiting for her as soon as she's ready to take it. Angel all but begged her to come back to Miami Metro, and everyone misses her there. If only they all hated her, if only they didn't care, then ending up right back where she started wouldn't matter to her. But it does.
"So are we gonna do this or not?" She asks.
"Relax, Deb. You can unclench. I'm not firing you."
This earns Elway a surprised glance from both Morgan siblings.
"You're not?" Deb wonders. "Why?"
"You know, usually when people hear that they're still employed, they show their gratitude. A thank you would be nice."
"Thank you," She concedes. "Why aren't you firing me?"
"Deb, you are something else," her boss chuckles. "I'm not firing you because, believe it or not, you're actually one of my best employees when you bother to give a damn. These past few months, you've completed more jobs than a third of the office combined. So i'm counting Briggs as a fluke. A fucking expensive fluke, but one that I can forgive. You're suspended for a week. Rest up, get your head right, and then come back to the office, business as usual. Sound fair?"
"That sounds…more than fair," she nods. "Thanks, boss. I won't let you down."
"I'm counting on it," he says, turning for the door. "It was nice seeing you again, Dexter. Let me know if you're ever in the market for a private investigator, I'll get you the family discount."
"Uh, that's unlikely but thanks for the offer."
"Any time."
Elway spares Deb one more glance before heading back out the door, and the two of them release a collective breath when they're finally alone again.
"That was really fucking close," Deb sighs. "I really can't keep living like this. I'm in my thirties and I don't even have steady employment."
"You heard Elway. He isn't going to fire you. You could punch him in the face and he'd probably let you off with a stern warning," Dexter insists. "I didn't like him much when I first met him, but he seems okay. He cares about you. We have that in common, at least."
"Yeah, he's okay," Deb shrugs. "I don't know, I guess all of this shit that's been happening lately is making me wonder what's next. I thought I hit bottom but now I'm not so sure."
"You did," Dexter says, rubbing his hand up and down the length of her arm. "And now you're back. What's next is...whatever you want to be next. It's your future, Deb. Take control of it."
"Since when did you become a motivational speaker?"
"Move in with me."
The words come out of his mouth before he even has time to process them, but in truth, he doesn't need to. He wants this. A life with Deb. A full, complete life.
"W-what?" She asks, her eyes glossy with the threat of tears. "Are you serious?"
"I am," Dexter says. "I know that I kind of forced your hand the other day by forcing you to come back to the apartment with me but Deb, I'm serious about this. Do you want to move in with me?"
Her mouth hangs open as she searches for the words to say. Gradually, a smile spreads across her face, warming up her beautiful features. "I don't know..." She starts. "One little apartment for two adults and a toddler? Things might be a little cramped."
"Oh," Dexter nods. "Okay. I understand."
"Why do you look so fucking sad all of a sudden? I didn't exactly say no, dipshit," Deb says, reaching out for his hand. She squeezes it tight, which in turn brings a smile to Dexter's own face. "Why don't you and Harrison come and live here with me? It can get pretty lonely when I'm in this big house all by myself. And I know Harrison is used to the apartment but there's no reason he can't get used to it here. He'll have a yard, and the beach, and other kids to play with."
Dexter remembers his dream from the night before. No one but him, Deb, and Harrison. They were a real family. They were happy. He never thought that they could ever get there, not truly, but maybe this is how they make it happen.
It's quite a leap.
Why didn't they make it sooner?
"So...is that a yes, or...?"
"Yes," Dexter says. "Yes. This is our future."
He grabs Deb by the waist and pulls her close, kissing her with all that he has. It doesn't lack promise, because this time, he isn't afraid. Now they can handle whatever comes their way. Of that, he is completely sure.
They don't break apart until they're both breathless and gasping for air, their faces flushed red with desire.
"So we're doing this." Deb states, unable to hide the smile beaming across her face.
"We're doing this."
"Well, fuck me," Deb laughs. "Looks like the Morgans are gonna be alright after all."