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It's just a normal night. He's getting married in less than two weeks and the man he asked to be his best man now wants to kill him.
Why had he ever trusted Miguel? He can't blame himself that much, even though he had broken a lot of Harry's rules.
Harry hadn't had to live like this, he had never been this lonely. He could share the truth of who he was with others.
Dexter hasn't had that since Harry died. And it's been a lonely seventeen years.
He picks up a call just as he's getting out of his car, safely parked in his designated spot.
It's a cliche, but it happens quickly.
There's a bag over his head then he's being shoved forward, his wrists grabbed and wrapped in duct tape, the air gets knocked out of him, and while he's reeling he's stuffed into the trunk of a car, which wastes no time before it starts speeding away with him in it.
He's going to die.
He knows that.
Unless he does something quickly he is going to die.
(Is this what it felt like, July 1981?)
(Is this what he felt like?)
He tries to push it down, but the few memories he had of that time... that day or days are coming back.
Who knew that being stuffed into the trunk of a car would finally shake loose those memories?
For what it's worth, he wishes they'd stay forgotten.
He doesn't want to know just how scared and sure of his own demise he'd been at the age of ten.
He is in the trunk of a car, laying helpless, a bag over his head and his wrists taped together and if he doesn't do anything he's going to die.
Miguel probably sent Ramon after him. Maybe both of the living Prado brothers are much more fine with murder than people in their positions should be, so long as they're the perpetrators.
The tape tears at his skin and pulls out hairs agonizingly as he tries to shift it loose.
Getting the bag off of his head is a little bit harder than he first thought it would be.
His heart is pounding away, in his throat and loud in his ears.
(He remembers a hand over his mouth and nose but never anything over his eyes). (He remembers being lifted up and sure that he'd never see the sky again).
The trunk is pitch black even without the bag over his head.
Wait, there's a shape, glowing in the darkness behind him, faintly.
He feels around for something to tear the tape against. He needs to get free, he needs to be ready to defend himself-
(He remembers kicking and clawing at the hand over his mouth and nose, trying to get the man to let go-)
He needs to be ready for a fight. Otherwise, he's going to die.
He can't give up now.
He's getting married. He's going to be a father, a husband.
He can't give up now. (He can't let that scared little boy from his memories escape only to be taken again...)
The air in the trunk is so stuffy and humid.
His eyes burn even though he can't see a thing.
His chest hurts.
It's like the Marina View hotel.
He's dizzy and breathing is getting harder and harder and each breath he draws hurts. He has to focus.
He's not ten years old. He has to focus or he's going to die. (He's going to die).
He's not ten years old. He needs to focus and get his wrists free. (The man is going to kill him).
He's not ten years old. He needs to focus and get ready to defend himself. (He's never going to see his family again).
He's not ten years old. (But it sure feels like it).
It tears. The tape, he's got a rip started. He can escape- he can...
The car is rolling to a stop. He has to work quickly if he wants to live. (He does, he wants to live).
He's shaking... when did he start shaking?
He manages to tear clean through the duct tape (two layers why only two?) and roll over awkwardly to face the trunk door. (He's going to fight and then run for it, he's going to escape, he wants to see his family again).
He isn't ten years old, he can fight. He isn't 60 lbs and under five foot, he's a grown man, an adult that frequently caries and drags around dead bodies he can-
He can't breathe but he can fight. He can fight, he can worry about breathing later, when he's escaped and-
The trunk opens and Dexter attacks, throwing a punch-
There's a crowd- they're howling and shouting.
Is that Angel?
"What is this?!" he shouts, even though there isn't any air in his lungs.
He can't... he can't breathe...
"Your bachelor party, Hermano!"
His bachelor party?
Oh, Vince is on the ground. That must be who he punched.
He should apologize. He has to catch his breath first.
He has to-
He has to catch his breath first.
He has to breathe, he knows he needs to breathe-
"Watch the grill, George Foreman!" Vince jokes.
He can't breathe.
He isn't ten years old. He hasn't actually been kidnapped. He's safe. He isn't going to die.
So why can't he breathe? Why-
He sees a hand reaching towards him.
(The man is going to grab him he's going to steal him away again and-)
His shoulders smack into the lip of the trunk, he has nowhere to go he-
It's Ramos, with Angel beside him. How had he forgotten it was Angel?
He-
He can't breathe. He can't, he can't breathe.
He's ten years old. The man is holding him off the ground, his arm is crushing Dexter's ribs, his hand is over his mouth and pinching his nose closed and he can't breathe!
He's going to die, the man is going to kill him, he'll never see Mom or Deb or Dad again, he's going to die and it's going to hurt. It's going to keep hurting and he's never going to be free-
He tries to fight the man's hands but there are more of them and they're grabbing him and he-
He's surrounded and-
It's Angel and Vince and Ramos and Quinn- what? What's going on?
His throat is closing up and his vision is dancing and he goes down, he can't even fight the man's many arms as they grab him, he can't even shout.
He can't breathe, the man's going to kill him. He's going to die and-
He can't breathe. He isn't ten years old, he's thirty-eight. He's not ten years old.
But he still can't breathe.
The memory is too thick in his mind, it's in his throat and he's choking on it.
Angel is trying to talk to him.
He's moved, he's on the pavement now, he's curled up, clutching his knees to his chest, his back pressed hard against the car. (It feels so familiar, crying like this).
He can't breathe and he can't stop the tears, he can't hear what Angel's trying to say to him.
He knows he isn't ten years old.
He knows it isn't July, 1981, and he isn't a helpless child.
He knows he isn't ten years old.
But it's so hard to remember that, when he feels so small and he can't breathe.
This is not how this was supposed to go.
In hindsight, throwing a bag over a guy's head, tossing him in the trunk, and driving him someplace maybe isn't the best idea for getting a guy to his Bachelor party. Especially if the guy is employed by the police department and works in homicide.
And the guy's sister is a cop who'd been kidnapped by a serial killer. And the guy's dad was a cop.
Yeah, in hindsight, Vince totally should have seen that punch coming.
It's pretty impressive that Dex the mean left jab got free of the tape and the hood, maybe he'd taken one of those self-defense classes or something.
Angel helps him up and he makes a joke about getting decked. (Ah man, decked, they're getting on a boat... damn if only he could turn back time).
Then Angel and everyone else kinda stop laughing.
He looks up.
Dexter's still crouching in the trunk, wide-eyed and with his fists up. His hands are shaking.
Ramos reaches to give him a hand in getting out and...
And Dex flinches back, hard. The trunk lid knocks against the car.
He looks like he's hyperventilating.
Then he blinks like he recognizes them all again and stumbles out of the trunk on his own.
He's still hyperventilating though. And his legs kind of just give out underneath him.
Vince probably should have been wary about getting close to the guy who just punched him in the eye but he's not gonna let his friend concuss himself on the pavement. Ramos and Angel reach to catch and steady him too.
He shouts and flails, throwing his arms wildly and starting to kick.
They all get the message and let him go.
Which is how they got here: with Dexter cowering and still hyperventilating, hugging his knees sitting with his back up against the car and-
And shit, the guy is crying. He's wheezing and hyperventilating and crying. Oh fuck.
They've gotta do something about this. This is not how the bachelor party a la Dex was supposed to go.
"Anyone got his fiance's number?" someone asks. Hey, yeah that's smart, his wife-to-be probably knows how to handle whatever this is that's happening.
No one has Dexter's fiance's number. Shit.
So unless they want to try to get his phone, which will probably send him off even worse than he is right now-
(Why, why did he ever think the fake-kidnapping thing was a good idea?)
"I'll call his sister,"
Oh, he'd said that. He has his phone out and he's dialing.
"What the fuck do you want, Masuka?" Morgan the sister picks up on ring number three.
"Well, there's been a problem with Dexter's bachelor party,"
"It's tonight?! And you didn't fucking invite me!?"
"It's a bachelor party, it's for dudes!" Angel turns and gives him a look, right, get back on topic, "Your brother is kind of freaking out and we don't know what to do? He won't let us near,"
"And what since I'm a woman I can get all touchy feely and help? Where the fuck are you?"
He answers the question, then, "I think he's going to pass out if he keeps hyperventilating,"
Morgan the sister arrives nine minutes later. Having likely broken several traffic laws.
Some of the guys have backed off and are waiting by the gangplank, some are just on the boat, waiting and watching from there. He and Angel are the only ones still by his car.
Dexter's been wheezing and hyperventilating the whole time. He hasn't said a damn thing. (At least he's stopped crying?)
Debra's face drops as soon as she sees them, the open trunk and her brother, shaking and sitting against the car like a scared little kid.
"Tell me the trunk is open because you had beer and party supplies in it," she says, her voice hard, "Tell me you didn't fucking shove him into the trunk and drive him here without knowing what was happening."
Vince is going to invent time travel and go back and fix this fuck up, if Morgan the sister doesn't skin him alive.
If he lives, he is going to invent time travel and smack himself for ever thinking the fake-kidnapping was a good idea.
First, she was mad that they hadn't invited her. Yeah, she's a woman, but she's always been one of the guys. She's been more one of the guys than Dex half the time, and that should fucking count for something.
Then, she's mad that they only called her over because something was wrong. And Dexter was freaking out or something? Probably a weird case of cold feet and she needed to shake some sense into him.
She doesn't expect it to be that bad.
But she sees the open trunk and... and they said they didn't know how to calm him down, that he wouldn't let anyone near...
Then she sees Angel and Masuka standing a few feat away from the car with the open trunk and- and that shape huddled against the tail light is her brother.
She crosses the parking lot a helluva lot quicker after that.
She sees the pillow case and torn tape in the otherwise empty truck and then she's furious.
"Tell me the trunk is open because you had beer and party supplies in it," there's a slim chance she's misread the situation, that she's got this all wrong. She wants to hope that she is wrong but. . .
But Masuka's right eye is starting to swell shut and Angel isn't meeting her gaze.
"Tell me you didn't fucking shove him into the trunk and drive him here without knowing what was happening," she's seething.
Their silence and the horrible wheezing sound of Dexter gasping in barely-there breaths, eyes wide and red give them away.
She hasn't seen him breathing like this since the Ice Truck Killer painted a motel room full of blood. She hasn't seen him curled up on himself and quiet like this since she was a kid.
Since they both were kids and...- Jesus Fuck, they really threw him in the trunk.
"Which one of you geniuses thought fucking kidnapping him would be a good idea!?"
"It was supposed to be like a surprise party,"
"Fucking fuck! You thought it would just be all fine and fucking dandy to fucking kidnap him!? We all work homicide, what were you thinking!?" If she wasn't part of the homicide department she knows she'd be considering murder right about now.
"When did you get here?"
She whirls around. Dex, his eyes seem bit clearer, he sounds hoarse and whispery as shit and he's still breathing like he's fighting for each pull of air but, but this is a good thing. He's noticed that she's here, he's fucking talking.
(Thank the sweet fucking baby Jesus, he's not freaked out enough to do that whole silent thing again). (She doesn't know how Mom and Dad and her dealt with it when it had just happened, not that he was a burden but that it was so fucking awful to try to live normally knowing that Dex wasn't talking because someone had scared him so bad he couldn't fucking talk).
"A minute ago, Masuka called me, they had some stupid idea about throwing you in the trunk,"
"I'm... I'll be fine," he wheezes out.
Ramos comes over with a water bottle and a bag full of ice. Masuka takes the ice and Ramos hands the water bottle over to her, apparently edgy about getting too close to Dex. She thinks he might have gotten more than just one swing in, and she feels a bit of petty pride at that. It's the least these idiots deserve.
She knows they don't know about that summer. Dex hates sharing shit like that.
But they should've known better than to expect that kidnapping a guy and throwing him in the trunk would be okay and not freak the hell out of the guy.
They should've expected punches.
"Here," she holds out the water bottle slowly. He'd been patient with all her paranoia and flinching after Rudy... she can damn well do the same for him. (She remembers how tape and sudden movements freaked her the fuck out, it's probably the same for him, or at least something similar).
He takes the water bottle, uncurling, letting his legs extend in front of him, and thumping his head back against the car, taking slower, deeper breaths.
He's whispering to himself, she thinks she hears 'I'm not ten years old,' repeated like a mantra. Whatever he fucking needs to do to calm down.
He lets her pull him up to his feet and she sees him put on a brave new face.
"You alright?" Batista asks, Masuka nodding, a bag of ice pressed to his right eye.
"Yeah, just a bit claustrophobic,"
"Do you want me to tell them?" Deb asks in a low whisper.
Dex thinks it over, taking another gulp of water and a purposeful breath. He wants to do it himself.
"This wasn't my first time being kidnapped, though it's been a lot nicer this time 'round," he says, throwing a joke in at the end, trying to cover how shaky his voice sounds with a forced laugh.
Deb isn't sure if she learned that from him or if she taught him that.
Masuka looks like he wants to die on the spot. Batista is a bit better at hiding his shame.
"We're here for a party, aren't we?" Dex asks seeming a helluva lot more like himself.
Deb sends the two idiots who are supposedly her brothers' best friends at work a threat or two about keeping this shit to themselves. Dex will tell the rest of them if he fucking feels like it.
She bullies her way on board. It's her brother's party and he doesn't fucking have a problem with her being there, so everyone else can go fuck themselves.
"Premium alcohol, all-you-can-eat buffet, plus high-class adult entertainment," Masuka says as they get on the party boat.
Dex nods, "Thanks, you guys this is... awesome," he's reaching out and giving them weird shoulder hug-shakes. Fucking idiots made a party they'd like instead of one Dex would like. (Though it's not like he makes it easy, he isn't much of a party person).
"Sounds like your idea of hell," she whispers to Dex as Quinn and the other idiots start getting distracted by their dicks (pointing and staring at girls in skimpy sailor outfits).
"Nah," he whispers back, "Hell wouldn't have a buffet,"
She barely holds back a snort, smacking him on the shoulder. He must be feeling better, as he laughs after the flinch.
Though he isn't very happy about how he ended up at the bachelor party or that it is the way it is, he's glad everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. Even Deb, who's already threatened everyone on board who isn't being paid to be there at least three times. (For not planning on inviting her and for making jokes about her).
(If Quinn keeps it up he's going to have a broken nose, and Dexter honestly wouldn't mind seeing that).
Miguel is the only one besides him that isn't indulging in the professional dancers. Probably something to do with his intentions to run for office. (He better run fast, or he won't get the chance).
He thinks Deb might be getting a lap dance somewhere more private than this main room, to avoid catcalling and comments about being a lesbian. (He'll keep that secret for her, just as she's kept quiet about how she knows that he has an equal interest in men). (Not that it's much interest, but still).
He's glad for the personal space and the bottle of champagne all to himself, even if the taste is odd and he's going to regret it in the morning. It's his party, and unfortunately, he's expected to party hard.
He understands the need for ritual, but honestly, this ritual doesn't appeal to him at all.
Maybe if he had more of a libido then it would?
The food and the booze are good, he's glad that the dancers seem to have accepted his general lack of interest. He lets people make a few jokes about how he's acting like he's already married.
He makes a few himself too.
He gets some sea air whenever the main indoor deck gets to feeling a little too confining, it's a nice night.
He'd thought he was going to die, all those years ago. He never would have dreamed about being here.
He's getting married in less than two weeks. He's going to be a husband, a father.
He has so much more in life than he ever could have dreamed of at ten. And that's what he's celebrating tonight. Even if he'll regret the over indulgence of liquor in the morning.
He's alive, and he's got so much to live for, so much to look forward to.