Work Text:
They say it was suicide.
Everyone in Miami had known about the upcoming hurricane, no one with a brain and a will to live would ever be on their boat just as the storm approached.
It would be stupid to think anything else, right? The guy had just been told his sister, his best friend, was either going to die or live the rest of her life braindead. He just killed the man that shot her.
So, that leaves one possible truth:
Dexter Morgan had killed himself.
Dexter Morgan, his coworker, his friend. Dexter Morgan, with whom he had known and worked with for more than a decade. Dexter Morgan, who was dead.
It wasn't like an officer getting shot in the field. It wasn't like an officer being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a friend willingly ending his own life. That, you can't blame on the job.
Deb's body was found missing from the hospital, too. He took her with him. He put her out of her misery.
Him, Quinn, and Vince took the fall the hardest. How could they not? Death seemed to follow the department like a fucking curse.
It's almost fucking theatric, isn't it? Devastated brother kills dying sister's attacker, puts sister out of her misery, and then drives his boat head-fucking-first into a hurricane.
And Angel can't help but stop and look back. Look back at where he is, how he got here. He's been working at Miami Metro for almost 20 years, he's no stranger to death.
But then his work life creeps into his personal life. Death becomes something he can't just escape or pass off as his job. It takes people he cares about, and suddenly death isn't just his career anymore, it's his life. He surrounds himself with death every day. He almost quit, he tried to, but for some reason he just couldn't seem to stay away from his work. Yeah, his work is technically catching bad guys, but death is the root of it all.
And now he's lost Dexter and Debra Morgan. Two of his closest friends. People he's worked with, joked with, cared about.
Miami Metro was always the one constant in his life. Something he could always look back at and know that is who he is. What he does.
He almost, a million years ago, gave up this job. But Maria's death grounded him, reminded him of the awful shit in this world, that he needed to be a cop.
He can't exactly give that same reasoning for the Morgans. The guy who shot Deb is dead, courtesy of Dexter. And the guy who killed Dexter is just... Dexter. There's nobody to be chasing after, to pin the blame on. No one he can try and try and try to convince himself is responsible for this. With their deaths, all he can see is a tragedy. A nightmare he's still trying to wake up from.
Angel doesn't know if he can just bounce back from this. If he can just hide himself with his job and continue the never-ending chase for some kind of purpose. How can he act like he's saving lives and doing a good thing when he can't even prevent the deaths of people he cares about? What's the point of catching bad guys if you can't even catch them in time to save the lives that matter?
So he lets himself cry. For Dex, for Deb, for Maria, for his job, for Miami Metro Police's homicide department. He cries for what he does and the death he can never escape from. He cries because it hurts.