Chapter Text
As he stepped into the bathroom, time slowed. His own childhood flashing before his eyes, he saw Harrison sitting on the cold tile in a pool of blood. He turned his head and saw the worst. Rita. Her cold lifeless body in the tub was beautiful, in a disgusting way. The moonlight filtered in through the high window, sparkling on the deep crimson water which had spilled onto the floor. Dexter stood motionless. He had to be imagining this.
He blinked once. Twice. The scene remained the same. He stepped towards his son, picking him up from the floor, covering himself in Rita's blood. His footsteps splashed the red liquid as he strode towards Rita, knowing, but checking anyway. He squatted down, placing two fingers on her neck.
Cold. Ice cold, she'd been gone for hours.
"Who-" Dexter's thoughts were interrupted as his eyes focused on the white-handled, straight razor sitting by the tub.
Dexter stood as it felt like the weight of the world came crashing down on him.
For many long moments Dexter stood frozen, barely breathing, unable to process what had happened. Dexter may have killed him, but in the end, Trinity got the last laugh. What finally shook Dexter from his trance-like state was a little sticky red hand on his cheek.
"The cycle is repeating itself. Just like me, Harrison has now been born in blood. Will he too be burdened with his own dark passenger? His own need to kill?"
With an uncharacteristic shake, Dexter reached for his phone, blood smearing against the screen. It rang 5 times before she picked up.
"Dexter?" A groggy voice came from the other side, "Fucking A. It's 3 in the goddamn morning, what is it?"
"It's Rita, she's dead."
In mere minutes, Debra was there, her BMW e46's tires screeching, as she practically jumped out of the car, leaving the door open as she ran inside. She stopped suddenly when she saw the scene, Dexter not having moved.
"Fuck me…" she whispered.
She stepped into the bathroom and dragged him out, sitting him down at the kitchen table.
"Deb… its my fault she's dead. I-"
"Dexter, you're in shock," she said cutting him off, "This isn't your fault. None of this is your goddamn fault. You got that?"
Dexter didn't respond, instead shifting his grip on Harrison, holding him close. His bloody clothes stained Dexter's, but he didn't care.
"I'm calling this in," she said walking to the other room to make the call.
Within 15 minutes first responders arrived at the house and the bathroom was taped off.
A few minutes later, homicide arrives, signaled by the approaching sirens.
Quinn walked in, eyes instantly falling on Dexter. Expecting a sobbing mess, he was surprised to see him sitting calmly, looking into the distance, no indication he had cried at all. Quinn furrowed his brow but walked into the bathroom.
"Holy hell…" he said looking at the scene.
Masuka and Batista were close behind, both having similar reactions. Masuka's lack of jokes speaking volumes.
Dexter walked back into the bathroom. Everyone looked at him confused, even more so when he spoke
"Cause of death is blood loss from one transverse cut to the femoral artery," he said in a monotone voice, "Judging by the lividity and temperature of the body, time of death is approximent-"
"Shut your mouth," Debra said, walking back in and pulling him away, "I'm not letting you work this goddamn scene."
"She's right; the one responsible is in pieces on the ocean floor."
"What we're gonna do is go the fuck back to your condo and both of you are taking a shower," Deb said sternly.
Nodding, Dexter began to walk to the door robotically, only stopping when Quinn called out to him.
"Dex," he said walking up to him, "I'm sorry but its protocol, I have to get a statement before you leave the scene."
Dexter's mouth opened but was cut off before he could even speak.
"His wife was just fucking murdered, have some goddamn tact, Quinn," Deb spat, "He'll give you a statement tomorrow."
Quinn relented, gesturing for them to leave, scowling at Dexter as he walked out.
The drive to his condo was silent except for the hum of the engine. The silence defeaning as they pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. After they walked inside, Debra gave Harrison a bath while Dexter showered.
After Harrison was down for the night, Debra finally spoke again,
"Trinity, that motherfucker, I swear to god when I catch him… he's gonna fucking pay," Deb said, tears welling up in her eyes, partly thinking of Rita, partly of Lundy.
"There's no point," Dexter said scarily calm, Debra looked at him confused, blinking tears away, "You're never gonna find him Deb."
"We are gonna catch him, we have to catch him Dex," she said her voice shaking, "the whole fucking country is fucking looking!"
Dexter just shook his head.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she said invading Dexter's personal space, "The motherfucker just… just killed Rita and you're a blank fucking slate! You've completely closed yourself off!"
Dexter was silent, meeting Debra's gaze with eyes that betrayed no emotion, unreadable.
She looked away, "Fuck, I'm sorry Dex, that came out wrong."
She paused.
"I just can't read you and it's scaring me… don't shut me out like you always do. Say something, anything."
Dexter inhaled, "I think you should go home and get some sleep."
Debra swallowed the lump forming in her throat,
"If that's what you really want then okay," she said making her way towards the door, "But you better believe I'm gonna be here at the asscrack of dawn."
Dexter bid his sister goodnight and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. He walked silently to the couch and sat down.
"I should have known better by now. I got too close to the flame and got burned. I will not make that mistake again. Harrison may have been born in blood, but I will not allow him to live in it."
Dexter spent the rest of the night sitting in Harrison's room, sitting and watching over his son. He thought about what was going to happen now. Surely the police and maybe even FBI would have questions about him, where he was when she died, why had Rita been targeted. And he thought about Astor and Cody, how he had to break the news to them. Some emotion panged through him at the thought, they had already endured so much. But most of all he thought of Rita, her blonde hair, her comforting smile, the normalcy he felt while around her.
Before Dexter realized the sun was rising over the Atlantic ocean, filtering in through the blinds, illuminating the whole room in golden light. He took a deep breath and left Harrison's room, closing the door silently to not wake him.
Before getting dressed, he knew what he needed to do. He called Astor and Cody's grandparents and told them what had happened. Together they decided it was best to cut their trip short but wait to tell the kids why until they were back in Miami. Also Dexter decided it was best for the kids to live with their grandparents as he felt he couldn't handle parenting three kids alone and they knew their grandparents.
He threw on some khakis and a white tank top and was in the middle of putting on a sky blue button up when there were three quick knocks at the door.
He walked over, still fastening buttons as he opened it.
"The fuck are you doing?" Deb asked bluntly, stepping inside holding two coffees, offering one to Dexter.
"Getting ready for work," Dexter said accepting the coffee.
"No the fuck you're not," Debra said firmly.
Dexter sighed, "Deb I can't just-"
"LaGuerta already signed off a month of leave for you. You're not going to work."
"Alright," Dexter nodded, "What am I doing then?"
"I hate to tell you this Dex… but the FBI want to talk to you. They're handling Rita's murder since it's part of the Trinity case," she handed him a business card, "I know its a lot right now, but just set up a time. I think it'd be best to get it out of the way."
Dexter took the card, "Astor and Cody, they're on their way back now, but they don't know why yet. They'll be here tomorrow. I need to plan the funeral."
Deb's heart broke a little at the mention of Astor and Cody, "Yeah of course you do, I'll help you Dex. Fuckin' anything you need, okay?"
Scene: Miami Metro Homicide
Quinn stood outside the briefing room tapping his foot impatiently. As the doors swung open and Agent Ross strode out, holding a stack of papers.
"Agent Ross, you got a second?" Quinn asked, falling into step with him.
He checked his watch, "Make it quick" he said stopping in the middle of the hallway.
"Okay I'd just like to ask Jonah Mitchell some questions. I just want to show him a photo, see if he recognizes the guy."
"Oh come on Quinn you know I can't do that, he's going into witness protection," Ross rolls his eyes.
"Please, it'd just take one second, that's all I need. I think I may have an ID on Kyle Butler," Quinn said, knowing its the only chance of convincing him
"I still can't let you talk to him, but if you give me the picture the FBI can show him," Ross offered.
"I really can't do that, cause if I'm wrong, it'll be my ass," Quinn grimaced, "C'mon do me a solid."
"I'm afraid I've already done what I can, if you don't want to give me the picture then you'll never get your ID," Ross said, shrugging.
"I understand, thanks for your time," Quinn walks away, cussing under his breath. Sitting down at his desk frustrated, he pulls out the sketches of Kyle Butler, and a picture of Dexter from the bowling team, furrowing his eyebrows.