Dexter - The Right Ending

"Are we talking about Hannah again or did I miss something?" he asked making sure it hadn't missed a social clue. Deb was hard enough to read when she wasn't being so emotional. The last thing he needed was to not be paying attention and evoke even more of her wrath.

"Of course we're still talking about Hannah. And you shouldn't trust her either, Dexter. I can't put my finger on it, but I'm telling you she doesn't have your best interests in mind." She wiped her face with the towel and headed for the bathroom to shower and get ready for work. As she stepped into the bathroom, she looked back out and said, "Like I do. No one cares about you like I do, Dex. No one."

When Deb came out of the shower Dexter was getting ready to leave for work. "This may be a touchy subject, but Hannah and I are having dinner together this evening. We were wondering if you might like to join us."

"We? Are you fucking kidding me? That bitch wants me to have dinner with you? Seriously, Dexter?"

"Yes, seriously. I think it might be a good thing, Deb. For all of us."

Debra grimaced as she strapped on her weapon and badge. "Okay, fine. I'll have dinner with you. But if that bitch starts in on me..."

"She won't, Deb. I promise." He turned the handle on the door then stopped and said, "Thanks. This means a lot to me."

Deb made a face and shook her head. "Hold on, I'm right behind you," she said as she picked up her keys.

That evening Debra arrived a few minutes late. She was already pissed off about having to sit next to this...cunt. And now she wouldn't even have any time to talk to Dexter alone. She gritted her teeth and walked up to the table where they were both talking and laughing. "Mind if I break up this love fest?" she said with her typical attitude.

"Debra! Hi, I'm so glad you could join us," Hannah said politely.

"Yeah, it's a fucking riot," she said as she took a seat.

Hannah did her best to show Dexter's sister she really did care about him because she did. She loved Dexter and although she didn't need Debra's approval, it would make things easier if she could get her to at least not hate her.

"So what do you do when you're not at your little nursery growing stuff?" Debra asked coldly.

"I don't have a lot of other interests so I spend most of time there," she said sweetly.

"You mean other than my brother, right?" Deb said sarcastically.

"I care about Dexter very much, you know. I've never met anyone quite like him."

Before Deb could say something about two fucking peas in a serial-killer pod, Dexter jumped in and asked how the food was.

"Better than the fucking company," Debra told him. "I need to use the restroom, Dex," she said as she stared icily at Hannah and stood up.

"She really doesn't like me, does she?" Hannah asked rhetorically.

"She'll come around," Dexter assured her. "Let me go talk to her, okay? I'll be right back."

Five minutes later the siblings returned and Debra made a monumental effort to be civil. Hannah took the opportunity to offer a toast. "I know we don't have any alcohol but everyone has a glass of iced tea so perhaps we could toast to um...'new friendships'?"

Deb raised her glass but had to say, "Toasting without alcohol is bad fucking luck." In spite of her reservations, she joined the other two and bit the bullet. Or perhaps...she drank it.

Debra suffered through ten more miserable minutes of mindless conversation before announcing she needed to go. "I'll see you back at the house, Dex," she said. She only nodded to Hannah who was smiling and trying to thank her again for agreeing to have dinner.

On the twenty-minute drive home, Debra was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. It was only nine o'clock and she'd slept well the night before. Even so, it was all she could do to stay awake. She decided to take the exit and pull over and get some coffee. The next thing she was aware of was waking up and seeing Dexter's face.

"Where the fuck am I?" she said.

"You were in an accident. You're in the hospital," he told her.

"An accident? What the fuck? I don't remember anything. Was anyone hurt?"

"No. You ran into the guardrail at about 40mph. You were unconscious when the paramedics arrived, but you weren't hurt." He moved closer to her bed and took her hand. "What's the last thing you remember, Deb?"

"I dunno. I was getting really sleepy and...and then I woke up here."

"They're running a tox panel to see if there was anything in your blood. That should tell us..."

"I wasn't fucking drinking, Dexter! And I damn sure didn't take anything let alone something illegal."

"I know. It's just standard procedure."

The next day, a friend from the lab called Dexter and told him, "I'm not supposed to give out these results, but there's something here you gotta see."

Thirty minutes later, Dexter was looking at the tox screen and had to ask, "What is this?"

"It's from a plant called Devil's Trumpet." The lab guy showed him a picture of it on his phone. "It has several toxic chemicals in it like scopolamine, hyoscyamine, and atropine. In the right amounts, it can cause severe drowsiness or even hallucinations and even death. The levels in her blood weren't lethal, but they were enough to put her to sleep and falling asleep on a busy road in Miami is, well... Any idea how something this unusual could have gotten in her blood stream?"

"No," Dexter lied as he immediately realized where the toxins had come from. He'd seen that very flower in Hannah's nursery more than once. He had no idea it was toxic but putting two and two together wasn't hard. "Thanks a lot. This at least gives us a starting point."

"A starting point for what?" he asked.

Dexter didn't tell him it was a starting point for the end of his relationship with Hannah McKay or the beginning of a long prison sentence for her but he now knew what he had to do.

When he told Debra what he'd found out, she sat up in bed and yelled, "I told you she was a fucking killer, Dexter! I told you she didn't have your best interests at heart. But you wouldn't listen. Oh, no! Her blonde hair and pretty face and her...her understanding of your Dark Passenger...sucked you in." She dropped the angry, accusatory tone and said, "Dexter, when are you going to figure it out?"

He didn't have to ask what 'it' meant as the meaning was crystal clear. Deb really was the only woman who really, truly loved him. But he just couldn't see her...like that. To him, she was his little sister and a cop with the worst case of potty mouth he'd ever heard.

Just hours later, Sergeant Batista and Detective Quinn arrived at Hannah's place with a warrant to search the premises. It took a little time, but they found a vial with the same toxins found in Debra's blood. "Hannah McKay, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Debra Morgan."

After her arraignment, Hannah was ordered held without bail. Dexter was beside himself with anger over her betrayal and more importantly for forcing him to choose between her or his sister. The one time he visited her in jail he asked her why she did it.

"Because I love you and because she hates me." Hannah cried as she poured out her heart to Dexter. "No one else has ever loved me for me, Dexter. You don't care who I am or what I've done. And I don't care about your past or your Dark Passenger or anything else." She sobbed as she put her hand to the thick glass and said, "I love you, Dexter. I can't let anyone or anything stand between us. Please understand and please don't hate me. I did it for us, Dexter. For you and me and...Harrison."

Dexter was unmoved. He stared coldly at her and when she finished he said tersely, "You forced me to choose between you and my sister, Hannah." He snarled and pointed his finger at her when he told her, "And whenever that happens, I will always choose my sister." He continued to stare unfazed by her tears as he slammed down the receiver. She put both hands on the glass and moved her face up close to it. He could just barely hear her pleading with him as the guard stepped in and began lifting her out of the chair. "Please, Dexter! I love you. Don't do this. I'll die without you! Dexter...please...I love you!"

As she lay in her bed at home, Debra continued to struggle with the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. Everything seemed like one of those 'on one hand but then on the other' kind of scenarios. She'd been raised to think of him as her big brother, but he wasn't really her brother. Loving him made sense. Being in love with him didn't. Well, unless one focused in on biology alone. In that case, it was perfectly okay. But beyond her feelings were his. She didn't know how he really felt about her and she wondered if he even understood his own feelings. She knew he had them. After all, he loved Harrison. He loved her. He'd loved their father. Okay, her father and his dad—the man man who raised him. She was about to go out of her mind when he finally came home.

"Hey," was all he said.

"Did you see her?" she asked him.

"Yes." He wasn't much of a conversationalist but then, neither was she.

"Yes? Is that all you can fucking say, Dexter? You said you were in love with her, that she understood you, that she accepted you and then she tried to kill me. You go visit in her jail for fuck's sake and all you can say is 'yes?' What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he told her honestly. "I honestly don't know. I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Great! I've waited all day to see you. I've been waiting to hear what you said to her and you say one word then go to bed? Do you not even care how I feel, Dexter? Does that mean nothing to you?" she said emotion choking her voice.

"Deb, I'm sorry, I just..."

She sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed and said to him, "You can't always just say you're sorry and make it all better, Dexter. You have to talk to me. You have to tell me how you feel because this is killing me."

Deb was hard as nails and more foul-mouthed than most men. Even so, it killed him when she cried. Lately, she'd done that a lot and he knew he was the reason she was crying. He just didn't know what to say let alone what to do. He'd never been good at reading social cues and he often made things worse when he tried. But she was just so...sad. Or was it anger? Either one was bad but he was pretty sure it was both. He decided to take a stab.

"Hey! Come here you!" he said smiling and holding out his arms.

"What the fuck are you doing, Dexter? What does that even mean—'come here, you'? I know this shit is hard for you, but not even you can be that insensitive. Can you?"

Her face was all tight and screwed up from the anguish she was feeling and somewhere deep down inside he could feel it. Not all of it. Not exactly. But he could somehow...what was the word he was looking for? Sympathize with her? Maybe but that wasn't the right word. What was it when you could actually feel someone else's feelings? He couldn't think of the word, but he seemed to be experiencing 'it' for the first time in his life and the experience was very troubling for him. It made him feel...vulnerable. It was as though his shields were being lowered without his consent. It made him feel weak and out of control.

He was lost in thought when Debra walked over to him and said, "Why is it so hard for you to show a little compassion? Why can't you just take me in your arms and hold me without saying something asinine like 'come here you'? Why can't you...love me back, Dexter? Why can't you ever do this?" Without warning, she kissed him on the lips then put her arms around him and held him. "Like this, Dex. Why is this so hard for you?"

Dexter couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that uncomfortable. His sister had just kissed him—on the mouth and she was holding him the way Hannah and Rita had held him.

"I'm not giving up, Dexter," she told him. "But I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip. You're a numbers guy. You're linear and logical. So put two and two together. You killed someone for me. You gave up your girlfriend to the police for me. I killed Maria Laguerta to protect you. I've lied for you. I've risked my career for you. Like me who always chooses you, you always choose me. You're a smart guy, Dexter. Figure it out. Get a clue. And don't take forever doing it."

She released him then went to her room. Minutes later he heard her on the treadmill going at it again in spite of having recently been in a serious car accident. As he lay there in bed listening to the sound of the treadmill's rhythmic pounding, he glibly wondered if it was possible to actually buy a clue. "Alex, I'll take 'Clues' for $400, please." Get a clue. How? How does one 'get a clue'?

They didn't speak the following morning or that night. In fact, they didn't say a word to one another for three straight days. Deb finally broke the silence by saying, "I'm leaving, Dexter. I need some time away."

"Oh," he said. "Where are you going and when will you be back? Harrison's birthday is next week. You didn't forget, did you?"

"No, I didn't forget. And it kills me to miss it but staying here, being near you...that's killing me even more. I can't do this anymore. I can't be around you and not be with you. I know how fucked up that sounds but it's how I feel. And it's obvious you don't feel the same way so...I have to get away."

"Temporarily?" he asked hopefully.

"No. I'm moving to Portland. I'm not coming back."

"Portland? What's in Portland?" he asked.

"It's in Oregon. You know, the place you say a lot of people end up in. It sounds as good as any place else and I'm about sick of the heat and humidity here twelve months a year."

"But Harrison's here. Deb, I'm here. You can't just..."

"Dexter! You haven't heard a goddamn word I've said! You're not listening to me—again. You're the reason I can't stay. Jesus! Are you really that thick headed or what?"

This time, Dexter really did feel something. He wasn't sure what it was but it was very unpleasant. He wasn't certain, but it seemed like he was...afraid. He'd never really experienced fear before. Death was his friend so the thought of dying didn't bother him. But the thought of losing Debra? That was somehow worse than dying. The feeling made him sick and he wanted it to go away, but he had no idea what to do to make it stop. The last time he'd tried to comfort her he'd been humiliated, but he had to try something. Anything to change her mind.

"Deb. Don't go. Okay?" She looked up at him but didn't speak. "Can you give me a little more time? Can you stay until Harrrison's birthday? Please? I just need a little more time. That's all."

"You're a master fucking manipulator, you know that?" She crossed her arms and paced back and forth. "Okay, one week. But that's it. If nothing changes, I'm on the first plane the next day after his birthday, Dexter. I'm not fucking kidding. One week and that's it."

He'd won a temporary stay of execution, but that wasn't enough. He had to find a way to make her stay and the only person he knew he could talk to and trust was Dr. Vogel, his psychiatrist who knew all about his secret life and his Dark Passenger. If she couldn't help him, he couldn't be helped and Dexter's worst fear was that not even she could help him and that meant losing Debra.

After their second session Dexter said, "So you're saying if I act romantically, I'll suddenly feel romantic?"

Dr. Vogel sighed. "No. What I'm saying is that it is possible to change the way we feel by changing the way we act. But it doesn't happen suddenly, Dexter. It's a process. A process that takes time. I'm sorry, but a week isn't enough. A year might do it. Maybe even six months. But you only have five days left so...I really have nothing left to offer."

Undeterred, Dexter decided to at least give this a try. Maybe it could buy him another month or two and give him enough time to actually change. He called Jamie, his nanny who just happened to be Angel Batista's sister. "Jamie? Hey, just calling to let you know I want to do something special for Deb tonight. She's been through a lot lately." He told her what he needed done and Jamie was all too happy to help. "So you can set all that up and keep Harrison at your place until around ten? Really? Great! You're the best. Thanks!"

When he got home, he couldn't believe what he saw. There were candles all around the room, a dozen red roses in a vase with a card on it for her, and dinner was on the table. She'd be home in just fifteen minutes so he took a quick shower and changed.

When she opened the door he met her and said, "How was your day?" She'd been working for a security firm since quitting the police force after having shot Laguerta. Most of her days were shit but he thought he'd ask as that's what people who loved someone seemed to say when they got home.

She closed the door and told him, "Same old..." She looked up and saw the candles and the flowers and the food and the wine. "Jesus, Dex. Did someone kill you and replace you with your sensitive twin? What the fuck is this?"

"It's me acting romantically," he told her proudly. "Dr. Vogel said if I act romantically, I might actually start feeling romantic."

He watched her smile and bright eyes grow dim. "Oh, okay. Fucking figures. I knew there was something going on here."

"Deb, I don't know what else to do. I'm trying. What more do you want from me?" he asked with genuine concern. "I don't want to lose you."

"You know what?" she said. "This is nice. I mean, for you, this is really nice. Thanks, Dexter. It didn't come from your heart and you had to told to do something, but you tried and well...I'm impressed."

"So you like it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, it's great. It's really great."

He helped her with her chair then poured her a glass of wine then one for himself. "To real changes?" he said as though it were a question rather than a toast.

"Sure. Why the fuck not? To real changes," she said before taking a sip.

Debra didn't try to press her luck during dinner. She didn't expect much in the way of conversation and she didn't get it. The food was good and the wine was excellent and Dexter had tried. She had to give him credit for that.

It was around nine o'clock when his phone rang. He checked it and saw it was Jamie calling. "Sorry. I better take this one," he told her.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked his nanny.

Jamie was beside herself. He tried to get her to calm down but she was hysterical. "Harrison is missing! I let him play in the bedroom for a few minutes before bedtime and when I went in, he was gone!" She was screaming and crying inconsolable. She'd checked the entire house, inside and out as well as the car. She'd looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of him.

"What the hell's going on, Dex?" Debra asked when she heard the screams on the other end of the line.

"Okay, okay. We'll be right there. Give us ten minutes, okay?" He turned to Deb and said, "Harrison's missing."

"Jesus fuck! Missing? Holy mother of fuck! Let's go!"

On the way there, his phone rang again. "Dex? Hey, it's Angel. Listen, I just wanted to let you know Hannah escaped from jail about three hours ago. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case, you know."

Dexter didn't tell him about Harrison. He just thanked him and told Deb what Angel said.

"Shit, fuck, shit! She took him! That...cunt! Jesus, Dexter. Do you think she'd hurt him?" Deb was shaking.

"I don't know. I don't think so. It's me she wants. I'm sure we'll be hearing from her soon."

After a thorough search of Jamie's apartment, Dexter and Debra was certain Harrison had been abducted. They asked Jamie not to tell Angel until she heard back from them. They got back in his car and headed back to their apartment to decide on a plan of action. On the way, Dexter's phone rang one more time. He put on speaker. "Daddy? It's me. Hannah came to pick me up and I'm staying at her house tonight, okay?"