I think about the 'What If's' sometimes. I think about the 'What If's' of being discovered as the Bay Harbour Butcher. The reactions and recriminations of such a discovery. After Debs outburst today, I know she'd be heartbroken. It could destroy her after what happened with my brother. The Ice Truck Killer, the Bay Harbour Butcher, and Debra Morgan. The odd one out of the bunch. Not that she'd ever know. My little sister, the innocent one, sounds funny even to me.
She was going to be sick, and she opened her mouth to voice that fact, but couldn't get the words out. Couldn't get any breath out. Or in.
She'd seen some terrible things, she was cop, she was made of that hard stuff that Harry had always talked about. She'd seen victims in different states of both life and death. Most of the terrible things she'd seen as a cop she'd already come across before she was sixteen years old, from glimpses out of the back of the truck She had wanted to see terrible things, if only because Dexter did, if only because Dexter had been allowed while she pressed her face up against the window trying to see through people. Glances of files Harry had at home, files she could look at anytime she wanted now, full of statements, reports, photographs from every angle.
She'd seen more blood before she was sixteen than most people had in a life time.
She'd been in vice before homicide. She'd seen the horrible things men could do, the worst things women were subjected too. She'd seen the worst of society.
She'd been subjected to terrible things too.
The Ice-Truck killer, left little marks along her heart, not that she would ever admit it. She'd turned down therapy with the Miami P.D's psychiatrist, she'd gotten through her psyche evaluation on return to work, those terrible things, those little marks, those were none of anyone's damned business.
All those terrible things, that was nothing compared to this...
"I'm going to be sick," she forced the words out through gritted teeth, running to the corner, to the the trash can. Lundy was behind her, next to her, a soothing hand over her back, holding her hair out of the way. The hand rubbing her back firmly was soothing, but it wasn't enough to get rid of the disgust, the despair, the betrayal.
Her own brother. The Bay Harbour Butcher
Her own brother had done those terrible things, Dexter.
She threw up into the trash can, trying to breathe. Behind her Lundy didn't speak, he stood close, hand never leaving her back, never letting her hair fall forward into her face.
"Are you done?" he asked after a few minutes of her just leaning over in the corner of the room, breathing harsh, forced. She nodded and he helped her to stand up straight. "You believe it?" he asked. She nodded.
The facts couldn't lie and, as much as Doakes was a cold hearted bastard sometimes, the facts were clear. Dexter had killed, over and over and over and...she whirled around and threw up again. She was surrounded by photos of her brother's victims, and yesterday, the day before, the week before, she hadn't batted an eye-lid when walking into this room. She hadn't really reacted when walking into the make shift morgue, the bodies bagged and lined up. Her brother's work.
They weren't just body parts and criminal records now. Every limb had Dexter's finger prints on it. She closed her eyes to her own vomit and only saw Dexter's smile, suddenly so sinister. All the things he had done for her the devious, evil, sick...
"Bastard!" she screamed, straightening up and hitting Lundy into the chest a couple of times. He took the blows, his arms going round in a protective circle until she let him hold her.
That's how I see it. The reaction I dream about it. At least in my dreams Agent Lundy is there to look after her and I'm grateful that she won't be alone but I don't think this would be something Debs could come back from. Because once I'm exposed, what's to say the rest of my past won't be along with it. My real mother and father, my brother, Harry. All the little links that have converged and become the Bay Harbour Butcher.
I can't let these dreams become reality. I can't let Debra down anymore than Harry.