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The Secret	By : Keen Category: 1 through F > Dexter Views: 4873 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dexter, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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�� I
don�t dream. Or, usually I don�t. But I did the night after killing Pascal. I
went home and celebrated like anyone would after a job well done. Filled myself
on my favourite meal, steak and beer, watched the ocean glitter and churn under
the light of the moon until my eyes grew heavy and then crawled into bed.
�� The
weather was so fair that night I left the windows open, letting the cool breeze
play with nearly see-through curtains. I watched them as I drifted off to
sleep. So much so I dreamt of them when I eventually did let my eyes close.
They still blew with ease, rolling on the breaths of fresh air, but someone hid
between them now, a dark form in-between the dancing fabric.
�� Harper
parted the ivory coloured panels and walked over. She sat on the edge of the
bed, the mattress dipping with her weight. Her hair was messed, like it was the
night I visited her home, her night gown an oversized grey jersey top that slid
off one shoulder. She looked me over as I was, twisted in my sheets and crossed
her legs with a heavy breath. She faced the bedroom window, the moonlight
making blue lines over her features. Her eyes flicked to me, glittering
blackness in the dimly lit room.
�� I
knew that look from Deb. It meant she had a question but she didn�t want to ask
it. Unlike Deb, I only have to tell her to simply ask it once before she does.
�� What
was it like?�
�� Again,
her soft Southern accent made the words sweeter than she meant it but I smiled
regardless. I folded my arms behind my head in a stretching motion as I thought
about how to answer her. I certainly couldn�t tell her the emotions I felt. The
sensation defied description. There was nothing I could say that conveyed the
impression I received watching the light leave someone�s eyes.� But one word came very close.
�� Freedom.�
�� Why
should that be? You are taking something that you did not give. That you could not have given.�
�� But
I fulfil my purpose then.�
�� Although
wholly true, it should have been a hard admission but since she did not mince
words, I did not bother to either. Just as doctors lived to save lives, an
artist to create, I was driven to end them. If anything I was a balance to all
the �do-gooders� out there.
�� I
looked over at her and saw her twisting a gold cross between her fingers. Her
hand fell and she stretched out next to me, her arm propping up her head. It
felt like something akin to foreplay when she asked me to tell her how I did
it. From the planning and preparation right up to the act
itself. She listened intently to it all before asking did he suffer.
�� My
first instinct was to laugh and tell her of course but her face was pensive. Pleading. Her eyes sad, brows furrowed, as if she wanted the
answer to be �no.� But I don�t lie. I took care, pride, to make sure it would. Still, I
thought it would be in bad taste to gloat that fact.
�� I
simply nodded and her head fell, spilling curls in her face. �Immensely.�
�� Harper
pushed herself up and I felt her leg slide over my hips as she moved to
straddle me. My arms were out at my sides, hands grasping at air as she cupped
my face between her soft hands and breathed into my mouth, �Good.�

�� The
alarm sounded then, ripping me out of the dream, sucking everything out of my
minds eye like a vortex. I opened my eyes and slammed a silencing hand down on
the elliptical shaped device, not at all ignorant to the sweat that beaded my
outstretched arm. And face. Before dressing for work, I sat a moment in my
moist bedding watching the curtains wag in the air. I decided that despite
evidence to the contrary, I didn�t like my dream and I wondered again, how
difficult it would be to make Harper disappear.��

�� Fucking life saver,� Deb
exclaimed seeing me walk inside the precinct. She reached her hands out, her
fingers grasping air for the box I cradled in my hands. I should have known
better than to let her get too close.
�� When I was within arms reach she
pulled the box away from me and flipped it open, letting out a delighted sound
as she looked at the bevy of glazed treats. Her fingers twittered before she
chose one and took a healthy bite.
�� Help yourself?�
�� I�ve been here for sixteen hours,
I�m fucking starving.� She explained between bites.
�� Well save some for the rest of us.�
�� Deb smiled and offered me a bite of
hers and I graciously took some, knowing my refusal would only make her insist
that much more. It was one of the things siblings were supposed to do, sharing
food.
�� Jeezus!�
�� I paused
mid chew and tilted my head, �What did I do now?�
�� Not you, that!� She pointed over my
shoulder.
�� I heard the wailing and shouting
coming from the lobby but didn�t think to turn until then. I chewed harder to
keep my face neutral.
�� Like clockwork, Jean Pascal�s
girlfriend came to report him as missing. It had been three days exactly, so
she most likely called the day after I dispatched with him and was told no
action would be taken until seventy-two hours passed. It was standard procedure
but one that infuriated everyone it was spoken to nonetheless. But only a few
of them were pushed to the lengths the man�s grieving girlfriend was.
�� In a show of support, Pascal�s lover
brought nearly a dozen other people with her and her children. Most likely her fellow parishioners by the look of their outlandish
and brightly coloured hats. None of them, save the children, apprised of
his true nature I�m sure. Otherwise they wouldn�t be carrying on like they
were. Swooning with dizzy spells, shouting to their
non-existent creator in the sky for divine intervention.
�� A woman tumbled to the floor with a
wail, sending several officers rushing to her side. Deb licked her thumb and
watched as they fanned her limp body with a manila folder. �What
a zoo, huh?�
�� Yea. Maybe you should see what�s up?�
�� My
ever curious sister nodded and trotted while finishing her cruller, wiping
hands on her thighs. It felt it beneath me to use her like that, send her to
spy on the spectacle but I certainly couldn�t have gone myself. Especially now that Harper hopped up the front steps. Pushing
through the glass lobby doors, she only glanced at me a second before going
over to see what she could do to help, not realising she herself was partially
the cause of it until too late.
�� Waving
a slender file in her hand, Pascal�s girlfriend demanded the photos of her
missing beloved be made into posters immediately. And it was the slender
Southern agent who took them, perhaps only to quiet the woman�s shouting.
�� Harper
reached for the folder and moved to the desk with it. She flipped it open and
her hands, which had been balled into fists, opened to press her palms flat
against the cool surface. She didn�t bother looking at the rest. She didn�t
have to. It didn�t matter.
�� She
handed the file back to the other officer and turned her head to the elevators.
From across the lobby hall with arms folded, Harper looked at me, her eyes
nearly hidden by her thick black lashes and I, unapologetically, stared back.
�� I
was the only other soul that knew all of Deb�s assurances, the oath she made on
behalf of the force to find the woman�s missing lover, were for naught.
�� Welcome to my world, Agent Harper.
�� More
than a secret connected us now. A life, more precisely a death, twined us.�

�� Harper
withered under my stare and turned away, watching Pascal�s girlfriend continue
to wail and hug on her children. None of which seemed as upset as their mother,
if at all, touching the shiny badges around them and pulling at one another.
�� Checking out the set of cans on Miss
Dixieland?�
�� Masuka reached in to the box on my arm and got a jelly
filled. I heard it squish in his mouth as he chewed, his attention solely
fixated on Harper. He licked his lips as his eyes travelled up her legs and
settled on her chest.
�� I would hurt her.� The throaty rattle in his
voice made me turn. �Show her the ropes as it were,� he winked.
�� He
nudged me with a friendly elbow and I smiled just out of reflex. �You never
know, Vince. Her idea of fun might be too much for even you.� Most definitely.
�� Masuka shook his head. �There is no way, Dex. The woman uses �sugar� and �fudge� as curses.�� He looked at Harper again and licked his
lips. �I want to spread them over her body and lick it off.�
�� He
reached for another doughnut and I snapped the box shut. �I think you�ve had
enough.�
�� Masuka held his hand like I dropped an anvil on it. �What?
Did I say something wrong?�
�� Did
he? I couldn�t pin it down, but I felt something less than comfortable when he
talked about Harper. But this was Vince, he objectified every woman. �No. Just keeping you on your toes.�
�� Good
one, Dex. I actually thought I pissed you off there
for a second,� he chuckled, reaching for another. Jelly filled again. I could
hear him slurping it off his fingers as he moved away.

�� As
the day lingered on, the euphoria from a job well done with Pascal wore off. As
the day lingered on, Harper visibly struggled to cope with what she saw at the
day�s start. She was notably sullen, a severe deviation from her usual happy
and bubbly Southern character. And I wasn�t the only one that noticed.
�� Deb
walked into my kiosk and perched herself on the edge of my desk as usual. She
crossed her long legs and watched over my shoulder as I moved another slide
onto my microscope stage. Being a detective suited her well, she looked like a
child in her uniform but in business attire she was a woman.�
�� So,
got any good news on the Widow Wright case, brother?�
�� In a moment. I�ll hand them off to your sociopathic partner
in a bit.� <i>Oh the irony</i>.
�� Good,�
she smiled, snickering at my jab at Doakes. �I�d like
to see what you find on this new missing persons case.�
�� I
glanced away from the microscope oculars a second. �It�s not homicide. Why do
you care?�
�� She
shrugged her slender shoulders. �I dunno. I guess I
want to have some cheery news to tell Callianne. She
got really sad after that woman came in sobbing this morning. She�s become
really fucking depressing to be around.�
�� I
had not noticed.�
�� Deb
leaned back with a laugh. �Fucking figures you wouldn�t, Bro. You�re a gawdamn cyborg.� She hopped off
the table and put her hands on her narrow hips. �Fortunately others here know
how to sense emotions. Maybe someone will be able to talk some sense into her.�
�� She�s
one person. Who cares?�
�� Deb
chuckled again, this time out of exasperation. She massaged the bridge of her
nose and shook her head. Apparently I missed something I should have gotten
immediately as a �normal person.�
I really needed to
make a list.
�� Jeezus, Dex. She�s like, the
happiest damn person we know and now she�s all fucking depressed. If someone
with her irritatingly optimistic personality gives up, we�re all fucked.�
�� Deb
walked away and I put my tweezers and slide down, wondering just how many felt
that way. Doakes and Batista watched Harper return to
her seat, a cup of tea in her cupped hands. She kept her head down swirling the
straw inside it slowly, seemingly lost in thought until Batista took a seat
next to her.
�� The
tone was one he used often with victims, soft and full of compassion. I often
wished I could fake it just as well as he managed to, but I had no emotions to
pull from at all. And the more he talked, the more I realised�in true Batista
fashion�he was genuinely concerned.
�� It�s
the woman and those kids, isn�t it? The one with the missing boyfriend?� he
asked. Harper nodded and covered her eyes with her hands. �Don�t let it get to
you.�
�� I
know�just every once in a while a case comes along that really draws you in.� He moved to embrace her and she shied away.
Instead she took a deep breath and shook her head and hands. �I�m fine. I�m
fine. I just needed a moment.�
�� Sounds
like you need an ear.� Batista edged closer and offered her a tissue. I hadn�t
even seen the tear roll down her cheek. �Part of not letting it get to you is
not keeping it bottled up, Cali.�
�� Harper
blotted at her eyes and swivelled in her seat away from him. �I just need to
get back to work.�
�� Batista
waved his hands. �Nah, nah, we�re your work family now,� he announced pointing
to him and Doakes. Aren�t you thrilled, Harper? �There�s something else going on. Tell
us.�
�� I
stood when she seemed to think over the offer. Her hands left the keyboard and
she hung her head. I didn�t want to take a chance with what she would do next
so I bolted out of my work space, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
�� Doakes stood as I approached. �What the fuck do you want,
Motherfucker?�
�� Doakes�� Batista motioned to lady next to him and the man
begrudgingly cleared his throat. I smirked as his arms flexed, his body
struggling to contain his anger and correct his tone.
�� Doakes took a deep breath and asked his question again.
�What is it, Morgan?�
�� Well
if you must know,� I said, testing his new found restraint, with a cheesy
smile. �I came to ask Agent Harper to lunch.�
�� She
shook her head no, �Not now. I am quite busy, Mr. Morgan.�
�� The
title, Mr. Morgan, took me back as it did with the rest of the squad who
exchanged glances. Curious looks that volleyed between
Batista and Doakes.
�� I
put my hand on the table and leaned in, my voice low. �But you promised. And
you don�t break promises do you?�
�� For
anyone else who managed to hear me, it sounded innocent enough but Harper
recognised it immediately for what it was. A threat. A
reminder about the real promise she made to me and why we had to talk. To her
credit she looked me in the eye as she spoke.
�� Right. I don�t.�
�� Harper
locked her computer with a pair of keystrokes and pushed away from her desk,
staring at me. She took her purse from her desk and her gun as well, tucking it
into the holster at the small of her back.
�� Short
of waving the thing in my face, she could not make it any more obvious to me
that she had it, but it calmed me some to know she thought enough to bring it.
It meant she still feared me. Hopefully enough, for her sake,
to keep our secret.
�� Lead the way.� Her smile was false but I she
meant for it to be. A silent way of telling me she did not appreciate nearly
making a scene. A prelude to the actual spoken rant to come
in my car. It ended almost as quickly as it began, taking less time than
any of my arguments with Deb or Rita did so we rode the rest of the way in complete
silence.
�� She
sulked in her seat until I turned onto Second Avenue. As we pulled up to the
brightly and multicoloured painted gates, she turned to look at me. Despite her
round glossy black shades and pursed lips, I knew she was confused. But her
tone sounded accusatory when she asked me, �What are we doing here, Morgan?�
�� Do
you recognise it?�
�� She
did. The woman was too thorough in everything she did to not dig into the
background of the man she offered up to me for sacrifice, but she didn�t
respond.
�� Harper
sulked in her seat again with arms folded, looking straight ahead. �I want to
leave.�
�� Not until you look out your window.�
�� She
kept her head forward until I glanced at my watch. Five minutes ticked by and I
felt my patience unravel. I did not have time for her childish games,
especially at the risk of being recognised here.
Harper made a sound
as I leaned over and pulled her shades off her face. Her hand went for her gun
but I, more accustomed to struggle, quickly pulled it away. Before she had a
chance to turn I grabbed the top of her head and forcibly turned her head to
face the playground of the La Petite Day Care demanding she look.
�� Inside,
safely behind the painted bars of the yard, the children played. Carefree. Running, leaping, skipping and hopping the
dappling of yellow sunlight that poured through the fingers of the high
reaching palms above them. The space, the walls of the run down and crumbling
buildings around them, echoed with their laughter and joyful shouting.
�� After
a moment, I didn�t have to hold her head anymore. Harper looked on willingly,
her light eyes, following one girl who spun in her ruffled pink dress. She must
have noticed the pair of curious adults watching her because she neared the
bars, skipping in her patent leather Mary-Janes. The
girl, with her puffy pigtails and gapped smile gripped with one tiny hand the
bars and waved at us with the other.
�� She
will never know Laurent Pascal,� I whispered against her neck. �Or what he
wanted from her. Ever.�
�� Harper�s
eye slid from me against her throat to the girl. I released a breath I didn�t
know I held as she raised her own hand to the child. As Harper returned the
gesture with a warm smile, I let my hand slide down her hair and off her
shoulder. She understood now. And to my surprise so did I.
�� Forcing
her to appreciate what we had done beyond being a skilfully executed act made
me realise I hadn�t simply been satisfying my own urges. Harry was there to
tell me what I was doing was for the greater good but I could have cared less.
My father, the only person I shared my dark secret with, approved of what I
wanted to do most�so long as I followed his rule. But now I felt pride looking
on the children. They lined up to march back inside a safe classroom, to learn
how to read and write�not how to blow a middle-aged man.�
�� The
very idea of it made me recoil. I moved from Harper and gripped the wheel with
both hands. Now that I was seemingly invested in what I did for reasons other
than my own personal satisfaction would I still be up to the task? Distanced,
practical and detached served me well but I was straying too far from all
three. In my personal life it was mildly acceptable, the strengthening
relationship between Rita and I. My friendship with Batista.
But now my work? My real work?
�� I
thought of my dream again and frowned. Here I sat in my car, leaning across the
seats with my arm around a woman I wanted to make feel better for sake alone.
Harper would not have told anyone what made her so sullen. She was in just as
deep as I was and despite her frazzled appearance she was conditioned to keep a
calm head. As she gave me a reassuring pat on the thigh and a faint smile, it
angered me that I may have just been in need of an excuse to make her
comfortable with me again. But what for? I had what I
needed from her: a tie that would bind us and command her silence. My secret
was safe. Harry�s secrets were safe.
�� The
gear shift clicked as I threw the car into drive and peeled away from the curb.
It jostled the shades from the dashboard into my lap and I heatedly tossed them
at Harper and she caught them with one hand. Neither of us said a word until we
pulled into the police station garage.
�� I
put the car in park in front of the elevators and watched as Harper calmly
folded her shades, tucking them into her pocket. She turned slightly, her arms
draped over the seat and the dashboard. �You mind telling me what just happened
back there?�
�� I
think you and I have done enough talking.�
�� She
smirked at my coolly delivered swipe. I was almost confused by her reaction. I
meant for it to be rude and cutting but she took it in stride, nodding without
any discernable bit of emotion.
�� I
have been expecting this,� she said pushing the car door open. �Goodbye, Mr.
Morgan.�
�� She
offered her hand, but I didn�t take it. Not needing another thing to forget
about her.
�� I
pulled away and the door slammed shut on its own, almost on her manicured
fingers, but she didn�t scream or shout at me for my carelessness. In my
rear-view I could see that Harper simply stood in the relative dark of the
garage, hugging herself in her navy coat, before turning to the elevator doors
and pushing a button. She vanished just as I turned the corner, my tires
squealing.
�� Pulling
into an empty spot I took another moment to mentally weigh the pros and cons to
killing the woman.

A/N:
Wow. It�s been so long since I checked over here in
a while! I thought no one was reading but lo� and behold, two comments! I�m so
happy! Thanks Harboe
and Maloanne
for taking the time to drop me a little encouragement.
- 5
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The Secret