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Reflections	By : pip Category: 1 through F > Dexter Views: 27 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dexter and no money is being made. Additionally, I do/did not know Jeffrey Dahmer and this is a work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Reflections
- 1
Tonight’s the night. It’s going to happen again. It has to, and it has to be now. The city never sleeps. It breathes, seethes.
Freezes.
I chose the wrong time of year to fly to Milwaukee. Even the neatest of monsters can’t predict everything, but I won’t be outside for long.
I watch and wait in the hire car, and there he goes. Off to his normal factory job, with his normal persona, for his normal night shift, normal lunchbox in his hand. If he was any more normal even I would look straight through him. But he drew my attention, and now I’m free to do a little investigating to fully satisfy the code of Harry.
Out of the car and across the street. I could find his door by the smell alone. The neighbours really do keep to themselves in this apartment block. I’m both surprised and not at the amount of locks on his apartment door. But once I’m in…
There is more than enough evidence here. Still, I poke around. This is a very messy monster. Body parts in the fridge, and the freezer. He’s probably eating them. It would take a long time to dispose of a body that way. The barrels in the corner are full of people shaped mush. That’s where most of the smell is coming from.
I investigate his personal things. He has a video in an old VHS player. It’s The Exorcist, part three. No accounting for taste. I mean, he also has a lava lamp. I take my time but there’s really not much else. I’m kind of hesitant to do the mad dash through the sub fifty degree cold to the car. I take some of the photographs with me as well before I leave. They’ll definitely come in handy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s nice and dark when he’s walking alone, back home to his chamber of horrors, and he’s so used to being the bad thing in the shadows he doesn’t even see me. So easy to step out behind him and inject him in the neck close to the warehouse I’ve chosen as a kill room. He collapses into my arms.
“Don’t worry,” I say as he falls into unconsciousness. “Everything is ready for us.”
His eyelashes flutter, but I’m not really his type. Then again, I’m exactly his type.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he comes around on the table restrained by duct tape and layers of plastic in the kill room he doesn’t seem surprised, or resigned. Just somehow… blank.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hello,” I say back pleasantly.
We both take a short breath in. I let him go first. “Well, this is slightly awkward.”
“No kidding,” I respond. “Except, on my part, it is kind of on purpose.” I gesture at the yards of plastic wrap.
“Oh, yeah, I just mean…” He doesn’t finish the thought and moves his eyes to see the photographs displayed. His victims. “Ahh…”
I clear my throat apologetically. “I wanted to bring the barrels but it’s conspicuous, they were heavy, and this is just a short visit. My flight back is in a few hours.” And one of the barrels is where I’ll put you later, I think it, but don’t say it.
“Sure.”
He’s very understanding. I can see it in his eyes.
I move closer and we really are alike in some ways. “It’s like looking into a mirror,” I say without thinking.
“They’re looking at each other,” he says, his voice calm with his own impending death, and I draw back in slight surprise, because he knows. He sees it too. His dark passenger and my own, staring at one another.
I take the drop of blood for my slide and he doesn’t wince as I cut into his cheek with the scalpel, just looks up at me, helpless like all the rest and yet - I see the mirror. I remember my idea, and it’s as if they’re having a conversation that Jeffrey and I aren’t party to.
Without a word I put the slide safe and wheel in the TV and VCR, hitting play so that the Exorcist Part three comes on, volume low, intimate. Dahmer becomes even more relaxed and accepting, if that’s possible.
Someone once said: “Even when I feel nothing, I feel it completely.”
That is how this moment is. I always feel nothing. Now I feel nothing, and I feel it completely. And I sense that buried in this endless nothing my dark passenger is dancing with his in this blending of rituals. That they’re enjoying it on some fundamental level. In a way that Dahmer and I will never enjoy anything. And I feel no anger. I feel… nothing.
I take the knife and stand over him, poised. I don’t need to silence this one. He looks up at me, and there is nothing in his eyes. Nothing at all. He blinks in assent, and if I was imaginative I would say the shadow hands of his darkness reached out of him then, joined with my own and plunged the knife down into his heart with abandon.
While the living blood flows, I feel. And then, again, I don’t.
I remain, to make the mess nice and tidy. To follow the code. Don’t get caught. And I understand that Harry’s code allows the Dark Passenger to live, so that I may live, so that it can’t kill me the way Dahmer’s just killed him. Now I think I understand what Harry saw before he died at his own hand. He’d wanted to see the life he saved, but when he saw me, really saw me, he saw nothing, and he saw it completely.
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Reflections