Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rita wakes up the next morning and looks at the empty half of the bed, stretching her hand out into the space and imagining what it would’ve been like if she’d let him stay.

She might’ve been able to make it work. It’s been days trying to get to know this man she’s apparently married to. It’s not like he’s a complete and total stranger at this point. They spent a lot of relatively alone time together in the hospital.

Maybe she shouldn’t have turned him away.

He seems nice. Safe.

And somehow, sleeping alone in an unfamiliar bedroom was worse than the idea of trying to go to bed with his hands between her legs and his lips on her skin or… whatever he would try to do while she slept. Sleep instead was restless, even in comparison to sleeping in the hospital bed this last week.

She reaches for the cellphone he left with her and climbs out of bed. Her arms and legs are still weak but she gets up on her own this time and walks out, rubbing her arms as she steps down the hall to check the baby’s room and running to the crib when she notices that it’s empty.

Oh God!

She runs, even on weak legs, she clears through the house. The couch is empty-the children! Astor! Cody!

Rita stops at the open door to Astor’s bedroom and nervously pushes it wider, peeking inside as she clutches the phone to her chest.

She blinks in disbelief when she sees Dexter in her daughter’s bed, Astor on one side, Cody on the other, and little Harrison sleeping on Dexter’s chest.

Rita feels her cheeks heat at the way her body reacts to seeing him laying there flat on his back, at such ease with her children. That they’re able to find comfort in him speaks volumes, and she’s seen it already, but this is so much more than she’d expected. Without her, they went to him. And, more importantly, he let them in.

And to think she feared the worst.

She really is… so foolish, just like her mother used to say.

Harrison startles awake and starts crying, and she almost runs to him, but she steps back into the shadows, more curious to see what Dexter does without her there to help.

He wakes instantly, his hand patting Harrison’s back, eyes still closed as he starts this low, soft hum, the song he was singing before – Lullabies, one of her personal favorites. She used to listen to it on repeat when she was in the mood. It should be no surprise that he knows it.

Harrison calms back down and Rita watches Dexter tilt his chin lower to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of Harrison’s head.

Rita walks into the bedroom and Dexter’s eyes open, moving up when he sees her.

She sits on the edge of the bed and smiles, “Need some help?”

He smiles back and she’s glad she’s sitting because… that smile makes her weak. There’s something about the look in his eyes that really gets into her in a way she hasn’t felt in a while.

“What time is it?” he asks and Astor grumbles in her sleep.

“Almost eight,” Rita says, combing her fingers through Cody’s hair, “You two wanna let Dexter up so he can make us breakfast?”

Dexter chuckles, “Is that what I’m doing?”

Her heart skips a beat and she pulls away, “O-only if… if you want to. I didn’t mean to a-assume-” she nearly jumps when she feels his hand take hers.

“Assume,” he says calmly and she looks to his eyes.

She remembers the kiss. And all of the feelings she felt. She’d kiss him again but she doesn’t want to give him ideas. Last night was… it was too close a call.

Rita takes Harrison from Dexter’s chest, still weak in the arms so she hands him off once Dexter’s up again and she follows him out, her gaze dropping down his body as he walks, only looking back up when he turns.

“You sleep okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” she lies and forces a smile, “You?”

Dexter rolls his shoulders and she hears them pop, “Like… I had two kids and a baby sleeping on my chest,” she’d feel bad, but she saw him. He looked so at peace with her children, and they with him. And he doesn’t at all sound like he’s complaining, just a little stiff.

Rita sits at the counter and watches him start on breakfast. She likes watching him cook. She barely knows anything about him but, on many levels, she understands why she married him.

Kind. Unimaginably kind, and patient. Handsome. But Rita has a hard time imagining she’d ever have put herself out there again. She can still feel her head hitting the wall from her last fight with Paul. Dexter seems nice now, but so did Paul when they first got together. She hates how skeptical of it all she is. She wants to trust him, she’s sure she does… did. Otherwise she wouldn’t have married him in the first place.

A third husband, though? Her mother must’ve had a field day with that one.

She wants to believe she had a good reason to trust again. But she sees Dexter’s arms, his large hands on her children. And all she can think of is cracked ribs, a broken jaw-

She grips her shoulders on either sides.

“Cold?”

Rita looks up from Dexter’s biceps to his eyes, “Hm?”

“You’re still in your nightgown and…” Dexter motions, “My shirt. Are you cold?”

Rita looks down at herself and remembers how she’d went to sleep the night before. Of course. Nightgown, his shirt. She’s wearing his pajama pants as well. It all looks silly now that she’s looking down at herself.

“No, I’m…” she drops her hands to her lap and shakes her head, “I’m not cold, thank you, Dexter.”

“You want pancakes?”

Rita doesn’t really feel like having something so sweet, “What do I normally have?”

Dexter’s brows rise, “Ready to change it up?”

She almost shrinks at the change of his demeanor, but reminds herself that this is… her husband. She needs to get used to him. She can’t keep running and hiding every time he asks her a question, “I… think so.”

“Scrambled eggs?” he asks and her mouth waters, “Bacon? Sandwich?”

Magic words put together. She nods.

Dexter smiles that smile again and she looks back down his backside when he turns around. He has… such a dangerous body.

She squeezes her eyes shut, imagining how easy it would be for him to hold her down, force himself on her if he wanted to. He looks so much stronger than Paul. How did she ever… how could she ever trust-

“Should we date?” she forces herself to ask and Dexter turns in this way, with Harrison still in one arm, anchored on his hip with a pacifier in his mouth looking over as well, Dexter standing there like such a mom, she almost laughs – she feels so silly, so stupid.

This man… is probably completely harmless. Look at him. And she remembers him this morning, asleep with her kids. They wouldn’t trust him like that if he was a monster. And singing to Harrison in the dark of the hospital room, taking him to get his booster shots, playing with him-

“Rita?”

She looks back to him, confused.

“Date?” he asks and she doesn’t understand what he’s asking at first, having forgotten her own initial question.

Rita swallows and nods, smiling nervously, “Go… on a date. Or… stay in, for a date?” she asks. Dexter looks more confused and she’s so terrified to ask more, but she makes herself do it anyway, “Tonight?”

Dexter blows on something in his hand and offers a little bite of scrambled egg to Harrison once he’s tested it, “There’s a good boy. Good, right?” he asks and smirks, looking to Rita again, “Yeah, I can ask Deb to watch the kids.”

“Yeah? Sure she won’t… explode if you do?”

“You want more?” Dexter reaches down to get another forkful of eggs, blowing it off and testing it, and then giving Harrison another bite.

And here she was under the impression that the last week of him having to deal with the kids was something she’d never hear the end of. But he’s just as enamored by them as she is. They’re not a burden to him like they would be with Paul, a bargaining chip, an obligation. To Dexter, they’re a part of life, his life. Who would’ve ever thought she’d find such a man.

Dexter looks back to her, “We could go to Delancey.”

“Delancey?” she asks, not able to recall such a place but that’s probably not so surprising.

“That’s where we had our first date,” Dexter says, then pauses and tilts his body, “Or-well… we started to, but I was…” his eyes go distant for a brief second, staring off into nothing before he looks at her and smiles again, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

He’s done that more than a few times. A man of few words, lost in his thoughts. Not much of a talker. Honestly it’s kind of a relief.

“But it was…” Dexter trails again but doesn’t seem ready to finish the sentence he started.

“Nice?”

“Brief,” he says, setting aside some of the scrambled eggs to cool off as he starts putting together what looks like her sandwich, “Which was a shame. We didn’t really get a chance to enjoy the night. It’d be nice to go there again. Have a real date?”

She smiles, harder when he looks towards her, “A real date,” she says, trying to feign excitement even though the thought of such a thing is terrifying.

For everyone else, Paul is a distant memory. But… for her… Paul was a week ago.

But she wants to be excited about this, for Dexter especially. He seems like such a good man and he’s had just as bad of a week as she has, if not worse. And he insists that he’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong, but she just knows that deep down… he’s not letting himself feel any of this.

Maybe it’s all too big to consider or maybe he’d rather focus on the kids, but she’s sure he’s no better off than she is.

“I think you still have the dress you wore to it,” Dexter says, pulling her from her thoughts, “Maybe we could… see if it helps bring back any memories?”

Now that’s an idea.

She watches him set Harrison up in his highchair and he puts down a plate in front of each of them, ruffling Harrison’s wild blond hair and pointing beyond the kitchen.

“I’m just gonna go get the kid’s up.”

“Okay,” her eyes follow him as he leaves and then she looks back at the sandwich, lifting it and taking a bite. Her mouth waters, smile spreading on her lips as she licks them. A man that can cook, what did she ever do to deserve him?

“Thank you so much for doing this again, Debra,” she says as she hands the diaper bag over.

“You can call me ‘Deb’, you know,” Debra teases her and gives her a little wink, “Just doing what I can to help you two fucking love birds get some action.”

Rita’s eyes widen and she watches in stunned silence as Debra leads the kids out to the car, strapping Harrison in his carriage in the backseat.

She hadn’t really thought that a date would imply… sex.

Oh god, is Dexter going to expect her to have sex with him tonight? She does owe him. He’s done so much already. Far more than Paul ever did. Surely he would expect something nice in return.

Just the idea turns her stomach.

He looks nice. He’s handsome. His body seems… like a good… shape. She’s sure it’s pleasant to look at. But, if they got going and she changed her mind, there’s no way she’d be able to stop him.

Rita closes the door and looks back to the empty living room, walking further into the house and jumping when she hears the bathroom door open. She turns away, barely catching sight of his naked flesh as he steps out into the hall and into their bedroom.

Their bedroom.

Oh god, what has she agreed to?

She’s not ready. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be ready to want those things again. But she might not have a choice tonight.

Out of self-preservation, she reminds herself of the man she saw this morning, sound asleep, hair wild, covered up on a kid’s twin bed, nearly smothered by her children. A nine month old passed out on his chest. He seemed like such a gentle man.

Maybe she can force herself through it for a man like that. If she wants him to stay, she’ll do this. She has to.

She tries to touch her necklace again but it’s not there.

“Rita-”

She jumps, slinging her arm out and hitting him in the face when he touches her shoulder.

They both freeze and then she pulls her hands back, covering her mouth, “Oh God, Dexter, I’m so sorry. Please-” her whole body starts to shake in fear.

He works his jaw and blinks a few times, then reaches out. She almost hits him again but he takes her hand, “Are you okay?” he asks, turning it over to look at the reddening side that came in contact with his face.

Rita laughs, sounding half hysterical even to herself, “Am I okay? I just hit you.”

“Nothing less than I deserve,” he jokes and she lifts a brow, “I shouldn’t have touched you, you just… you didn’t respond.”

She blinks a few times, “I’m sorry, I just-…” she squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a breath, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Nervous? We don’t have to go if you’re not ready-”

“No!” she shouts, startling them both, “No, I… I need to-I want to do this,” she doesn’t want to do it at all, “I was the one that made the offer in the first place.”

Dexter shrugs, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No. I’m just… I’m just-”

“Nervous?” he guesses again, giving her a little half smile.

“Maybe?” she says tentatively, “I don’t know why. It’s not like you’re an axe murderer.” Dexter’s eyes go wide as he stares at her and she starts to apologize, but then he smiles and she stops, “What?”

“I…” he looks away, his gaze drifting again and then he smirks, “I said something like that before. I-on our first date, I mean. It was a stupid joke.”

“Is it stupid if we made the same joke?” she teases and he shakes his head.

“I guess not,” he says, motioning back behind him, “I set the dress out, if you wanted to get changed, we can head out now, beat the traffic.”

“Oh, thank you, I’ll… go get changed,” Rita leaves the living room, glancing back to see if he follows her but he doesn’t, patiently moving over to sit on the couch and wait on her.

She walks into the bedroom and looks at the dress laid out on the bed, the cardigan beside it. There’s a necklace and a watch, and even the heels that she must’ve matched herself, the first time around. It’s very much something she would’ve put together for a first date.

“And he remembers every little detail,” she says to herself, running her hands along the fabric.

It takes time to get changed and she goes to the vanity to put on a little makeup, tying back some of her hair so that she looks less like she’s had a portion of her skull removed about a week ago.

She hasn’t gone on a date in so long. Brief moments when Paul was in jail, she’d consider doing such a thing, but never… really got up the nerve to do it. He’d come back and she’d fall right back into old habits, and eventually it would all repeat.

Not once did she have the chance to do something like this.

This feels dangerous.

It feels like she’ll get caught, or it’ll backfire. Maybe it will. Maybe Dexter Morgan is just as good of an actor as her husband. Well… ex-husband. Deceased.

Rita steps nervously back out into the hall and walks down to meet him as Dexter turns to look at her and stops midway through standing back up.

“What?” she asks self-consciously, touching her hair, “Do I look bad?”

He lets out this sound, this breath, and then he stands up the rest of the way, “No, you… you look perfect,” he says and she blushes, “Beautiful. You… look exactly like how I remember it.”

Rita feels her heart skip a beat and she nearly loses feeling in her legs, “So, not bad?”

Dexter shakes his head, “Not bad.”

He steps ahead of her and gets the door and she feels this weird sense of girly giddiness, something she doesn’t remember feeling since her first marriage. That sensation you get when someone makes you feel like the center of the universe.

Dexter steps out after her and then does the same with the passenger’s side door. And then, half an hour later, with the door to the restaurant.

And though their attempt to illicit any memories doesn’t pan out so well, the dinner is nice. They don’t talk much but they don’t really need to. Dexter is the perfect gentleman.

The only thing souring the night is the fear of what’s to come.

Rita tries to tell herself that it won’t be so bad, that if she can sleep with Paul, she can do this, but she’s never dreaded anything more in her life. He’s kind, and they’re married, and they had a baby together, but it’s all still so incredibly fast for her.

By the time they’re back home (if she can call it that), she’s paralyzed silent with fear. Dexter offers to help her out of the minivan but she turns him down and walks out on her own, following him up the pathway with her head down as she feels tears start to prick her eyes.

He gets the door for her. Of course he does.

She steps inside and looks around the living room that is so different from what she remembers, so unfamiliar, to the photos of their wedding. How happy she looks. How happy he looks.

She needs to do whatever she can to make sure Dexter stays that happy with her.

Rita feels him come up beside her and she looks to him, forces a smile, and takes his hand in hers. She leads him down the hall to their bedroom and steps over to the bed, starting to take her jewelry off.

She hears him doing the same, tossing his phone onto the nightstand and setting his shoes at the foot of the bed. Her bottom lip starts to shake but she forces her fear down, pushing off her cardigan and reaching behind for the tie at her back.

“Oh, I got it,” Dexter says and she stops when she feels his hands take over, untying it for her.

Rita feels a tear slip down and she quickly swipes it away before he can see, turning to look up at him and lifting up onto her toes to press her lips to his.

He moans against her mouth in surprise as she drops her hands to shimmy out of her dress, letting it fall to the ground and pushing her panties down before she can stop herself from thinking twice. She just needs to get it started, once it starts she can stop thinking about what’s happening.

Rita lays back and pulls him with her, his arms coming down around her as she spreads her thighs for his hips. She reaches down to unbutton his pants, pushing them lower.

“Rita, I-” Dexter stops talking when she wraps her fingers around his soft cock and he groans, dropping his forehead to her chest, the shape in her grip hardening a little as she encourages it, “Oh… but-”

She guides him in and his words cut off again, the panic in her chest widening, the tight knot at the base of her throat painful at this point but she ignores it and moves her hands to his hips to try and get him to start moving already.

“Rita,” Dexter starts to say again and she turns to kiss him once more, cutting him off as he mumbles something unintelligible against her lips, letting out a little whimper afterwards.

His hand drops to her thigh and she wants to scream. She has to clench her jaw to stop the word from coming out. She can do this, she has to-

Dexter breaks the kiss, looking down at her and she opens her eyes to see this twisted expression of pain and terror on his face just before he pulls away, turning to sit at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and his elbows between his knees.

She sits up, nervously reaching towards him, preparing for him to lash out, to hit her, but her hand comes in contact with his shoulder and he shakes under her touch.

“Dexter, I…”

“I can’t.”

She frowns, “Can’t?” she asks as she moves closer, dropping her feet to the ground, trying to get him to turn and look at her.

Rita touches his hair, watching how he trembles and hides his face. That she’s the one comforting him right now when she was putting herself through-

“I don’t… want you to see,” he says, his voice so small, breathy.

“See?” she asks, “See what?”

She looks down at herself and reaches out nervously for the robe she left on the bed earlier, pulling it on and reaching out for Dexter again but he flinches.

Rita touches his chin and he looks to her, his lashes damp. He’s-… her heart breaks just looking at him and she moves to cradle his face in her hands, leaning in to press her lips to his. He kisses her back, and then he drops his head to her lap and lets out this sharp, broken sound.

She holds him, her fingers running through his hair, soothing down his back as he holds onto her. He quiets eventually and, though she doesn’t really understand what caused him to break down in the first place, she wonders if this is why they’ve worked so well together.

He’s been so generous and gentle, so good with kids. Good with her. He might even be completely harmless. But there’s something else underneath all of that that he doesn’t show other people. Something broken.

Does she ask?

Does she press on whatever this is to try and get some answers?

She must.

“Were you raped?”

“No,” he says, his voice low and rough, one hand clenching her knee but not like he’s trying to hurt her. It’s like he’s trying to anchor himself, hold onto the rest of the world through her.

“I’m sorry, I thought…” Rita shakes her head, “I’m sorry, whatever I did-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dexter cuts her off and she presses her lips together, “I’m what’s wrong.”

Rita’s brows furrow as she listens, trying to understand, trying to put together where this could be coming from. Unless he’s… been having an affair. Been unfaithful to her? She’s heard of men that often have two separate lives, separate wives.

Dexter presses his palms to his closed eyes and groans, “I just wanted you to remember before you… tried to do this again.”

Rita blinks, “Do… do what again? Dexter, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t want you to see.”

He said that before.

“See what?” she asks, reaching out to take his hands from his face, “What is it you don’t want me to see?”

“What you… didn’t see the first time around.”

Okay, now she’s really confused.

Dexter puts his hands out in front of him, looking down at them. He’s silent for a long time so she waits, waits for him to sort out whatever turmoil is going on inside, she can see it so clearly on his face now. Whatever it is, he really is afraid.

Finally he looks at her, “I never told you that the first time was just as hard for me as it was for you.”

Her heart races.

Rita moves her hand back up through his hair, “But you weren’t… raped?”

“I wasn’t…” he lets out a breathless laugh, eyes going distant, “No it wasn’t…” he clears his throat, “My mother was murdered in front of me when I was three years old.”

A chill runs through her when he says it and she stops moving her hand in his hair, her eyes searching his even as he looks at nothing. It’s like he’s doing everything he can to stop himself from feeling whatever pain he’s reliving. She can’t even imagine what it would be like to see something like that, and at such a young age.

“It… changed me, stayed with me,” Dexter takes in a breath through his nose, “Made me into… what I am.”

Rita nods in understanding, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

“I’ve never been good at… connecting,” he says and his eyes blink but he’s still not looking, not looking at her, not looking at anything, “I didn’t understand sex. I didn’t… ever really… want it. And every time I slept with someone they’d see me for what I really am. They’d see the truth. I’m just… empty.”

His eyes snap to her like he’s terrified he’s just said something unfathomable, something he really is scared she’ll know or think about him.

Rita stares back, not looking away, “The way you say it,” she starts carefully, not trying to alarm him if he hasn’t made this connection himself, “Makes it sound like you didn’t want it to happen.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you would do it anyway?” she presses.

Dexter lets out a breath and then nods, “My body would…” his brows furrow, “It was responding, so I just-… that’s all a normal part of it - natural,” he looks to her nervously like he’s trying to confirm it with her but she’s not about to nod to such a thing so she shakes her head, “It didn’t matter if I wanted it on… the inside.”

“Dexter, that part is the most important part,” Rita insists, “Of course it matters. It matters from the beginning to the end,” she says, careful to explain it to him, “If you change your mind two minutes in, two minutes to the end, it all matters.”

“I…” he works his mouth like he’s trying to put together what she’s telling him, “I… didn’t think it did. I… I just let it happen.”

Rita curls her hand in his hair as her vision blurs, “Dexter-” she stops, closing her eyes as tears drip down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m sad for you,” she says in her defense, in their defense, looking at him again, “I can’t imagine how confusing that must’ve been to navigate through. It sounds like you haven’t really given yourself time to reflect on what happened to you.”

“It… wasn’t confusing,” he says, frowning, “I’ve reflected. I understand it.”

“Dexter, I don’t think you do-”

“I’m empty,” Dexter says again, “It-everyone sees it eventually. They see that I’m empty and then they leave. Before you, I’d never been with the same person more than once. They see what they see… and then they’re gone. They see the monster.”

Rita sits up a little straighter, more confident now to challenge him, “Then why did I stay?” she asks and he shudders, “I doubt I saw any differently from anyone else.”

Dexter shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“Did you want it with me?” she asks, fearing what he might say, “Or did you force yourself to endure that too?”

“I…” Dexter’s brows furrow, “I didn’t force myself to endure-” he stops, looking away.

Rita takes his hand, “Dexter.”

“I… wanted it at first.”

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.

“I thought I did.”

Rita blinks more tears from her eyes and reaches up with her other hand to cradle his jaw in her palm, pressing her forehead to his cheek and feeling relief when he leans into her. She can’t blame herself, she doesn’t know what it was like – what their relationship has been like all these years – and she can’t blame Dexter at all either, because it truly sounds like this poor, beautiful, broken man didn’t know the kind of damage he’s been doing to himself.

“The second time was better,” he says and she pulls back to look at him and he looks a little shy saying it, “It was better… easier, knowing that you wouldn’t leave.”

Rita should probably be comforted by that, but it does little to put her mind at ease.

This is her husband, the father of their child, telling her that he’s been putting himself in these uncomfortable if not nightmarish situations all of his life, and continued to do that with her because he didn’t think that the part on the inside mattered.

She purses her lips, “Have you ever wanted to have sex with me?” Dexter stares at her like he doesn’t want to answer and she knows that look, she’s seen it on herself so many times, “The truth is not going to make me mad, Dexter, I just want you to be honest with me.”

“Sometimes.”

Sometimes is… better than none of the times.

“Sometimes…” he continues, “But you always want it.”

“Dexter-”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Dexter says and she nearly rolls her eyes. He’s so… innocent. So unimaginably naive. He has no idea what he’s doing to himself.

Rita nods calmly, taking his hand in both of hers, “Happy is knowing that my husband isn’t-” she glances away, then back to him, “-isn’t scared of turning me down.”

Dexter shakes his head, “I’m not scared of-”

“Have you ever turned me down?”

He stops, flounders, “No.”

“Did you want to?” she presses, waiting, and there it is, “How would you feel if you wanted it and I didn’t feel like I could say ‘no’?”

There it is. There it really is.

Dexter looks down to their hands, “But I…” she lifts her brows as he looks at her guiltily, “I… like…” he squeezes his eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, “It’s okay to say what you’re thinking.”

“We don’t really talk like this,” he tells her and Rita chuckles.

“Clearly.”

He smiles weakly, “I’ve always wanted to let you in, I just thought… that… you wouldn’t…” he swallows, “Understand. That you would leave.”

She looks over his handsome features and leans in, “I don’t even remember you, and I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave you,” she tells him, staring into his eyes, “If I can do this,” she looks down at their hands, “I believe that you can too.”

He glances away, then back down to their hands as well, “I like… there are parts of it that I like. That I… enjoy.”

“Parts?”

“How you look,” he says, brows knitting together in the middle, “When you’re close, when you smile, feeling your heart race under my fingers-” he stops, his eyes jumping back up to hers but she nods along and she can see the anxiety drop from his face, “-holding you, when you’re shaking in my arms.”

She nods again, “All good moments,” she says, “But not necessary if you don’t want it.”

“But-”

“Look,” she holds up her hand, “I don’t know what our relationship was before, but I don’t want this, do you?”

His face twists up in pain.

“I don’t want you forcing yourself to have sex with me, Dexter,” Rita says firmly and then pulls her hand back to her chest, “I’m sorry, that… I didn’t mean to say it like that.” She sees the smirk pass his lips and smiles as well, “But I mean it, do you understand?”

Dexter shakes his head, “Not really.”

“I only ever want you to agree if it’s something you really want to do.”

“That…” Dexter pauses and she watches as he thinks about it, finally coming to an answer that she can tell he’s worried she won’t want to hear, “Might not be every time.”

Rita giggles and leans in to kiss his forehead, “It needs to be right, Dexter. For both of us,” he blinks at her, “Or it won’t be right for either of us. I don’t want that, do you?”

Dexter reaches out, taking her face in his hands and she almost pulls away but she lets him take her, trusts him not to hurt her. Their lips meet and she worries for a second, just for a breath, that it might escalate into something more. But he stops after the first kiss and rests his forehead against hers.

“No.”

She covers his hands with hers and, though it’s like a small mouse within the paws of a lion, she assures herself that he’s nothing like Paul. Not like Paul at all. He could probably break her if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want to, that’s the key difference.

Rita opens her eyes to look at him and she feels it. She’s falling. She’s terrified at the notion but she knows that she can’t stop it. Dexter pulls back and she misses it the moment his hands are gone.

He checks his watch, “We should get to bed, it’s late,” he stands up, taking his things from the nightstand, and goes to the closet to grab some sleepwear.

“Dexter!” she says when she realizes he’s planning on going out to sleep on the couch.

He stops at the door, already halfway out into the hall, looking back at her, “Yeah?” he asks, glancing around the room, “You want a… midnight snack?”

She blushes and shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. I just…” she touches her palm to the bed, “Y-you can sleep here, if… if you w-want to.”

Dexter steps back into the room and she smiles nervously when he closes the door. She looks away as he walks to the foot of the bed and starts to change, her cheeks glowing as she listens to him take off his pants.

She feels the bed dip on his side and Rita gets up after him, changing quickly and climbing in under the covers as well. She looks over to him and they share a smile. She thought she’d be more uncomfortable with this, but it’s nice. It’s better than last night.

“Want me to hold you?” he asks and maybe she’s a masochist, because she does. She wants to be held. More than anything, she wants to feel safe.

She moves in close, curling against him and feeling the warmth of his body when his arms come around her. She doesn’t feel trapped at all.

For once, Rita doesn’t feel Paul’s grip on her, squeezing, suffocating, stripping her of all of her value and self-worth. For so long, he’s been this inevitable shadow lurking over her and it’s like, within the blink of an eye, it’s all gone, and she’s been given a second chance. A real chance to be truly happy. To live a normal life. She has hope for the future.

She feels lucky, incredibly lucky, to have found someone like Dexter.

She feels safe.

Rita wakes up the next morning when she feels Dexter shift under her.

There’s a brief moment, minimal but still there, something leftover from years of being woken up by Paul’s wandering hands, where she expects it from Dexter as well. But he does no such thing.

He takes her hand from his chest and sits up, climbs out of bed, and walks around the room.

Dexter doesn’t expect anything like that from her, doesn’t treat her like he’s entitled to her body, and why would he? Considering how he revealed his own trauma with such things. He would only expect such a thing from himself.

For years he’s lived that way, thinking it was just expected of him and not realizing how horribly wrong it was. That he never told her about it, and possibly no one else before her… it’s flattering that he opened up at all. Now she just has to figure out what to do with such information.

Can she trust that he’ll not put himself in situations he doesn’t want to be in with her if he’s not in the mood? Or… well, that’s something to worry about if and when they get there.

They spend the morning together up until Debra comes over with Harrison and then there’s lunch – the kids coming home shortly after – Dexter spends the afternoon putting together a blanket fort with Cody that ends up spanning through the hall and into the living room, and then there’s dinner.

No awkward silences, no expectations. They go to bed together that night and they just… sleep. His hands don’t drift, not even a little. He’s the perfect gentleman.

She gets up early the next morning, knowing that it’s Dexter’s first day starting back at work, and takes over for breakfast. She even starts to get the kids ready for school, setting Harrison up in his highchair and heading down the hall to check in on Dexter while Astor and Cody finish packing their backpacks.

The bed is empty in her and Dexter’s bedroom and she hears the water running for the shower.

She walks into the bathroom, glancing towards the closed door of the shower and hurries up to the sink to brush her teeth. She’s just begun when the water turns off and she should look away, she even means to, but then she stops mid-brush when she sees him step out.

Rita’s barely seen glimpses of his skin over the course of the last few days. The other night was the closest she came and, while he doesn’t exactly wear loose clothes, seeing all of his body is a whole different experience entirely.

She hasn’t even so much as glanced at another man in years.

But she can’t stop looking at Dexter. And now…

Rita swallows, her whole body heating through as her eyes take him in, tempted to look lower. She had her hand around his cock last night, but she didn’t look. She can still recall the weight of it, the shape of the head pressing into her palm-

Dexter turns and startles when he sees her standing there, hurriedly grabbing a towel to cover himself as her gaze drops lower.

“Oh, you’re… up early.”

Rita smiles, “Got the kids up,” she says, “Made breakfast.”

“Really?” he asks as he moves over.

His presence should be intimidating, especially with him coming in like he does, and maybe it would’ve but… after that night, she feels so incredibly close to him. All she wants to do is hold him again. Or… do other naughty things to him – which is a completely inappropriate way to feel, not just after what he told her about his past, but also because of everything that Paul did to her.

She hasn’t felt desire for someone like this in so long.

And she shouldn’t.

It’s wrong that she does when he trusted her and opened up to her. How he pulled away when she unknowingly was forcing him, how traumatized he is by it all.

Dexter joins her at the sink and finishes tying the towel around his waist, brushing quickly and flossing as she continues to brush her own teeth – slower, as she’s distracted watching him. He leans in after to check his face before starting to shave. She almost, almost asks him not to.

He nicks himself on the left side and takes in a sharp breath, frowning as he taps his razor and checks the cut.

Rita reaches out between them and pulls the medicine cabinet open.

“Ah,” she says and takes one of the styptic pencils down, wetting it under the faucet and turning to him as he tries to swipe up the line of blood from his neck.

Rita grabs his jaw in her hand, swats his hands out of the way, and dabs the pencil over the cut to seal it.

Dexter goes still, letting this soft breath out as she holds him and watching her out of the corner of his eye as she finishes up and rinses it back under the water. She takes her other hand back and blushes when Dexter continues to gawk at her, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” she motions to the door, “I’ll just… go finish getting the kids ready.”

Rita walks out, Dexter’s eyes following her the whole way until he’s out of sight and she turns around, hurrying down the hall.

She’s busy helping the kids when she hears the bathroom door open and close, not even glancing up to see Dexter or the way he might look at her when he looks at her again. Paul would’ve hit her, grabbing him like that, but she wasn’t even thinking. And Dexter didn’t… stop her, didn’t do anything.

“Who’s ready to learn?” Dexter asks and she looks over to see him walking down the hall to join them, keys in hand and a bag in his other.

Astor and Cody fly off of their stools and Rita gives them each kisses as they head out the door, holding Harrison in her arms as Dexter walks up to her.

She looks to him last and forces a smile when he does the same, “Lab bag?” she asks and he lifts it to show her.

“Vince wouldn’t let me live it down if I forgot to bring it my first day back,” he says.

“Vince?”

“Also works in forensics,” Dexter says shortly, keeping the conversation civil and far away from what happened in the bathroom. And then he touches the back of Harrison’s head, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of it, “You’ll call me if anything happens?”

“The moment I feel off,” she assures him.

Dexter’s eyes finally meet hers and he stops, swallowing nervously and she forces herself to smile again, she really messed up, she could cry just looking at him. He almost seems… scared of her.

What has she done?

“Remember Syl’s coming by around noon.”

She nods and turns her head just as he leans in. Instead of kissing her cheek, their lips brush and she doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back. Maybe she should’ve taken the hint and maybe it’s manipulative of her, but she needs… something. She needs to know she hasn’t messed things up.

Dexter gasps against her lips but doesn’t pull away when it happens. He stays, lingers, and pulls back to look her in the eyes with this unsure expression before he steps back and leaves.

And she feels like the world around her bends with him.

She wants to go too.

She wants to make sure that she hasn’t ruined things between them. She doesn’t know him well enough to know what kind of damage she may have inflicted.

But she steps back inside and moves into the kitchen to continue eating her own breakfast even though it’s cold now, preparing herself for a day of festering over her feelings. They talked so much and still it feels like she has more questions than answers, especially about their relationship from before.

Rita cleans mindlessly for the next few hours, busies herself with nothing, meets Sylvia around noon and they talk but it’s difficult having a conversation with someone you don’t even remember.

Sylvia seems nice. She seems like a good friend to have but she starts overstepping quickly.

“Have you two had sex since the bump?”

Rita nearly chokes on her coffee, “Uh, uhm… no,” she blushes and looks away, reaching up to her throat, to her necklace, “I… don’t think he’s ready for that.”

Sylvia laughs, “Dexter?” she asks in surprise, “You don’t think Dexter’s ready?” Rita shakes her head, “And you?”

“I…” she blushes harder, “I didn’t think I was ready.”

Sylvia's smile turns a little sly then and she nudges Rita, “But then..?”

Rita looks down at her hands, shaking her head, “But then he’s practically perfect in every way. He’s… he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. He’s…” she lifts her hand and leans on her wrist, “He’s so good with the kids. I’ve never seen Astor smile the way she does with him. And he’s smart.”

“Really smart,” Sylvia says in agreement, “And he looks nice.”

“He looks… really nice,” Rita says, feeling her skin start to heat, “And I haven’t… I haven’t felt this way in a while.”

“Ah,” Sylvia makes a knowing sound, “Of course you only remember Paul,” her tone softens when she asks the next question, “When was the last time it was good for you?”

“Uh…” Rita pauses, shaking her head, “I-I don’t know.”

Sylvia nods in understanding, “Well you don’t have to worry about things with Dexter, he’s very-” she glances around the front room like there’s the chance of anyone hearing their conversation and then she still lowers her voice, “You know, he’s… open-minded.”

“Open-minded like how?”

“What is it you always tell me?” Sylvia asks rhetorically, “He doesn’t make you feel ashamed?” Rita frowns, “I guess Paul would make you feel wrong for things you wanted, things you were into.”

Rita nearly shrinks down in her seat, her face burning in shame, “I told you that?”

“We’re friends, Rita,” Sylvia says as she takes a sip of her tea, “We share a lot. I even helped you pick out the strap-on you wanted to get for Dexter.”

Rita really does choke this time and Sylvia moves around to pat her on the back as she laughs.

After their conversation the other night, Rita can’t imagine putting Dexter through something like that. It’s so… physical, and vulnerable, and it takes a lot of preparation and planning. And she knows it can be degrading for some men. But they must’ve gone through with it before. And if he’s ever thought that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, what if he just agreed to it because he didn’t think he could turn her down?

“Did I… ever tell you about that?” she asks Sylvia once she can breathe properly again, trying to get as much of an idea about her and Dexter’s sex life as she can.

“About pegging your husband?” Sylvia asks and Rita coughs, hiding her face behind her hand as she nods, “Not really? I know you said it was good. I know you two did it more than once,” Rita’s eyes widen, “I’m pretty sure it’s common in what you two do together when you’re actually able to get some alone time. I know things got a little harder after you had Harrison.”

What if he’s… gay?

“Dexter’s not gay.”

Rita laughs, “How did you know-”

“Because I know you. I could see the thought on your face – you’re worried – but you don’t need to worry. Dexter loves you. He might be bisexual,” Sylvia admits, “But he’s not gay.”

“There might be things about Dexter you don’t know.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are,” Sylvia says, shrugging and leaning on her elbow, “I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about both of you. You two have had some bumps along the way, but what relationship doesn’t? You always talk through it, you communicate, he even went to couple’s therapy with you. I know that you said that Paul never wanted to do that. But you and Dexter are there for each other.”

Rita nods along as she listens, “So you don’t think he would… ever hit me? Or-or force me?”

Sylvia’s eyes widen, “Dexter?” she asks and then laughs, “Oh, Rita… no. No, Dexter is-he isn’t like that. You told me once that you even tested him and he came out with flying colors.”

“Tested him?”

“Made him stop,” Sylvia says, “Mid-way through when he was really into it, just to see how he’d react.”

Dangerous.

It’s scary to even imagine.

“He stopped,” Sylvia tells her, “Not a shocker, I know. But he asked if you were okay, if he hurt you. He was worried.”

“Worried?”

“That’s the kind of man he is.”

Maybe a few days ago she wouldn’t have been able to imagine it but, after watching him pull away, of course he would worry.

She considers asking Sylvia about other things but leaves it. She has a feeling that even with the things she’s learning, she’s not seeing the whole picture. Sure, Dexter doesn’t make her feel ashamed for the things she wants and feels, but does he feel ashamed for his own thoughts and feelings?

Sure, their sex life involves some… interesting things, but that doesn’t mean that Dexter’s all that into it. It just means that it’s something he agreed to because he didn’t think he could say ‘no’.

Dexter sends her a text some time after six, letting her know that he’ll be working late and to just go ahead with dinner. But he’s gone so much longer than that. Rita puts the kids to bed without him, even manages to get Harrison down. She starts to really worry when it passes ten.

She messed up.

She messed it all up.

Rita chews on her nails and looks around the empty kitchen. She’s just about to go to bed herself, alone, when the minivan finally pulls up in the driveway and Rita rushes over to get the door.

Dexter stops, key in hand, his eyes snapping up to see her standing there. He looks tired. She should just drop this and let him come in and sleep, but she’s been waiting for hours.

“Where the hell were you?” she asks.

“Work,” he says, trying to move past her but she steps in the way and Dexter stops, sighing in defeat, “Rita, I’m tired-”

“So am I,” she snaps and crosses her arms, “This was my first day on my own and-” she grabs her shirt, “I didn’t text you once for help, Dexter, but I needed you here.”

Dexter’s eyes widen.

“I missed you,” Rita chokes back, wiping her face when she starts to cry, “You don’t know how hard that is for me, how-how terrifying that is – to want someone like that, I haven’t wanted anyone like that in years – and all day today I felt bad about it.”

“Rita-”

She moves to stop him from walking in again, staring up at him in the dark shadows of the night, “If I messed up this morning, just tell me.”

Dexter stops once more and looks at her in confusion, “What?”

“I saw your eyes, Dexter, the look in your eyes,” Rita says, “You looked… you looked… terrified.”

“Rita,” Dexter groans and leans on the door frame, letting out a long sigh and looking down at their feet, then back up to her eyes, “I wasn’t terrified of you,” she frowns, “I was-…” he presses his lips together and sighs again, “I… wanted you.”

She starts to open her mouth to ask what he means when it clicks.

She recalls how he looked this morning, how he went still, how his body was pressed to the sink, his hips, the breath, the sound he let out.

Oh.

The look in his eyes wasn’t terror because he was scared of her, he was turned on. And he was ashamed of it. And he’s been terrified of coming home to see her again because he was ashamed… of wanting her? Of wanting his wife? Of feeling desire for his wife?

“But I’ve never-” his eyes go a little distant, “I’ve never really… felt like that before,” he says, “I didn’t… think it was safe for you to be around me.”

Rita smiles a little, “You didn’t think I was safe because you were aroused? By me? Your wife?”

He gives her a tight, helpless smile back, “Yes,” he says simply, then adds, “My wife,” he motions to her, “Who just got out of a major surgery and doesn’t remember the last four years, but instead remembers having just survived the single worst moment of her life. The last thing I should be feeling is… what I felt this morning.”

And to think she’d felt the same.

For very different reasons, of course, but… the exact same.

Rita takes Dexter’s hand and pulls him into the house, closing the door behind him as she looks up into his dark eyes, “I was worried too,” she tells him, reaching up to touch his face, “Dexter, you don’t ever have to be ashamed of how you feel, not with me.”

“But-”

“None of that,” she cuts him off, putting her finger to his lips and shaking her head, “You were worried that I would be mad if you didn’t want it, now you’re ashamed that you did. And I did the exact same thing this morning. I wanted you too.”

Dexter looks uncomfortable with the amount of sense she’s just made and he slumps against her, dropping his head to her shoulder, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s sweet.

“You won’t,” Rita says, wrapping her arms around his body.

She turns her lips in and presses a kiss to the side of his head, her fingers moving through Dexter’s hair. And then she feels his mouth open on her neck and chillbumps rise up on her skin, his hands dropping down, pushing under. Rita feels her cheeks flush and she turns when he does, their lips meeting as his hand slides between her thighs, rubbing her through her panties.

Dexter walks her backwards through the dark of the living room, dropping his bag on the table and moving his hands to the buttons of his shirt and she helps him.

She pushes it off his shoulders once they’re in the bedroom, breaking the kiss, “I don’t want to have sex.”

He looks a little surprised when she says it but Dexter doesn’t groan or sigh or curse or hit something – or hit her – he just smiles and cups her face, kissing her again. He understands with such a simple statement, not even asking for some kind of explanation or excuse.

“Can I stay?” he asks.

Rita grins at his response and lowers her voice, “You can do more than stay,” she says, tracing her finger along the hem of his khakis, “I just don’t… think I’m ready for… all of sex.”

Dexter looks surprised again and then hums when she cups him through his pants, walking her back her towards the bed and pulling back to look her in the eyes when he asks, “Can I go down on you?” like he’s just asked her what she wants for breakfast. There’s no shyness, no inflection, no sudden husk to his voice like with hers.

“You…” Rita blushes furiously but nods, “You can do that,” she says and giggles, seeing his eyes darken just a little more and then he moves lower, pushing up her nightgown and tugging down her panties.

He lays her back on the bed and reaches out, taking the pillow from his side and offering it to her before he moves down her body.

Rita sits up as he presses his mouth to her chest, “What’s this… for?” she asks.

“You don’t want to wake the kids,” he says, motioning vaguely to his right, “Right?”

Rita stares at him in disbelief and then she laughs, leaning in to kiss him before he moves down between her legs, spreading her thighs.

He settles himself with his knees off the bed, his hot breath on her skin, pressing kisses to the inside of her thigh as he runs his hands up and down her legs. He lifts them to his shoulders, sucks the skin between his teeth and then moves in, his tongue dragging up, licking through her folds and she feels the low moan come from him, vibrating through her.

She gasps when his mouth closes over her clit, his fingers coming up wet, rubbing her right nipple under his coarser skin and she nearly sobs at the sensation.

It’s been a while… it’s probably been years. Oh god, and he’s… really good at this.

Rita doesn’t mean to grab him so violently but her hips twitch and, though most would be concerned, or complain, or stop entirely, Dexter takes the motions of her body like little encouragements, going harder, sucking around her, his tongue doing the strangest, most amazing things to give her pleasure.

His left hand rests at her hip and she takes it in hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing him as she turns her face into the pillow to keep her voice down.

Rita nearly screams when her orgasm hits, panting through clenched teeth until she comes back down, the warm bliss spreading along her limbs, her legs shaking but especially when Dexter moves up and they fall from his shoulders.

She grabs him and kisses him on the lips, feeling him drop against her and they both gasp when the shape of his cock rubs against the inside of her thigh. He’s rock hard, pressed into her, still wearing his pants, and Dexter starts to pull back but she stops him.

“I can help you,” she offers, reaching down to stroke him through the fabric but he shakes his head.

“It’ll go down.”

“But you’ll get blue balls.”

Dexter stares back at her and shakes his head again, “I won’t,” he tells her, taking her hand away and then helps her get under the covers, climbing in with her and holding her in his arms.

Rita smiles to herself when he takes her hand again and she turns to look him in the eyes, “Are you sure?” she asks again, only getting a little nervous.

She doesn’t like feeling like she owes him. Paul would hold something like this against her.

Dexter tugs her hair back from her temple and presses a kiss to her skin, “I’m sure.”

But he isn’t Paul.

Rita has never felt more safe, more at peace, than when she feels in his arms. He could be a spy or some kind of undercover assassin, and she couldn’t care less, as long as he continued to treat her the way he does.

She’s really falling in love with him.

The next couple of days are nothing special.

The kids are getting used to her, which is something Rita didn’t expect would take as long as it has, but it’s been its own unique challenge even from the start, especially with Astor.

Cody has his moments but Harrison is the easiest. He’s happy no matter what she remembers.

Realtor work is a hard thing to get back into, she’s still very nervous around men in general, but married couples are easier. Sylvia helps smooth things along but, for the most part, she can see why she started down this path instead of continuing to work at the hotel.

Everything in her little world is coming together one day at a time. It’s hard and grueling, and sometimes heartbreaking, but she’s working on it all of the time.

And Dexter is the foundation that keeps everything from coming down around her.

She might never come to fully realize just how complex of a person he is and that alone is exciting to her. Even as she reveals one secret, one trauma, another emerges. Though broken in his own ways, they’ve managed to put their shattered pieces together to fill each other’s gaps.

He’s perfect in all of his imperfect ways.

She can only imagine how lucky she felt the first time around. Rita was initially hesitant around him but she’s only managed to fall more and more in love with this man she’s found herself married to.

The more she uncovers, the more she wants to learn and know about Dexter Morgan. And though there are times when she realizes she’s reached a boundary he’s not ready to cross, she’s only more excited to give it the time, knowing it’ll all come spilling out sooner or later.

Rita comes home late from a house showing that Saturday and kicks her shoes off the moment she’s inside, carefully closing the door when she doesn’t immediately see Dexter in the kitchen area.

She checks down the hall with the kid’s rooms and sees Astor strumming on her guitar, pausing long enough to flip the page of the sheet music and throw her hair back over her shoulder as she continues. She doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing.

Rita doesn’t want to disturb her so she checks on Cody next. He’s in the middle of a match in the game he’s playing and he doesn’t look up either, so she quietly closes his bedroom door and walks back out, catching sight of Dexter just leaving Harrison’s room.

“Hey you,” he says, brightening up the moment he sees her and Rita feels it just as the words come out of his mouth.

There’s this pain at the front of her head and she stumbles forward on her heels, nearly collapsing. Dexter’s there at her the moment it happens, catching her as her knees give out from under her. Her hand clutches his biceps as all of memories start rushing in one after another.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Dexter says, and she barely hears him as he touches her face, “Everything okay?”

Rita looks up at him, searching his eyes as it all comes back to her and she feels crushed because how can she tell him? How can she tell him-

“I kissed Elliot.”

Dexter’s face twists into a look of hurt and he lowers them both to the ground, dropping back as he looks her in the eyes, “You remember.”

She nods, frowning, “I-… did you… already know?” she asks.

“Vince saw,” Dexter tells her, tucking her hair back from her face, “-on Thanksgiving. I know about the affair.”

Rita’s brows narrow, “I’m not having an affair.”

“You are,” he says, even though he sounds confused about it all, “Or… I assumed,” he admits, “I wasn’t sure.”

She blinks at him, “This whole time you’ve been taking care of me, you thought I was having an affair with Elliot?” Dexter glances away, “Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. You’ve been so honest with me lately, Dexter, please don’t lie to me now that I remember everything.” Rita reaches up and puts her hand over his heart, “Tell me the truth.”

Dexter looks back to her finally, “I thought…” he rubs his face, taking her hand in his, “I thought you were scared of me.”

Rita feels like she’s going to be sick, “Scared?”

“You didn’t want Deb to call me-”

“Because you were working.”

“My job isn’t as important as you are, nothing is,” he snaps and her eyes widen, “Sorry,” Dexter clears his throat, looking more uncomfortable than he did the day before.

Rita smiles and lets out a soft laugh, “Don’t be,” she reaches up to touch his cheek, “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

“I’ve been through nothing, you’ve been-”

“You’re my partner,” Rita cuts him off, staring at him proudly, “We’ve both been going through it together. And it’s been so hard watching you go through all of this, now more than ever. Dexter, you-you’ve been here so much for me. I…”

His eyes follow hers as she struggles for the words, “What?”

Rita laughs, “I… I don’t know, I’m glad,” she says, lifting her shoulders as she smiles, “I’m glad you… cared enough to do what you’ve done.” Dexter looks upset with what she’s said, so she elaborates, “I don’t know, you’ve been so distant lately. And the lying about the apartment, and the crash, and everything that’s happened… I just-I was beginning to think that you were pulling away.”

“Is that why you kissed Elliot?”

“Well I didn’t… really kiss him, he kissed me mostly,” Rita tells him, trying to be as honest as she can be. It all happened so fast, she wasn’t even thinking, “I-it was stupid.”

“Are the two of you-”

“No!” she says firmly, “No, of-of course not. It was just a stupid mistake and I am so, so sorry.”

Dexter pushes again like he’s looking for an answer, something else, “You don’t… want a divorce?”

Rita’s eyes widen, “What? No,” she feels upset, offended, even thinking of it, “I don’t want that. That was not-that’s not what I want.”

Dexter sighs in relief and drops his shoulders like she’s just shoved a great big weight off of them, and maybe she has. She smooths her nails through his hair, across the span of his shoulders, turning to breathe him in, she’s just about to open her mouth to ask him a question when he starts to shake against her.

“Dexter?” she asks as he pulls in the sharp breath and Rita stops when she realizes he’s crying.

He sniffs and turns his face against her neck and Rita rocks him gently in her embrace. She’s never seen him cry, barely even seen Dexter vulnerable enough to warrant such emotions, and now she’s managed to get it out of him twice in less than a week. It’s upsetting, but in a way it’s relieving to see her husband show that he’s capable of such raw emotions.

He’s been so disconnected lately that she was beginning to think he wanted an out, that he was quietly giving up on everything they’ve worked on together.

“I thought I lost you,” he says as he clutches onto her and she feels his hands dig into her skin, pressing bruises to her, clutching on like he’s terrified she’ll run away from what he’s showing her.

She would never.

There’s nothing he could say or do – he could be a serial killer and it wouldn’t change a thing for her. She’s in this for life. She’s just lucky that he is who he is: her generous, gentle husband. Harmless. He couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.

If he thinks she would turn away, seeing him in an emotional state, then he’s mistaken.

Rita blinks her own tears back at the broken sound of his voice, wrapping her arms around his neck and turning to press her lips to his temple, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dexter pulls back to look her in the eyes, “I love you.”

Rita nearly gasps when he says it, stunned silent, she almost forgets to say it back, “I…” she smiles wide, “I love you too.”

He holds her face, leaning in to kiss her breathlessly, “I love you,” he says again, “I don’t…” he kisses her again, “-know why I’ve never said it before now.”

Rita laughs and starts to cry, kissing Dexter each time his lips come back to hers, wiping the tears from his cheeks and then holding him in her arms when he slumps against her again.

She can leave the thousands of questions she has for tomorrow.

Right now, she just wants to enjoy what she has for as long as she has it.