Animal - Ch. 8

[whedonist]

Ch. 8 – Safe Tonight

I shift away from Buffy and grumble as the annoying red L.E.D. display on our alarm clock makes fun of me. I’m thinking that that extra cup of coffee at dinner tonight was not a good idea. Or it could have been that Jägerbomb at the club tonight. That wasn’t the brightest either.

But it was worth it. All of us were in serious need.

I look over my shoulder and smile. At least she’s sleeping soundly. Getting her drunk was the best thing Jimmy or I could have done. Eighteen days and no breaks in the case.

At least no one else has died. We’re still only on five people.

I wanna blow a raspberry, but I don’t. It might wake her. The case still sucks.

I flip back over and study Buffy again. It’s lots better than staring at a clock. Smoothing down some of her hair, I resist the urge to pull her close. Instead, I toy with the ring I bought her. Things aren’t perfect for us, but they are a hell of a lot better than they were.

You would think that after all the fighting I’ve done, that I wouldn’t mind. I hate arguing. I suppose the physical fighting was never an area that I really made with the embracing.

At least we’re not fighting. We’re having conversations and we’ve also started spending more time together. Alone, which has helped. I think everything is going to be okay.

It has to be.

Because if I think of leaving this city and the life I’ve built here I start to hyperventilate. As for the thought of leaving Buffy…

I fiddle with her ring a bit more and she starts to stir. Poop. I stop and decide that maybe some T.V. will do me some good. I ease myself off the bed and grab my robe from the foot of the bed.

I’ve also started the new job. It’s been nearly two weeks with the Medical Examiner’s office and it’s going well. I also have to be in there tomorrow by eight a.m. But, yay for normal hours…for the most part.

I wonder if James would swing by and drop off another Jägerbomb to keep me going at work today?

I slip my robe on, tying the sash as I make my way out to the living room. A soft blue glow tells me that someone’s out here.

If Jimmy fell asleep in front of the T.V. in the recliner, I’m going to be cranky at him. His back absolutely hates it.

I round the corner and step into the living room. Surprisingly enough he’s awake. The low voices of the T.V. newscaster cover the sounds of my approach. “Jimmy,” I say softly. I don’t need to scare him and give him a heart attack, once was enough. It’s something no one in this house wants to do again.

The recliner spins my way and he’s looking at me all squinty eyed. “Red? What in the hell are you doing awake?”

He moves to stand up and I lift a hand to stop him.

I smile and shake my head. “I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep. I think your son put too much bomb in my Jäger.”

“Wired?”

I nod and sit opposite him on the couch. I give him a once over and stop the laugh that’s threatening to spill over. I raise an eyebrow and smirk instead. He’s wearing white knee socks covered by another pair of black socks pulled up mid-calf. He’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs and a tank-top undershirt thingy. I think the packaging calls them A-shirts, which makes absolutely no sense to me.

At least he looks better than he did when we first met. He was a bit bigger around the middle, but he lost some of that. Between helping us fight demons part time and the heart attack scare those years back, he’s gotten a bit more in shape.

Not much, but enough.

He finally notices the smirk and frowns at me. “What?”

“Nothin’.” I say and bite my bottom lip to stop from laughing.

His eyebrow rises at me and he barks softly, “Bullshit. Out with it, Red or I’ll wake up Cupcake and she can get it outta ya.”

“You wouldn’t,” I declare. Actually, knowing him, he so really would. He goes to stand and I wave a hand. “Don’t. I was just admiring your evening attire.”

He glares at me, half-standing, hunched over, his arms holding him up by the arms of the chair. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asks half pouting.

“Sit. Nothing at all. It’s just,” I stop trying to figure out how to say this without insulting his manliness. “It always makes me pause when I see you stripped down without the layers.”

He lowers himself back down and continues to glare at me. “So you like the layers or not?” He’s confused.

I try to clarify, “It’s not about liking or disliking. It’s a metaphor.”

“Red,” he says, muting the T.V., “you know you’re one of my favorite people right?”
I wait for him to continue. When he says things like this, it usually means he’s going to say something negative right afterward. “But.” Here it comes. “You do know it’s nearly four o’clock in the friggin’ morning and neither of us has been to bed, right?” His eyes twinkle in the soft glow of the screen. “That being said, leave your need for metaphor until after we’ve all had breakfast and Buffy can decode your brain for me. I ain’t that smart.” He winks at me and turns the sound back up on the T.V.

I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the T.V. I suppose I can spare him just this once, but I hope he gets it.

It’s about his vulnerability. I forget that he’s human like Xander. Just a man. It’s good to remember those things. On my really good days, I can kind of remember what being human felt like.

Not that I’m not human, but I’m not normal either. I’m connected to everything in a very different way than most people. I still feel the deaths of the other slayers and my connection to Buffy has just gotten stronger over the years.

I’m not sure how a regular person would handle that. I still have trouble some days.

I look up at the T.V. and shake my head. Of course, a sports thing is on.

“You know, I know that I’m from this great city, and I’m supposed to be a die-hard Yanks fan, but is it bad that I’m pretty indifferent?” he grumbles and brings up the guide.

I really have no idea what he’s talking about. He carries on anyhow, “I mean, it’s like March through July are the black hole in the sports world. Baseball’s a game you gotta play to enjoy. Watching it’s like watching paint dry. Like golf. Golf is a game you gotta play. Basketball’s fun to watch, but the Knicks suck and by law I can’t root for another team in the same conference.” He sighs and let’s his stream of consciousness rant go on, “I used to love watchin’ the Lakers, but I can’t stand that punk, Kobe. I’ll give him credit, he’s a good ball player, but he can’t function on a team. Maybe I should find another team in the Western Conference.”

He sighs a bit more and I wonder if it would matter if I were here or not. Would he still be grousing about sports? “See personally,” he says as he finds the NFL Network to watch highlights, “I like football. It’s fun, very physical and it’s fast paced. There’s also the upside that my two favorite teams are in different Conferences. I get to stay loyal to the fair city of New York and love the Giants while staying true to my father’s side of the family and root for my Steelers in the A.F.C.”

I think maybe I should put a stop to this and say, “Jimmy, you do know I have no idea what you’re talking about right?”

“I’m talkin’ sports, Red,” he says the obvious.

“I know that, but I can’t tell you which teams are which and which sport they play.” I point at me and say, “You do know that we spent our time in high school stopping demons from taking over the Earth and my parents are college lecturers.” I grin. “I am a geek.”

Sending me another eye roll, he mumbles, “Well you aren’t geeky now, Red.”

I beam. “Thank you, but I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He sends a sour look my way and grumbles some more, “You know sometimes it sucks bein’ the only guy in the house.”

---

The quiet of the early morning has settled over us and it all feels a little surreal. Alex and I went out and had a nice night with Buffy, Willow and Jimmy at Jimmy’s son’s club. Since we got back to Alex’s at one this morning, we’ve just been laying here talking, not talking. Whatever we want.

It’s so strange how life shifts and flows.

Two weeks ago, I’d never have thought I’d be laying with Alex resting against my shoulder, our hands entwined, just enjoying the silence. Munch wouldn’t believe it, Alex and I being quiet or not arguing around one another.

I can’t help but snicker. That causes Alex to look up at me, questioningly. Feeling the need to clarify, I say, “I was just thinking about Munch.”

“Do I really want to know in what capacity?” She smiles at me and I feel my world shift just a little bit.

“Well, you could. And I would tell you that the thoughts were of him falling over dead that we’re, you and I, not at each other’s throats or at the very least having some type of spat.” I push a lock of her hair behind her ear and grin.

“Ah. So we’re incapable of doing anything, except fighting with each other?” she asks.

Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that I’m being set up. “Let me be clear, to some, especially while we are working, our personalities have and do clash.”

She nods and says nothing more. Instead, she snuggles further into me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

More of the surreal seems to present itself. I understand that my sexuality is at the best ambiguous or maybe it’s that there’s that one person in everyone’s life that you’re willing to bend or break the rules for.

Alex is mine.

What I don’t get is that what am I to her? I knew she went on dates with men. Albeit, that means next to nothing. Has she always been attracted to women? Is this just a once in a while thing? Why is there this sudden burning need to understand?

If you don’t ask you don’t know. Guess there’s no time like the present. “Alex?”

“Hmm?” she replies into the right part of my chest.

Well damn, now I’m not really sure how to word my question. This is going to come out all wrong. “I have some questions.”

She perks up at this, pulling back and looking me in the eyes with an eyebrow, her left, arched subtly. It’s the classic ‘continue’ signal.

“Why women? I mean, are you gay? Do you not like labels?” I know I’ve just sort of stuck of my foot so far down my throat that even if I used forceps I would still be screwed. Trying to be clearer, I say, “I’m just…confused and trying to understand.”

Six years ago I wouldn’t have been able to read the emotions that pass over her. They’re lightening quick, but I see them. I’m just not sure what they are or what her pursed lips and silence mean.

I expect her voice to break the silence, but it ends up being my phone. Damn it.

I reach for it, snatching it off the bedside table right before the vibrations causes it to go tumbling off the side. “Benson.”

“Liv, can you be ready to go in fifteen?” Elliot’s voice sounds from the speaker. He sounds in a fantastic mood this morning.

What time is it anyhow? I pull back the phone and look at the display, six-thirty. Well, who needed sleep?

I’ve been told it’s for suckers.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’m not at my place. Have you left yours yet?” I ask.

“Getting ready to now.” I hear the distinct ding of keys hanging from the ignition.

I mop my face with my hands and look at Alex. She’s smirking at me and it’s making me nervous.

“Liv?” my partner asks, mildly annoyed.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you? We’ve got a body dump at Bellevue,” he says. And he obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

I snap further out of it and ask, “What do you mean body dump?”

He sighs. “From what was communicated to me, a car passed through the emergency port and tossed a body out. She was D.O.A. so they wheeled her down to the morgue,” he explains this all to me like you would a five year old.

I think I might smack him when he gets here.

“So, I ask again, where are you?” Yeah I’m definitely gonna smack him.

“I’m at Alex’s. Pick me up here.” Thinking that would suffice, I’m about to hang up when I hear him scream my name.

I put it back to my ear in time for me to hear him say, “That’s fucking swell. Where does she live?”

Oh. Yeah, that’d probably help.

“Twenty-Five Central Park West. The Century building. I’ll have Alex call down and tell them to expect you.”

There’s a pregnant silence and I can just imagine his face right now. This building is old; I think it was built in the very early nineteen-thirties. Alex’s family has owned three apartments here since right before World War Two. I can understand why he’d be shocked. When I first got here, I was.

“What floor?” he asks, finally sobering up.

“Thirty-first.”

“Alright, see you in fifteen,” he pauses and my eyes narrow, “try to be presentable when I get there. I don’t need to walk in on a disheveled lesbian love nest.”

I don’t have time to respond as the call ends. Oh, he’s definitely getting hit. Hard.

I set the phone back on the nightstand as I feel myself being pulled back on the bed. Before I really have time to do anything, I’m on my back and see Alex’s leg swing over my body as she straddles my stomach.

She leans down and looks me in the eyes, running her hands along my sides. She whispers, “I think I understand what you were asking, detective. The easiest answer I have for you is why not….but it’s more than that.” A little bit of sunlight is peaking through the curtains and it’s angled just right to reflect the amusement in her clear, blue eyes. “Sleeping with men doesn’t make you straight. It makes you horny and they’ll do in a pinch.” She grinds down on me and her ass moves a little lower. “I’ve never made love, as harlequin as that term is to me, to a man. But a woman?” She smirks and I swallow. “It’s as natural as breathing to me.”

She leans further down, her mouth next to my ear, her hot breath spreading down my neck causing me to shiver as she purrs, “I have always found myself not wanting to just get off. With a woman in my bed, it’s always about me wanting to explore this amazing creature before me.” A nip to my earlobe and I have to stop my hips from rising off the bed. “It becomes,” she continues, teasing me, “about what I can make her feel. How I can elicit a moan, a gasp, a sigh or a cry.”

She stops talking for a second and looks at me. Searching my eyes, until she’s satisfied she’s found what she’s looking for and says, “There’s this reverence that I can’t shake.”

I swallow hard.

Her mouth breaks into a wide grin and she laughs lightly. “But, you have Elliot coming to get you from our disheveled lesbian love nest so I don’t have the proper amount of time to show you what exactly I mean.” She swings her leg back around and manages to hop off the bed in one graceful, fluid motion. “I suggest we get you sort of cleaned up.” She turns to a dresser and pulls out a t-shirt and tosses it on the bed.

She ducks into the master bathroom and I hear her rummaging around. A few seconds later she pops back out and says, “I’ve set out some clean towels and you can change into that t-shirt.” Looking me over, she nods. “I know that shirt will fit. I just wish I had something else you could change into.”

I finally manage to shake the last few minutes off and sit up. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I know I just can’t go into work in this top.” I look down at the blouse. It’s low-cut, designed to show a fair amount of cleavage and leave little to the imagination. It worked well, at least for Alex.

I hold the t-shirt up and am struck with a strong sense of familiarity. I lift it and cock my head to the side. Hey… “This is mine!”

She folds her arms across her chest and laughs. “Glad to see those sharp observation skills haven’t left you.”

I lower it from my gaze and ask, “How long have you had this?”

“Since the last time I spent the night at your place, nearly six years ago.” She smirks at me and moves forward. Leading me to the bathroom, she offers a kiss to my cheek before she lands a playful swat to my ass and says, “Go shower. Elliot’s going to be here soon. I’ll make some coffee.” I get shoved in the bathroom and the door closes.

Wait, ‘disheveled lesbian love nest’? She heard that!

I poke my head out the door and holler back to her, “We should throw some dirty clothes in the living room to see if El’s head’ll combust!”

I’m rewarded with a hearty laugh. Satisfied I shut the door and start a very quick, very cold shower.

---

I slouch down in the passenger seat. Wishing for a baseball cap to shield some the bright winter sun from eyes. I idly think about killing my partner and my lover all in one go. The hangover I’m sporting is totally not helping my homicidal tendencies.

Thankfully, Jimmy seems to understand so I’m not stuck listening to the usual classic rock station or hearing him talk, this morning. He’s quiet and I could nearly kiss him for it.

I close my eyes and let him drive us to the hospital. Curious about what exactly Olivia and Elliot have for us there. Olivia called me at about seven-thirty this morning, waking me up and causing a hundred plus member marching band to start a rousing chorus of a heavy bass song to play in my head.

Neither the Motrin or the gallon of water I drank seem to be helping. The coffee took the edge off a little.

What I can’t figure out this morning is why, when I came out to get Jimmy, he and Will were passed out in the living room. Will was splayed out on the couch in her robe. And Jimmy, I snicker thinking of the picture I have on my phone, was passed out in his recliner. Head back, mouth open, legs stretched out in front of him, in his underwear.

That is so totally the best blackmail material that I have ever gotten. Just thinking about how to use it is better than all the hangover cures in the world put together. I grin a little and open my eyes as the car comes to a stop and the engine dies.

We must be here. Oh joy.

I shuffle out of the car and continue to shuffle behind my hulking mass of a partner. I’ve got about another two minutes before I have to stop grumbling and appear to at least be presentable and together. There’s a victim inside that needs to see we’re capable of finding the people or things that did this to her.

The bank of elevators in the lobby is busy and I straighten up. Pulling my beanie off and stuffing it in my coat pocket. I unsnap a few buttons, opening my coat and put my hands on my hips.

I can do this. Sucking in a breath, I slowly release it and let the pain recede a little. Jimmy points to an elevator that’s going our way and we step inside. I stand in front of him as the doors slide shut.

It takes five minutes to go seven floors up. I think this place has seen more foot traffic in the last ten minutes than Times Square sees all year, New Year's included.

We head down one of the west corridors and end up in front of room seven-one-five-four. The door's shut, so I knock gently.

“Come in,” Olivia says from the other side.

I push the door open and take a quick glance around. There’s only one bed in the room, which is good. I can question the vic privately. Elliot and Olivia nod grimly and I feel Jimmy’s supportive hand on the small of my back.

Amongst the monitors, wires and bandages, I can just make out the face in the bed and I nearly faint. Like full on – honest to God, faint.

The battered face of Debra Morgan stares back at me. My eyes snap shut and I hold my breath, trying to get my emotions under control

Anger, bright and hot, burns through me. I can’t fucking believe this. This is just goddamn fucking impossible.

I want to hit something. I want to punch a hole so big through whatever the fuck is doing this that I could see forever through it.

I knew they were missing. I hoped this wasn’t related, but now, it’s like impossible to ignore. These killings are connected to Dexter, Siobhan’s and Debra’s disappearance.

I’d hoped that Dexter wasn’t somehow responsible. That he wasn’t doing this himself, but I can’t dumb down enough to believe that.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I knew it. I knew it. I told Will it was a bad fucking idea and now, I’ve got a cluster fuck of a cluster fuck to try and clean up.

Not only that, but now, I’ve got to try and make things right with Deb. How the fuck am I going to do that?

A bouquet of flowers with a card that says, “Sorry for getting your brother turned into a soulless monster. Oh, yeah and sorry for letting him torture you too.”

I don’t fucking think Hallmark makes those types of cards.

I know Jimmy feels the tension and as I crack one eye, Olivia and Elliot are looking at me the same way. They feel it to. I release the breath I was holding and try just a little not to blow a fucking gasket.

“Has she been conscious at all?” I manage to say without screeching.

“Nope,” Elliot answers.

“They had pronounced her D.O.A. when we got here she was on a gurney in the morgue hallway.” Olivia starts answering the unasked questions. “She shot up off the gurney and started screaming as we started looking her over. We weren’t going to call you in, but once the staff got her stabilized, we collected her clothes and found this,” Olivia holds up an evidence bag.

The parchment is distinct and I notice it right away.

I walk over and take the bag from her hand. Jimmy’s right behind me and he reads aloud, “A man who won’t die for something is not fit to live.”

My teeth grind together and I spit, “I’m so fucking tired of this bullshit game.”

The other three detectives in the room can only nod.

Elliot’s voice is full of understanding as he says, “Us too. Also, we haven’t been able to make an I.D. on the vic. She’s been down since she woke up screaming and there was no I.D. on her.”

I turn in his direction and shake my head. “You don’t need to bother. I know her.”

Three sets of shocked eyes look at me. “Her names Debra Morgan. She’s a detective for the Miami Metro Police Department.”

I run my hands through my hair and figure I might as well blow their minds a little more, “Her, her brother and a woman that works for my sister all went missing shortly after her brother’s fiancé and step children died in a house fire back in January.”

“This is…?” Jimmy asks, shocked.

I can only nod. I really don’t know what else to say. This really is all my fault.

Blandly, Olivia says, “Well that solves that piece of the mystery. Would you like to,” she asks, putting her hands on her hips, “tell us why you know this?”

I gather the meager amount of patience that I can and answer as honestly as possible, “Last August, Will and I went on vacation to Miami. I met them then. My sister called and told us that they were missing the Friday before Valentine’s Day.”

I try to relax just a little bit, but fail miserably. Snapping at the accusatory looks coming from everyone in the room that’s conscious, I say, “I had no way of knowing these cases were related.”

“No,” Jimmy says, “you didn’t.” He places a hand on my shoulder and forces me to face him. “But you need to call Princess and let her know we’ve got one of her missing people. Her department deserves to know that we’ve found her at least.”

I can only nod. He pushes me towards the hallway and says, “Tell Dawnie I said hello.”

I follow his direction and try to ignore the stunned faces that I left in the hospital room. Reaching inside my coat pocket, I hit the four key and send. I’m really really not looking forward to this conversation.

I slump against the wall and wait for my sister to pick up.