Status: slow updates. but i promise I'm workin. i love you guys.

My Baby, My Darling.

Loving You Is Killing Me.

"Stay with me tonight." Dexter whispered, his hold on me tightening.

I looked up at him. "I have class tomorrow."

"Ditch." He smiled down at me and I had no choice but to match his smile. It was contagious.

"You're a bad influence."

"No, baby. I'm a genius. A genius that can tutor you in whatever bullshit class you have tomorrow." He beamed, his tired eyes crinkling with the presence of his usual, charming smile. It looked good on him, the smile. But he always looked good.

"Art history."

"Well, fuck." He laughed. I missed the sound of his laugh.

"But you are right. It's a bullshit class. Doing this sounds much more fun." I smiled, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips.

We weren't really doing anything. For the past few hours, we'd just been sitting here in the silence of his apartment. Laughing, whispering about nothing really. But for once in a very long time, I was with him and I was comfortable and I wasn't going to ruin that. Neither was he. We had only just gotten each other back and my art history class could wait.

"You don't have plans tomorrow?" I asked and he shook his head.

"Nothing I can't get out of." He whispered, but I could hear him clearly. The silence in his apartment was so beautiful. It's like everytime we said something to each other, we were whispering, as if any sudden noise would snap us out of this calm state we were in. It must have been at least 2 am and I could tell he was tired. I was tired too, but I didn't want to sleep. I had it in my mind that if I fell asleep, this would all be a dream. I wanted to savor it as much as possible.

"My mom missed you at Christmas." I said to him and he grinned lazily.

"And you?"

"You know that I missed you." I said, meeting his eyes.

"It's just nice to hear you say it," he smirked. I rolled my eyes and reached up to smack his arm. "I'm glad you got to spend Christmas with your family. I know how much you missed them." He added, his hand absentmindedly resting on my thigh.

"What about you? Did you spend Christmas at your dad's house?"

He shook his head. "I was working."

"No, seriously." He couldn't be working on Christmas. That sounds miserable. Sure, I was miserable too, but I had my family with me so it made everything slightly less miserable. But Dexter spent his Christmas alone at the hospital. And that isn't fair at all. I should have been with him. Or at least he should have been with me. I felt terrible.

"Seriously." He said, "I had a patient with Stage Four lung cancer and she kept coding. I had to stay. It wouldn't have been right for me to just hand her over to one of the nurses on night shift. They're all morons. I had to keep her alive through Christmas. I never let anyone die on Christmas. She was a school teacher for Christ's sake."

"What grade?" I said, my fingers tracing over his forearm as I listened to his story.

"Fifth, I think. But she hadn't been teaching for months. After she found out about the Cancer, she traveled around the world. She just quit her job, sold everything, and left." He said, silence filling the air after he finished.

"What was her name?"

"Mrs. Delaney." I watched his eyes light up at the mention of her name. "But she insisted that I call her Tanya. She reminded me a lot of you, you know? She always insisted on walking herself to the bathroom or pushing the elevator button on her own. She was stubborn, but she was charming at the same time. Delaney could tell a great story, I'd give her that. She especially loved to tell me about her trip to Ireland."

"I've always wanted to visit Ireland." I said.

"I know. I told her that."

"You told her about me?" I looked up at him, surprised by his words.

"Yeah." He nodded, "I guess I did."

"How much did you tell her?"

"Not a lot." He said, playing with my hand in his. "She wanted to know more, but I never gave her anything. We spent most of the time talking about her."

"I want to meet her." I said, watching him bring my hand up to his lips and placing light kisses on my knuckles. I watched him frown and shake his head.

"She died two days after Christmas." He said, and my heart dropped. How could she have died? Good people like that shouldn't die. Dexter must have noticed my change in expression because he pushed a few strands of hair out of my face and cupped my cheek.

"Tanya smoked two packs a day for ten years. She was a beautiful woman and she did a shit ton of good things. But she loved cigarettes. She knew what she was doing. I once asked her if she regret anything and she blatantly told me that every cigarette she ever smoked was worth it. She lived a full life and she was happy. She died happy." He said, his gaze telling me he was trying his best to console me. I don't know why I had such an attachment to a woman I've never even met. But the way he talked about her, I could tell he cared a lot about her.

"Was she married?" I don't know why I asked. I guess I just wanted to know if she left anyone behind, if someone missed her still.

Dexter shook his head. "Her husband died about 7 years ago of a heart attack. But she did leave behind a daughter. Caroline, I think her name was. But they stopped talking a long time ago. She didn't visit the hospital once."

"That's terrible. I mean, I don't know their history. But it takes a lot to abandon family like that. I couldn't imagine doing that to my family, leaving them alone like that. Tanya got screwed over."

He smirked at my choice of words. "She did."

"What about...what about Lydia? You didn't get to spend Christmas with her?" I asked, not looking at him. We still hadn't talked about it. I immediately wanted to take back the words. We were doing so well just now and I had to go and ruin it, like the idiot that I am. "I'm sorry. Forget I said that."

"No." He shook his head, letting out a breath of air. I watched his tired eyes scan over my face. "We need to be able to talk about her. She's a part of my life and I don't want to hide her from you. I don't want to tiptoe around the mention of her or anything related to the court case."

I glanced up at him and his features were serious as he met my eyes. I didn't know what to say. Well, I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting him to dance around the topic or get uncomfortable or angry or something. But he was calm, and that settled me for a change. For so long, he kept all of these things a secret from me. He kept a part of his life a secret from me and he lost me. And now he was offering to become an open book. This time I wasn't forcing answers out of him, I was answering them willingly.

"Ask me any question you want." He said after I didn't say anything. I blinked, still staring at him, confused. It wasn't that my words confused him, I just didn't know what to ask. I had so many questions I thought would be off-limits. "Alright, I'll start with Christmas. I was able to spend Christmas Eve with Lydia. I brought her to the hospital and took her around with me on rounds. A few of the nurses watched her while I was in surgery, and my patients loved her. There's something about those vultures that relish in every ounce of my private life they can get. And then Christmas morning, Monica came by and took Lydia to her aunt's house in New Jersey."

I looked up at him and he was smiling. I could tell that it felt good to talk about this with me. "Lydia was allowed to just roam around the hospital with you?"

"If anyone asked, they were so thrown off by the fact that Lydia was my daughter to really pay attention to the protocol I was breaking. Plus, it was Christmas so everyone was practically too high off of eggnog and mistletoes to know that there is a protocol. And I don't think it matters anyway because I see people bring their kids to work all the time."

"How do you feel about, you know, knowing you're her father?" I whispered, still afraid that his walls would shut down with every word that moved past my lips. Dexter detected this because he forced my eyes to meet his. He licked over his lips and intertwined his fingers with mine, moving them up to his lips. I think he wanted me to feel just as included in all of this as he was. He didn't want me to be an outsider on all of this. This was all a step toward making that possible.

"It's scary as hell." He said honestly, looking into my eyes. "I'm so afraid that I'm going to break her or screw her up somehow. I don't know the first thing about being a father. My father doesn't even know the first thing about being a father. At first, I was afraid to even touch her because I was so scared I might I don't know transfer some sort of negative energy. But sometimes, when I look at her, she is so amazing, baby. She is going to grow up and be so smart and so beautiful and strong. I swear that she sneezes and it is literally the most adorable thing in the world." He smirked, looking down to laugh at himself. "I sound like a complete idiot saying all of these things because she's just a small child. They've always been so disgusting and they drool and snot gets all over the place and they scream for no reason at all and wow, I used to hate children. But, baby, Lydia is so perfect. And I have trouble believing that she's my daughter sometimes because I am such a fuck-up. There is no way she is a reflection of me. Genetically, she is. But she is too perfect to have come from me." He shook his head and I reached up to cup his cheek, my fingertips running across the stubble on his jaw.

"You're not a complete fuck-up." I said and his lips turned into a smile. I fought the urge not to laugh at my own words. After a few moments, my voice turned serious again as I looked into his grey orbs. "You are the smartest person I know. You care about people, even though you don't like to show it, you do. You're a doctor, for fuck's sake. You protect people. You protect me. And I know that you are going to do everything in your power to protect Lydia from everything fucked up in the world. But that doesn't include you. You are going to be her hero. I know that you are capable of this because, baby, you are already my hero." I smiled, shaking my head at the absurdity of my last line. I meant everything I said, but after that last line slipped past my lips, I started to wonder if I had just popped out of a Mariah Carey song.

"You couldn't keep a straight face through that, could you?" He laughed, his face burying into my chest to muffle the sound. But that did nothing because the sound of his deep laugh echoed throughout the apartment. I laughed along with him, my hand moving up to cover my smile. This was who we were. We were the type of people to laugh for no reason at all in the middle of the night. This is who we are.

"I've missed this." I breathed, pushing strands of hair out of my face as he leaned back against the couch and running his fingers through his hair. "I've missed just sitting here with you on the couch and just talking. I'm glad you're talking to me about all of this."

I watched his expression change as he nodded. "I'm not going to make the same mistake again. Whatever you want to know, whatever question you have from now on, I'll answer honestly. No secrets."

I nodded, "No secrets."

Dexter POV

It had been so long since the last time I woke up next to her. And it's still the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Her face was so peaceful, her eyes fluttering every few minutes, threatening for her to wake up. Sometimes, her arms would clutch me tighter against her. Even in her sleep, she looked for me.

I had no idea last night was going to happen. I just expected to drop off her book, see her at least once, and then leave. I could have just given her the box with the book inside. The plan was to just give her back small things here and there, just for a chance to see her. After the court case a few days ago, I needed to see her. She is the only person who can keep me sane during times like this. When she's with me, I'm a better person. If I ever told her that, she'd just laugh and tell me in full of shit. Hell, if I weren't me, I'd tell myself the same thing. That's what she does to me, she makes me want to say shit like that. Last night was the first time in a long time that Chelsea told me what she was really thinking. She wasn't pushing me away anymore. As much as she hated to say it, she missed me just as much as I missed her. She needed me just as much as I needed her. And waking up, seeing her lying beside me, knowing that she was mine again, that was the best feeling in the world.

After a few minutes and very careful movement, I was able to untangle her from me and move off the couch without waking her up. I draped the blanket over her and quickly got ready so that I could go get her things from Travis. I wanted her all to myself today and I know that sounds selfish as hell, but I didn't care. I didn't want her to go to Travis's apartment by herself to pick her things up. I know how he feels about her, I can practically see him eye-fucking her whenever she's around him. I sure as hell do not trust him anywhere near her.

Gabe's thrown a few parties at Travis's apartment so I know where he lives. I'd be quick. I was going to grab her things, mutter a quick "fuck you," and then go about my merry way. When I pulled up to his apartment, I got out and jogged up the stairs to his door. It was about 9 in the morning so the fucker was probably still asleep. I should still be asleep. I knocked a few times and after about five minutes, he finally pulled the door open. He didn't look surprised to see me at all. He looked tired as hell, but not surprised.

"Hey." He blinked, squinting in response to the sunlight. The apartment behind him was entirely pitch black and there was no doubt in my mind that I had just woken him up. Good.

"Chelsea left her purse in your car last night. I'm here to pick it up." Now he looked surprised. After a few seconds, he clucked his tongue and nodded, disappearing from the door frame and leaving it wide open. Did he expect me to come inside? I waited a few minutes and he still didn't come back. Ah, fuck it.

I stepped into his apartment and not much had changed since the last time I was here. It looked cleaner. There were no empty beer bottles or plastic cups lying all over the place. He did have CDs and records stacked all over the place. Some of the more pristine records were pinned onto the wall above his TV. I'd never been that into music, but I always assumed this is what the apartment of a purist looked like. I heard running water in his kitchen and I followed the noise to see him standing over the sink with an empty coffee pot on his hand.

"Would you like some coffee?" He asked, not looking at me.

I shook my head. "Look, where's the bag, man? That's all I came here for."

"You mean, you aren't interested in bonding with me? Maybe watching a few cooking shows and mixing a gourmet omelette for two while we share secrets?" He smirked sarcastically, finally meeting my eyes.

"Wow. You're a real douchebag, aren't you?" I said, watching as he pulled one of the coffee filters out of his cabinet.

"Funny." He said, turning to look at me. "That's what Chelsea said about you the first night she met you."

"Look, you little shit. I just came here to pick up her things and go. As much as I would like to strangle you right now and drop you in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, I know Chelsea wouldn't like that very much. So just give me the bag and I'll be on my way."

"Yeah, man. I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, you two aren't even together. How do I know you're not going to ditch town with all her bank accounts?"

"You're an idiot." I spat.

"Look, I am just being the safe, secure one that's always looking out for her. Which is more than what you do, by the way." He spoke slowly, not facing me as he poured water into the top of his coffee maker.

"You have no idea what you're fucking talking about. And I'm not talking about this with you. It is none of your business."

"It was my business last night." He said. I wanted to punch him in the face. He was going to imply that he slept with Chelsea when he was with her last night. She was drunk, but I know she wouldn't have slept with him. She's never slept with anyone. It's possible she didn't remember? No, it's not possible. But the idea of them together... I wanted to kill him.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I spat, the anger in me rising. He was not phased by my reaction.

"The bag is under the coffee table in the living room. Everything's inside there." He looked up at me, the same tired expression on his face. It was as if this conversation never happened.

The glare that I gave him was so deadly it would have massacred a small village. It took everything in me to not kill him right then and there. But Chelsea was waiting, she was probably awake by now, wondering where I was. And me showing up to my apartment covered in Travis's blood would not be good for any of us.

"Stay away from her." I warned, backing away from him. His expression didn't change. I grabbed her purse from under the coffee table and made my way towards the door.

"That's not in my control." I heard him say before I slammed his front door shut behind me.