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It was a blur that brought Elizabeth and Dexter back to his apartment. There was an intensity in the way they touched, the way they kissed. It was painful, like something gentle wouldn't get through to the nerves. He pushed her inside after opening the door and she grunted her excitement to him as she moved back to press her lips back into his. There were few breaks in the kisses as they removed their clothes hastily discarding them as he backed her into his room slamming her harshly against the door as his hands pressed bruisingly into her hips. His hands pulled her closer to him as the kiss slowed. She ran her nails around his back leaving red marks in their wake. He groaned into her lips pressing his fingertips harder into her flesh. The speed was astonishingly slow as they stood practically suspended in activity, her fingers moving slow, his hands had stopped. Finally it was like the world came crashing back around them and he bit her lip drawing blood. They both made an elated sound as he tugged on her hips lifting her off the ground, breaking the kiss to throw her onto the bed with a grunt of effort. He was quick to follow her covering her body with his, his hands pressed into the mattress around her shoulders. His body shifted and she felt his hand running up her leg stopping again at her hips he pressed harder with his thumb digging painfully into her skin making her moan into his lips. She moved her hands to wrap around his neck to run her nails down his back. He shifted, putting all of his weight onto his legs as he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. He finally broke the kiss to trail kisses down her jawline to her neck. Elizabeth leaned up and clamped her teeth on his shoulder painfully enough to get him to grunt into her own shoulder thrusting his hips into hers painfully. She bit harder on his shoulder. She released his shoulder digging her head into the mattress as she arched her back grinding her hips against his with a moan. Dexter shifted her hands to be held together by one hand, his other hand roaming down her body as he tilted his head to take her breast into her mouth. She cried out as his teeth clamped down painfully, her hips grinding where it could, starving for stimulation. His hand continued it's painful trail down her body getting to her panties, the only article of clothing she hadn't been able to remove. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric and pulled, the elastic biting painfully into her flesh causing her to cry out again, biting her bloodied lip to keep herself from whimpering. When the fabric finally gave way to his strength she let out a sigh only to take in a sharp breath as he forcibly shoved his fingers inside of her as he clamped down on her nipple, she cried out in pain arching her back, thrusting her stomach into him. Dexter began a methodical but painful thrust of his fingers as he went back to kissing her skin as Elizabeth held back the moans by biting her lips. His lips finally found hers again a moan escaping into his lips, his hand stopping it's thrusting, like her loss of control was a punishment would be for him to stop. His fingers slide over her skin getting her wetness on her skin. He stroked her cheek before he broke the kiss using those fingers to run across her lips before he forced them into her mouth for her to suck them clean. Elizabeth closed her lips and began to suck closing her eyes as she thrust her hips into him. She felt so out of control, just like her life. She wasn't the dominate one in here and it felt amazing. Once he was done having her clean off his fingertips he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and ran them down her chin and her chest to wipe them off. Finally he sat back, pulling her hands with him. She thought for a moment that she was going to be able to appreciate his manhood as he had just done for her. Instead he released her hands and smoothed them over her arms before he forcefully flipped her over grabbing at her shoulder to put her on her hands. She instinctively pulled her hips putting her on her hands and knees. Dexter placed his hands painfully on her hips as he pulled her hips back into his. She could feel his warm thickness against her skin and she throbbed with desire but he continued to deny her what she wanted. He slapped her ass after pulling her into him again causing her to cry out and moan. She dug her nails into his blankets. "Give it to me," she demanded. His response was wrapping his fingers into her hair and pulling her back so his chest was against her, his face near to her ear. "No," he growled at her rubbing himself into her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Please," she begged. "No," he said nuzzling his face into her neck placing gentle kisses on her neck. He released his grip on her hair so he could use it to twist and pull her nipples as he teased he with his hips. "Please," she begged again. "No," he whispered harshly. The hand that was twisting and pulled at her nipple trailed across her skin and back up to her hair pulling her head back before he bent her back over continuing his methodical thrust. He leaned over her pinning her down with his forearm on the back of her neck as he reached over her to the nightstand to grab something out of the drawer that she couldn't see, her face turned toward the end of the bed. She felt the pressure release from her and packaging being removed. A short moment later her hips were picked up and he slipped inside of her wet pussy with a low grunt. She let out a sigh as he got his bearings and began that methodical rhythm from before. Elizabeth got up to her hands which put her in the perfect distance for him to grab her hair like reigns. She moaned loudly as he tugged harshly. Elizabeth could feel the build up, tried to swallow it and keep the high going and just as she got close to cumming he pulled away from her. The lack of sensation devastating. He pushed her hips over and spread her legs open thrusting himself into her as he stared at her. His darkness was very apparently the dominant thing at the moment. She cried out and he placed his hand over her mouth with one hand holding up an ankle. The pressure from him thrusting painful, he was so deep inside of her but she couldn't cry out her pain and satisfaction. She couldn't ask him to thrust harder. Finally she came moaning into his hand as she clamped her teeth down onto it, her body shuddering. He grunted at her again as he continued to thrust, faster now until his body practically stopped moving, moaning himself as he came right afterward thrusting harder before he slumped over her, pinning her to the bed still inside of her. She now had full rein of her hands and she dragged her nails up his back digging in so skin came up with it. He groaned as he bit at her shoulder but made no move to stop her. They were wordless as they lay there in each others embrace. As Elizabeth sat there underneath Dexter's weight the knowledge washed over her. She thought that it would scare her more. The knowledge. This was the beginning of the end. She wasn't even sad about it. She knew what this meant.. to her. She sighed as she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be beneath Dexter's mass as she drifted off into sleep. This was acceptance.
The rhythm of the lights dimming would have been soothing had it not been for the obnoxious buzz of the florescent or the jabber of the woman talking constantly. “We need an O negative transfusion and an O.R. Room prepped. This woman has lost a lot of blood and has multiple...” the rhythmic beat of the lights faded quickly into a dark grey then to black as Elizabeth blacked out again. ------------------------------------ Elizabeth felt strange. There was an almost nauseous feeling to it but she didn't feel sick. No, it was more of a throbbing in her abdomen, her arms, her head, her neck. She tried to move, tried to touch her stomach where it throbbed the most but her limbs felt like lead. No matter how hard she willed herself to move she couldn't move in the soundless black. She supposed she could ask the normal questions to herself but that would be kind of pointless. Where was she? Why was she there? Philosophical non-sense that meant nothing when she considered that she couldn't remember anything before she got there. The question then was, what could she remember? Blood. It was everywhere. The unfamiliar shoe. The strange lights. Then the blackness. “She's coming out of it,” an unfamiliar male voice interjected into the blackness. “I thought she was under! We're not done yet put her back under,” said a second voice. “That could put her in a coma or kill her!” “Her coming out before I finish surgery could kill her. Put he...r...” The quiet enveloped her again. Surgery? She didn't remember going in for some procedure but perhaps she lost her memory. Maybe.... The darkness began to feel crushing. The throbbing began to subside being replaced with a light feeling. Her mind began to feel fuzzy and she couldn't find her thoughts through the haze. Morgan. Piper. Batista. Detective. Death. Torture. Knives. Killing. Investigation. Blood. Dexter. Blood. Dexter. Dexter. Dexter. Dexter. “DEXTER!” Elizabeth shouted her eyes snapped open to see the dulled florescent bulb above her. Her throat ached, the dullest scratch like she hadn't drank anything for days. She tried to move but her arms and chest were strapped down. She struggled with the restraints not understanding why they were even on her. Was she convicted of something? Was she ina mental institution finally? She struggled harder against the cushioned straps, her arms beginning to burn. “She's awake,” a gruff Latin voice came from the hall. “What did she say?” a female Latino voice came through. “Did she say Dexter?” “That's what it sounded like. I know she was flirting with him at the precinct. Perhaps she would do better to talk to him? I don't want to upset her, she's been through a lot,” it was Detective Batista. “I'll go in and see her while you go get him.” Elizabeth eased her struggle against the restraint when the burly figure of Detective Batista came closer to her. She tried to talk but it came out more of a groggy moan. “Dete-tive Ta-Tista,” she whispered huskily to him. “Water,” she croaked. “Puh,” she groaned and struggled to pull her hand up to her throat but remained restrained. The Detective seemed to get the gist as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water bringing it over for her to drink. She closed her eyes as the medium warm water chaffed down her throat. Mmm, Miami's best tap water. “You've been through a lot,” she heard the detective say as he pulled the nourishing glass of disgusting water away from her lips. “I can only im-magine,” she continued groggily. “Not sure the last time I woke up in hand cuffs. College maybe?” she grinned lazily up to him giving her hand a tug to emphasize the point. “You still have your sense of humor. That's good,” he said giving her another drink of the water. “That's really good actually.” He tilted his head as he pulled the cup away from her lips, still forgetting or neglecting to remove the restraints from her arms. “Do you remember what happened to you before you came here?” She looked around and took a deep breath. “I'm still trying to figure out where here is,” she told him. “I guess it would help if I had a little more... um,” she closed her eyes to attempt to think of the word. “I don't know. Umm, movement?” she tugged at her wrists to signify the restraints to hopefully enlighten the rather confused looking detective. It took longer then she expected for the concept to come over him. “Oh, uh. Let me get a nurse to let you out of those. I heard you are quite the restless sleeper,” he told her as he stood up to get some help. That probably explained why she was tied down. Pulling out IV's while you slept was not good for healing, if that's what she was supposed to be doing. It was only a few minutes before a nurse came in followed by Detective Batista and a new face. It was a woman but it wasn't Detective Morgan. The nurse immediately began to tug and pull at her chest causing a few sharp intakes of breath and groans. Every movement felt like a knife being jabbed into her side. “What in the hell happened to me,” she asked after a particularly loud groan as the strap over her shoulders was removed and she could wiggle them to get more comfortable. “We were hoping you could tell us that Miss Thory,” the Latina woman asked. “Did you not tell her Detective Batista?” Elizabeth asked throwing an accusing gaze in his direction. “Lieutenant, she prefers to be called Liz.” “Liz then,” the lieutenant said with a frustrated breath. “What happened to you?” Elizabeth's right wrist was released from it's restraint which gave her the ability to rub them gently. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I don't remember much. I remember leaving the precinct to go home and then I woke up here,” she opened her eyes. She twisted her hips to adjust her position. With the movement a sudden jolt of pain shot from her abdomen outward to all of her limbs. The sudden shock made her grip the plastic bars that kept her in her bed. “Ow,” she said as she groaned settling down into her original position. “Maybe someone could enlighten me on the damage before I do something that stupid again.” Detective Batista chuckled with a move to muffle it by rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Sure,” the lieutenant said moving out into the hall signaling that she wanted the detective to follow her leaving the quiet nurse alone with the forgetful serial killer. This was great. She knew most of what happened but she wasn't sure exactly what she should divulge. Yes ma'am, he was bad with a knife, I could tell because I'm a Serial Killer. No ma'am, I don't actually kill people for a living, it's more of a hobby really. Yes ma'am, he was in my apartment waiting for me. No ma'am, I wasn't afraid. Why should I be afraid of an ignorant asshole that broke into my home? Yes ma'am, I fought back and obviously I didn't win. No ma'am, I don't remember what happened after that, I just remember the blood and the unfamiliar shoe. Elizabeth was shaken out of her imaginary answer scenario when the door opened and a doctor, followed by an unsuspected smiling face. “Hey you.” “Dexter?” Elizabeth questioned more informally then she probably should have. She had only met him twice and they were already on a first name basis? She didn't think they actually were, “I mean Mr Morgan. Why are you here?” “You can call me Dexter and I heard you asked for me by name.” Elizabeth's cheeks burned in embarrassment. It was unlike her to show that sort of emotion but she couldn't believe that she had asked for him by name. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean...” she rubbed a hand through her matted hair as he gave her a smile. “You shouldn't have come down here.” “It's okay, the lieutenant asked me to come down and collect some blood samples from you anyways. Like from your hair,” he said flipping some of her matted hair as he gently sank into the bed beside her. “Alright Miss Thory, I understand that you wanted to know what all we did to fix you up,” great, an informal, interrupting doctor. This explanation would be short and probably stupid. “Well you had a few cuts on your neck that we stitched up, you're really lucky that you didn't nick an artery there because it was really close. Then we patched up a few cuts on your arms and a gouge on your leg, it looked like someone stabbed the knife into your thigh. Then we stitched up your stomach where you had a few stab wounds. We couldn't tell how many but you were really lucky that they were shallow and didn't do any internal damage or you would be dead.” Elizabeth was pretty sure that luck didn't have anything to do with it. Although, how he got so many cuts in before she took him down was beyond her. “You'll have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days while we watch you but you'll be out of here in no time. You're lucky you got that call into 911 or you'd be dead.” “Thank you doctor,” she said with a forced genuine smile. “I'll let you talk with your boyfriend here, then a nurse will come in to check on you in while,” he said slapping his clipboard against his hand with a loud 'pop'. Simultaneously both Dexter and Elizabeth gave off an “Umm,” to signify the inaccuracy of his statement. “He's not my...” “She's not my...” “Oop, sorry. I just figured that you were,” the doctor back peddled. “Let me get out of here so you guys can talk anyways,” he said quickly retreating from the room that now stood in a tense silence. Now what? “Umm,” he started. “Lieutenant LaGuerta wanted me to ask you if you remember what happened,” he said with a frown. “I don't remember much. Just waking up in blood and the unfamiliar shoe,” the word blood set her teeth on edge. She may remember it but she didn't get to enjoy it. Not like she should have been able to. She felt violated in the largest but most private part of her life. Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I'm sorry I'm not much help,” she told him. She was pretty sure that this wasn't the place to remember more. At least not the more that she did remember. The dream with the smiling serial killer. “Did he die?” Dexter looked confused about the question, like he was caught off guard. “Did who die?” “The man. The one,” that I didn't get to torture and that almost killed me. The one that attacked me. The bastard that I cut to ribbons as he sliced me up. The one “that tried to,” rape and “kill me,” she said the anger seeping into her voice. Dexter's brow furrowed, “Yes he was dead when emergency services got to you. Are you alright? You look upset.” “I don't know,” Elizabeth said as she began to rub her hand absentmindedly. She could feel the ache grow. “I feel,” she huffed in frustration as she saw the face of the lieutenant in the window to her room. She couldn't ask him anything there. She doubted she'd ever be able to tell him her secret no matter how much she wanted to, “tired.” “Not a problem. I'll just get those samples from your hair and under your finger nails then get out of here so you can rest.” “Is this what you always do? Get to see the sick and dying and get samples?” she asked with a smirk. “Actually I'm a Blood Spatter analyst.” “Blood Spatter? And you're here collecting dry and crusted samples from my hair? Why would you do something as silly as that?” “Well I was the only one available.” “Oh,” she said, the disappointment apparent in her voice. A serial killer could hope. “Not that I didn't want to see you I was just saying that it may have been someone else but I was available.” “I understand,” she said with a small smile as he leaned in with a q-tip that he just sprayed with some chemical. She took in a breath and held it while his face was close to hers. He smelt of blood and sweat, “You killed someone recently,” she whispered. “What?” he asked looking down at her with surprise. “Hmmm,” she smiled. “You smell like blood. You must have killed recently.” She looked up to him with a smirk. “It's a joke you blood spatter analyst.” He must have been holding his breath too because he let it out in one quick rush as he sat back and clicked the lid on his q-tip swab. “You had me going there for a second.” “I'm pretty good at that. I didn't mean to scare you.” “It's alright. I think I'm done. If they need more they'll get it from you I think.” Elizabeth set her hand on his leg. “Will you come to see me again?” “Sure,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow works. Around noon?” “Only if you promise to bring me something not hospital food.” “Alright, it's a date then.” “Thanks.” He didn't move, staring at her. Maybe he was thinking about collecting from her fingernails like he said he was going to. Perhaps, instead, he was trying to measure her up or maybe he was imagining her as a serial killer like she had when she first met him. Dexter the knife man. Elizabeth the knife woman. Together they rid the world of people to sate their own desire to hurt things. They are.... Serial Killers! A new kind of Super Hero.
Elizabeth fell out of sync for the third class that day as she jumped up and down teaching the thirty-odd people in front of her a new routine. They didn't notice, how could they? But she could and it frustrated her. Her mind kept wandering to the man that morning, the one that looked familiar but wasn't familiar. Every time it wandered, she faltered. Who in the hell was he? Why did she recognize him? Why couldn't she get her mind off of it? Distraction 101. Think about something that draws your mind away from the task at hand. It's always a bad thing. “Liz, is something the matter?” Amanda asked her, the genuine look of concern on her students face as she approached Elizabeth after the class. “Yes. Why? Does something look to be the matter?” Elizabeth asked incredulously. “Oh, well you just look a little sad is all. See you next week,” Amanda said with a smile and a wave of her hand still holding her aerobics towel. That is why you do not get distracted, people notice. “Yeah, see you next week,” Elizabeth responded as she always did, a bright smile on her lips as everyone left the expansive room to her. Once the room was empty she moved to the wall and placed her forehead against the cool surface. “Dexter Morgan,” Elizabeth said aloud for the first time since she had seen it written on the ID badge around the man's face. “Dexter Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Where have I seen you before Dexter Morgan?” “Excuse me, Liz?” Elizabeth spun on her heel to face the door. Naomi the desk clerk was poking her head inside. “I'm sorry to bother you. I had tried your cell a few minutes ago. There's some officers here that say they want to see you about something,” she said indicating to over her shoulder. “You can show them in Naomi,” Elizabeth said with a wave of her hand a smile still apparent on her face. Shortly afterward she was faced with Detective Batista and Detective Morgan again. “Hello. I wasn't expecting to see you both again so soon,” she informed them. Their solemn looks told her that this visit was not good, her first instinct was to run but she stood her ground. While she often listened to those tiny instincts the instinct to flee was not one of them. Fleeing insinuated guilt. Elizabeth was not guilty. “Miss Thory,” Detective Batista started. “Liz,” Elizabeth quickly corrected. “Liz,” he said with a nod of his head. “Miss Adams' son was also found dead in the apartment.” Now that was something she was not expecting, her eyes opened wide with shock for a few moments before furrowing together in confusion. “That's terrible but what does it have to do with me?” “Well we'd like to take you down and ask you a few more questions if that's alright.” Elizabeth held a face that looked sorely confused. “I don't understand.” She was a suspect and she knew it. Talk about bringing her life under the microscope. “We just have a few questions that we need to ask you back at the station.” “Alright I guess. I don't see why you couldn't call instead of coming all the way down here,” Elizabeth said moving to grab her stuff lifting her aerobics towel off of her bag and pressing it to her sweating brow. “Well we did call you just didn't answer,” Detective Morgan interjected. “I told you I might not be able to hear you over the music,” Elizabeth countered with a smile as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. “After you,” she indicated with a single hand. What a perfect opportunity to attempt to see Dexter Morgan again. If she believed in fate she'd say it was that. The elevator dinged just before the door opened to a room that was lined with glass windows and hip high desks all in one large room. Elizabeth didn't know if she would be able to work in such a confined space like this. It was messy. She could already feel the draw on her energy just being there. Maybe that was half of the point to being brought here. The negativity made a person self conscious. Elizabeth hummed a soft lullaby tune as she walked with a smile on her face nodding as she passed a few people. They all looked so solemn, like the tedium of their job was too hard to bare. What happened when it did become too hard to bare? Is that when the noble police officers that “just do their job” become homicidal? Elizabeth wondered how many of them contemplated suicide and murder. Her eyes playfully crossed each of them her mind straying to seeing them holding a weapon of choice in their hand. She could imagine Detective Batista as a man with bloody knuckles after beating someone to death. Detective Morgan seemed more of a suicide case then a murderer, passed out with blood in her bath and pills all over the floor. A double dipper as it were. Elizabeth saw another female with blood on what she could only assume was their husband's mistresses sex whip. Another she saw with a concealing baseball cap and bat. Another had a noose around their neck as they filed away some paperwork. As Elizabeth daydreamed she was lead into what she could only assume was an interrogation room. She looked around calmly setting her bag onto the table and plopping herself into the chair to look up at the two detectives that had disappeared behind a closed door. Elizabeth frowned. That was rude of them. She quickly shrugged it off and began to look around the room swinging her feet beneath her. There was no point in being nervous. They had nothing on her even if she were to be their prime suspect for a crime she didn't commit. Wasn't it ironic? Elizabeth Thory a suspect for a crime she didn't even commit. She huffed in amusement as her eyes lingered on the camera. Was he out there? The man she knew but didn't. Dexter Morgan. After a few moments the door clicked and opened to let the Detectives into the small room. She smiled more broadly tilting her head cheerily like she had no idea what could have prompted them to bring her down here. Detective Morgan placed a file in front of her and sat down. “How well did you know the Adams' again?” she asked. “I told you that I didn't know them very well. We were neighbors, not friends,” Elizabeth responded with a shake of her head. What didn't they understand about that. “Well it appears that the boy knew you better then you thought,” Detective Morgan said as she opened the manilla folder to expose some angry looking drawings. “We found these in the boys room with your name on it,” she said flipping them around so that Elizabeth could see them. Elizabeth tilted her head furrowing her brow as she stared at the images. They were about death and how Elizabeth was a killer and about how she planned to kill him and his mother. Instead of looking alarmed she smiled more broadly and laughed. Elizabeth looked up at the officer's and shook her head in amusement. They looked at each other like she was going to confess to what they were thinking she had done. “You have to be kidding me. You brought me all the way down here to explain some pictures from an eight year old?” she said trying to contain her laughter. She rubbed her eye as she shoved the images back at her. “I did a favor for Piper a few years ago and the boy never forgave me. She didn't have the heart to take his dog to the pound so she asked me to. Unfortunately there was a miscommunication as to when I was to be over to pick him up and the boy ended up coming home when I was taking the dog out of the house. “He never forgave me for that. Check the Greenleaf Veterinary Clinic. It's under Piper's name but the dogs name was Chowder,” Elizabeth looked at them with a playful smile on their face. “If you look at the pictures there is a dog in the background of them all. Piper told me about it but never showed me the pictures,” she explained waiting for one of them to leave and check the information. “So why would he say that you were going to kill him and his mom,” Elizabeth sighed. “I don't have any idea. I'm an aerobics instructor not a psychologist,” she said with a shrug and chuckle. “You're not taking this seriously. You're neighbor is dead Miss Thory and you are our prime suspect. Where were you last night?” the scrawny brunette snapped trying to get Elizabeth to break. “Camping,” Elizabeth said plainly. “Do you have anyone that can collaborate that?” Detective Batista interjected. Not a live one. “Unfortunately not,” she answered simply. There was a tap at the door and Detective Batista went outside to see what it was about. “Just tell the truth. You killed Piper and her son and went home like any other day. What did she do to piss you off? You are bigger then her it probably wouldn't have been hard to overpower her, you're very fit,” Detective Morgan said. “Feel free to get a warrant and check to see if you can find the blood in my home,” Elizabeth informed her. “I didn't kill Piper or her son. I had no problem with them,” she explained as Detective Batista returned to the room. “You're free to leave but stay where we can contact you. No more camping,” he said with a shake of his head. Detective Morgan got up frustrated. “She's the one I can feel it,” she murmured to the other as Elizabeth collected her things. “We don't have proof Morgan,” he said gruffly back to her. “I'm sorry I'm not a great help to you both. If there is anything I can do please don't hesitate,” Elizabeth said clutching her bag closer to herself as she left. She was hoping it would throw a red flag to indicate there was something inside of it. Get them to take it back, give her time to find Dexter. “Liz,” Detective Batista called after her. “Do you mind if we look in the bag?” Elizabeth set it down on the desk she was standing next to throwing a hand out. “Not at all.” She took a few steps back, further into the open expanse of the office looking around to see if she saw him. She avoided the people that she imagined with their murder weapons or suicide of choice and looked for the familiar face amongst the crowd of unfamiliar people. Elizabeth smiled at the Detective as he looked to her while he rummaged through her bag. “I warn you there might be icky stuff in there. You may want gloves. I sweat a lot.” That seemed to get his grubby fingers out of her stuff for a second to seek gloves. He should have had those on the entire time shouldn't he have? It didn't matter much to her, they wouldn't find anything. Elizabeth's eyes went from the Detective back to looking for Dexter. This time it didn't take long. He came from around a corner. Look at that stride. He looked so confident. He was a knife man, like she was. He took a personal interest in killing his victims, or he would, if he were a murderer like her. She bowed her eyes in disappointment as she was one of the few like herself. The neat monster. Elizabeth looked back up to see his eyes on her. “Hey... you. I saw you at the crime scene earlier. What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes skillfully glazing over what Detective Batista was doing. “Apparently I'm the prime suspect,” she informed him her eyes shooting to the detective which just looked up for a moment before returning to removing things from her bag. “Oh. Well oh,” he said looking awkward. “My name is Elizabeth by the way. Please call me Liz though. Thank you again for letting me get to work earlier,” she informed him placing her hand out for him to shake. He took it. His grip was firm, one that would make most women woozy in the knees for him. “Dexter Morgan.” “Lovely to meet you Dexter Morgan,” she said with a slight lift and fall to their hands. “Now I hate to repeat myself but I swear I've seen you somewhere before,” she informed him although their hands hadn't separated. “I wouldn't know where,” he told her again. Elizabeth's eyes furrowed and she recoiled her hand as if he had burned her. She knew why he looked so familiar, it was like looking in a mirror. “My mistake then,” she informed him with a smile. If she knew then could he tell too? “All done. Sorry about the inconvenience Miss, I mean Liz,” Detective Batista said bowing his head as he stripped his hands of his gloves. “Thank you Detective. You have my cell,” she said turning back to Dexter. “Will I see you again?” she asked him. “Well after this case maybe?” he said with a shrug. She reached into a side pocket of her bag for a pen and a piece of paper. She quickly scrawled her name and number onto the pad before handing it to him. “It was great to see you again,” she informed him with a smile before she picked up her bag. She gave him and the Detective a nod before she began toward the elevator. She could hear the detective tease him. “Woo Dex. I think she's hot for you,” was all she could hear before the elevator doors slammed shut in front of her. She didn't believe “hot” was the best term for what she felt. Interested? Curious? Seduced? Probably.