It was a tense afternoon down at the station. You father remain sat, working on a case as a blood analyst. It was hard to concentrate recently. He’d missed you, dearly. He’d refuse to show it, but your disappearance hit him hard. He knew you loved him greatly as a father, and it was devastating when you’d been taken away. He knew what he had to do. Find the people who kidnapped you.

Kill them.

He’d be mindlessly chatting with his sister, Debra, about the case they were both sent to. His reserved expression not wavering once as he spoke to her. His distant voice amongst the casual chatter of his colleagues. It was like any other day. Maria driving Debra insane (the two hated each other at this point) and James still suspicious of Dexter. As if the guy knew of his psychotic tendencies.

Mid sentence, Dexter paused. He heard a slight yell. Of a child. Without thought, he stood up, peering over his desk slightly. Debra knew why he was doing this, and she remained completely silent, letting him see if it was his kid. The one who he’d been looking for. Ever since you hadn’t returned.

((Let it be you. Run to him. Make it another kid for more loving agony))?