InsaneJournal

Dexter walked quickly away from the Library, head down, lips pressed tightly together. He had been prepared to be disconcerted when the plane touched down - a twelve hour flight over several time zones would do that to a person. Even a person like him. But the plan had been set in motion, everything had been perfect. He would have found Lila in Paris, sedated her with the spinal epidural he'd arranged to pick up there, watched her bleed out, and be back on a plane and home to Rita and the kids before he was needed back in the station on Monday. One. Two. Three. Easy as breathing. And the code and his passenger would be satisfied.

All his work... After all that, and he was here. What had gone wrong?

Rule number one: Don't get caught.

Dexter could appreciate the feelings he should be experiencing right now. Anger? Probably. Confusion? Definitely. Even, perhaps, a little fear. These feelings flashed over his face like a series of startlingly realistic masks, even though the actual emotions were lacking. A vague shadow of frustration was about as much as the man's damaged mind could summon. That and the irritated whisper of the dark passenger, who had been ready and waiting for a kill tonight. But he had learnt well from Harry, and he knew how to pretend. Carefully, calmly, Dexter sat down on a bench in an empty bus stop, and ran his hands down his face. A perfect picture of a man resigned to what could only be described as a very difficult state of affairs.

This, clearly, was not turning out very well.