oorah | she puts her hands to the sky // it makes her well up

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she puts her hands to the sky // it makes her well up

He knows he's made a reputation as the weird dog guy, but well, it's about as normal as he gets. At least insofar as aliases go. And he knows Daniel Castellano is a stupid name, but it's the best he could do on short notice. Florida is not a place he'd ever thought he'd live, but it turns out Amy had needed him after all. Dumb fuck. And he couldn't think that of her more fondly. There's an even odder couple not far down the way from their townhouse, try as he might not to notice Rita and her beau. It's almost impossible not to, with their picturesque leave it to Beaver lifestyle. It's too much like what he'd lost, so he's been trying to keep her at arm's length, but after leaving everything and everyone behind in New York it's near impossible not to make a connection. He waves to her when he walks his dogs, not wanting to be that guy, and maybe he enjoys the times she invites them in for lemonade and a much-needed water break. Despite how vicious some of the dogs look, they always greet her and the kids sweetly, and it's much the same for Frank himself.

He notices - it's impossible not to notice that there's something wrong with him, the boyfriend. He seems so mild-mannered, calm like Rita herself. Nothing outwardly amiss about the guy, but Billy had been the same way. If only he knew: Dexter is far more like Frank himself than his dead compadre. Except for the feelings thing, but he always did feel enough for ten men, thus the five dogs he's got in tow. Which is how he notices the pup in distress next door to the happy couple, too. Every day through his impromptu snack session, he hears him, hears the woman screaming at him to shut up. It cinches a vice around his heart. He hatches a plan, tuning out Rita's complaints about it, how bad she feels for Walter, though it would only incentivize him further.

In a hurry the next day, well really it's more like evening, but it's difficult to tell in this eerie perpetually-Summer hellscape; Frank almost collides with Rita on his way out the door. He's dressed in all-black, not exactly Miami signature, or in line with the breezy guyaberas Danny seems to favor. It would seem his expedition is in vain anyhow, Walter's chipper bark one he wouldn't mistake as the little beagle runs up to his feet like he knows this is where he belongs. He dips down to brush his fingers through the dog's fur before even trying to get his voice around a hello, but eventually he draws up straight and steps back to let her in. It would seem he'd underestimated her completely, maybe it isn't just Dexter who's off.

"Sorry, uh- hey. You want coffee? It's about all we have here." He leaves Walter to the pack, they can show him around better than he can anyway.

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She wasn't sure how Daniel would take this. Rita wants to say that it was all impulsive. She kidnapped a dog on a whim. The truth is while she vented to Daniel, she already had a plan in mind with how to solve the problem. She knew what needed to happen for her family's sake as well as the dogs. What Rita couldn't work up the nerve to do was talk to Daniel about it. She meant to slowly introduce the idea of finding the dog a better home. It just never came out.

Now she's at his door with a dog in tow hoping he doesn't hate her. This is a crime, after all. She shouldn't involve him in it. He seems to let her off the hook. "Yes, please." Rita hurries inside the house. "I'm sorry for showing up like this. I just thought... you're good with them." She gestures helplessly at the pack that's taken off. Rita stares at him hopefully. Please don't be mad practically radiates through the air.

He can't help smiling, still a little bewildered by her brazen criminal act. "Cream and sugar?" he asks in that low register of his, going to retrieve the powdered cream from the cupboard before he hears her answer. He can never be sure when his teenaged charge will actually be around to use it, he doesn't see the point in buying the real deal and having it go bad. Frank points to the rickety table, two mismatched chairs sitting at either end. It's not like Amy-called-Rachel ever bothered to eat a meal with him, so it's mostly wishful thinking even owning them both, seeing as they're never in use at the same time. Wildflowers from the yard sit in an aged vase in the center, already starting to wilt but bright and bold against the drab 1970s apartment. Frank digs through the pantry closet to find something - anything to eat - before coming back to serve her a lukewarm cup with a sugarbowl and spoon. Then he sets down a platter of pizzelles he hopes aren't stale, from the one authentic Italian bakery in Miami. It also doubles as a deli and triples as a front for money laundering, but it's his spot now so he can't bust them yet. Plus, the cookies are good, even a few days old.

Frank sits across from her, emptyhanded, giving out a little hiss when a small dog launches herself into his lap. She's ugly, maybe part chihuahua but a few pounds wider, her ears floppy and her overbite noticeable. He holds her like she's more precious than an infant even while nursing the blow to his guts.

"You're fine," he assures belatedly, in that Northeastern brush-off way. He never has tried to pass as a native, the New York City is far too baked in at this point. Thankfully, there are more than enough transplants down here to make it seem plausible and allow him to blend in. "Looks like he's already right at home."

Though most of the dogs other than Lady here have a good twenty pounds on him, and more than a few years, Walter bosses them around with a pitchy howl and runs laps around the lumbering pair of pitbulls who seem bemused more than anything to be upstaged by a puppy. Frank picks up a cookie and crunches into it, not as good as fresh, but edible. Still, he breaks off a piece for Lady and brushes the excess sugar off on his jeans.

Edited 2020-05-13 21:18 (UTC)

Rita takes the seat offered to her with only some hesitation. She watches him go through the little guest ritual from the other side only pausing to look around his place. She doesn't know what she expects. The flowers suit him somehow along with the parade of dogs. Her attention falls squarely on him as he fits across from her. Rita absently goes through the motions of fixing coffee the way she likes it until he assures her. Rita openly sighs in relief, settling back into her seat. "He really is. I'm glad... I was worried about him too. Not just the kids." She says like she needs to justify removing a dog from an abusive situation. Her methods might have been a touch illegal, but her heart was in the right place.

She takes a sip of coffee while considering something and eventually offers, "I can... Maybe I can drop off some dog food? I don't want to cause any trouble for you and Rachel." As if she doesn't have young children to worry about.

"He'll be good here," he assures, already thinking of where he could find a permanent home for him. He tries to only keep the undesirables, but a cute puppy would be easily snapped up if he could find the right fit. "You did good, Rita. Relax."

She's so tense all the time, and he knows why. It speaks of old habits more than current abuse so he doesn't think that's what's wrong with Dexter. If he did, he'd be getting to the bottom of that, for now these two are just a curiosity.

"Nah, don't bother. I'll take it out of her allowance." He winks to show he's kidding before taking another bite of his cookie.

She does, as requested, relax. Rita smiles at him with open relief and joy. She likes their talks. Admittedly they started because he was the one neighbor who didn't witness Paul's addict meltdowns in real time. It'd been nice not to be seen as a victim by someone who for a change. Rita gets lonely too. She'd feel bad about it if it weren't plainly clear he shared her loneliness.

Rita reaches for a cookie, biting down hard now that she's been let off the hook. Her expression brightens further. She shares warmly, "These are amazing! Where did you get them?"

"Oh, uh... they're pizzelles, just like Nonnie Castellano used to make." But that wasn't what she'd asked. If Google didn't exist, he might try to dodge further. It is technically a dangerous place, that deli. Not that he thinks anything would really happen to her if she went, but as established, he's lonely too. Almost desperately so. "Just say the word, I'll go pick up some more, anytime."

Yeah, because that didn't sound desperate at all. He pushes out a miniature sigh.

"Your guy... Dex? He works for the cops, right?"

It's little moments that make Rita confident in her assessment of Danny. She washes down a bit with the coffee. Normally the answer would be no. She couldn't accept such a thing. He needs the excuse, she thinks. How much could a cookie cost anyways?

"Okay. We all need a little treat every now and then." Rita points out mildly. Her brows knit at the question. It's not the first time she's gotten it. She's never sure if people are afraid or sense an opportunity. She's inclined to think the best of Danny. He's always been kind to her and the kids. "He does. He works in the lab." And doesn't ask why. He'll tell her if he wants to.

"Attagirl." He was anticipating more of a fight on that, but maybe he's just enough of a sad sack that it works. "I won't bother him with this then. That's what tip lines are for."

Still, it's good to know what he does. Maybe someday Dexter would be at one of his crime scenes. Wouldn't that be a trip?

"I'm not keeping you from something, am I? You know me, good-for-nothing layabout. I'll keep you here all day if you let me." He says it with enough levity she should know he's not really feeling down on himself, well, not any more than usual.

Rita nods as she chomps down on the cookies. Dexter isn't a real cop so she sees no reason to involve him. If it were serious, Danny would have said as much, right? She shakes her head at the question and laughs bashfully. "Oh no, I sent them off on a play date. They're gone for at least another hour. I didn't think they should know what their mom was up to. Stealing is wrong." Rita points out firmly.

She knows that's hypocritical of her. Rita adds with a sigh, "But, you know. You're a parent. We do what we have to do." Her gaze drifts off. Not for the first time Rita's smacked in the face with every memory that brings up. The dark cloud will pass in a beat like it always does.

It gets a chuckle out of him, she's hilarious when it comes down to it, but Frank knows she doesn't know it. His mirth cuts off abruptly when she calls him a parent. It doesn't surprise him people would think that of Amy and himself, and there's not much point in correcting her. Still, he sees Lisa and Frank playing in the park whenever they're even tangentially brought up. Astor and Cody remind him so much of his own kids he aches every time he goes over there. It's almost a relief not to have to see them today.

"Yeah... yeah, we do." He glances around, there's barely any evidence another person lives here, let alone a teenaged girl. "And it was good of Dexter to step up to the plate. Not every guy would do that, you know." He smiles lopsidedly though there's nothing much behind it. For whatever vague suspicions he had about the guy, he and Rita seemed to work. And the love in his eyes was unmistakable when it came to her children.

Rita watches him curiously. It's like she sucked all the air of the room for a moment by using that word. She knows better than to ask. Daniel has never pressed for more than she's willing to offer. She tries to return the favor when she can.

Her lips quirk up at the mention of Dexter. She's as smitten as ever. "You know the funny thing is? I never asked. He just met them and that was it. They were like peas in a pod. Sometimes I look at them and forget they're not his." She takes a sip of coffee. The way he interacts with them can't be faked. She knows not for the first time how lucky she is. "Sometimes I think he does too." That makes her heart ache. She never wants to see Dexter get hurt. That seems to be a recipe for it because of their biological father.

It's calming, listening to her wax poetic about her boyfriend. It reminds him of being in the bunker with Micro, watching over Sarah and the kids.

"That's... that's real sweet, Rita. They probably forget too." Or would like to. He only knows enough about Paul to be glad he's dead, but still, the sentiment stands. "At least until they get old enough to forget they have parents at all."

He seems to think something over, then pushes up, letting Lady find her own way to the floor. Frank makes a show of checking the time display on the oven before pulling a beer out of the fridge and waving it to get Rita's attention.

"It's after five. What do you say, Mom?"

She chuckles at his joke. Rita isn't looking forward to that. She certainly doesn't think Dexter will either. She doesn't bother to examine why she's positive he'll still be there. It helps that Danny is clearly up to something. She's no less amused by the result.

"I say that you're a terrible influence." Rita holds out her hand for it. Hand it over!!

He grins, popping the caps off of two beers and coming back over to the table, handing her the first one before taking a long swig off his and sitting back down.

"You have no idea... actually, can I admit something to you?" Frank lifts his eyebrows, both hands on his bottle as he leans towards her and the flowers in conspiracy. "If you hadn't rescued poor Walter... I was on my way." He gestures to his outfit. No one wears all black in Miami unless they're up to something, not even the Punisher.

"How do you think I got all these guys?" He nods his head towards the wrestling idiots behind them.

Rita downs it a little too fast. She stays away from drinking from the most part. Natural consequences of her situation. She's come to really trust Danny. One can't hurt right?

She leans in to listen to his big confession. At first, she just takes a longer sip. Once it's down, Rita bursts into laughter. "Oh thank God! I know I don't have the right to judge. I stole the dog! But, you look like you're either going to rob a bank or star in an action movie."

She chuckles again, this time in relief, before smiling fondly at Danny. "You're like a dog superhero."

That gets a laugh and an eye roll out of him before he knocks back an equitable gulp of his drink. If she's going to get day-tipsy, he doesn't want to get left behind.

"Or a vigilante, but yeah. And now so are you, so you can't bust me." Frank reaches out to tap his bottle to hers before collapsing back into his chair to take another swig. "If I was a bank robber, you think I'd live in this dump?"

She grins, liking the idea of them having something in common. The question gets a helpless shrug and a laugh. "I don't know! I was trying not to judge." As if no one should judge bank robbers. "How does Rachel feel about this? I'm pretty sure if my kids knew they'd think I was the coolest mom ever, but she seems a little old for that." She's sipping away while she waits for the answer.

Some people should be judged, among them probably him, but he lets it go with a lazy shrug of one shoulder.

"First of all: you are the coolest mom ever and those little jerkbags know it. Second: what do seventeen-year-old girls feel about anything other than dejected, mopey and angry for no reason, huh?"

He takes another sip and tries not to roll his eyes again.

"She probably won't even notice he's here. I've never seen her take a headcount."

Only Danny can make jerkbags sound like a term of endearment. Rita concedes his point with a tip of her head and practically beams at the compliment even while refusing to acknowledge it. She wasn't exactly the sweetest teenager either. "You're starting to worry me. I don't know if I'm ready for Astor not to care about anything." Thankfully she has a few more precious years before that happens.

It's definitely an affectionate term, but it also allows him to put a little distance between those perfect kids and himself, knowing nothing good can come of him getting attached to even more rescue cases. Besides, Rita and Dexter seem to have them covered pretty well, he just hopes his instincts are wrong, that Dexter can't put them in harm's way like he did his family. He's just a lab guy, she said. An overblown geek. What's the worst that could happen?

"You know, there are these... glimpses, of the girl she used to be. She's still in there somewhere, I just have to wait for this coming-of-age bullshit to blow over." Nevermind that he never knew Amy as a girl, and she was probably even worse back then. Sometimes his lies are so convincing, they even convince him. It helps that he always plays the part of a guy he wishes he was, instead of the one who loses everything, over and over again. "Just never let Astor drive. Or date, or date a guy with a car."

She nods like it's the most sage advice she's ever heard. Rita doesn't suspect anything is amiss as usual. She rarely ever does. "Well I pity whoever she dates. Between Dexter and me... that poor boy. We're going to ruin his life." Rita points out bluntly before taking a long drink at the thought. She'll never trust them and Dexter works for the police. They're pretty much screwed.

Once again she doesn't ever think of why she always assumes Dexter will be there. He's just part of the family at this point. Why wouldn't he be?

"Hey," he argues like he's actually offended. "And me." With the Punisher as a neighbor, who needs the neighborhood watch?

Frank is also enough of a romantic that it doesn't seem odd to him, he's also seen Dexter with the kids. If the guy is off at all, it isn't about them, that's for sure.

"When are you guys gonna tie the knot already?" He lifts his eyebrows, clearly egging her on and taking a sip like that will get him out of the consequences.

Rita snorts delicately. The mental image is too beautiful. She's already looking forward to it. "I'll drink to that." She clicks her quickly emptying bottle against his. She has to stop her at the question. Rita predictably is flustered, voice raising a full decimal in response. "Isn't that something you should be asking him? I can't afford a diamond ring." She laughs nervously at her joke. Maybe it's the beer, but she groans at her cowardice a second later.

"The truth? I forget he's not my husband. I'm just as bad as the kids." She shoves her long bangs back. "He... just fits, you know? Like he was always supposed to be with us. I feel like if I start asking for jewelry, it'll break the spell." She says like that man wouldn't show back up the next day like a preprogrammed robot to make lunches for the kids and kiss her good morning.

Frank clacks his bottle back against hers and shrugs a shoulder. This is probably the last thing he should be giving advice on, but when had that ever stopped him before?

"It's the future, right? Women can propose if they want to." Though Rita seems like more of a traditionalist, so he'll start there. "Or at least... nudge him in the right direction? 'Cause, trust me, that guy isn't going anywhere." If he weren't in it for the long haul he would have never made a relationship with her kids.

"He is always there for us." Rita notes seriously. For all her insecurities, it's impossible to deny that Dexter seemed to enjoy nothing more than being with them. She calls him family and he never refutes it or looks uncomfortable. Everything about their relationship just seemed so natural, like they were always meant to be together. Dexter just showed up late for the party.

"I don't know. How do you nudge a guy into doing that? Dexter isn't always the best at taking hints." Maybe she should ask him to marry her. It wouldn't be too weird, right?

"Then maybe just... tell him it's what you want, if he's that thick it probably never occurred to him." He drains the rest of his beer and points to hers. "Want another?"

Rita nods, finishing off her drink in one go. She did enjoy social-drinking before Paul. At least with Danny she's okay to do it again. "Only one more and you have to walk me home. I'm a lightweight these days." She sets her beer bottle gently.

Rita waits until Frank is up to ask. "How would you tell someone that?" Like that's applicable to him.

He grabs their empties and throws them in the recycle, enjoying when they smash. He doesn't have to throw them that hard, but he has so little pleasure in life anymore really, what's the harm? Frank grabs two fresh bottles and pops them open, nodding solemnly at her request. He would have insisted anyway, after getting her day-tipsy it seened only right.

"Uh..." Taking a long swig, it's impossible not to think of himself and Maria, not like that was any thought-out plan. Still, it had been romantic, in their own way. "I don't know him that good, your Dex, but... he seems like a straight-shooter. Maybe just sit him down and lay it out."

Frank takes his seat and stares into the bouquet on the table. It's still hard to talk about stuff like this, with anyone, but something about Rita makes him want to try.

"Then again the only time I ever proposed was 'cause she was pregnant so maybe you don't wanna take advice from me." He snorts, self-deprecating to a fault, and downs another swallow.

"

She can't argue with Frank's assessment. Dexter had been easy to fall into sync with when they got past the initial bumps. He's been predictable to a fault, an easy person to confide in since he tended to offer solutions instead of judgment. She's pretty sure she could relay this whole conversation to him and it'd only warrant a thoughtful pause on his part versus blind panic most men would experience.

Rita takes a solid gulp as she weighs her options. Danny's comment hits her belatedly. She chuckles on reflex. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That is the honorable thing to do." Rita reassures him. It hits a minute later that she's not even sure who he is referring to. Has she really been so self-absorbed that she never asked who his wife was? Yes and no. The woman clearly wasn't around so she knew it was better not to ask. Having her brought up so directly makes it hard to let it go without feeling rude.

Rita notes gently, "You never talk about her." Whoever the mother is.

He shrugs a shoulder, considering. That's what he had thought then, too, but the honorable thing would have been getting the hell away from anyone he ever cared about, maybe Rita included.

"No... I guess I don't, anymore." Maria was once all he could think about, her, Lisa and Frank. Now he has Amy, and the dogs, and this weird psuedo-life. It doesn't make them go away, but the memories do fade, along with some of the pain. "It feels like a long time ago, but it's been- what? Four years."

It's always delicate, how much to tell. It was almost easier when people knew just by looking at his broken face. Frank looks down at the label of his beer just to continue avoiding eye contact. He manages to force himself to look up halfway through his pep talk, but he can't be sure how convincing it is.

"Look, all that... I don't want you thinking about depressing shit like that. You've got a wedding to plan, kid."

So she had read that one right. Rita knows she's wrapped up in her drama. It's the downside of being caught up in the whirlwind of an abuser. You're always reacting to what they said or did. It's always life or death. She's trying to break out of that now that she's gotten some peace in his life. Part of that process is finally testing some waters.

Rita's gaze is soft and accepting as she regards the man. She's not here to force answers out of him like some other blond he knows. Some things are better left unsaid.

It's dropped without a second thought. Rita snorts at the nickname. "Kid? That one is new. Most people think I'm twice my age." She drinks, not at all offended. She's eternally tired. That's less about what she's been through and more about being a mom. "Besides, all I can afford is a backyard wedding with pizza. There's not much to plan if he asks."

He smiles at that, knowing he was just getting caught up in the moment. It's not like he's so much older than her, but it's natural for him to try and distance himself that way - any way he can. "Comes with experience, for better or worse." And call him crazy, but he thinks that description sounds charming, even if he doubts it'll really go down that way. "That's about all ours was, if only 'cause I was headed back out on deployment."

At least Dexter is around for her and those kids. Someone needs to be.

Rita cracks a soft smile at the experience comment. She takes it in a positive way coming from him. The image he paints is charming too in a way. She wonders what he must have looked like in uniform. How must Rachel's mother have felt? She sighs wistfully. "That must have been hard. I couldn't imagine leaving my kids for longer than a weekend." She takes a drink. That's how it goes. She's sure Frank had to provide the way she does. His job just happened to be more demanding.

"Worst part of the job," he admits in a gravelly tone, back to watching the dogs. They've calmed for the most part, now they're all trying to take up the same square on the tile floor right over the AC vent. He takes another swig and doesn't consider his next statement as carefully as he usually does, and he immediately regrets the words the moment they spill out. "And it just got harder, when we had the second one." His namesake, always a sore subject. Frank bites into his lip, folding in on himself in the chair, as if he could compress his bulky frame into nothing by sheer will.

He thinks the right thing to do is to press on, even if he knows he'll have to circle back at some point. He never imagined telling Rita, about the massacre... but here they are. He's once again trusting someone he probably shouldn't, and it could very easily get her hurt too.

"But I loved the work, too, at the time. Before I really got what I had back home." And before his military career so completely turned to shit.

Her eyes widen as the implication gets her. The first instinct is to ask. Rita holds back if only because of the potential subject matter. What if he lost the second one? Rings through her brain. The thought is too repulsive to Rita. That holds her back.

She drinks to occupy her mouth while he talks. He lands on a safer subject at least. Rita lowers her beer to softly chuckle. "I can't relate." Work is an unpleasant chore that takes her away from the kids and Dexter. She couldn't imagine actually enjoying a job.

Frank isn't sure if he's disappointed or relieved when she doesn't press him further, but her admission gets a soft smile out of him anyway as he slowly looks back up at her.

"You're doing your duty, same as I did." And she doesn't even work for an evil madman, so it's a step up by his estimation. "And at the end of the day, you get to come home to the two best kids in Miami, not a bad deal."

Rita smiles warmly once he catches her eye. He really does know how to butter a lady up. "I don't think working at a hotel is the same as serving our country. I appreciate that anyways." She could keep on pretending nothing is amiss. She can already feel an elephant forming in the room. Rita hates it. She really treasures their time together. She's not going to let some comment ruin that.

"Danny, I know you probably have history." Rita points out seriously. She's doe-eyed, not stupid. Her voice softens back to its sweet Snow White-quality after that. "I just want you to know we don't have to ever talk about something you're not comfortable talking about. I'm not some nosy neighbor looking for the latest gossip. I'm a friend. Friends don't do that to each other."

He tips his head, knowing he's dramatic, but being a mom is just as important as being a soldier. And the bullshit he was a part of doesn't even compare when it was all lies. At least Rita knows exactly what she's a part of, it's refreshing, knowing someone this straightforward. It reminds him of Sarah in a way he wishes didn't make his heart ache.

"Uh, well... I don't have a great track record with friends." A soft admittance, his lips twitching up despite himself. If he didn't like spending time with her too he wouldn't, he has nothing to prove in this place where he knows no one and hates the weather and the fucking iguanas. "But I don't mind talking to you about it, it's just... sad and people never look at me the same way once they know."

Frank has never been so bald about it before, not with Sarah; not even with David. Maybe with the group, which he realizes is probably what his brain is missing more than friendship. It isn't fair to dump all of that off on her if she isn't ready to hear it, right? But he feels it too - the elephant. If he's going to scare her away, it's prudent to do it now anyway. He has no way of knowing how she'll react, but it seems easier to spit it out now that there's some kind of pretext there. He takes another long drink and slides the bottle onto the table for safekeeping, his fingers loosely hanging around it as he focuses his dark gaze straight ahead.

"Rachel isn't my kid. I mean... she's adopted." It isn't how he meant to say that, but he thinks Rita will get it being that she has Dexter and all. He loves those kids, but they aren't his. Not viscerally, though Frank would kill for Amy. Dexter would probably kill for Astor and Cody. Men aren't coded to children the same way as women are, they don't carry them for nine months. Maybe biology doesn't matter at all, if he doesn't get his monthly update about David's kids he loses his mind... it's just not the point. Lisa and Frank deserve their own moment, and more lies about them feels like dishonoring their memory. "I lost 'em all. My wife, my kids... four years."

It both seems like long enough to "get over" it and so little time it could be yesterday. He feels the tears gather in his eyes though the pain is a duller ache these days, it still feels like it could tear him apart. He looks down at the woodgrain and the various imperfections the wood has picked up over the years, like scars in flesh. It gives him a bizarre sort of peace as he explains.

"It was my fault, you know... what I did overseas. I thought I left it there, but it followed me back. And they paid the price for it."

She can understand people seeing you differently after a traumatic event. Rita wishes she could promise nothing will change. That simply isn't how life works. Once a person knows something terrible, it changes how they view things. That doesn't have to be a bad thing. Rita prefers it over slowly drifting apart.

That self-awareness doesn't prepare her for the reveal. It is shocking. Not the part about Rachel, of course. That is barely a blip on her radar. She knows better than most how little biology matters when it comes to fathers. She just never imagined Danny living out any parent and partner's worst nightmare. Rita visibly pales she forces herself not to relate to closely.

(The thought of Paul murdering Dexter and the kids to get back at her hadn't exactly been distant during his return.)

She tries to wrap her brain around the situation and finds herself confused on one point. "How... did it follow you?" She shakes her head. "I... Sorry, that's such a stupid question. I just never imagined it could follow you home from there." The war is a world away.

He feels that familiar ill feeling churning his guts and threatening to send his beer right back up. Frank swallows and tastes bile, wondering how he's going to explain this at all, let alone simply and in as few words as possible.

"It's not stupid," he protests, eyes snapping up into hers seriously. There's a reason he so seldom is serious with her, but if this subject doesn't warrant it, nothing does. He told her he'd tell her and she asked a valid question - he intends to answer it. "I was part of a... team. Black Ops. Off the books. I thought what we were doing was good, noble even. When I found out otherwise, I quit, right there on the spot. And I came home to be with my family, to start over. It was naive."

Frank swallows again and bows his head over the table, trying to avoid closing his eyes because he knows what he'll see. Lisa's brains on his jacket, Frank's blood on his shirt, Maria's screams in his ear. His eyes fill up with water and he shakes hs head hard as if he could clear the vivid recall like an etch-a-sketch.

"I knew too much, it was that simple." He puts a finger to his head, on the back of his skull where the scar is. "Got a bullet to the brain, same as them. Makes no sense why I'm here and they're not." He'd always chalked that part up to God's pure cruelty.

It's like something out of a crime novel. Rita might have thought he was pulling one over on her if not for the tangible pain in the air. She feels suddenly sober as she realizes how plausible it could be. If a petty drug dealer can show up to demand money and leave with a car without a single question asked, what could the government do if they felt like they were owed something? People got killed all the time for knowing too much about petty criminals. Why not war secrets?

She swallows dryly, offering her hand even if he won't take it. "I'm glad you're here." That is how she feels. She has no idea if that's comforting or not, but this is all she has to offer. "Are you and Rachel safe?" She has to assume they are. Danny never struck her as someone who would be sipping lemonade if his daughter was in danger. It's valid question all the same.

He lets her take his hand then grips it like a lifeline, slowly forcing his watery gaze back up to meet hers. It pains him to admit, even internally, how much he misses the city. Bad weather and friends to see it through. Here he has Amy, but she's as reliable as any teen girl. Then he had met Rita and her ragtag little family, and somehow that had made all the difference.

"You don't have to worry about us. I came down here to make sure she stayed that way." Like he'd trust anyone else to do the job.

She meets his gaze with the softest smile she can manage. Rita's heart aches for him. Danny went through the unimaginable. She can't even fathom the strength it takes to get up in the morning much less allow himself to love another child. The mother finds herself having a new respect for Frank as a result.

"I'm sorry about your wife and kids. I know nothing I say could ever make that better, but if you ever want a talk or just need a distraction, I'm around." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Feeling her heartache for himself is what makes him drop her hand, drawing his back to his own side of the table and leaning his head into his palms. Curtis might call this progress - after calling him a million names for spilling the beans to some rando civ. He pushes out a long sigh through his nose and manages not to let a single tear fall, a miraculous feat on its own.

"Thanks, Rita. I didn't mean to lay this all on you. I just... I don't have much of a support system here, in Miami." And he never meant to set down roots, but here he is with his stupid dogs and neighbor drama. His life has always been a cruel joke in some form or another. "You know, Astor and Cody remind me so much of mine. I had a boy and a girl too, a couple years apart like that. I can still hear them fight, like wild fuckin' animals one minute, then sweet as anything the next."

She withdraws her hand, placing it on the bottle as she studies Danny. There's so much pain in him. Rita wonders how he manages to bear it much less adopt a child and make friends with a single mom. "That does sound like Astor and Cody." She wonders if that's what drew Danny in to begin with. Rita can't bring herself to fault him for it. A life without Dexter and the kids... she doubts she'd survive the first day. So what if maybe he saw his dead wife and kids in another family? Danny's never done anything to harm them.

"You don't have to feel guilty. It's important to talk about things that seem to horrible to ever mention or at least that's my experience." She offers up a little shrug. "Dexter is a good listener. I don't know if I ever could have put the pieces back together without him." It's not the same, but she thinks the principle holds true.

"Yeah... they were a real handful. I wish I coulda... been around for them more." His smile is wan, but there, his voice doesn't even waver overly when he says it. Maybe he really is moving on, but that scares him almost more than wallowing does. They were his kids, you're not supposed to get over that. What else can he do though, but survive? It's all he's ever been good at.

Frank is sufficiently distracted when Rita goes on, never sure what to make of allusions to her dark past with Paul. If the guy weren't dead, he'd track him down himself, but as it stands, the whole thing really does make him feel like he's in the sharing circle at the VA. And while he's never sure what to make of Dexter either, the more she talks about him the more inclined he is to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Some guys are just normal right? Well-meaning, upstanding, all that. Maybe it's why he sets off alarm bells despite seeming Regular Joe to the max.

"You're lucky then, you know. It's hard to find someone you can talk to, even about the rough stuff." As much as he'd loved her, Maria just wasn't that woman, but he'd never blamed her for it. It just wasn't the kind of relationship they had. Though, to be fair, maybe he hadn't given her a fair shake in that department. It's easy to say she didn't listen when he so seldom tried talking either.

Edited 2020-06-10 03:45 (UTC)

Rita nods wearily. She knows that feeling all too well as a single parent. "It's hard being the provider." Rita points out as she takes a long sip of her beer. The what-ifs must be unbearable so she doesn't dig any deeper into that one. Some things are better left unsaid.

She smiles at the follow up, glancing off to the side fondly. Rita knows she's lucky. Before Dexter, she couldn't imagine truly loving another man much less calling him family. He is to her. He's this missing puzzle piece she's been searching for all her life. Every part of her has changed for the better as their relationship progressed. What more could anyone ask for?

"I remember. I spent so much of my life so lonely and unhappy. Meeting him and having the kids really turned it all around for me. I couldn't be any luckier." Rita glances back at Frank and adds carefully, "I hope someday you have that too... if you don't find that disrespectful. I know you can never replace what you lost, but it's good to have someone in your corner." She worries he doesn't now. It's a scary thought now that she knows what he's been through.

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she puts her hands to the sky // it makes her well up

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