Miranda and Dexter spent Sunday at the beach. Miranda wore a t-shirt over her old bikini she had had to pull out of the deep recesses of her chest of drawers. When the two of them wandered down the shore, Miranda reached out to take Dexter's hand. He didn't cringe or turn away. That night, they danced around the idea of sleeping in their own respective apartments. But Miranda fell asleep watching TV on Dexter's couch and they never finished the conversation. They were the only ones in the elevator on their way up to work on the second floor of the Miami P.D. building the next morning. Miranda took the opportunity to kiss him. Dexter smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist. They separated when the elevator doors open. Miranda cleared her throat and they walked into the hall.

Someone called Dexter over as they made their way toward his desk. Miranda waved him away and made her way to the cubicle, sliding onto Dexter's desk. As she kicked her feet, Miranda gazed across the office. Looking to her right, she could see Dexter through a few glass windows. He was in what seemed like a one way conversation with Maria LaGuerta. She was doing a lot of talking and gesturing with her hands. Dexter's sister walked by, getting caught up in whatever LaGuerta was saying. Miranda couldn't see Dexter's face. She was about to look away when she saw Deborah nod in her direction, catching Miranda's eye. Miranda saw Maria nod and look her way too. Dexter turned, finally facing Miranda. She thought she saw him shake his head a bit. It took all of two minutes for him to make his way across the office to where Miranda sat on his desk.

"What did they say to you?" Dexter had his hands in his pockets. When Miranda spoke, he wouldn't look her in the eye.

"They found a body on Saturday morning. I didn't get called in because another lab tech was on duty." Miranda took a quick look around the room. Deb and LaGuerta were watching the two of them from two rooms away. Miranda looked back at Dexter, craning her head to catch his eye.

"What are you talking about? Who did they find?" Dexter exhaled loudly, rolling his head back and finally his eyes came down to meet hers.

"Sloane Johnson," said Dexter. Miranda felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Oli—Oliver's—" Dexter's was nodding. When he spoke, it was soft.

"Oliver's girlfriend." Miranda collapsed, forcing all her weight onto her arm that was braced against the desk. Her other hand fanned in front of her face.

"Oh—oh my god…" She leaned forward. Her vision blurred. Vaguely, Miranda felt Dexter grab her by the shoulders.

"Miranda… Are you okay?" Dexter's words came to her as if she was underwater. Miranda shook her head, sloppily gesturing to the small trash can Dexter had tucked under the desk.

"T-trash… trash can…" Her hand went to her forehead, covering her eyes. Miranda heard Dexter fumble with the can before she felt the cold metal dig into her thighs. She leaned forward and vomited into the plastic bag lining the trash can. Slumping back, Miranda's dizziness began to pull her down, as if coercing her to lie back. She felt the trash can lift from her legs, felt Dexter's arms slip under her knees and neck. It seemed that her hearing was going out since, as her head tilted back, she could see Dexter yell something but no sound came to her ears. Miranda felt cold tile on her back. Groggily, she lifted a hand to Dexter's cheek, feeling the stubble under her thumb. Then Miranda slipped into unconsciousness.

She was lying in an endlessly white room. A cold metal table was under her. A bright light was above her. For a second, Miranda thought she could've been at the dentist. Then she felt a cool trickle of liquid snake under her shoulder. When she lifted a hand to look at it, she saw one side of her palm was stained with red. Her hands ran up her torso and for the first time she realized she was completely naked. When her fingers reached her head, it felt sticky. Miranda pulled back a hand. It was covered in blood. She dragged her hand across the top of her head. It was completely bashed in. Shaking, Miranda let her hands go back to lie by her sides. She blinked and suddenly Elina was there, clutching her hand. On the other side was Genna, who reached up to stroke Miranda's head. Looking down her nose, Miranda saw a figure step forward out of the whiteness. Oliver. Clutching his arm was Sloane, who let go to walk around the table to stand at Miranda's head, where she was out of sight. Oliver leaned over the end of the table, sneering. Out of the light a figure reached out behind him, grabbing Oliver by the neck. The face came into focus. Dexter.

Something was pricking Miranda's arm. She blinked, groaning. The room smelled of… hospital. Her eyes adjusted the light shining in from the open window. From what she could tell, Miranda was in a hospital. That explained the smell. Someone was sitting in her room's armchair, a jacket draped over their face. Miranda smiled through a haze that she guessed was from the IV in her arm. Dexter. Dexter shifted and groaned, bringing an arm up that knocked the jacket from the face. Miranda squinted; something was wrong. The figure's hair wasn't red. It was black. Her voice was raspy from disuse and didn't come out as more than a whisper.

"Oliver…" Even as quiet as it was, Miranda's realization caught Oliver's attention.

"Miri!" His voice was harsh to her ears. Miranda felt hungover. Oliver made it to her bedside in three steps. Before she could yank it away, he had her hand caught between his. She was shaking her head. "God, I'm glad you're okay. When the hospital called—"

"The hospital… called you?" Miranda tried to tug her hand away but the IV and dizziness got in the way. Oliver gave her a genuinely curiously look.

"Of course they did. I'm your emergency contact, Miri." Miranda kept shaking her head, slow but determined.

"D-Dexter…" The light in Oliver's face dimmed.

"Dexter?" Oliver lifted a hand and placed it roughly on Miranda's head. She cringed, trying to pull herself away. The IV tugged at her arm. Oliver's hand was slipping down her head, to her shoulder, then cupping around the side of her neck. "What do you want with him, Miri? You're my baby sister… I'm the only one that needs to be taking care of you…" Oliver's thumb slipped over Miranda's trachea. He pressed down.

A nurse walked into the room, observed in papers she was reading off a clipboard. Oliver's hand dropped to his side.

"Ms. Cerulean?" The nurse looked up, smiling warmly at Miranda, then Oliver. Oliver nodded to her, looking the perfect mix of worn out and thankful for his sister's well-being. The nurse continued. "If you're being released into your brother's care, I'll be glad to share some information with him about caring for you in the next couple days."

"N-no…" Miranda felt Oliver's hand grip hers. She pulled away sharply. "No, I—" There was a thump of the door opening.

"Miranda?" It was Dexter, looking disheveled and genuinely worn out. As opposed to Oliver's faux-tiredness. The nurse turned.

"Sir, who are you?" Dexter had seen Oliver and was now standing across the bed from him. The two men held each other's stares.

"I'm—" Dexter glanced down at Miranda, who was shaking. A few tears had escaped from her eyelids and were now pooling under her chin. "I'm Miranda's boyfriend, Dexter Morgan." Dexter turned to the nurse. "She'll be coming with me." Oliver exhaled through his nose, loudly.

"Actually, nurse, I'm Miranda's only living relative. I think it would be best—" Dexter didn't even look at him.

"You can excuse Mr. Cerulean. He has been out of contact with his sister for several years now." Dexter leaned in closer to the nurse. "He's not really fit to look after himself, let alone Miranda." Oliver slammed a hand down onto the railing of Miranda's hospital bed. She jumped, let out an audible sob. The nurse frowned.

"Mr. Cerulean, I can easily call security down here. Now, Ms. Miranda, who do you feel comfortable going home with today?" Miranda was still shaking. Looking down at the hospital sheets, she reached for Dexter's hand that was gripping her bed railing.

"D-Dexter…" She looked up at the nurse, who nodded.

"Mr. Cerulean, maybe it would be best if you got some air?" Oliver chuckled sarcastically. Miranda didn't look at him as he left the room. Dexter squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. "Now, Mr. Morgan, Miranda's tests show that she is anemic as well as dehydrated. In the next couple days, it's very important that she get the correct amount of water and plenty of iron in her diet." Dexter nodded.

"Yes. Yes, of course. That shouldn't be a problem." The nurse nodded.

"Well, she can be released today."

When the nurse had left, Dexter kneeled, pushing the bed railing down. "What happened?" Miranda's shaking had subsided, but another tear dripped down her cheek.

"When I woke up, Oliver was just… sitting there. Like everything was fine. He came up and… threatened me. And then—" Miranda raised a hand to touch her neck. "I think he was trying to choke me…" Dexter's head dropped onto the bedsheet. He exhaled loudly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here. They let me ride over in the ambulance, but wouldn't let me out of the lobby while you had your tests done. Only family allowed…" Miranda shook her head, exhaling herself.

"There was nothing you could do. Don't apologize." There was a still silence before Miranda turned to look at Dexter. He felt her stare and raised his head. "Boyfriend?" Dexter looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It just kind of… came out." Miranda giggled, sliding down into the bed again.

"I like it."

Dexter personally pushed Miranda's wheelchair out into the parking lot where his car was waiting. He had had Deb drive it over, he told Miranda. On the way home, Dexter stopped to pick up iron supplements from a drug store, then steaks from the grocery. It was around four o'clock when he helped Miranda onto his couch and threw a blanket over her. Miranda watched from the couch as Dexter messed around in the kitchen for a few minutes before bringing her a glass of water and shaking a large glossy pill out of the supplement bottle. As Miranda brought the water to her lips, Dexter held out the pill.

"Here, take this." Miranda took a sip of water, keeping her eyes on Dexter, giving him a look. Dexter shoved his hand gently towards Miranda, giving her his own look. Sighing, she took the pill from him, slipped it between her lips and chased it with a gulp of water. Miranda set the glass down on the coffee table while Dexter walked back into the kitchen. "And finish that glass of water!" Miranda rolled her eyes, stretching back across the sofa.

"You don't have to do all of this, you know." She couldn't see Dexter as she talked, but she could hear him pulling things from drawers and cabinets, making lots of noise. In moments, he was back beside the sofa, pad of paper and pen in hand. Dexter handed the paper and pen to Miranda. He ignored what she had so recently said.

"Write down everything you think you need from your apartment." Hesitating, Miranda took the pad and pen from him.

"What? Why?" Dexter stood, leaning against the arm of the sofa. His hands went into his pockets.

"I want you to stay here for a while. With the hospital and everything, I just want to know you're taken care of. And if you're here, Oliver… won't know where you are." Miranda looked at him for a long moment before nodding. She pressed the pen to the paper and began to write. Within minutes, she had a long list of items: clothes, DVDs, CDs, nail polish, a half-eaten bag of chips she wanted to finish. Dexter chuckled when she handed him the list.

"What?" Miranda raised an eyebrow, pulling her knees to her chest. Dexter shook his head.

"Nothing. I'll start dinner when I get back." He headed toward the door. Miranda frowned, twisting to watch him from the sofa.

"Wait, I'm coming with you." Miranda went to stand up as she spoke. In a second Dexter was gently pushing her back. She looked up at him. Dexter was shaking his head.

"No. If Oliver's waiting for you… for us, I don't want you to get hurt." Dexter was heading back towards the door. "Wait here, I'll be back in ten minutes, at the most." Miranda half-smiled. Dexter returned it and closed the door behind him. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into place rang into the apartment and left it empty. Miranda slid down into the sofa, pulling the blanket to her chin.

When Dexter walked back into his apartment, Miranda was blasting the same music video channel. She was lying on the couch, but her knees were propped up, one leg crossed over the other. The upper leg was bouncing with the music. Dexter set the suitcase he had found in her closet next to the sofa. It was filled with everything Miranda had written down. And then some. Miranda looked from the suitcase to Dexter, smiling.

"Thanks…" Dexter shrugged, heading into the kitchen. Miranda leaned over, unzipping the suitcase. She ran a hand over everything, checking. Everything she needed was there. In a few minutes, she heard something start to sizzle in the kitchen. Miranda turned the TV off. When she slid down to the other end of the couch, Miranda could see the back of Dexter's head as he cooked. She watched him, leaning her chin on the arm of the sofa. In less than fifteen minutes, the two of them were sitting on opposite sides of Dexter's table, eating steak and potatoes.

Miranda picked at hers, cutting it up into pieces before taking a bite. Dexter watched her, chewing.

"You must be starving… Eat something." Miranda looked up when Dexter spoke, shrugged, then looked back down. She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and popped it into her mouth. When she looked up to smile at Dexter, he frowned. "You've had problems with anemia before, haven't you Miranda?" Miranda reached for her glass of water, her third since they'd been home.

"It's hard to get over." Miranda took a large gulp of water. Dexter took a bite of potatoes. He was waiting for her to continue. Miranda exhaled. "In college, I struggled with an eating disorder. I've been to the hospital for anemia a lot." She looked back up at him, holding her glass. "It's hard to get over." She repeated. Dexter studied her for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah. It is." Dexter continued eating, but Miranda kept her eyes on him.

"Dexter," She said, making sure that we was listening. "In these last couple days, I've told you more than I've ever told any one person before." Dexter took a sip of water, chewing. "And I know barely anything about you." Finally, Dexter swallowed his food. There was a silence and when Dexter spoke it startled Miranda.

"I'm adopted." Miranda took a bite of steak.

"Yeah?" Dexter was nodding, but he wasn't looking at her.

"Yeah. My foster father was a cop. He found me at a crime scene." Miranda took another bite, chewing slowly. Dexter looked lost in his own head.

"A crime scene?" Dexter finally looked up, meeting Miranda's eyeline.

"I watched my mother get chopped to pieces. When I was three." Miranda coughed, struggling to swallow the food in her mouth. When she got it down, Miranda looked up to see Dexter leaning on the table, palms flat against the wood, fingers fanned out. Miranda's jaw clenched.

"Dexter, I—" Her breath caught in her throat when Dexter looked up at her. His face looked contorted, his eyes were empty. He didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Finish your steak, Miranda." Shaking, Miranda picked up her fork. The two finished the meal in silence. Dexter waited patiently until Miranda had put the last piece of steak in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. He got up and shook another pill from the bottle of supplements. Miranda swallowed it without a word.

When she stood up from the table, Dexter's face came down to meet hers. For a second, Miranda stood still, surprised by the kiss. Dexter grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer. Before she know what was happening, Dexter picked Miranda up and was carrying her across the living room and lying her on the bed. Miranda fumbled with her jeans as Dexter's shirt fell onto the bed beside her. As he leaned down to crawl on top of her, Miranda felt the room rock. She was on an ocean and the bed was floating just on top of the water. Waves were pushing them, back and forth. Miranda lay back onto the comforter as Dexter pulled her shirt off. When he sat up to mess with his belt buckle, Miranda reached out a hand to grip the edge of the mattress. It didn't help.

"Dexter…" He leaned down to kiss her. The bed seemed to flip over, spinning. Miranda put a hand to Dexter's chest. "D-Dexter…" Miranda pulled away, closing her eyes. She felt Dexter's hands on her face.

"Miranda?" The bed jostled as Dexter stood up. "Don't sit up, hold on." Miranda felt like he was gone hours. Her vision was blurry and she felt too sweaty. She was panting when Dexter slid his knees under her head, pressing a cold glass to her lips. "Drink." Miranda obeyed, taking a large gulp. It went down too fast and she started coughing. Dexter set the glass on the side table, holding Miranda's head. When the coughing subsided, Miranda opened her eyes. The bed was rocking gently now. The look on Dexter's face could only be described as… overwhelmed. The two of them stared at each other for a second.

"I'm… sorry." Dexter shook his head when he spoke. Miranda smiled softly, putting a hand on Dexter's chest.

"It's not your fault…" Miranda watched Dexter's face, squinted as her head settled, stopped swimming. Suddenly, the look on Dexter's face changed to something, an express Miranda had never seen before. A mix of authentic curiosity and wonder. A hand went to Miranda's head. She watched Dexter, whose fingers wound through her dark hair. Something came over Miranda; a tear dripped down the side of her face. Dexter saw it and caught the tear with his hand. Miranda doubled up, pressing her face against Dexter's chest as she sobbed. She felt his arms fold around her. He kissed the top of her head. They sat like that for a very long time.