that’s ancient history; been there, done that

She should have been paying better attention. She should have been more intuitive to Dex’s behavior, especially lately. She should have made the get-togethers not as frequent, or at least have talked to Dex about it. For a moment there, things were looking up for them. They seemed to be getting back to a better place. It had looked as if their marriage was getting back on track, with talks of the future and them making promises to see a marriage therapist to work on them more. With talks of potentially having more children in the future.

Laurel was going to suggest a vow renewal. A small thing between them and Lissy and maybe asking Jonny to officiate. A symbol of a fresh start, of a third chance. Of their marriage going forward and putting past mistakes behind them. She was going to suggest a fresh start for them and for their family.

And then, Dex’s father passed away. She tried to give him space to grieve, to be there when he really and truly needed her and then to let him have his moments of clarity when he needed it. She put her focus on Lissy and on her friendships and work, keeping herself busy before giving Dex her undivided attention when he needed it. But fuck, was that a mistake? Should be have been more in his business? It was a mistake.

Laurel had been laughing at something Avery said when she heard a sound from outside. Everyone in the house quieted down and she looked at the younger girl. “Keep an eye on Lissy,” she commanded, getting up and heading to the front door. Dex had been working on the roof, something that has terrified her for years. Sure, she trusted him and was sure that he knew what he was doing. It was literally his fucking job. But god, it always scared the shit out of her. And as she opened the door, one of her her deepest fears has finally come true.

She gasped loudly as she saw him lying there before the front steps, standing in utter shock at first. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t fucking moving. “Dex?” she whimpered out, finally taking a few tentative steps forward. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t answering her. And he was bleeding. “DEXTER!” she finally screamed, running straight to him as tears streamed down her face. “SOMEBODY CALL THE FUCKING AMBULANCE!”

She fell to her knees, taking his lifeless face in her hands. His blood was seeping into her pants, begging to whatever god there was out there that he would start to breathe again. That life would return to his bright blue eyes she fell in love with seven years ago. “Dexter, baby, please... Fucking please... Please, baby, please don’t leave us...” It was moot at this point but god. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t handle it. She can’t fucking lose him. Lissy can’t grow up without him. She couldn’t see the group of people coming out of the house, minus Avery who was keeping Felicity and Mars inside. She couldn’t see her neighbors leaving their houses or looking out their windows to see what was going on. She couldn’t hear the siren of the ambulance heading their way the the Mitchell Farmhouse.

All she could see was her husband’s lifeless body before her. All she could hear was her cries and pleas, begging for him to come back to her. To come back to her and Lissy. To especially come back for their daughter. It wasn’t suppose to be like this. “Please come back,” she sobbed, laying her forehead against his. She thought back to the first time she met him: at the casino in Las Vegas, the place where a one night stand resulted in a drunken Vegas marriage, which resulted in the morning after of them realizing what they have done yet deciding to keep being husband and wife. To give this a shot for a year. 

She thought of everything else that has gone down during the past seven years. The little moments in which they fell in love with each other; When they first said ‘I love you’; Their one year anniversary resulting in an ‘official’ wedding celebration with their friends and family; Moving from Laramie to Cheyenne after Laurel graduate college to work as a substitute teacher; All their little adventures and moments; When she told Dex that she was pregnant with Felicity and the look on his face; All of the ups and downs during their pregnancy; That moment when Felicity was finally born and in their arms; All of good and bad times afterwards; How that even after she suggested a separation and then a divorce as a way to protect him from her depression and anxiety and all of her other inner demons, he kept on fighting for her; How when she got the job offer he agreed to move out to Dayton and even bought the house and turned it into their dream home; All of their little moments afterwards before the masquerade ball in September, when she came clean about her abusive ex and that she was still in love with him and they got back together; their trip together with Lissy to Disneyland; their Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and all of the other holidays that they celebrated at the house; how she finally told him each and everything little thing that she had kept from him for so long, believing that he was finally going to leave her... only, he didn’t- he stayed; how they had finally got rid of those fucking divorce papers, burning them to ashes and now feeling that things were truly on the right path.

But they weren’t. He was dead. He was fucking dead. Laurel couldn’t let go of him as she cried, hating herself for spending those ten fucking stupid months separated from him and keeping her fucking secret from him instead of being honest from the very beginning. If she could change anything, she would have told him the truth from the very start. Not have kept it a secret from him. But she can’t. And now Dexter Theodore Mitchell is dead at thirty-one years old. And Felicity Lennon Mitchell is fatherless at three years old. And Laurel Alexandria Thatcher-Mitchell is now a widow at twenty-seven years old. It was all too fucking soon. And she let out another loud guttural scream, begging god to bring him back to them. Please, please, please, come back. Please don’t be gone. Please don’t leave. Please come back. Please stay alive. Please... Please... Please... It wasn’t suppose to be like this. This is too soon. This isn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

But it is.