For his entire adult life, Dexter thought he was incapable of most feelings. Ending lives brought gratification to him on at least a superficial level, but he was not sure if the excitement was genuine. Feelings were not something with which Dexter was familiar.

Until now.

The work placed into North Side had been long and tiresome. Maria and Dexter had worked many long days and sleepless nights together, alongside VladimirLenin, insta, PaulHeyman and others from their inner circle. The crew came from many different backgrounds, but now they had dedicated themselves to nothing but each other. Dexter knew that he would lay down his life in an instant for these men. There was a sense of belonging to something and it pleased Dexter, but still he was unsure whether the feeling was even real. 

This new feeling was bona fide, that much Dexter knew for sure.

Standing at the foot of the newly filled grave, Dexter was flooded with emotions that were totally alien to him. After the funeral for his beloved Maria had ended, Dexter remained. It was close to dark now, the haunting silence of the cemetery setting in. The silence was almost oppressive, making his racing thoughts feel as if they were screaming.

A tear rolled down Dexter’s cheek. This was not a feeling he had ever experienced before, and the empty feeling inside of him felt like it was gnawing away at everything he knew. The person he had spent almost all of his time with, had worked tirelessly side by side with and come to love, was now gone. Dexter had never lost anyone he loved before, because he had never loved. 

Love and loss were not feelings that Dexter knew how to handle.

By the time Renata had been able to arrange a flight to Chicago from her home in Boston, she had missed her mothers funeral. With her heart heavy, and still dressed in the outfit she had chosen for the funeral; a black dress that skimmed her knees, a fitted black jacket and high black heels, she had hailed a taxi to take her to the cemetary in the North Side where she knew her mother had been buried. She paid the taxi driver and climbed out of the cab by the huge, wrought iron gates. She breathed in a deep sigh, determined to remain composed, and held tightly to the bunch of white roses that she had had the taxi driver stop outside a florist for her to purchase. It was the best she could do for her mother now.

As she walked into the cemetery, following the graves as they began to look more modern, Renata became aware of a man stood by a freshly filled grave which was blanketed in flowers. She couldn't recognise the man; the distance was too great and it had been a long time since she had lived in Chicago. The odds were that she wouldn't know the man anyway, but something drew her to walk towards him. She smoothed her long, dark mane of hair, so reminscient of her mothers as she walked. While she was not the spitting image of her mother, she had both her mothers hair and her mothers greenish-brown eyes.

As she drew close to the man, Renata was able to confirm that the grave did belong to her mother. It was obvious by the tributes that had been left by the grave. But, as she walked up to him, recognition had flickered across her face. She knew this man, she had known him well as youngest. She placed her hand lightly on his arm, and said his name, quietly.

"Dexter...?"

When you have a past time such as Dexter’s, you learn to take care to protect yourself from becoming a victim. Constantly in an ever-on-guard state of hyper-vigilance, Dexter rarely demonstrated anything less than near perfect situational awareness. This was an exception.

When the hand touched his arm, Dexter’s strong hand instinctively shot for the pistol under his jacket. Before drawing, he turned to face his assailant only to find something that absolutely stunned him more than any attacker could. The eyes.

The eyes Dexter had looked into for many years. The only eyes that had seen him for what he was and looked past. The eyes of Maria. Dexter had known this young woman, many years ago. There was only one possible person that this could be. “Renata? Is that you?” Dexter quietly choked out the words.

Dexter re-holstered his gun. He could not believe who was now before him, he had no idea where the young lady had been for all of these years.

The appearance was not making his emotional struggle less. Dexter was learning for the first time what love felt like, and his eyes were still slightly red with the proof of tears. Now, with the daughter of Maria standing before him, he was unsure how to process what was happening. For the first time in his entire life, Dexter was conflicted with emotion.

"Dex! You remembered me!"

Renata's heart lept. She knew, in that moment, that she would not be quite as alone in the world as she had feared, as she had felt in the dark hours since she had learned the news of her mothers passing. Throwing caution to the wind, she hugged Dexter.

"It's been so many years."

Stood before her mothers grave, even with an old friend beside her, Maria felt the tears spring to her eyes. She had fought hard to keep anybody from seeing the tears, not wishing to appear young or weak. She hid them now from Dexter by bending down to place the roses amongst the other tributes on the grave.

"Was she happy, Dex? Was her life what she always hoped? I don't know what I'm going to do now. I don't know if I should follow in her footsteps, or go back to Boston and hide from it all, stay safe. Grow old, live."

Renata sighed softly.

"How have you been, Dexter? I know this can't have been easy on you. I think you knew her the longest, and I know you meant the world to her."

The emotional roller coaster Dexter was riding immediately turned upside down as Renata hugged him. Maybe Dexter would not be alone through all of this. However, at the time, Dexter had no idea what to say to the woman about her mother. He tried, but no words would come.

Tentatively, unsure of himself, Dexter placed his hand on Renata’s shoulder as she stood after placing the roses on the grave. ”She was a proud, respected and mostly happy woman. Maria went through some tough times, but she was loved by all and treated everyone, myself most of all, better than they probably deserved. In this life, she was a true blessing.”

Dexter took a moment to compose himself. “One day we will all die. Whether you remain here and walk in the footsteps of your mother, or return to Boston, that one thing is sure. What you make of your life in the meantime is what is important.”

Having no idea what else to say, Dexter tried to force a smile. Reaching up, he wiped one of the tears from Renata’s cheek.

Renata nodded at Dexter's words. She knew he was right. Of course he was right. It helped her to make a decision. She hesistated for only a second before placing her arm around Dexter's back and moving a little close to him, finding some strength in him.

"I think you are right, Dexter. And I think my decision is made. I think I will be staying here, in Chicago, where I can try to live up to my mothers legacy. If the words you speak are true, I have some big shoes to fill. I can only pray that I will."

Knowing how hard the visit to her mothers grave was for Dexter, and keen to leave herself, the knowledge that her mother was truly gone beginning to creep up on her, she spoke once more.

"I think we should leave her now, to sleep. It would be nice to catch up some more though, it's been so many years! Is there anywhere we can go to talk, away from here?"

“I know just the place where we can talk. We have much to discuss.” Dexter gazed long at the grave of his best friend, still wrestling with the strange emotions. Compartmentalizing and shutting off those emotions for the time being, Dexter straightened and gathered himself mentally. He had allowed himself time to be emotional, but no longer. Being emotional was cumbersome, and it was not something Dexter had time for right now. Well, maybe Renata could change his mind about that. There was definitely a feeling there for her too, but being such a stranger to emotion Dexter was unsure what to make of it.

Dexter turned and walked away from the grave, never looking back. It was time to move on, and that is exactly what he would do. The realization was setting in that these were, at least in part, his shoes to fill, and he had much to prepare for.