Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

A Decade

Stephie

I stepped out of Dexter's car, feeling the warmth of the Florida sun hit my skin. It was a far cry from the intensity of what I'd been through lately. Miami had this strange way of making life feel... normal, but I knew better. I wasn't here for the beaches or the sun. I was here because I trusted Dexter, even though I knew he wasn't the kind of person most would ever trust.

Meeting Rita and her kids felt like crossing a line into his world, one I wasn't sure I belonged in. Dexter made it seem like it was no big deal, but I couldn't shake the feeling I was about to meet a part of him I didn't fully understand. I'd seen him in action, watched him dissect killers with that calm, methodical approach, but Rita... she represented a different side of him. One I wasn't sure I was ready for.

He glanced at me as we walked up to the house, giving me that small smile that was meant to be reassuring. I tried to return it, but my stomach was in knots. I wasn't exactly the family type these days. Not after everything.

The door opened before we even knocked, and Rita was standing there with a bright, welcoming smile. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly, like one of those idealized images from a commercial. A woman who had seen her share of pain but managed to build a life anyway. It made me wonder if I could ever pull that off.

"Hi! You must be Stephie," she greeted me, opening the door wider for us to step inside. "Dexter's told me so much about you."

I managed a polite smile, stepping inside the cozy little house. It was warm, filled with the sound of kids' laughter coming from another room. A far cry from the sterile environments I was used to—crime scenes, offices, my own apartment that felt empty no matter how much I tried to fill it.

"All good things, I hope," I joked lightly, but even I could hear the edge in my voice. Rita didn't seem to notice, though. She just waved me in like we were old friends.

The kids—Cody and Astor—ran into the room, excited and full of energy. Their innocence was so... disarming. I wasn't used to being around kids. It made me excited to have a life like this one day.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Rita asked, oblivious to the storm raging inside my head. Dexter stood close by, watching me like he could sense my discomfort but not quite knowing what to do about it.

"No, thank you," I replied. "I'm fine."

I wasn't, but what was new? The visit went by quicker than I expected. I watched Dexter with Rita and the kids, and it struck me how... different he seemed. Softer, in a way. It was hard to reconcile this version of him with the man I knew who dissected killers in his spare time. He was good at compartmentalizing. I guess we both were.

By the time we left, I felt like I'd crossed some unspoken threshold, one where Dexter's life as a family man felt just as surreal as his other side. The ride to the police department was quieter. He didn't ask how I felt about meeting Rita, and I didn't offer anything.

When we arrived, I followed him inside, walking through the station with a sense of ease that came with familiarity. Crime scenes and police work? That, I understood. The blood spatter analysis? Even more so. It was in the gray areas where things felt murky.

I sat in the corner of his lab, watching him work. He moved with precision, measuring blood patterns with a calm, almost detached focus. It reminded me of the cases I used to profile, piecing together human lives like puzzles made of shattered glass. But there was something different about Dexter's approach. He saw the blood as a map, a roadmap to a story only he seemed to know how to read.

"So, this is your everyday life?" I asked, more to break the silence than out of real curiosity.

Dexter glanced up from his work, giving me a sideways look. "Pretty much. Not as exciting as your cases, I'm sure."