A little one-shot, by request, about what could have made Harry throw Brian to wolves, while keeping Dexter. And yes, I do take requests.
Harry was, all around, a happy man. He just bought his first house, and his beautiful wife had just given birth to a little baby girl. He was a well-respected police officer too. What was not to be happy about? As he entered the police station he had a smile.
"Mornin' Harry", some fellow officers greeted him. He smiled and nodded at them.
"How's the new baby doin'?", another one asked.
"She's doing fine, thanks. Lovely little girl. Have you seen her?", Harry asked, already getting his wallet out, pictures at the ready. He truly did love his little angel.
The day seemed normal. A normal day for a normal cop in a normal city. And like any other normal day, they got calls. Domestic abuse, car theft, burglary, all sorts of calls. So when the phone rang again, no one thought much of it. Even when the man on the other end was panting and muttering, it was still considered normal. His English was poor, and with his panic, he was barely able to get the address out.
Harry Morgan was sent to the crime scene.
Even at the fateful the crime scene, he was happy. The person who called it in sounded panicked, horrified. They said it was the worst thing they had ever seen. They weren't police officers though. That's what Harry thought. His entire job was seeing the most gruesome, violent scenes Miami has to offer.
A Cuban man lead the way through the twisting maze of shipping containers. It was just any other day in his life. So when Harry walked up to the dull red shipping container, he thought nothing of opening it. One good pull and the doors went flying open.
His breathing stopped at the sight inside. Blood dripped onto his shoes in partially congealed blobs, like a demon licking at his feet, showing off the darkness that was birthed inside. His eyes locked on the pretty young face of Laura Moser, half hidden in blood, the rest the of her body scattered around. The air seemed to thicken around him, getting stuck in his throat and lungs, smothering him in the worst of ways. There were limbs everywhere. Pink and yellow, brown and beige, all coated in red. His stomach tightened and turned, his muscles locked, and a deep chill settled into his very bones, one that would never fully leave. Harry tried not to look, it truly was the worst thing he had ever seen.
The smell was slow to hit him, but packed a full forced. It wasn't the smell of some old meat, or even the smell of road kill. It was something much worse. It was the very scent of evil. The smell of everything wicked that lives in the darkest of hearts. It forced his eyes to stay open, to take it all in. It made him look at it.
And so he looked and he saw. Death, blood, guts, mayhem, everything wrong with this world, stuffed into a box. It pricked his very soul, altering him forever.
His eyes continued to behold the sight. Then he saw it. Two complete bodies, huddled together in the corner. Children. He wasn't sure if they were dead - it was hard to imagine that anything could be alive - but they were complete bodies. Little fingers attached to little hands, connected to little arms, all apart of little bodies. Harry ran in. The blood coated his shoes, marking them with the heinous deed. He didn't care about the blood or death though. There was a chance of life.
They were her boys. Dexter and Brian. They sat there, pale and still. Brian was leaning against the wall, Dexter in his lap, both were drenched in blood. He grabbed the closest body, which turned out to be Dexter, relieved to feel the warmth of a living person. He ran out, yelling for someone to get in there and get the other one. He clutched the small child closer, sorry it took so long.
Harry killed their mother. Not directly, of course not. He could never do that. But she had been one of his confidential informants. He pushed her into it. She had been crying, saying that she cannot go through with it, that investigating the drug traffickers was too dangerous.
Harry told her to do it anyway.
When the time came for the boys to find a new home, it seemed only right that Harry take them. His conscience, still haunted by a pair of dead eyes half-buried in blood, wouldn't let him do anything but. It took some talking into for Doris, but soon their happy little family of three jumped to five.
"Welcome to your new home boys", Harry said, gesturing the two small boys inside his home. His heart throbbed every time he looked into their confused, young faces. Laura's death was his fault. It was his fault that those two little, lost boys were without a mother.
They slowly walked into the house, scared and uncertain. Brian took the lead, his face plastered with an icy expression that had not left since his mother died. Dexter was behind him, clutching his hand, scared. Neither said anything. Neither spoke very often at all. Dexter seemed to be constantly afraid, never wanting to be alone.
Brian, on the other hand, showed no fear. He showed nothing. He walked slowly and carefully, never letting any emotion ever cross his face. Brian turned to stare at Harry, expectantly. His face still had that blank look. His eyes were dead.
"You're going to have to share a room", Harry said, walking down the hallway, leading them to their room. Neither of the boys said anything, they just followed.
"Hello Brian, Dexter", Doris greeted, walking out of Debra's room, holding the small baby in her arms. Something appeared in Brian's eyes. Harry couldn't tell what, it was gone before he even realized it was there. He was silently thankful. After the trauma Brian went through, maybe Deb can help make him better. She was a very special girl, he could tell already.
He walked through the house, showing them their rooms. Neither said anything.
The days passed by slowly. They still didn't talk. They didn't eat much either. Harry tried sending them to child psychologists, but they didn't talk there either. Instead, he just got some advice. Be patient, be welcoming without being pushy, show them that they can talk to you. It all started with the boys. Harry just had to sit and wait for them to act. Annoying for him, but he obliged. What else could he do?
He would often walk by and see Brian peering down Deb's crib, staring at her soft face. Harry had to smile when he did see it. If there is anything in the entire world that could melt Brian's heart and remind that boy that there was still good in this world, it was Debra.
It was one of those days. Doris was out shopping with friends, leaving Harry alone with the kids. He never planned for a large family, but he got one. He had to smile as he walked down the hallway. It wasn't that bad, things were starting to even fit together. Dexter was calming down, he no longer had to be near his brother. He started playing with toys, and had even been eating more. He was on the mend. He was only three when it happened. He probably wouldn't even remember it.
And Brian was doing well too. He was still cold and quiet, but he would play with Dexter. Whenever Dexter needed something, Brian was there. Harry asked the child psychologist about it. She explained that it's normal for children that went through adoption at Brian's age to become really attached to something or someone from prior to the adoption. She gave a warning that this could grow into an obsession if left unchecked, but Harry couldn't separate the two. Brian was just being a good big brother to Dexter.
He was also bonding with Debra. He wouldn't smile or play with her, but he would watch her a lot. He was going to be a good big brother to her too, Harry could tell. Dexter and Deb would never have to worry about anything.
So he smiled as he walked down the hallway. Laura's eyes still haunted him, but he knew he did the right thing.
He glanced into Deb's room as he passed by, just to make sure everything was in order. He was so use to the small figure leaning over her crib that he barely noticed it.
The large rock held directly above Deb's head, the only thing separating his sweet, little angel with death being two small hands.
His blood ran cold and he sucked in air. The seconds seemed to slow down to a painful degree. He moved as fast as he could, but it was still far, far too slow for his liking. Every small twitch of the hands, caused by holding up the much-too-large rock sent a pulse of fear rocketing through Harry, forcing him to move just a little bit faster than humanly possible.
Deb cooed and Brian's breaths were soft, yet strong. His arms started to shake. Every time Harry blinked, he feared his eyes would open to see the rock freed from the hands, falling towards his delicate little girl.
The small, shaky hands were roughly covered by larger ones. Harry didn't care about how much he hurts the boy, how badly he crushed those hands. Because they were the hands that almost killed his daughter.
He roughly jerked the rock away, dragging Brian with him. A quick, swift motion, and the large rock, which weighs more than Deb, was safely in his hands. Anger raged through Harry's veins. He hated Brian for what he almost did, and he hated himself letting it almost happen. Eyes met, and Harry saw Brian for the first, true time. Empty and dead eyes, no hope of recovery. His rage ebbed, for just a moment, as guilt washed in. Turns out he killed the boys alone with Laura.
With the rock under one arms and Brian roughly being pulled with the other, Harry lead the boy to the back yard. He threw the rock as far as he could, and pushed Brian down into a lawn chair before returning inside to dial the adoption agency's number. He had paperwork to cancel.
"Yeah, both of them...Why? Because they need help! These kids are messed up", Harry yelled over the phone.
He felt sorry, sure. He caused this all. But he should have known, it was too late. No one could witness what those boys saw and be fine. They'd both have to go. Into state care, they are not fit for adoption. Damaged good, far beyond repair.
"Harry?", a soft voice drifted in. Harry turned and looked at Dexter. "Can I have juice?", he asked, pointing to the refrigerator. Harry just stared, trying to make sense of why one of the little monsters would ask for juice. A wide smile spread across Dexter's face. "Please?", he finished, sure that was all that delayed Harry's response.
It was too late for Brian, but maybe not for Dexter. Dexter was getting better. He just may have been young enough. He could grow up to be normal. There is a chance in Dexter. Not all hope is lost. For Brian, yes, but if Dexter is given the right home, he could be okay.
Harry poured Dexter a cup of juice, keeping a close eye on the child outside.