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A bedtime story

Summary:

For most of the time Malcolm was just lying in the bed, in some forest cabin, only God's knew where, and his father was fussing over him constantly. Bright was... tired, so tired. He had to look really miserable, all curled up under a thick duvet, because even Martin avoided speaking up to not cause him further distress. However, it was the silence, which was the most unbearable.

"Tell me a story." Malcolm asked his father.

Notes:

After episode 2x12 "Sun and Fun", and AU scene, which we could have in episode 2x13 "The Last Weekend" ;)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Malcolm didn't feel good, mentally and physically. For most of the time he was just lying in the bed, in some forest cabin, only God's knew where, and his father was fussing over him constantly. Unfortunately, Bright had to admit that Doctor Whitly's worry wasn't unjustified. After Capshaw's 'experiment', Martin was expecting that his son's health could get worse. Nothing life threatening, but still - it wasn't something, which should have been ignored.

Due to that, his father had to watch over him during nights, as Bright's fever didn't drop down. With both of them exhausted, it was easy to quarrel (non-stop, actually), because both men were certain in their convictions and neither of them wanted to give up.

Malcolm was... tired, so tired. He had to look really miserable, all curled up under a thick duvet, because even his father avoided speaking up to not cause him further distress. Furthermore, the profiler didn't have any strength to object, when Martin also sat on the bed and manoeuvred his son's head, so it could comfortably rest on Whitly's knees. However, it was the silence, which was the most unbearable. Stars, serial killer arguing was better than this awful void.

"Tell me a story." Bright asked his father, hoping to bring some kind of life to the sad existence.

"... aren't you too old for such things?" Martin stopped brushing his son's hair momentary.

Malcolm shrugged.

"Once upon a time," Whitly started after a brief pause. "there lived an old man with a beautiful and goodhearted daughter..."

They ended with a fairy tale about the Beauty and the Beast, how the girl was forced to live in the monster's castle, but somehow they both fell in love and broke the curse, which changed the handsome prince into the awful creature.

"...and they lived happily ever after."

"Is there a particular reason, why you chose that story?" Malcolm questioned.

"Maybe" Martin replied with a mysterious smirk. "If you like, I can also tell you about the Wolf and the Red Ridding Hood..."

"No!... I'm fine. You don't have to."

Doctor Whitly only laughed in response and for a while he seemed content in only holding his son, but then added:

"The tale has one intriguing point."

"I knew that I would be regretting asking about this." the profiler groaned to himself.

"Both our heroes started with wishing for something (The Beauty wanted to return to her family, the Beast - to be free in his human body.), but ended in much different and happier circumstances."

"Real life isn't a fairy tale." Bright reminded glumly.

"I can agree with you in that, my boy." Martin patted him gently. "But stories were made for a much more unique purpose."

"Which is?"

"For hope."

Hearing it, Malcolm raised his head and looked at his father confused.

"Hope that with all difficulties, we still can have a happy ending." Martin smiled in that particular way, as if he wanted to turn back time. Bright as well, however he was sure that each of them wished it for various reasons.

Could they even have a happy ending? Did they deserve it? Doctor Whitly was a serial killer on the run and Malcolm... his worst crime was probably the fact that he loved the monster. He would surely loose his job. Gil and his mother would be furious. All his friends and sister were worried sick about him. Would Dani ever speak to him again? Was he even able to do anything to convince his father that there is a different way?

Bright winced, when he tried to get up and fell down.

"My boy, don't move, you're too weak." Martin tucked him in bed again. "You need to rest."

Yes, he was powerless, but he wasn't the Beauty locked in the castle with the Beast. Malcolm would get better and even if he had only the hope to get him going, so be it. He would find a solution for their problem and maybe somehow it won't be too bad.

Chapter Text

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