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Chapter Text

Malcolm woke with a start. It was dark and his shoulders were pressed in on both sides. Where was he? He didn’t remember falling asleep. He tried to control his breathing as his heart raced. It was dark and tight wherever he was. He couldn’t move. His hands were bound tightly in front of him. He strained against the rope, but it didn’t budge. He tried to kick out, drawing his knees up as far as they could go. They brushed a hard surface very quickly. He kicked his feet with as much force as he could muster, feet colliding with another hard surface. He screamed in frustration and pain. He was trapped in a box. A box!

As panic set in, he reminded himself that panicking wouldn’t help. That he needed to think his way out of this one. He braced his knees, feet, and bound fists to the lid of the box and pushed with all his might. The wood didn’t so much as creak with the movement. He was trapped in a box God knows where. 

He wracked his brain for the last thing he could remember. How did he end up in a box? He remembered walking into the precinct that morning, a carton of coffees in hand. He remembered meeting up with the team in the conference room, their latest murder board filled with pictures, papers, and Malcolm’s neat handwriting. He remembered being frustrated with not having more answers. Not having enough information. And he remembered everyone’s tempers were running high. Dani had snapped at him. JT had left in a huff saying something about needing air. And finally Gil had had enough of him, too. Told him to take a walk, clear his head, and come back later. Being dismissed by Gil had been hurtful. He’d left in a hurry. He hadn’t meant to frustrate anyone. He was just so close. He knew it. He remembered walking out into the cool sunshine. The air was crisp. Autumn had finally settled over the city. He remembered walking a few blocks, and then he didn’t remember anything else. 

Someone had grabbed him? Who? Who would want him? Malcolm realized that was a dumb question. A lot of people wanted to do him harm. But who wanted to act on it now? For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anyone in particular. Or anyone who’s methods were to put people in boxes. 

Besides his father. I wouldn’t do that to you, my boy. I would never put you in a box . Martin’s voice whispered through his mind. 

“Not helpful. And yes, you would if it served your purpose.”

I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part. Let’s try and think our way out of this one. You’re in a sticky situation, my boy.  

“I realize that, again, not helping.”

Think, Malcolm. Use that big brain of yours.  

Malcolm closed his eyes and took a breath. He could hear the rattle of chains. “No,” he whispered, breath quickening. “No, no, no, no, please, no. Please.”

No, you’re not hearing that. Take a breath, my boy. She’s not here. I won’t let her come here. You found her. Remember?

Malcolm did remember. It didn’t change the fact that he still felt as though he were trapped in a box with Sophie Sanders. But she was alive. Unharmed. He took a steadying breath and listened again. 

Waves crashed in the distance. Gulls called. “I’m at the beach.”

Very good, my boy. Who would take you in a box to the beach?

Malcolm’s heart sunk. There was only one person that he knew of that would do that. And it was the person he was hunting. “My suspect.”

Great! So you know who has you then. I’m sure we’ll be able to work our way out of this, my boy. 

Malcolm tried not to let despair take over. “No.” He swallowed. “No, I don’t know who it is. And there’s no getting out. I’m going to die soon.” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

The case had been a tough one. The first body turned up after some beach goers were digging for crabs in Brighton Beach. The next had turned up at FDR beach, children digging at some driftwood buried in the sand. And the latest had turned up at Gunnison Beach, a concerned citizen had called in about a driftwood cross at the waterline. All three victims were buried at the tide line in a pine box coffin, hands bound with coarse rope in the front, and a scuba mask and light tank attached to their face. They had all drowned, of course. They would have been able to hear the tide coming in, feel the water crashing around them, and they would have lived for a time while they were submerged. Until their air ran out. None of the victims were related to each other. Even knew each other. Malcolm had suspected they were dealing with a serial killer, but the team hadn’t wanted to hear it. There had to be a connection. Malcolm wasn’t so sure. 

And now he was going to be their connection. His breath quickened as he started to panic again. He beat against the box with his feet. Pounded with his fist. Screamed in rage. This was not how he wanted to die. He wanted to live!

You are, my boy. Think about it. He buries them with a scuba mask on. Your face is free. 

“Yeah, maybe because he wants me to drown faster.”

Nonsense. If he is what you say he is, he will not deviate. You have time, my boy. You’ll be able to talk your way out of this. 

Before Malcolm could reply, there was a creaking sound from above him. He flinched back as the lid of the coffin was pried off by a crowbar. 

“You shout quite a bit, don’t you,” a heavily accented voice came as Malcolm was blinded by the sudden brightness. 

Once his eyes adjusted, Malcolm could see the man who grabbed him. He was short, stocky, with sandy brown hair and green eyes. He smirked down at Malcolm as he leaned on a shovel. 

“Only way I knew how to get your attention.” 

“Oh, you’ve had my attention for a while, Mr. Bright.” The man squatted down so he could lean over Malcolm. Far enough away that Malcolm couldn’t head butt him. But close enough that Malcolm could see his freckles. 

“Should I be flattered?” Malcolm licked his suddenly dry lips. 

Do whatever you need to get out of here, my boy. He’s seriously unhinged. And that’s coming from a man who killed twenty-three people! 

“Definitely,” the man chuckled. “But you aren’t my usual type, Mr. Bright. Even though you are a pretty, wee thing. Still not my type.”

“People make exceptions for me,” Malcolm tried to sound less sarcastic, more inviting. He wasn’t above flirting his way out of this. 

The man looked away. “Tide’s coming in.”

Malcolm felt bile creeping up the back of his throat. He had to do something now. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

The man looked back at him, his eyes tight. “Aye, but I do, Mr. Bright. Can’t have you catching me, now.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go and I won’t come after you.”

“Pretty to think so, Mr. Bright. But I know who you are. I know what you do. The code you live by.”

I’ve seen his face. He was never going to let me live. He was just playing with me. “Then why open the box up at all? Why not let the tide just take me?”

The man grinned. “Had to let you see who finally beat you. The man who caught the Surgeon’s Son.”

Martin took a snarling breath. Malcolm spoke first to the man before addressing his father’s hallucination.. “And yet you call me Bright.”

“Well, had to be sure I was writing the right name on your tombstone.”

Before Malcolm could reply, the man was shoving something into his mouth and pulling something else over his head. “Best take slow, even breaths, Mr. Bright.” He rose, pulling out a phone from his pocket. “You know, this Gil texts you quite a bit. And calls. A lot. He your boyfriend?”

Malcolm growled around the regulator. 

“Guess he’ll be the one we call then.”

No! Don’t call Gil. I don’t want him to be the one to hear this. See me. Malcolm raged around the regulator, but didn’t spit it out. He didn’t think the man would stick it in his mouth a second time.

Malcolm could hear the ringing of the video call. Heard Gil answer. Heard Gil gasp. “Lieutenant Arroyo, I presume,” the man said as he aimed the camera at Malcolm. 

“Let him go. You don’t have to do this,” Gil shouted. 

“Tide will be in in two hours. Come get your boy. You make it, I won’t interfere. You don’t, well, I know what you’ll be busy with.”

Before Gil could reply, the man hung up the call and tossed the phone away. “Any last words, Mr. Bright?”

Malcolm glared at the man, putting as much venom into his gaze as he could. He did not want Gil to be the one to find him. He never wanted Gil to be the one to find him. 

Fuck you. 

“Duly-noted. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other again in this life. Until the next, Mr. Bright.” And the man slid the lid back over. Malcolm heard him hammer the nails into the lid. 

Two hours is a long time, my boy. Gil will track your phone and be here soon. 

That’s if I’m still in the city. 

You are, my boy. He wouldn’t deviate. Gil will be here soon. Loathe as I am to let him save you. Better he than no one. 

Malcolm had a snarky reply ready to fire off when the first shovel of sand hitting the roof of the coffin silenced him. He was being buried alive.

Chapter Text

Gil’s phone was ringing on the conference room table. He had been staring at their murder board for the last hour. He’d sent Malcolm on a walk this morning and Malcolm hadn’t come back yet. He felt bad for hurting Malcolm’s feelings. He’d texted him as much. And called. Numerous times. But Malcolm didn’t answer. Didn’t send a text back. After the seventh, “This is Bright, leave a message,” Gil had decided Malcolm needed space. 

They all needed space. This case was maddening. Three bodies in the last two weeks. Malcolm had wanted to call it what it likely was, but the others weren’t hearing it. 

“Bright, come on, not every case is a serial killer.” JT had said this morning, tension already thick in his voice. 

“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck,” Malcolm had replied. 

“Just because you hear hooves doesn’t mean it’s horses! Sometimes it’s a goat. Or a cow. Or a donkey!” Dani had thrown down her file on the table. “You’re always looking at something from the serial killer angle.”

“Serial killer angle? If that means I assess what information is in front of me and explore all possible options before coming to the conclusion that we have a serial killer, then yes, yes I do.”

Dani jumped up. “Believe it or not, we do know what we’re doing here. We got along fine before you,” she snapped. 

Malcolm had put up his hands, started to speak, but the damage was done. JT had already left, “Need some air,” he muttered as he walked out the door. 

“Bright, take a walk.” Gil sighed. 

Malcolm’s face fell. “What?”

“Kid, go for a walk. Take a break. We’ve all been going at it for days. We all need a break.” He’d clasped the back of Malcolm’s neck, but Malcolm pulled away quickly. 

“Malcolm, wait!” But Malcolm was already gone. 

“Smooth one, boss,” Dani chided. 

Gil rounded on her. “You’re not helping. Go get some air. Or something. Just take a break.”

“I’ll join JT for this mysterious air break.” And soon Gil was alone in the conference room. 

That was several hours ago. JT and Dani had both returned looking refreshed and calm. And had started to tackle the mountain of paperwork on their desks. 

Gil promised himself that he would make it up to Malcolm tonight. Help him destress and apologize for his shortness. 

“You gonna get that?” Dani asked as she leaned on the door jam, three coffee mugs in her hands. 

“What? Oh yeah.” He looked down. Malcolm’s face flashed across the screen. Finally. “This has been an awfully long walk,” Gil started as he stared down at the screen. He gasped as he realized what he was looking at. 

Malcolm in a pine box in a hole in the sand. Malcolm had a scuba regulator jammed in his mouth, tank in between his legs. His hands were bound in front, coarse rope digging into his pale skin. He was still in his suit from this morning. His eyes were wide and wild. 

“Lieutenant Arroyo, I presume,” a thick Irish accent came across the line. 

“Let him go, you don’t have to do this!” Gil’s voice sounded distant, though he knew he was shouting. Malcolm. Malcolm had been grabbed by their suspect. Malcolm was right. Malcolm was in a pine box!

“Tide will be in in two hours. Come get your boy. You make it, I won’t interfere. You don’t, well, I know what you’ll be busy with.”

Before Gil could reply, the video ended. He sat frozen. Malcolm hadn’t been gone on a walk all day. Hadn’t been ignoring Gil’s calls. Gil’s texts. Malcolm had been trapped in a coffin, buried in the sand all day. Guilt gnawed at Gil’s stomach. 

“Could you see where they were? Any visual giveaways to what beach in the city?” Dani asked Gil urgently. She’d dropped all three coffee mugs the moment Gil had shouted. 

Gil opened his mouth and closed it. Tide will be in in two hours. Come get your boy. “No,” he swallowed, “no. No, it was just Bright.”

“How did he look?” JT pulled his chair closer to Gil. He put his hand on Gil’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Scared. Awake. Unhurt.” Gil would never forget the look in Malcolm’s eyes. Terror of being at the mercy of a killer and being trapped in a box, and realization that he was going to die. Gil wouldn’t let him die. He would find him. He had two hours. “JT, start a trace on Bright’s phone. Rather than going beach to beach, if we know what beach he’s at, we can just canvas the sand.” And hope there was another marker. 

JT hurried out of the conference room, cell phone already at his ear. “Gil,” Dani said as she put her hand on Gil’s shaking ones, “it’ll be ok. We’ll find him.” She sniffed. “We have to find him. I…I can’t let what I said this morning be the last thing I said to him.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

I can’t let what I said this morning to be the last thing I said to him. “We’ve got two hours. We’ll find him. Get a team of unis going. Have them at the ready for when the trace goes through.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She stood up. “We’ve got two hours before high tide. We can find him.”

JT came running into the conference room. “We’ve got to hurry! I’ll drive.”

“Where is he?” Gil had to know. Had to know where to send as many units as it took. 

“He’s not in the city, Gil. He’s in the Hamptons.” 

I know what you’ll be busy with. Even on a good day it took almost two hours to get to the Hamptons. “Where? We can call the police up there.”

JT looked grim. “I couldn’t narrow the signal to a specific part of the beach.”

“JT, there’s miles of beach. Miles and miles,” Dani muttered to herself. 

“We’ve got to go now. Call it in on the way!” JT hurried out, knowing that Dani and Gil would follow.

Gil followed on hollow legs. Two hours. Two hours. Hang on, kid, I’m coming.

Chapter Text

Malcolm wasn’t sure how long he spent yelling around the regulator. How long he spent beating the lid of the coffin with his fist. How long he spent kicking. He only knew how tired, out of breath, and in pain he was. 

Fuck! He raged. 

Easy there, my boy. That isn’t the way to survive this. 

There is no surviving this! I am going to drown. Very soon, in fact. 

No, you’re not. Gil will find you, son. You just need to wait and stay calm. 

Calm? Calm! You want me to be calm while I’m tied up and buried three feet below the sand and the tide is coming in. You want me to be fucking calm?

I want you to stay calm so you don’t waste what air you have in that canister. 

Malcolm stilled. He needed to stay calm, his father was right. Well, the hallucination of his father. The calmer he stayed, the slower his breathing. The slower his breathing, the longer the air canister would last. And the longer Gil would have to find him. He could do this.

That’s the spirit. Just think, this is like the ultimate exposure therapy for you and your claustrophobia. 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. Somehow, I don’t think this is what Gabrielle had in mind. 

No, but when you see her next you can tell her you’re cured. 

I doubt that, but ok. 

Son, you and I never talk. I mean like me me. Not me in your mind. 

Well, maybe if you hadn’t tried to kill me. Again. Maybe I would still be talking to you. 

The fact that you are talking to me now tells me otherwise, my boy. 

Malcolm let out a huff of air. He wasn’t going to debate his subconscious about this. Especially when his subconscious decided to sound a lot like Martin. And so he focused his attention on the box. How many knots in the wood he could count. How many planks of wood it took to encase him. 

Not too many, my boy. You always were skinny. 

Malcolm ignored Martin. He tried to remember if the other boxes were all the same size. Tried to remember if there was anything special about them. 

They’re your standard old military issue. Nothing special about them, my boy. 

That was special. Nobody has used these pine boxes in a long time. So either this guy is trying to send a message or….

Or he is buying old military cast offs?

No. But he could be modeling this after that. I bet he built these.

So your boy builds coffins. What now, my boy?

I don’t know. I just think it’s odd. They are specifically military style pine coffins. Which aren’t used any more. 

So what’s he trying to make a point about. 

He seems too young to have served in Vietnam. 

And too foreign, son. 

That, too. Old enough to have served in the gulf. Or as a contractor. 

A contractor. Good money in that. 

That has to be it. And our three victims…well, they have something to do with it. I’m sure of it. 

Great, my boy. Now you’ll have something to do when Gil gets you out of here. Which should be any minute now. 

Malcolm tried not to panic when he realized it had been a long time since the man had sealed him in the coffin and buried him. Tried not to panic when he realized that he probably wasn’t in the city. And he tried not to panic as the shushing of the waves grew louder. 

I’m sure Gil will be here any moment for you, my boy. 

Malcolm closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly. Even though it was becoming more effortful to draw breaths through the regulator. Even though the crashing waves grew louder and louder. Malcolm breathed slowly for Gil. Breathed slowly so he could hug Gil again. So he could hold and be held by Gil again. And so he could kiss Gil again. 

When the first wave crashed down above him, and water seeped into the coffin, Malcolm wrenched his eyes open. 

It’s ok, my boy, it’s ok. 

Malcolm began to thrash around again. He had to get out of there. Had to get to air. 

Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. My boy, it’s ok. It’s alright. 

As the water level in the pine box rose, Malcolm realized this was it. Gil was not going to rescue him in time. As he became completely submerged in the water, he shut his eyes against the burning saltiness. He slowed his breathing down, holding each breath as long as possible. He had to make it count. Had to hold on for Gil. Always for Gil.

And as Malcolm inhaled one final time, he felt nothing further come from the regulator. He was completely submerged, the sounds of the shore muted by the water. The sounds of life above a distant murmur. And all he was left with was the burning ache of lungs dying for air. 

If Malcolm could have cried, he would have. He would have cried because he was alone, trapped in a box, and waiting to drown. He would have cried because his mind supplied his father as the one person to comfort him. And he would have cried because he was leaving Gil behind. And Gil finding his body would break Gil. Malcolm spit out the regulator as the urge to take a breath became too much. He didn’t want to die with that thing in his mouth. As the water stilled around him, Malcolm breathed out, one last time. Malcolm’s panic grew, one final time. An insurmountable mountain of panic. Dad, I’m scared. 

Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Malcolm, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok, my son.

Chapter Text

Gil raced through the sand, stumbling as it sucked at his shoes. He had to get to Malcolm. Now. It had very nearly taken them two hours to get there. They still had fifteen minutes before the tide came in completely. Fifteen minutes to find Malcolm. Fifteen minutes to dig through and pull the box out. Fifteen minutes. 

“Have they been canvassing the beach?” He asked JT again as they ran together. 

“Yes, the whole time. No luck thus far. But this is the last stretch of beach and then we’ll have covered the entire beach.”

“What’s that along the edge of the surf?” Dani pointed at three driftwood crosses. Their bottoms were already beneath the waves. 

Gil stumbled and went down on one knee. They were too late. “No,” he whispered as he felt his heart begin to break. 

“Can’t have been under long. Christ, he’s got two others.” JT pulled Gil up and kept running. 

Water sloshed into Gil’s shoes as the waves crashed at their ankles. “No,” he whispered again as they reached the crosses. 

Each cross had a name. ‘Malcolm Bright,’ ‘Malcolm Whitly,’ and ‘The Surgeon’s Son.’

“Which one is he under?” Dani clutched the shovel she’d been running with. Her face was pinched and pale. 

“Doesn’t matter. Start digging. He should still have air.” JT immediately began digging beneath ‘Malcolm Bright.’ “Don’t just stand there, come on!” 

Dani immediately began to dig beneath ‘Malcolm Whitly’ leaving ‘The Surgeon’s Son’ for Gil. “He buried them only a few feet below. We’re so close!” Dani shouted as she dug, throwing shovelful after shovelful of wet sand behind her, creating a miniature sea wall.  

“I’ve gone four feet. He’s not in this one,” JT said glumly as he moved onto Gil’s hole. Gil had made the least progress. He couldn’t help it. It was hard to see through the tears. Hard to grip the shovel in his hand when all he wanted to do was collapse into the waves and cry. 

“He’s not–” Dani started when JT whooped with joy.

“We’ve got him!” JT scooped shovelful after shovelful of water behind the small sea wall they had built with the sand that had covered Malcolm’s coffin. 

Gil shoved the shovel in between the lid and the lip of the coffin. JT did the same with his. They both levered the shovels up, breaking the lid clean off. Gil let out a choked sob as a wave crashed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. 

Malcolm lay in the submerged coffin, hair floating in the water. Malcolm’s eyes were closed, his mouth open, as water sloshed around inside the coffin. They were too late. 

Without thinking, Gil reached in and pulled Malcolm out and to his chest. He held Malcolm tightly as he stood, making a run for the dry sand. He lay Malcolm gently on the dry sand, water streaming down the both of them. Malcolm’s hair had flopped over his face when Gil had been running, the wet strands leaving beads of water on Malcolm’s pale face. Gil brushed it back and pressed two fingers to the pulse in Malcolm’s throat.

Nothing. 

Without wasting any time, Gil started compressions. “Free his hands. He’s freezing. Get a blanket!” Gil barked orders to Dani and JT. Both of whom, up until that moment, were watching with heartbroken eyes. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!” Gil shouted angrily. 

He wasn’t going to lose Malcolm. Wasn’t going to give up. Wasn’t going to let the others stand by and give up. 

“I’ll get the ambulance,” Dani shouted over her shoulder as she raced up the beach, “and I’ll bring back the blanket.”

JT immediately pulled out his utility knife and began to saw at the thick coils of rope around Malcolm’s wrists. And all the while Gil never stopped pumping Malcolm’s chest. “Come on, Malcolm, come on.” He murmured as he paused to give rescue breaths. 

“I’ll take over. You just breathe when I tell you to,” JT said as he sidled up next to Gil. 

Gil nodded and knelt by Malcolm’s head. As he gazed down into the face he loved the most. The face he never wanted to stop looking at. The face that brought him the most joy, the most happiness, and the most love. The face that was lax, still, and pale. The face that wasn’t moving. The face that was empty. 

“Come on, Bright, breathe,” JT muttered as he pumped Malcolm’s chest. 

Gil gave two rescue breaths as Dani returned. “They’re getting the field kit going. They’ll have to carry him back. Gurney won’t make it through the sand.”

Gil stroked Malcolm’s forehead. Whispered words into his ears. Begged him to wake. Begged him to breathe. Told Malcolm how much he was loved. Especially by him. But Malcolm didn’t wake. Didn’t cough up seawater. Didn’t so much as change. His eyes were still closed, mouth hanging open. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes. Pooled in the hollow of his throat. 

“Please, Malcolm, open your eyes. Breathe for me, please,” Gil begged. 

Just as he was about to give another breath, Malcolm shuddered beneath JT’s hands. Gil quickly turned Malcolm on his side as he coughed up water. And coughed. And coughed. Gil rubbed his back in soothing circles, “That’s it, Malcolm. That’s it.” Malcolm was alive. Malcolm was breathing. 

“He’s freezing, where are the EMTs?” Gil said as he pulled Malcolm to his chest. Malcolm’s head lolled against Gil’s shoulder, his breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps against Gil’s neck. Gil rubbed Malcolm’s sternum, trying to get him to open his eyes. “Come on, Malcolm, come on.” 

Dani began to rip Malcolm’s shirt. “They’re coming. It’s just going to take them a minute.” She began to pull Malcolm’s waterlogged shirt off. “Let’s get him wrapped up.” She threw the blanket over Malcolm and around Gil. 

“Medics are here, I’ll catch them up to speed.” JT got up and headed off to meet the paramedics. 

Gil hugged Malcolm tighter. He still hadn’t woken. Hadn’t stirred. And his breathing was so rapid and irregular that Gil didn’t notice that he had stopped breathing again. 

As the paramedics pulled Malcolm from Gil’s arms, shouting that he wasn’t breathing, Gil feared this was it. That he was too late. That he had failed Malcolm. That he would never get to hug Malcolm again. Never get to hold Malcolm again. Never kiss Malcolm again. And it was entirely his fault. 

He watched as the paramedics intubated. Watched as they began CPR again. Watched as they shouted Malcolm was breathing again. And he watched as they started to carry the stretcher up the beach again. 

“Go on, boss, we’ll be right behind you.” JT pulled Gil to standing and shoved him after the retreating paramedics. 

Gil ran along on hollow legs, his eyes never leaving Malcolm’s pale face. He pulled himself into the ambulance and wedged himself in on the bench, hands immediately grabbing one of Malcolm’s. 

“Do you know how long he was under for?” 

Gil shook his head. He didn’t even know how long Malcolm was trapped in the box waiting to drown. Replaying the last conversation over in his head. Waiting for Gil to save him. “I’m here, kid,” he whispered, squeezing Malcolm’s hand, “I’m here.”

Malcolm still hadn’t stirred by the time the ambulance had arrived at the hospital. But he hadn’t stopped breathing again. Gil took that as a good sign. It was all he had. They whisked Malcolm back before Gil could say anything. 

A kind nurse guided him to a waiting room, offering him a change of clothes while he waited. And so that was how JT and Dani found him. Changed out of his wet sweater and slack and in hospital scrubs. The two detectives sat on either side of Gil. Dani took his hand and JT threw an arm over his shoulder. 

“Bright’s going to be ok, Gil,” Dani said as they waited. “He’s made of tougher stuff.”

Gil didn’t reply. Didn’t trust himself to reply. Opening the coffin and seeing Malcolm in his watery grave kept playing on repeat in his brain. He was so deep in the memory that he didn’t notice the doctor approach him until JT gave his shoulders a squeeze. 

“For Malcolm Bright?” She asked again tentatively. 

“Yeah, yeah we’re here for Malcolm. How is he?” Gil watched her face carefully. 

“He’s alive.” Gil could have cried with relief. Instead he forced himself to listen to the doctor. She told him that Malcolm was still breathing. But not on his own. That they had placed him on a ventilator. And they weren’t sure how much damage Malcolm had sustained. Or when he would wake up. 

“Everything is promising though, and we’ll be monitoring him continuously.”

“Can we see him?”

“Of course, follow me.” She led them up to the ICU. 

Malcolm looked tiny in the hospital bed, dwarfed by the machines keeping him alive. He was less pale, but still not back to his normal pallor. Gil sank into the chair next to his bedside, immediately taking his hand. It was less cold than before, but still cool. “Oh, Malcolm,” he whispered. 

Gil wasn’t sure how long he sat there with Dani and JT, but eventually he realized he was alone. His sense of time was off, he realized, as he looked up at the clock and saw it was already morning. He leaned over and kissed Malcolm’s forehead. “Come back to me, Malcolm. Come back to me. I need you to come back now. Ok?”

Only the whir and hiss of the ventilator answered Gil. Only the beeps of the monitors let Gil know that Malcolm was still alive.

Chapter Text

Malcolm slowly inched his way into consciousness. Something cold and hard was down his throat. And his body felt heavy. So heavy. His eyelids felt as though they weighed one ton each. The beeping of a monitor, whirring of air, and the antiseptic smell let him know he was in a hospital. Gil had made it in time. 

He slowly blinked the world into focus. 

“Malcolm!” Gil said suddenly from Malcolm’s right. “Oh thank God.” He squeezed Malcolm’s hand. 

Malcolm tried to turn his head, but couldn’t. He was too weak, too tired to move. He tried to open his mouth, but couldn’t. He could hear his heart rate rise on the monitor. 

“It’s ok, Malcolm. It’s ok. You’re on a ventilator. It’s ok.”

Malcolm blinked slowly. I know. I know. Take it out, please, Gil. Take it out. And stop the sedation. I can’t move. I need to move. Please, Gil. Please. 

“Let me get a nurse in here, she’ll know what to do.”

Malcolm closed his eyes. Please. Take this out. I can breathe. Please. Stop drugging me. Please. Take it out. 

“Hello, Mr. Bright, my name is Carey, I’ll be assessing you today.” Carey’s voice was sickly sweet. Malcolm tried to move his head to look at her. To look anywhere but the ceiling. “Hold on, Mr. Bright, I’ll raise your bed.”

The mechanical whirring of the bed, slowly raised Malcolm up a little. He could see Carey. She was a brunette with pink scrubs. And he could see Gil. Gil looked a wreck. He was wearing a pair of hospital scrubs, his hair was uncombed, and his beard beginning to grow out a bit. He looked exhausted. 

“Mr. Bright, I’ll have you blink once for ‘yes’ twice for ‘no’. Do you understand?”

Malcolm blinked once. Yes. I know how this works. 

“Are you in any pain.”

No. 

“Kid, be honest with her.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. Alright, yeah, I am. 

“I’ll get you something for that. Are you feeling weak?”

Yes. 

“Is that normal?” Gil’s voice held an edge of worry Malcolm did not like hearing. 

“Of course, Lieutenant Arroyo. Fairly common. He’ll get his strength back over the next few days. And as the infection passes, he’ll do a lot better, too.”

Infection. I have an infection?

“Mr. Bright, you drowned two days ago. Do you remember?”

Water flooding into the darkened pine box, regulator getting tougher and tougher to pull air from, his father’s voice in his ear. Yes. 

“Your lungs sustained a lot of damage from that, Mr. Bright. Hence the vent. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake and can answer more questions. She’ll be able to let you know when we can wean you off the vent.”

Please. Please get this thing out of my mouth. And stop sedating me. 

“Now that he’s awake, does he have to be on so many sedatives and pain killers?” Gil asked quietly. 

“Let’s see what the doctor has to say, but we can turn down some of them for now.” Carey adjusted something at the IV monitor. “Welcome back, Mr. Bright.”  

By that afternoon, Malcolm was feeling more alert. The doctor had assessed him and offered that they would be able to wean him off the ventilator the next morning. Malcolm was elated. He wanted to do more than hold Gil’s hands. Rub circles with his thumbs. He wanted out of bed. And he had to be ventilator free for that. 

“Don’t for one second think that you’ll be getting out of bed the second they take the vent out, kid.”

Malcolm glared at Gil. Please. I have had enough rest. We need to catch this guy. 

“Nope. You are staying in this bed until they release you. You still have an infection.”

Gil.

My boy, loathe as I hate to agree with Gil, he is right. Martin said from the corner. 

Unfortunately, as Malcolm felt less hazy, Martin reappeared. Not helping. 

Martin made a zipping motion at his mouth and tossed away the figurative key. 

“Malcolm,” Gil began, holding Malcolm’s hand tightly, “I really almost lost you. Please. Please don’t make me go through that again. Just please. I can’t. Please.”

Gil. Malcolm rubbed circles with his thumb on Gil’s hand. I will stay. For you. Always for you. 

“I love you, Malcolm.” Gil leaned over and kissed Malcolm’s cheek. 

I love you. He tried to trace the letters onto Gil’s hand. It was slow going, but he got it. It would be much better if I could text you. 

“Your phone’s trashed. But you seem to be getting more of your coordination back. Maybe I’ll get you some paper and a pen.”

YES!  Malcolm’s eyes lit up. 

“After you take a nap, kid. You’ve been awake most of the day.”

I’ve been asleep for two days. That’s more sleep than I get in a week!

“Rest up. Your mother is going to kill me for not calling her sooner. She is not going to believe she missed you waking.”

Please do not call her. 

“Take a nap. I’ll deal with Jessica.”

Malcolm reluctantly closed his eyes. He had been fighting the exhaustion since the moment he woke up. He didn’t want to drift into dreams again. Because now he had new things to haunt his dreams. But sleep sucked him under quickly. 

He woke once, hours later. It was dark in the room. His mother was reclined in a chair. Gil was asleep in his chair, also reclined as far as it could go. Malcolm smiled. He blinked sleepily. They were both asleep. No sense in waking them. He closed his eyes once more. 

When he blinked them open again, it was morning. Sunlight streamed through the windows. Jessica was gone, but Gil was there. 

“Your mother went to have breakfast with your sister. She’ll be back this afternoon,” Gil said as he smiled down at Malcolm. 

Or we could just not let her come back here. Please. For me? I almost died, Gil.

Your mother deserves to see you, son. I deserve to see you, my boy. 

Shut up.  

“Speaking of breakfast, are you ok if I go get some coffee?”

Yes. Please take care of yourself. I don’t want you getting sick for me. Because of me. Please, Gil. 

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

Take all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere. Malcolm squeezed Gil’s hand and Gil stood. 

Malcolm wasn’t alone in his room for long. A tall, broad-shouldered nurse walked in. Malcolm didn’t really look at him. He was looking out the window at the parking lot full of life down below. 

“You’re coming off the ventilator today, I hear, Mr. Bright.” 

Malcolm’s blood ran cold. The man. It was the man who drowned him. He reached his fingers for the call button, but the man stopped him. “You got lucky, Mr. Bright. Most people who are under for as long as you don’t survive.”

Malcolm glared up at the man. He could see more of the man than before. He had a tattoo of a mermaid on his right inner forearm. And burns. Many, many burns. Soldier of fortune. Blackwater type. Something that he is getting payback for. 

You were right, my boy! What does that mean?

He doesn’t give up easily. 

The man fiddled with something in his pocket. He suddenly grabbed Malcolm’s hand with the IV port. “Which will make it all the more tragic when you succumb to your injuries. Did you know that embolisms are common after near-drowning?”

Malcolm could feel the panic rising in his chest as he saw the syringe clear the man’s pocket. No. Please. No.

We’ve been here before, my boy. 

Yeah. And I died then, too. I can’t go through that again. 

Gil should be back any moment now. Hang on, my boy. Hang on. 

Malcolm tried to pull his arm away, but the man held it tight. He drew up air into the syringe and connected it to the port. Please. Don’t. 

“I told you I can’t have you catching me, Mr. Bright. It’s nothing personal,” the man said as he depressed the plunger. 

Malcolm felt the familiar sensation of not being able to draw breath despite the ventilator trying to force air into his lungs. Felt his heart race out of control. And as his world grew dark, Malcolm felt afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t get lucky again.

Chapter Text

Gil made his way from the cafeteria to Malcolm’s room in the ICU. He had a tray of food and several cups of coffee. He probably wouldn’t eat any of the food, but would drink all the coffee and then some. Until Malcolm was home and in his arms, he would not sleep. Not much. 

As he turned the corner to the ward, the loudspeaker blared above him. “Code Blue ICU Room Ten. Code Blue ICU Room Ten. Code Blue ICU Room Ten.” 

Malcolm’s room. Gil dropped the tray as he ran the length of the hall where a team of doctors and nurses met him. 

Malcolm lay completely motionless on the bed, his eyes closed once more. The monitors blared one singular tone. No. No. NO. “I was just talking to him, he was fine!” Gil started forward. 

A nurse grabbed his arm. “Sir, we need you to stay back and let us work.”

“No pulse. No breath sounds.” A doctor said tersely from Malcolm’s side as she examined him. 

“He was a near drowning victim three days ago. Set to wean off vent today.” A nurse supplied as she pulled a cart bedside.

“Suspect embolism. I’ll mitigate.” 

Gil watched in horror as they worked. Tears streamed down his face as he said a silent prayer, a silent plea, that Malcolm would live. That he would be ok. 

“Get the family out of here!” Someone yelled and Gil felt a tug on his arm as he was led outside the room. 

“We’ll let you know when you can come back, sir.” And they left, shutting the door behind them. 

Gil wasn’t sure how long he stood in the hallway before a nurse approached him from the station. “Sir, would you like something to change in to?” His voice was soft, calm, and non-threatening. But that didn’t stop Gil from jumping back like the man had tried to hit him. 

“What? Oh,” he looked down at his shirt. The coffee had completely drenched him. “I…I…” but he couldn’t get the words out. There was a ringing sound in his ears. He felt nauseous, his legs shaky. 

“Sir, here, sit down.” The nurse guided him to a chair. “Put your head between your knees.” 

Malcolm. Malcolm needs help. Not me. Malcolm is flatlining. Malcolm is not breathing. Go help him. Not me. Save him. HIM. Gil felt some pressure on the back of his neck as the nurse started to push his head down. He felt something cool on the back of his neck. 

“Sir, when was the last time you ate?”

When? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. HELP HIM. But Gil couldn’t form the words. Couldn’t breathe around the dread in his chest. Malcolm was dying and there was nothing he could do. 

“Drink some of this, it should help,” the nurse said as he held a straw to Gil’s lips. 

Gil took a sip and felt sick to his stomach. He turned to the side and retched. As he looked up he saw more people running into Malcolm’s room, saw the door open, and heard the continued shrill shriek of the monitors. No. NO. “Malcolm,” he muttered as the room began to spin. 

“He’s being taken care of, sir. Let us take care of you.” The nurse turned away from him, but immediately turned back as Gil started to slide out of the chair. Tears filled his eyes as the world span. Malcolm. Malcolm, please. Please breathe. Live. Please. “I need some help!” The nurse called. 

Don’t. Not me. Him. Please. Him. Gil tried to speak, but swallowed around the mounting saliva in his mouth. He couldn’t lift his head. Couldn’t breathe. As his world faded, he heard the squeaking of more sneakers on the floor. They were coming away from Malcolm to help him. Not me. Him. Help him. And Gil’s world went dark. 

When Gil came to, he was lying in a bed. “You really need to be sure you’re hydrating and eating, Mr. Arroyo. I have my hands full enough with Mr. Bright here, I don’t want to have to start worrying about you.” Malcolm’s doctor said as Gil tried to sit up. She was soft-spoken, jet-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. 

“Sorry, Dr. Jiminez. Won’t happen again.” Gil’s throat was raw. 

“It had best not. You’ll be fine. You were a little dehydrated. Low blood sugar. And I’m sure all the commotion didn’t help,” she added as she checked his vitals. 

Malcolm. NO! “Malcolm?”

Her eyes tightened. “He’s alive.” 

Gil sagged with relief. His boy was alive. That was all that mattered. 

“Mr. Arroyo, Mr. Bright had an embolism. We were able to mitigate it.” Her voice was careful. Gil didn’t understand why she was being so careful. Malcolm was alive. It’s because I fainted because I’m a fragile baby. She’s being gentle with me. 

“That’s good news, right?”

She nodded. “Yes. It is.” She broke eye contact. 

“But?” Please. Please don’t let it be serious. I can’t lose him. God, I cannot lose him. You can’t do this to me. Not again.

“But, we don’t know how serious the damage is. He was coding for a few minutes, Mr. Arroyo.”

“I don’t understand. You were weaning him off the vent. He was getting better!” Anger colored Gil’s words. He wasn’t mad at Dr. Jiminez. He was mad at the world. At God. At the man who buried Malcolm alive and left him to drown. And he was mad at himself for letting Malcolm drown. 

She nodded again, though her eyes were sad. “Sometimes this happens. Near-drowning is still dangerous, Mr. Arroyo. Complications arise sometimes.” 

“So where does that leave him now?” Gil tried to keep his voice calm. 

“Time will tell. We won’t know how much damage he sustained until he wakes. When he wakes.” 

You mean you won’t know if his brain is still intact until he wakes. I did this. This is my fault. “When can I see him?”

Dr. Jiminez smiled and pulled back the curtain. “Now. But you have to promise me that you will keep hydrating. And eating. Regularly, Mr. Arroyo.”

Gil made his promises quickly. He just wanted to climb out of the bed and be as close to Malcolm as possible. He scrambled out of bed and collapsed into the chair next to Malcolm, his hand immediately finding Malcolm’s icy fingers. 

If it was possible, Malcolm was more pale than before. And he was completely unmoving. No movement behind his eyelids. Just the artificial movement of his chest as the ventilator pumped air in and sucked it back out again. 

“Oh, Malcolm. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. Please, you have to come back to me. I need you. You can’t leave me. Not like this, kid. Please, come back to me.” I love you. Please, don’t leave me alone.

Chapter Text

Malcolm didn’t show signs of waking for four days. As he slowly clawed his way into consciousness, he knew it had been long, so long, since he had last closed his eyes. The weight in his chest was ever present. He fought to open his eyelids, but the effort left him exhausted. Too exhausted to be afraid of what any of this meant. 

“Hey, kid, there he is,” Gil’s voice came from his right. 

Malcolm was too exhausted to even try to tilt his head to see Gil. Too exhausted to open his eyes again. Gil squeezed his hand. Malcolm tried to shift his fingers. Even just a millimeter to let Gil know he was there. I’m here. I’m still here. 

“Just rest, kid. Just rest.” Gil gave him a reassuring squeeze. 

I think that sounds like a great idea, my boy. Martin purred in his ear. 

But Malcolm was too exhausted to argue. 

The next time Malcolm woke, he knew it had been a while. He felt slightly less exhausted. It was less of a herculean task to open his eyes. Gil. 

Gil was asleep in his chair, hand still holding Malcolm’s. 

I’m here. Gil, I’m here. Malcolm’s fingers twitched. 

Gil’s eyes opened suddenly. “Hey, kid,” Gil said sleepily. 

Malcolm blinked slowly up at him. Hey. 

“How are you feeling?”

Lousy. Exhausted. Actually, I feel terrible. Malcolm blinked slowly. Probably drugged again, too. 

Gil gave a dry bark of laughter. “Yeah, I figured. When Dr. Jiminez makes her rounds in the morning, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you are more awake than a couple of days ago.”

Days? That was days ago? Gil, we don’t have time. He was here! HERE! 

“Just go back to sleep. I’ll be sure to wake you when she comes back.” 

Malcolm unwillingly shut his eyes, afraid of what nightmares awaited him while he slept. Afraid of what nightmare would lurk into his room and hurt Gil. As soon as he heard Gil settle himself back into the chair, Malcolm opened his eyes. He was not going to sleep. Not this time. He would fight the sedation with everything he had just to stay awake. 

My boy, this is a very bad idea. You should definitely get your rest. You’re recovering from so much. 

Nope. Not going to do that. Not while my would be murderer probably lurks these halls. 

He won’t come back, Malcolm. Not while Gil is here. You’re safe, son.

I am anything but safe. And I don’t want him coming back. He’ll hurt Gil. 

Always about Gil. When are you going to worry about yourself, my boy? You almost died. Twice. Actually, you did die. Twice. You might want to put yourself first for a change. 

Malcolm ignored Martin. Instead he thought about his profile. And what the mermaid tattoo and burn scars on the man’s chest meant. Soldier of fortune. Blackwater type. Coming to collect perhaps. 

And what about you, son?

I just got in the way. He’s definitely seeking vengeance. And retribution. Has to be collecting on a debt owed. And his victims weren’t aware he was coming. Until it was too late. Maybe they left him for dead somewhere?

Those black water groups are a pretty cold-hearted bunch. 

And if they left him for dead, then he could strike without warning. He’s picking through a list of people. Malcolm closed his eyes and would have sighed if he could. His brain was working quickly through his profile. Tweaking this. Adding that. But it didn’t change the fact that he still didn’t know who his would be murderer was. 

Mercifully, morning came at last. Malcolm heard Gil stirring beside him and closed his eyes again. Once he knew Gil was awake–mostly by the sounds of creaking joints and shifting in the chair–Malcolm opened his eyes. 

“Hey, kid.”

Hey. 

“Doc should be in soon.”

Great. She can tell me how much longer I have to have this tube jammed down my throat. Malcolm moved his hand as if to write. Gil, this blinking thing is going to take too long. Let me just write it down. Please. 

“Uh-uh, I want the all clear from the doctor before you start writing, kid.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. Please. This is urgent. You are in danger! He could be moving in on other victims as we speak. GIL!

Gil was saved from responding by the doctor walking in. “Glad to see you are awake, Mr. Bright.”

Finally. Please take this thing out of me. 

My boy, you’re going to need it for a while. I know you know that. 

Malcolm went through the doctor’s exam, paying careful attention to each word. It was exhausting. He was so tired. But he had work to do. I’ll sleep when this is over. When I’m home. With Gil. 

Malcolm was not pleased to learn that the vent needed to stay a couple more days. “I want to be absolutely certain you aren’t going to experience another embolism.”

I’m not. I’m not. That was not natural. Why can’t anyone see this?

But, she did not object to him writing notes. “Beats blinking, eh?”

Fuck yes it does. Please. He lifted his hand again from Gil’s. 

“But, I don’t want you over-exerting yourself, Mr. Bright. I mean it. I know it’s hard to hear, but your body is in a very fragile state.”

I live in a fragile state. Now give me the paper. 

Gil waited until the doctor was gone before he gave Malcolm a pad of paper and a pen. “What has you so desperate to ignore your own body’s needs. I know you’re tired, Malcolm. I can see it.”

I am tired, but this is more important. 

“Well, go on then, what is it?”

Malcolm wrote slowly and carefully. He was here.

“Who?”

Our suspect.

“How do you know?” Gil’s voice was low and urgent. His eyes darted to the door and beyond. 

He tried to kill me again. The embolism. 

“Malcolm, I hate to say it–”

Don’t. I know he was here. Pull camera. 

It took Malcolm twenty more minutes to convince Gil to pull the camera. Malcolm didn’t settle back onto the pillows and close his eyes until Gil was on the phone. As he began to fall asleep again, he heard Gil’s angry curse. But his eyes were too heavy to open. I’m safe. Gil’s safe. We’ll get you.

Chapter Text

Gil was furious. He watched the screen that Dani had wheeled into the conference room and he was seething. He watched as he left Malcolm’s room. He had a clear view of Malcolm. He watched Malcolm settle himself back onto the pillows, eyes closed with a half smile on his face. He watched as Malcolm opened his eyes and stared out the window, smile still there. And he watched as a tall, broad-shouldered man in scrubs walked into Malcolm’s room. I don’t recognize that nurse. “Dani can we see his face?”

“No, not from this angle. And there aren’t cameras in patient rooms. Privacy violation.”

Gil sighed with frustration. That’s him. That’s the man. I’m sure of it. He watched as Malcolm’s face paled while the man talked to him. He watched as the man took Malcolm’s hand in a bruising grip. He watched Malcolm struggle. And he watched as the man took a syringe and inject something into Malcolm’s IV port. And then the man walked out of camera view. Where did you go? 

He watched Malcolm. Malcolm’s eyes were wide with terror. He watched as Malcolm’s body spasmed on the bed. Once. Twice. And then went horrifically still as his eyes closed one final time. He watched the monitor flatline as Malcolm’s heart stopped. Why was no one rushing in? Why? 

“He disconnected the alarms. Made it look like Malcolm had pulled them out when he slept. Easy mistake.” JT frowned, arms crossed over his chest.  Clever. Very clever. You were counting on Malcolm dying. 

Gil watched as a team of nurses and doctors rushed the room. He missed someone alerting the others that something was wrong. “Did I miss him?”

“Nope. He hasn’t re-emerged.” 

“Where?”

“Gil, just watch.” 

Gil watched as the nurses and doctors began to work on Malcolm. He watched himself run on screen. Watched as he got pulled away and the door closed. “How does that help?”

“I promise. Just keep watching.”

Gil shut his mouth and watched. Watched as he was pulled to a chair and Malcolm’s door opened again. He watched as the doctor pumped Malcolm’s chest, the monitor still a flatline. And he watched as a man stepped out from Malcolm’s bathroom and began to saunter out of the room. Him! It’s him. He blended in with the code team. 

“Can we get an ID?”

Dani frowned. “No. Not yet at least. But we’ve got him, boss. We’ve got the bastard.”

“They can get Malcolm off the vent sooner! I want twenty-four hour security on his door. No one in or out unless they flash a badge or ID and are on the approved list.”

“You got it, boss.” JT pulled out his phone and started calling. 

Gil stood up and gathered his things. “Boss, where are you going?”

“To Malcolm. I’m not leaving him alone after seeing this.” And I’m getting you off that vent as soon as possible. And getting you out of there. Taking you home. Hang on, kid. 

Within the hour, Gil was discussing the findings with Dr. Jiminez in front of Malcolm. “Well that does change things.”

Gil could see Malcolm’s eyes light up with hope. Hang on, kid. I’ve got this. “So when could you start to wean him off?” 

“We could try tonight. His lungs may still be compromised, but it changes things a bit.”

Malcolm squeezed Gil’s hand tightly. Gil knew he was itching to talk, but also didn’t want to rush things. 

By that evening, Gil, JT, and Dani were no closer to finding who their mysterious murderer and would be murderer was, but as Gil watched the medical team swarm Malcolm again, this time for a good thing, his heart swelled, for the first time in a long while, with hope. 

“It’s going to be more comfortable if you cough while we pull this out, Mr. Bright. Blink once if you understand.”

Malcolm blinked. The doctor unhooked the ventilator and began to pull the tube out of Malcolm’s throat. Gil could hear Malcolm cough, choke, and sputter around the tube. 

“Get the mask. I want one hundred percent oxygen.”

Gil heard Malcolm gasp for air, wheeze for a moment, and then heard the muffled breath sounds of Malcolm breathing into a mask. 

“How was that, Mr. Bright?”

“Great.” Malcolm’s voice was raw and scratchy. 

“How are you feeling?”

Malcolm’s eyes twinkled. “Fine.”

“Ah, Mr. Arroyo warned me about that one. How’s it feel to be breathing on your own? Can you breathe?”

“Feels good. Yes, I can.” Malcolm paused to catch his breath. Gil watched as the mask fogged a few times. “I’m not going to be running anywhere any time soon. But,” he inhaled deeply, “I can breathe.”

“Excellent. I’ll leave you in Mr. Arroyo’s capable hands.” She turned and walked up to Gil. “See that he doesn’t overexert himself.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She nodded and continued out of the room and the team of nurses followed with her. Gil settled himself in the chair next to Malcolm, relief filling him as he could see Malcolm breathe on his own. 

“Gil,” Malcolm said softly. 

“Hey, kid.” He cupped Malcolm’s cheek. Malcolm closed his eyes and nuzzled into Gil’s hand. 

Malcolm took a deep breath. “Tired.”

“You can sleep. It’s ok. I’ll be here. I’ll be right here.” 

Malcolm nodded sleepily. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Malcolm.” 

Gil watched as Malcolm slowly fell asleep. Watched the rise and fall of his chest. Watched the mask fog with each breath. He’s ok. He’s ok. No thanks to me. But he’s ok. He’ll be ok. Gil repeated the mantra over in his head as he began to fall asleep. 

The next morning, Gil was listening to Dani and JT on speaker phone as he sipped his coffee with Malcolm. “Boss, we’ve got nothing,” Dani’s voice came over the line. 

“Gil,” Malcolm said quietly. 

“Nothing isn’t going to cut it. Keep having the techs scrub the film. See if we can get higher quality.”

“Gil,” Malcolm tried again a little louder. 

“Boss, there’s a limit to technology.” 

“Yeah, but it’s the only thing we have!” Gil was not about to let the only lead on the man who tried to kill Malcolm go nowhere. I can’t fail him again. I can’t lose him. I just can’t. 

“Gil,” Malcolm tried once more. 

“What is it, Malcolm? Do you need water? Something to eat?” Gil looked up from his phone to see Malcolm watching him. 

“I know what kind of person you’re looking for.”

“Bright, man, why didn’t you say anything before?” JT’s voice came across the line. 

Malcolm glared at the phone. “He’s ex-military. Probably. Definitely a mercenary soldier of fortune type.”

Great. That is exactly the kind of person I want coming after you. “Anything else?”

Malcolm smiled. He took a deep breath and launched into it. “He’s Irish. Not Northern Irish. Irish Irish. He must have been recruited some time after his military career ended, but not long. He’s in terrific shape. He would have served in a shady Blackwater type organization. And,” Malcolm inhaled deeply, “they think he’s dead.”

“So where does that leave us?” Dani asked carefully. 

“He’ll have an interpol record. I’m sure of it. They think he died in a fire. There,” Malcolm took a wheezing breath, “there will be a record somewhere.”

“You two get all that?” Gil was watching Malcolm. Watched him breathe harder than normal. Watched him close his eyes with exhaustion from the exertion of speaking. 

“We’re good, boss. Take care of our boy.”

Malcolm cracked an eyelid open, gave a huff of breath, but didn’t speak. Good. You’ll rest now. 

By the next afternoon, Malcolm had somehow convinced the doctor that he was well enough to discharge home. The only reason Gil did not object was that JT had called moments before saying they had their man. Tyler O’Connell, forty-five, and supposedly deceased for the last five years. 

“Died in a fire,” Malcolm murmured as JT spoke. He was playing with the nasal cannula they had placed on his face that morning. 

“Stop that. You need that.”

“Do not,” Malcolm teased and stuck out his tongue. “It feels funny.”

Soon enough, Gil found himself driving Malcolm home while JT and Dani went out to arrest Tyler O’Connell. It feels good to have you home, kid. Soon, I’ll be able to hold you, hug you, kiss you. And you’ll be safe. He jumped out of the car and started to hurry to help Malcolm out. Gil jumped back quickly as a bike messenger whizzed by, too close for comfort. Gil cursed. 

“Awfully, bold don’t you think?” Malcolm said quietly as he clambered out of the car. He leaned against the roof to catch his breath. 

“Fuckers get bolder each day.” And if I wasn’t so worried about you, I’d cite him. 

Gil helped Malcolm up the steps and settled him on the couch. 

“Sunshine, hey girl!” Malcolm said sleepily as Gil set the parakeet free. She circled around the loft a few times before settling onto Malcolm’s shoulder, nuzzling into his cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Kid,” Gil’s phone buzzed. He checked the text. Warrant was in the clear. Get the bastard. “Are you ok if I run home really quick and grab some clothes?”

Malcolm smiled up at him from the couch. “Yeah. No problem. But don’t you have some sweaters here?”

“I did. Someone seems to have worn them all.”

Malcolm’s smile deepend. “They have your smell. When you don’t stay over, or when I don’t stay over, I still want you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m out of clothes here.”

Malcolm nodded sleepily. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’ve got Sunshine to protect me.”

Gil felt unease slip into his belly. “Really, Gil, I’m fine. Dani and JT have O’Connell handled. Go get some clothes. And get your butt back here pronto. I’m due for some serious snuggles.”

“Are you sure? I can wait until they call to confirm they have him.”

Malcolm giggled. “Gil, you realize I’m sitting right next to a very large weapon’s collection. And I know how to use them.”

Gil sighed. “I’ll be twenty minutes. Max.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Malcolm heaved himself off the couch and stepped over to Gil. He leaned in and kissed Gil. “Get your clothes. Pack enough for a few weeks. And then come back to me.”

Gil kissed him again, pouring all his love for his boy into Malcolm. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

Gil kissed him once more and then turned and hurried down the stairs. If he drove only thirty miles over the speed limit, maybe he’d make it back in fifteen.

Chapter Text

Malcolm settled himself onto the couch, allowing Sunshine to land on his head. She flitted around, nibbling his hair here and there. “I missed you, too, girl.” He was tired. As glad as he was to be home, he knew it was by the skin of his teeth. He could breathe, but it was like each breath wasn’t completely satisfying. He closed his eyes and prepared to nap until Gil got back. 

A creak on the wood had his eyes flying open wide, his heart racing, adrenaline coursing through his system. 

“You are a tough man to kill, Mr. Bright.” Tyler’s smooth voice came from behind Malcolm. 

“That’s what they say,” Malcolm said as he stood quickly. The room spun around him. It took everything in him not to stumble forward, not to put his hand out to steady himself on the couch. I just need to hold on until Gil gets back. I can do this. I have a collection of weapons. I can hold on. “You’re a tough man to find, Tyler. Can I call you Tyler?” Malcolm took one step back towards the glass case of weapons. I can hold on. I can fight him. I’m not in a box. I’m not drugged. I’m not weak in a hospital bed. I am home. I have weapons I can use. I can do this. 

Can you, my boy? I’m a little worried you may, once again, be in over your head. What was Gil thinking leaving you alone? Son, you might want to reconsider your relationship with this man. He doesn’t protect you as he should. 

Not helping. 

I only want to help you, my boy. 

Malcolm ignored Martin’s comments as he took another step backwards. He just needed to get there before Tyler O’Connell noticed. Or got to him. 

Tyler O’Connell kept inching forward. Malcolm continued to step back towards the glass cases. “Never had much use for my first name. O’Connell is better, Mr. Bright.”

“O’Connell it is then. I have to ask, why?”

“Why do you think?” O’Connell sneered. “You’re the profiler. Profile me.”

As Malcolm slowly, but surely, inched his way backward, he spoke. “I’m not sure what company you were a mercenary for, but you were one.”

“That’s an easy one.”

Keep him distracted. And not angry. He has a temper, my boy. 

I know that, thank you for, once again, not helping. “There was a fire. An explosion. And you were caught up in it.” 

“You got all that from my file. You’re not doing anything to wow me.” O’Connell continued to stalk forward. 

“You weren’t the only one caught in the fire. Someone you cared for, really cared for, was in there with you. And you got out, but they didn’t. Not a brother. Not a father. Not a relative. A lover perhaps? You left him to die. Got yourself out. And left him to die. How could you? He loved you.”

O’Connell charged forward with a snarl. “I will not have you insult him like that.” 

Fuck. 

Look what you did, my boy. He’s going to really hurt you again. Run!

O’Connell grabbed a paperweight from the desk and smashed through the glass display case behind Malcolm. 

Malcolm ducked quickly to avoid O’Connell’s fist. He rolled away quickly. As he rose again, his chest was heaving. He couldn’t catch his breath. Come on. I can do this. 

You have to, my boy. Or you won’t make it another time. 

“I do have to thank you, though. I have so many choices to end your life with. And I’ll be sure it’s quick,” O’Connell said as he grabbed a saber. 

Fuck. I’m fucked. I can’t fight.

You can, my boy. You can and you will. Fight! Fight for your life!

“You know how to use one of those?” Malcolm asked sarcastically. Yes, that’s it. Bait him into charging me. And then what?

Malcolm did not have time to think for long because O’Connell charged him with a war cry. Malcolm dodged the blade as it lodged in a couch cushion. He was running back towards the case, breath coming in wheezing gasps, when he heard O’Connell rip the saber from the cushion and charge. 

Malcolm ducked in time as the blade sailed over his head. “Just hold still, it’ll be quick. I promise!” O’Connell said darkly as he slashed at Malcolm again. “I bet you don’t even know how to use these.”

Malcolm crawled toward the case. I just need an ax. One ax. One ax and this is over. 

Yes, aim for his head, my boy and you’ll be safe. 

I’m not going to kill him. I’m just going to incapacitate him, 

By going for his head, son. 

Malcolm reached the case as O’Connell reached him. The blade pierced through his side, back to front, stealing Malcolm’s breath as his blood, red and hot, seeped from the wound in rivulets. Fuck. His knees buckled. 

“I told you. I told you I could make it quick. But you just had to go and shoot your mouth off,” O’Connell whispered in his ear. 

Malcolm gasped and choked around the pain. He could feel the blood pooling on the floor. He could feel each breath become harder and harder to take. Memories of sucking on the regulator, trying to draw breath from a nearly empty tank, flooded his mind. I’m going to die. I’m dying. Fuck. This is it. I don’t want to die. 

My boy, stand up. Rise. You can do this. 

O’Connell kicked Malcolm in the back and Malcolm fell forward. “Turns out you aren’t that hard to kill. I just needed the right weapon.” He laughed as Malcolm lay there, body pooling around his body. He turned to leave. “Don’t worry, I won’t play with your team as I did with you. I’ll make it quick for each of them. Except maybe Gil. Might take my time with him.” O’Connell laughed at the last as Malcolm snarled from the floor. 

Malcolm pulled himself up, taking care to jostle the saber minimally. Each movement hurt. His side was on fire. And he couldn’t breathe. But he was not going to let O’Connell walk out of here. 

My boy, what are you doing?

Stopping him. Protecting Gil. His hand closed around the broad-bladed ax handle. He turned and threw it at O’Connell’s retreating back. “Two time silver medal for ax throwing,” he muttered as he collapsed to his knees once more. He fell to his uninjured side. Least I did one thing right. 

He heard the ax thwunk home in O’Connell’s back. Heard the thump of O’Connell collapsing at the top of the stairs. And he heard Sunshine’s frantic tweets as the wail of sirens grew in the background. His world began to fade around him as fists thundered on the door.

It’s ok, Malcolm. Shhh. Shhh, my son. It’s ok. It’s ok, Malcolm.

Chapter Text

Gil was two blocks from home when his phone rang. “Arroyo.”

“He’s not here, Gil,” Dani’s panicked voice came across the line. 

“What do you mean he’s not there?” Gil’s stomach dropped. 

“O’Connell. He’s not here. Hasn’t been here in a while it seems.” JT’s voice came distantly. “Fuck!” Gil heard the sound of metal crunching. 

Fuck. Fuck. Malcolm. “I want all available units to Malcolm’s loft. Send a bus. I’m ten minutes out.” Hold on, kid. Hold on, Malcolm. I’m coming. I’m coming, Malcolm. Hold on. 

Gil drove like a bat out of hell and reached Malcolm’s loft in record time. A bike lay against the entrance. The bike messenger. Fuck. He was out of the car and drawing his gun as he raced up the stairs. He pounded on the door, shouting for Malcolm to open. Not wasting anymore time, he kicked open the door, gun pointed at the ready. 

O’Connell lay in a heap just in front of the door, broad-bladed ax embedded in his back. Good. Malcolm took care of you. Way to go, kid. Gil dropped to check to see if O’Connell was dead, part of him hoping that was the case, another part knowing how much it would wreck Malcolm if he killed the man. Gil was rewarded with a faint, thready pulse. But still, a pulse. Good job, kid. He’ll live. We got him. You got him. Where are you? “Malcolm?” He called out. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he realized the loft wasn’t silent. Sunshine was screeching from the window ledge. “Malcolm?” Bile crept up the back of his throat. 

Taking a moment to cuff O’Connell, though it wasn’t likely he was getting up, Gil wasn’t taking any chances. He rose and began to look for Malcolm. “Malcolm?” 

Malcolm wasn’t in the bathroom. Wasn’t in the kitchen. Wasn’t in bed. Wasn’t on the couch. Malcolm was in front of the weapon’s case. Malcolm was slumped over in a pool of his own blood, curled around the sword that impaled him. His face was slack, half of it coated in blood from laying in the blood pooling around him. “Oh, God. Malcolm!” Gil dropped to his knees, shuddering as he felt Malcolm’s blood seep through his pant leg. “Please, Malcolm. Not like this. Please.” He held his breath as he felt for Malcolm’s pulse. Faint. Thready. But there. Alive. Malcolm was alive. For now. 

Gil didn’t want to move him. Didn’t want to pull the sword out. As the wail of ambulance sirens grew louder, Gil pulled off his sweater and pressed it to the sides of the wound. “Hang on, kid. Hang on.” 

Gil heard the EMTs hesitate at the door. “It’s clear. Come in. Hurry!” Gil shifted one of his hands, trying to shift Malcolm just a little so he would be more comfortable. He froze as he felt the sword shift. “Please. Hurry!” He begged the EMTs to move faster. 

“Oh fuck. What the hell happened here?” A young EMT with curly purple hair gasped as they walked in. 

“Leave the guy with the ax in his back. Please. Help him,” he stared down at Malcolm. “I can’t. Please.” Please, Malcolm. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please.

“Sir, please slide away. Slowly, carefully,” the lead EMT coached. “We..we can take it from here.” 

Gil watched as the team of EMTs stabilized the sword. Watched as they quickly hooked Malcolm up to an IV and strapped a mask over his face. They attached various leads to monitors and to Malcolm’s chest. “He…he nearly drowned a little over a week ago. Please.”

Gil watched as they worked to keep Malcolm’s blood inside him. Watched as the lead EMT barked orders to the others. Watched as they lifted Malcolm onto the stretcher, one EMT stabilizing the sword as they moved swiftly. 

“Sir, are you following us?” The purple haired EMT asked again. 

Gil nodded, not trusting his voice. 

“We’re going now. You better follow us.”

Gil wasn’t sure how he made it to the hospital in one piece. He wasn’t sure if he left the scene with a uniform. He wasn’t sure how Dani knew to meet him there. He wasn’t sure of anything. Other than Malcolm was dead. And it was his fault. 

“He’ll be fine, Gil. He’s always fine.”

But what if this is the one time he isn’t? It’s my fault. I left him. I left him alone. Defenseless. He’s dead because of me.

Chapter Text

Malcolm was in surgery for two hours. Thirty stitches, one hundred units of blood, and a two hour long surgery. But Malcolm was alive. And would live. 

Gil was there when Malcolm woke. He stirred more quickly than he had the previous two times he was in the hospital, wincing as his side flared with pain. 

“Hey kid, welcome back.” 

Malcolm winced again, hands clutching at the hospital blanket. “H-h-hey,” he managed to grit out. 

“I’m getting a nurse for you so you can have something for the pain.”

“N-n-no. S-s-sedation,” Malcolm hissed. 

Gil had already pressed the call button. “I won’t let them sedate you. But I won’t let you be in pain either.”

“I’m f-f-fine,” Malcolm whined as he tried to shift in the bed. He gasped with pain as fire lanced through his side. 

Gil rolled his eyes. “Sure, kid. Just as fine as me.” 

Malcolm’s eyes searched Gil’s face and he opened his mouth to reply, but the nurse came in at that moment. 

“You rang, Mr. Bright?” 

“Can we get him something for pain? He’s in a lot of pain,” Gil said hurriedly, not letting Malcolm send the nurse away. 

“Absolutely I can. Mr. Bright on a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?”

“A-a-about a seven.” 

“That would be a nine then.” Gil added. 

Malcolm shot Gil a dark look. “I’m fine–”

“If you continue that sentence, I will let them drug you so much you stay in bed and sleep the entire time you are supposed to be here. Let them help you, Malcolm. Please.” Kid, I need you to be ok. And you won’t be ok if you don’t give your body a chance to heal. 

Malcolm considered a moment before nodding. The nurse injected something into Malcolm’s IV and Gil breathed a sigh of relief as the tension drained from Malcolm’s face. Malcolm’s breaths slowed a little and became deeper as he relaxed, no longer in pain. 

“Better?” Gil asked tentatively. 

Malcolm nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” Gil kissed Malcolm’s hand. 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Scaring you again.” 

Gil’s heart twinged. Malcolm was apologizing to him. HIM. He was the one who should be apologizing. He left Malcolm to be attacked. Left him defenseless. Left him for dead. “You have nothing to apologize for. I…I owe you an apology.”

Malcolm shook his head. “No.”

“I do. I left you before we confirmed O’Connell was in custody. That was stupid. It put you at risk. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t know.”

“But I shouldn’t have done it. I put you at risk Malcolm. I almost lost you twice. Twice to this guy. I don’t know what I was thinking to leave you alone like that.”

“It’s ok, Gil.” Malcolm squeezed Gil’s hand. “I’m ok.”

You are not ok. You died and came back to life twice because I wasn’t fast enough. Because I put convenience over your safety. And then you were impaled by a saber. And almost died. Again. “You’re not right now, but you will be.”

“I did handle myself pretty well,” Malcolm said with a smile. “Did you see the shot I made?”

“You got him good, Malcolm. He’s going to be hurting for a long time.” But not long enough. 

“Not two shabby for a two time silver medalist! He’d already stabbed me. I was on my knees and I made the shot.”

“Definitely a gold medal shot, kid.”

Malcolm’s eyes lit up. “You mean it?”

“Yep.”

Dr. Jiminez came in a couple of hours later as Malcolm was dosing on a cloud of bliss from the medication. “We really need to stop meeting under these circumstances, Mr. Bright.”

“You think this is bad, you should see the other guy,” Malcolm said sleepily. 

Dr. Jiminez laughed. “I have. You have terrific aim, Mr. Bright.”

Malcolm’s smile grew. “Two time silver medalist.”

“So Mr. Arroyo told me. I want to keep you here a couple of more days, Mr. Bright.”

Malcolm’s smile slipped. “Why? I’m fine. One hundred percent.” He tried to sit up a bit more and winced. “Ok, maybe ninety percent.” 

“Well, I need better than what you call ninety percent. I don’t often have a patient nearly die as often as you do in a short span of time.”

“How long do you want him to stay, doctor?” I will make sure he doesn’t leave this room until you give the all clear. Until he is safe. 

“Let’s see how he does after a couple of days.”

“No fun.” Malcolm pouted. 

“I imagine Mr. Arroyo here will keep you company, Mr. Bright.”

Over the next few days, Malcolm had several visitors. His mother and sister popped in. After many assurances from Malcolm, Jessica did not cancel her vacation to the Maldives. 

“I’ll be fine, Mother,” Malcolm had said. “O’Connell’s under armed watch. Gil is here. I’m fine.”

Jessica had tried to argue, but after Gil gave a nod of reassurance, she left, Ainsley in tow. 

“I want the full blow by blow when I get back, Mal.” Ainsley called over her shoulder as she followed Jessica, grateful that Malcolm didn’t let her vacation get canceled. 

JT and Dani came next. 

“What happened to your hand?” Malcolm pointed at JT’s casted left hand. 

JT’s cheeks reddened as Dani said, “He lost a fight with a car door. His car door.”

Gil had known JT broke his hand punching the car when O’Connell was missing, but seeing him not want to share that with Malcolm told Gil just how much JT cared. His secret was safe with Gil. 

“That sucks, JT. You’re not usually so clumsy.”

“Yeah, well someone needed to fill in for you,” JT teased. 

“I am not clumsy!”

JT gave Malcolm a blank stare. 

“Gravity and other objects in the world are just attracted to me. It’s not my fault!” 

“You’re just so irresistible,” Gil whispered as he gave Malcolm’s hand a squeeze. 

Edrisa had called to check to see if Malcolm was up for more visitors. Malcolm had fallen asleep again, smile still on his face. Gil had promised to call Edrisa the moment Malcolm was ready for another visit. 

Gil was there the entire four days Malcolm was required to remain in patient. Gil was there holding his hand, kissing his forehead, watching him sleep. Gil was never going to let Malcolm leave his side again. 

And so this time when Malcolm discharged, Gil was prepared. He’d had JT pack him a suitcase full of clothes. With more ordered to be delivered to the Whitly house in the Hamptons. Malcolm had wanted to go there immediately after he discharged. 

“I want to go away when I get out of here.” Malcolm had said on the third morning. He had been staring out the window when Gil had gotten back from the cafeteria, two large coffees in hand. 

“Sure thing, kid. I could use a vacation. We both could after all of this. Where do you want to go?”

Malcolm took a deep breath. “The house in the Hamptons.”

What? Kid, what are you thinking? Gil didn’t argue with Malcolm’s morbid wish. “Ok, kid.” He simply made sure that there would be no way for them to be separated. 

Malcolm was silent the entire drive to the house. Gil didn’t like the silence. He wasn’t used to Malcolm being so quiet. He didn’t like it at all. Because it left him to his own thoughts, too. Memories of racing up this road. Racing down the sand. Waves crashing over the crosses. Digging endlessly. And finding Malcolm. So many dark memories. 

Malcolm reached over and gave Gil’s shoulder a pat. “I’m here, Gil. I’m ok.” 

Gil ducked his head. “I know, kid. I know.” He gave the back of Malcolm’s neck a squeeze and continued onto the Whitly property. 

Malcolm walked slowly and carefully through the house. Even though he had been cleared for discharge, he still had stitches that needed removal in a few days. And muscles that were still healing. By some miracle, the saber had missed anything vital. Gil had thanked whichever angel had been watching over his boy when he had failed. 

Gil dropped the bags in the foyer. He’d deal with them later once he got Malcolm settled and fed. “Where do you want to relax for a bit, kid?”

Malcolm had made his way to the floor to ceiling back windows that overlooked the patio, pool, and beyond that the ocean. “It’s not too cold outside just yet. The sunset is soon.” 

Gil walked with Malcolm outside, letting Malcolm pick which outdoor couch they would sit on. Malcolm picked the couch that faced the ocean and had a firepit in front. Gil lit the firepit because despite what Malcolm said, it was cold. Gil settled on the couch next to Malcolm, wrapping an arm around Malcolm. Malcolm shivered next to him, leaning into his warmth. “Kid, you’re freezing.” 

“I’m ok,” Malcolm said, eyes never leaving the ocean. 

Gil got up and grabbed a blanket form inside. He wrapped Malcolm in a blanket as they sat on the outdoor couch, fire pit in front of them. “I am so, so, so glad you are still here, kid.” He kissed the top of Malcolm’s head. 

Malcolm nuzzled into his neck. “Me, too.” His eyes never left the sea. 

“I love you, Malcolm.” Gil hugged Malcolm tightly. 

“Love you, Gil.” Malcolm whispered back. 

And together they watched the sun set, dipping below the crashing waves.