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Itâs over.Â
Malcolm canât believe itâs actually over. Just thirty minutes ago, he was sure he was going to die here.Â
But heâs not. Heâs safe.Â
More importantly, Emily and Sarah are safe.Â
FBI agents are everywhere, moving around himâdoing a ground search and bagging evidence. Malcolm watches them like heâs underwater.
Someone holds his arm, and he flinches, at first, recoiling from the touch as if it burns. The hands are off him in an instant, respecting his boundaries. Malcolm realizes with a flash of embarrassment that itâs just the paramedic.Â
Safe. He reminds himself.Â
She hesitantly eyes Malcolm, a cautious expression evident in her eyes. âItâs fine,â he tells her with a smileâwhen she still doesnât make any attempt to resume her taskâand extends his arm again.
âItâs just saline and some pain killers,â she explains quietly, and her hands are much slower and careful now. Tentative. Like heâs made of glass. He should be embarrassed, but heâs too tired to wear his facade of being fine, so he just lies back and lets her work.Â
The gurney heâs lying on is very comfortable, which is saying something about the past few hours where the harsh cold floor was his only option. Oh, the small mercies in life.
He came to when they tried to move him. His foot had sent distress signals to his brain, and he woke up with a cry. He was hooked to a monitor to check his heart functions. Based on the paramedicsâ facial expressions, he concluded that he wasnât going to die in the next few minutesâwhich was a massive improvement to his situation already.Â
They had managed to release his hands from the handcuffs quickly. The collar, on the other hand, was a bit of a trouble. Silver Tooth wouldnât tell them where he kept the key and joked that Malcolm should remain wearing it forever. Malcolm had flushed at the comment but tried to pretend it didnât bother him. Theyâve said worse. After a quick search of the place they found a box full of keys, and thankfully, one of them fit.Â
Now Malcolmâs neck is fully exposed for everyone to see. Angry red and blue lines chase around his throat as burn marks leap out against his pale skin. He has no chance of concealing them. He might have to start a new style at the bureau, maybe bring scarves back into fashion. That or ask Gil where he buys his turtleneck sweaters because he won't be able to stand people staring at his neck.
His foot is still throbbing with a vengeance. The paramedic had mounted it on a soft pillow, but Malcolm knows when they start moving him, itâll hurt again, and heâs dreading it.Â
But, he forces himself to think optimistically ; all things considered, heâs fine.Â
He really is. Emily and Sarah are safe. The FBI brought down an entire human trafficking operation, and he is alive.Â
Another case closed.Â
Big winâworth a broken foot and some burn marks.Â
The FBI didnât count on bringing down a whole operation, and hence they were short on buses. Malcolm obviously suggested staying behind until everyone else was settled, and despite the paramedicsâ objections, he got what he wanted. Heâs the last one here, waiting for another bus to take him to the hospital for treatment. It really wasnât a heroic gesture on his part. He honestly thinks he can stay here and wait. Others need more help. For him, aside from the cast he probably needs for his foot and some prescription creams for his burns, there is really nothing to treat.Â
Colette Swanson is issuing instructions to two more agents, who nod and leave. She stands alone for a few moments, checking her phone before she turns around and walks over. Malcolm straightens himself as she approachesâthe last thing he wants is for her to think of him as weak.Â
Coletteâs face is impassive as she reaches him. She looks at Malcolm, her eyes traveling over his injuries, surveying them silently. They linger on his neck, and she purses her lipsâ Is she feeling sorry for him? Malcolm fights the urge to squirm under her gaze and cover his neck from her prying eyes.Â
Colette sighs and looks back at him. âIf we arrived just five minutes later, you wouldâve been dead.â Just a statementâitâs not caring, nor angry. Just exasperated.Â
âYes,â he agrees, and his voice is in ruins. Then he asks because his curiosity canât be tamed. âHow did you find us?â
âWell, you didnât show up, and I knew there was no way youâd give up a chance to argue with me. Then your neighbor found your door open and blood everywhere, and he called. So, I figured you were probably off doing something careless as usual and got yourself in trouble.â
âI didnâtââ he starts to say but stops knowing this was futile. âYou looked through my notes?â
Her eyes flicker for a second before she quickly hides the look. âMight have had Reynolds look at your notes, but thatâs not how we found you. Perez found a link between Marcus Henbyâs office and the emails. Thatâs how I got him to confess.â
âI saw Henby yesterday,â Malcolm explains. âThatâs why he sent those men after me.â
âOh?â She says, but somehow Malcolm knows sheâs faking it. âHenby never mentioned you.âÂ
Of course, he wouldnât. That doesnât mean it didnât happen. Malcolm nods, anyway. They both fall silent for a beat before he rasps out. âThank you.â And he means it. Despite all their differences and her abject cruelty towards him, heâs very grateful that they rescued him on time.Â
âMhm,â Colette hums and walks away without replying. Before Malcolm can relax, she turns and leans so close so when she speaks, heâs the only one who can hear her. âOff the record, I didnât do it for you, Whitly. Youâre always running off and getting in trouble. Half of our department budget is lost every month in trying to fix the messes you keep making. Frankly, I donât know why the higher-ups havenât fired you yet, but Iâm really hoping it happens soon. And did you ever hear about calling for backup?â
Malcolmâs face flushes despite his best efforts. He really thought he could handle her, but apparently not. âI didnât run off anywhere. They attacked me in my home. I had it under control, at firstââ
âClearly.â she cuts him off.
âAnd I was going to call for backup, but I didnât know there was a third man, andââ
âSave it, agent. I don't want to hear it. I am so grateful we were able to save the two girls and bring down this operation. I did that, no thanks to you. Your insubordination and incompetence just caused us more trouble and paperwork. Going off on your own like some sort of vigilante is not the right way to do things.âÂ
âI didnât go off on my own!â Malcolm hisses. âAnd, my profile was right! I led you to the girls. If you had listened to me, none of this would have happened.â
âYou got lucky with the profile. Then you almost got yourself and the girls killed. Be grateful I wonât be filing a formal complaint against you for reckless endangerment.â
âThatâs not true, and you know it,â he grits out.Â
âMr. Bright, weâre ready to move.â the paramedic says, interrupting the conversation. Surprised, Malcolm turns towards the sound; he forgot that the paramedic was still there.
Colette clears her throat. âI have to leave,â she says. âUnlike you, I have a crime scene to process.âÂ
She walks off, and Malcolm bites his tongue so he doesnât call out for her again. Itâs just Colette, he tells himself. Sheâs just bitter because his profile was right. Her words donât matter. This time, it really wasnât his fault.Â
Another paramedic helps in loading his gurney into the ambulance car. They place an oxygen mask over his face, and instantly Malcolm tries to pry it off.Â
âItâs just a muscle relaxer, Mr. Bright.â The paramedic explains. âTry to relax, sleep if you can. We wonât be long until we reach the hospital.â
Malcolm wants to argue, but he suddenly feels so worn down. Maybe itâs not a bad idea to sit back and relax. Â
Malcolm accepts the mask and lays back. He closes his eyes and tries to forget. He tries to forget the past dayâs eventsâthe pain, the humiliation, the fear, and the helplessness. Malcolm closes his eyes against Coletteâs hateful words. He closes his eyes and tries to picture Emily and Sarah going home again, along with the dozen other girls who were trapped there. He closes his eyes because, unlike thirty minutes ago, Malcolm knows there is going to be a tomorrow, and heâs going to see his family again.Â
So, Malcolm closes his eyes and drifts off, knowing that this time, he is safe.Â
Â
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When Malcolm wakes up, heâs alone. The silence of his room is interrupted by the sound of the hospital monitoring machine beeping. A constant beep⌠beep sound. A proof that his heart is beatingâthat he is alive.Â
The paramedics had promised they wonât sedate him, and yet he feels slow and disoriented. Itâs a feeling he knows all too well. Luckily for him, he didnât have any dreams. He just woke up naturally⌠drifting easily into consciousness. It was a foreign feelingâone that he really liked.Â
Heâs sitting comfortably in his bed, nestled nicely between soft pillows. His broken foot, in a cast now, is mounted on another pad, elevated to keep the pressure or something? He doesnât really know. The pain is definitely better, but he can still feel it throbbing dully. Malcolm eyes the cast warilyâheâs going to be put on desk duty for some time. Heâs not too thrilled about that.Â
The room is dim, curtains draped over the window where he can just make out the street light. Outside his room, he sees that the corridors are quiet. If he has to guess, itâs probably still night⌠or maybe early dawn. After a quick survey of his surroundings, he finds his clothes (or whatâs left of them) neatly folded on the chair next to him. On top of his clothes, he can see an evidence bag containing his phone?Â
Malcolm tries to get up to reach for it, but the move sets up a series of minor explosions everywhere. He groans and stops trying⌠just lies still. To say that heâs in pain would be an understatement. Malcolm feels like someone has broken every bone in his bodyâevery part of him aches. He canât move his head without eliciting a stab of pain behind his eyes.Â
Unable to tolerate the jabs of pain, Malcolm avoids fidgeting and just focuses on breathing. He closes his eyes and takes in slow, calming breaths. It almost feels like heâs at home. Meditating on his yoga mat.Â
Almost. Because he still canât get the sound of the traffickersâ laughs out of his mind and the helplessness he felt at the time. Part of him still fears heâll wake up and find himself at their mercy again, bound, collared, and tortured for their amusement.Â
Malcolm tries to cast his mind away, to think of something else to counteract the growing sense of panic creeping up on him. Heâs so hellbent on his task that when the nurse enters, pushing the door, he flinches violently. Unable to contain his fear, or calm his mind, Malcolmâs heart rate spikes, and the monitor starts screaming.Â
He shoots out of bed, pains forgotten, and looks around, trying to pinpoint the source of danger. His eyes are blown wide with the adrenaline thatâs coursing through his veins, preparing him for yet another battle.Â
One that doesnât exist because heâs safe. And Malcolm knows thatâhe knows heâs not in danger anymoreâ theoretically, his mind knows. His body doesnât, though. Heâs been so tense during his kidnapping, always on edge, still planning to attack, that his reaction right now was just muscle memory. Without his approval, his body took certain measures to protect him. Â
It takes the nurse a few moments before she reacts, hurrying to his bed and trying to assure him that heâs okay... that he made it out. Malcolm forces himself to listen to her voice, to focus on it to ground himself.Â
Malcolm closes his eyes and wills himself to relax. In ⌠and out. In⌠and out. One breath at a time... until he feels a bit in control⌠until the loud monitors fall back to their monotonous beeping.Â
When he feels confident enough to open his eyes again, he sees the nurse standing a few feet away, her hands held up in mock surrender. âIâm sorry,â she blurts out, guilt shining through her eyes. âI didnât mean to scare you.âÂ
Malcolm looks at her. Sheâs young⌠probably an intern? A quick glimpse at her ID card confirms his suspicions. Sheâs still new at thisâthatâs why she was freaking out over his reaction. Granted, not all hospital patients have panic attacks when people enter their room, but the way she was acting⌠the lost look on her face, suggests that he is her first patient. Â
Malcolm musters a friendly smile.
âIâm fine,â he says. âDonât worry about what just happened. Things are still a bit tense.â
And it feels like his throat is grating against broken glass. The nurse is by his side in a second, holding a glass of water to his lips. Malcolm relishes the feeling of cool water in his mouth, and as it travels down his throat, he lets out a satisfied hum. He gives her a grateful look. âThank you,â Malcolm tells her, feeling better already. Â
She nods, still eyeing him warily. âYou werenât supposed to be up yet. After what you went throughââ
âOh, itâs nothing,â Malcolm cuts her off. âAlso, I have a high tolerance to meds. They donât affect me as they do other people.â
She nods again, and this time he detects the hints of the poorly concealed pity sheâs feeling towards him. The nurse clears her throat and starts to look at his monitor, taking notes of his vitals.Â
âAre you feeling sick?â she asks and marks down on her notebook when Malcolm shakes his head to all her questions. âDifficulty breathing? Can you see clearly? Both eyes? Mmm, do you feel any burning around your neck? What about your foot? No pain there?Â
She frowns. âAre you lying so you can get discharged?â
Malcolm gives her his most innocent smile and lies. âOf course not. Iâm fine, really.â
âOn a scale of 1 to 10, can you rate the intensity of the pain youâre feeling now?â
Ahh. A trick question. If he says a low number, he will look like heâs lying, and if he goes high, he was lying before.Â
When Malcolm says nothing, she smirks. He settles for telling her the truth. âEleven,â he admits.
âMmhmm,â she notes down. âDr. Anderson is going to do his rounds in an hour. He should advise on your medication. Meanwhile, Iâm authorized to increase your painkiller dose. Would you like that?â
âYes, please,â Malcolm sighs. âThank you.â
The nurse works on his IV drip, and Malcolm feels the effect of the painkillers almost instantly. To be truthful, he has been feeling like his body was still buzzing from the residual current of the shocks he got from that collar. Now that feeling was numbed out completely, and he is grateful.Â
âFeeling better?â she observes, and he wonders if the signs of pain on his face werenât as concealed as he thought.
He nods and melts back in his pillow.Â
âAnything else I can help you with, Agent Bright?
âYes.â There is a nagging question, one he knows the answer to but still hopes heâs wrong⌠Wants to be wrong... Because how else is this evidence bag here? Malcolm swallows and asks, âDid anyone come to see me? Umm, while I was here at all?â
He knows the answer before she replies. The nurse avoids eye contact immediately and presses her lips. âUmm, Iâm sorry, but no one has. Do you want me to call someone for you?â
Being new to this, he can tell that she feels sorry for him, and Malcolm can see why. The man before her was kidnapped and tortured, and his room was empty. No visitors, no one asking about him. All alone in a hospital room. Â
âItâs okay,â he tells her, and itâs laughable that heâs the one consoling her. âI donât have many friends here. I didnât call my family either. Didnât want to worry them. I was just wondering becauseâŚâ he trails, and she follows his eyes to the evidence bag.
âOh!â she exclaims. âActually, yes! One of the detectives brought it in. Said to tell you, itâs been buzzing like crazy in the evidence hold.â The nurse moves to the chair beside his bed and hands him his phone. She then makes her way to the door. âIf you need anything else, please use the buzzer.âÂ
 âAre the others okay?â Malcolm suddenly remembers. How did he forget to ask about that the second she came in? âThose admitted here as well?â he clarifies.
The nurse knits her eyebrows. âI canât disclose information about the other patients.â She cites firmly.Â
âYeah, I guess so,â Malcolm sighs.Â
âBut...I can tell you that theyâre all alive,â she offers him a kind smile. âYou should get back to sleep.â
âSleepâs not really my thing,â Malcolm tells her. âThank you, ummâŚâ
âChristine,â The nurse smiles. âGood night, Mr. Bright.â
Malcolm watches her walk away, and then he checks his phone. Itâs a miracle the traffickers didnât just smash it. He finds seven missed calls from his mother and three texts. There are also two texts from his sister. There are no messages from Gil, but thatâs not odd. Itâs been two days since he disappeared, and he checks in with Gil weekly.Â
Malcolm opens those from his mom first, and he almost laughsâbecause what else did he expect.Â
â Malcolm, I know youâre ignoring my calls. Answer me now!
â Malcolm Whitly! You will answer that phone right now, or I will send Adolpho to bring you back by force. This gala is important to me. You promised youâll be there. But, of course, why care about the promise you made to your mother when youâd rather get involved in all that death and murder stuff that you do.Â
And the third one was sent the next day.Â
â At least let me know youâre ok?
Malcolm shoots her an apology text about getting trapped inside a case and losing his phone. That should abate her anger without actually telling her the truth. If she knew, he wouldnât hear the end of it. Ainsleyâs texts are similar. Complaining about their mother, and another angry with him because she got dragged into attending the gala in his place.Â
Malcolm feels conflicted as he reads those messages. Some part of him feels a pang of hurt, a heavy lump in his throat. He almost died, and he is vulnerable and alone. He wanted to find something different in thereâproof that they care. Yet another part of him is more than grateful that theyâre not worried sick about him and that they assumed heâs just ignoring them. Heâs happy that they will know he got kidnapped.Â
And in that sense, those messages make him feel like everything is alright.Â
He should check up on Gil, though. As if on cue, Malcolmâs phone buzzes. A new text from Gil.
â Hey there, city boy. Things have been quite busy at work those past three days. The NYPD caught a major case. Had your name all over it. You can tell since Iâm up at 4 AM!Â
Malcolm smiles and texts him back.Â
â Oh, what deviant thing has the city produced this time? New York never ceases to surprise me.Â
â Maybe the next time you visit, we can go over the case specifics? Heard the feds solved the Brady girls case! Gotta admit it hurt to not learn from you first.Â
â Things got out of hand. The usual. Iâm okay, though, donât worry!
And, of course, his phone starts ringing right away. Malcolm knows heâs screwed because he sounds terrible. Gil will see through his charade in an instant. Â
âBright! What did you do? Are you okay? Should I come down there?â Gilâs worried voice comes through the phone, firing each question after the other without waiting for Malcolmâs answers.Â
And there is something so oddly comforting in hearing his voice. It fills Malcolm with the warmth he didnât know he needed. The warmth he lacks in his life here with the FBI where he only gets cold stares and frozen attitudes.Â
Malcolm finds himself relaxing in his bed. âIâm good, Gil!â He says quietly, so he doesnât reveal the extent of his voice damage. âYou donât have to worry about me.â
âItâs my job to worry about you, kid. You donât sound fine at all. Are you in the hospital? Does your mother know?â
âYes, and no! Mother doesnât need to know. It was nothing, really. Just got in a scuffle with the kidnappers.â
âWere you shot?â Gil interrogates him.
âNo.â
âDid someone stab you?â
âNo, no! No one did.â Malcolm blesses his lucky star that Gil will never guess what happenedâwhich makes it perfect for lying. âSee, nothing major happened. Just a couple of bruises. I broke my ankle, too. But... Iâm getting discharged tomorrow.â
There is a tense silence, and Malcolm wonders if Gil believes him.Â
âIs there someone with you? Your partner⌠whatâs his name? Umm yeah. Is Jacobs with you?âÂ
Malcolm swallows, and he hates himself for lying so much. In truth, Jacobs is no longer his partner. The man lasted a full month before asking for a transfer, but Malcolm didnât tell Gil about it. He also knows that if Gil figures out he is sitting alone in the hospital, heâll be here in a matter of hours. Lying is essential .Â
âYeah, heâs with me. Keeping an eye out.â He says weakly and then changes the subject. âYou doing okay? Also⌠You should sleep, Gil. Your bodyâs not used to the lack of sleep. It takes practice!â
âYouâre right on that account,â Gil laughs, then his voice is somber when he continues. â My hunch is telling me that something feels off. But I also know you wonât lie to me. That right?â
âOf course!â Malcolm replies quickly.Â
Gil is silent again for a few moments, and Malcolm wonders if heâll call him out on his lies. Instead, the older man sighs.Â
âOkay⌠Iâll check up on you tomorrow. Get some sleep, Kid. If you can..â
Â
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Malcolm discharges himself AMA. The attending physician (Dr. Anderson) is appalled when he hears that decision and strongly advises against it. He tries to sway his patient to stay by making a strong case of wanting to check on Malcolmâs heart functions after so many shocks and explaining that his heart might still fail if he wasnât monitored. Itâs a strong case that might have worked if the patient wasnât stubborn and lacking in the self-preservation category.Â
Grudgingly, they let Malcolm go after giving him a long list of prescriptionsâpainkillers, soothing creams for his neck, as well as lozenges for his throat. Malcolm accepts the prescription note with a polite smile, listens to their many lectures and rules that keep coming, and pays his bill and leaves.Â
As expected, no one is there to lend him a ride back home. Agent Reynolds had sent him a âget well soonâ text, and it was nice of her. No one else botheredâwhich was fine.Â
Malcolm has learned to manage his expectations with his colleagues at work. They think heâs reckless and behaves wildly and erraticallyâwhich means they wonât keep wasting their time running after The Surgeon's psycho son to the hospital every other case. A few had the first few times out of duty, but when it looked like itâll be a habit, they soon stopped.Â
Oh, he actually got another messageâfrom his boss. Heâs saying that Colette had filled him in on what happened and that they need to âtalkâ when heâs feeling good enough to come back. This doesnât inspire any good feels either. Malcolm wonders what truths Colette had painted to make his kidnapping 100% his fault.Â
Itâs a thought for another day, though. For now, he needs a distraction. Before he goes home, Malcolm decides to take a little detour.Â
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Â
Malcolm never realized that there are forty-two steps separating his loft from the ground floor. Usually, he takes them in no time, skipping a couple of steps at a time, his mind occupied with other cases or whatnot.Â
Today, however, as he leans on the wall to get up the stairs, one hand gripping the rails for dear life and a birdcage in his other hand, Malcolm realizes that theyâre just too many steps.Â
Itâs a very long way up.
He had to leave his crutches behind so he could escort his new guest first. Heâll have to make another trip down and up the stairs to retrieve them.Â
He finally got himself a little birdâa small parakeet. Sunshine. Sheâd called to him the second he saw her, and he knew she was the one. Sunshine keeps chirping excitedly as if she understands sheâs got a new home, and itâs maybe the only thing that makes this journey up the stairs tolerable.Â
Heâs a gasping mess when he finally makes it to the door. There is a crime scene tape covering it.
A secondâs horror grips his heart as he realizes that FBI agents were in his place. That this was an active crime scene. The color drains from his face when he realizes that theyâve all seen his bed restraints. Theyâve seen his home, know that the son of the serial killer shackles himself to his bed every night. The thought almost makes him want to throw up. He doesnât need more reasons for them to think of him as a freak.
Too late now.Â
Malcolm removes the crime scene tape at the door and lets himself in.Â
The loft is a mess.Â
There is broken glass from his fight with Silver Tooth and Muscles. There is also a trail of blood which he assumes belongs to him⌠from when they dragged him after he lost consciousness. Malcolm sighs. He will have to call someone in to clean this upâ thatâs a job for later, though.Â
Feeling a bit faint from his journey up the stairs, Malcolm makes his way to the sofa. Maybe he can hold off on that trip to get his crutches. Itâs not like heâll be doing much walking around the loft.Â
A few envelopes were waiting for him when he arrived. Malcolm fishes them out of his pocket and glances at the sending addresses. Nothing really grips his attention so, he throws them on the side in favor of checking his phone next.Â
He has no new messages from Gil. The older man hasnât called him back either. Malcolm knows what that means. He wasnât convincing enough last night, and the older man was coming to check on him himself.Â
He hates that Gil has to do that when heâs caught up in his major case. He also knows what the lieutenant will do. Gil will probably have the case files with him and ask for Malcolmâs opinion on the caseâthat way, he will have an argument when Malcolm calls him out for coming all this way just to check up on him. The thought makes Malcolm smile. The older man was everything that his father wasnâtâŚÂ
Sunshineâs chirping grabs Malcolmâs attention. The little bird singing in her cage, and her voice are just so therapeutic. It warms Malcolmâs heart.Â
âWelcome home, Sunshine.â He tells the little parakeet, and she flaps her wings and chirps in response. Itâs as if she understands what heâs saying. He chuckles while he watches her and feels so light. Itâs a feeling he hasnât experienced in a long time. Â
âDo you want to stretch out your wings?â He asks. âThe placeâs usually better than this, but you can have your tour.â Malcolm opens the cage, and she soars around the room.Â
Malcolm watches her fly and enjoys just how free she looks. He holds out his hand, remembering how Jackie does it, and Sunshine makes her way to it, stands on his finger. He pets her head affectionately and sighs. Sheâs so pretty.Â
Heâs so lost in the serenity of this moment that for a second, he forgets about the case, the kidnappers, and the pain of the past few days.Â
âWeâre gonna be okay.â He smiles at her.
This time, he thinks it might actually not be a lie.