Chapter Text
(Gil's POV)
I looked around and tried not to worry too much about the amount of weaponry displayed on Malcolm's walls. There were worse things to collect. Having investigated as many serial killers as I had, I should know! Still, why couldn't he be more like other millenials and decorate his place with those glass bauble thingies with weird plants in them, or paintings of avocados? For someone who had chosen the name "Bright" for himself, his style seemed pretty dark... Well, at least he had a colourful pet bird.
"Love what you've done with the place," I lied, "Very... cozy." Malcolm just offered me a glass of whisky in reply, which I gratefully accepted. While he played bartender I updated him on the case we just closed.
"DA called. They're pressing charges against both Joey and Axel... You were right. Axel helped orchestrate a cover-up for his old friend."
Malcolm turned to me with two glasses of whisky, along with a pleased look at the news, then said, "But you didn't come here to tell me something I could have read in the report."
"Right again."
Smart kid. Too smart for his own good sometimes. I admired his skill, was proud of it even, but he had learn to toe the line between impressing people or just pissing them off with his astute observations. Knowing him as well as I did, and for as long as I had made it rare for myself to be personally annoyed. Maybe due to my lingering pity, plus the fondness I had for this young man I watched grow up after he'd saved my life... Anyway, most people didn't understand him like I did or have my patience, so he had to be more careful!
I thought his firing from the FBI would've taught him to hold his tongue, but - judging from his interactions with others during our recent cases - I didn't think he learned a thing! It disappointed me. Worried me.
Tell him what you're thinking, Gil... said a voice in my head that sounded like Jackie. She had sometimes urged me to be more strict with Malcolm, said I should be a better father figure. But I never had the heart to be too hard on him, even when he misbehaved. Jessica had been ridiculously busy as a single mother and my wife and I took to babysitting little Malcolm and Ainsley here and there. With Jessica's permission, of course. It was fun. We didn't have any children of our own and we found we liked the noise.
Sometimes the siblings (individually or apart, depending on their extracurriculars) hung out at our little apartment where I let them watch any cartoons they wanted and eat sugary cereal - or we'd take them out to cheap restaurants and parks. Malcolm often had his father on his mind, I could tell. He'd get too quiet sometimes, or act out, and it sort of became a mission of mine to distract him, to make him laugh or just smile. I guess I acted more like the cool uncle.
I shook the memories away and returned my attention to Malcolm in the present. I accepted my drink and then teased, "So, why don't you tell me why I'm here, Sherlock Freud?" That made him smile a little. Yep, cool uncle... Jackie sighed in my head.
We headed over to sit on the leather sectional with our drinks and Malcolm answered, "Well... you know I've been off my game, you know I've been seeing my father, and you know about my mother's new role in my nightmares."
He didn't seem very sorry about it but I had to give him credit for at least admitting that he'd been causing trouble for the team. And I was satisfied that he could acknowledge what was concerning me.
"Damn, you are a good profiler... Guess I can't fire you." This earned a hurt look from Malcolm. Damn puppy eyes.
"You want to?" He sounded about eleven again, voice light and unsure. I wanted to comfort him, tell him of course not - but I decided to be more honest.
"Not usually, no. Lately, though - "
Then Malcolm interrupted and I expected him to spew out an apology. Instead, he whined, "I need to know the truth, Gil. If my mother... If she knew... I have to see that tape!"
I shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly his thoughts had flown elsewhere - to his tragic and blurry past. It seemed to be happening more and more, probably a result of all the dreams he'd been having. The nightmares. I wondered how he could believe what he saw in his sleep over my own account of that night. I was positive that Jessica had not known about the murders before her ex-husband's arrest. She could seem severe with her son and daughter, but she loved them more than anything! She would not have let them live with a murderer for the sake of an ideal family image, but Malcolm was actually leaning toward that theory!
Was this all an effect of him seeing The Surgeon? Was this my fault? Jessica was right when she accused me of sending him back into the arms of that monster... Even though I hadn't ordered the visit, I knew that Malcolm would've been tempted to speak to his father in order to help solve our case. And then I certainly didn't do much to prevent it. I had to fix this somehow, and steer him right.
An idea came to me, a change to the plan I had when I decided to come here. Unbeknownst to Malcolm, the tape he wanted was in my coat. I'd been about to just drop it off and leave, but now...
"Listen, I'll give you two options. I can either let you keep your job or I can give you your mom's interview tape."
Malcolm's eyes grew huge. I'd call them childlike if it weren't for the dark bags under them. He really needed a good sleep.
"Wait, so you have it?"
I looked away and sipped at my drink, not wanting him to be able to study my expression for an answer. He set his glass down hard on the coffee table and huffed out, "If you brought it here, that means you decided I can have it! So just give it to me!" I looked back with an eyebrow raised at his tone, and he quickly amended with a subdued and earnest sounding, "Please."
I replied with a sigh, "So you'd choose that over the job I gave you?"
Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Gil? Come on, that's not fair!"
This immature attitude was beginning to rile me up. I put my glass down beside his - carefully, calmly, as opposed to how he had - then stood up and put my hands on my hips. I looked down at him and spoke sternly, "You wanna talk about what's not fair? Well, kid, you summing up the way you've been acting as just being off your game? (I made quotation marks with my fingers) I'd say that's near the top of the list."
A hint of shame crossed Malcolm's features. Good.
He said, "I'll do better," then looked down and bit his lip. Seemed like he didn't know what else to say so I kept talking.
"I took a risk when I let you into the NYPD. You've done a lot of good but you've made mistakes... and you've been making them more and more. Losing your cool at all the wrong moments, antagonizing the wrong people. I wish I could say otherwise, but I feel like I'd be taking an even bigger risk by keeping you at this point, especially with how much you've been allowing your past to distract you, or dictate your decisions. I need you to to be able to focus on learning from me and the rest of the team. Unless you get your priorities straight, I think you're likely to get worse - not better."
With his chin still tucked low, Malcolm glanced up at me through his eyelashes before looking down again. It hurt seeing the sadness in his young but weary face. I quickly went on to say, "But you know what, kid? Keeping you is a risk I'm willing to take... 'cause I trust you! I trust that you want to do your best to help people, to use your brilliant mind and good heart to solve cases and save lives... but trust has to go both ways! You gotta trust me to help you too, okay?"
After a moment, Malcolm offered a tiny nod. I stepped close and bent down to put my hands on his shoulders, waited for him to make eye contact with me before saying, "Believe me, please. There's nothing on this tape that'll convince you that what you dreamed was the truth. Like I told you before, your mom... she didn't know about the murders!"
Malcolm shut his eyes and hung his head. I squeezed his shoulders a little, encouraging a reply. He took a deep breath while I held mine, then finally said, "Please don't fire me, Gil. I... I choose the job."
I was beyond relieved and didn't bother hiding it. "Thank you, Bright. I'm very glad to hear that. So, you believe me?"
His shoulders sagged. "I want to, Gil! I know you're telling me what you think you know is true, but my mother could be hiding things from both of us - from everyone! It's possible she was able to fool you during her interrogation, isn't it? But I... I don't want you to give me the tape, okay? Not if it means I can't continue being your team's consultant. I've said this to you before - this job, I need it!"
I sighed, accepting that I wouldn't be able to change his mind, but maybe he just had to mull things over when he was better rested. And since we wouldn't be taking on a new case for a couple days, he might get a clearer head and hopefully start to think more rationally. I would call him around noon tomorrow, maybe meet for lunch. If he was still this paranoid and agitated about his mom, then I'd give him the tape and watch it with him. I worried about him having to revisit that terrible night so vividly this way, but it would be better to keep his imagination from running even more wild.
"Well I'll be happy to keep bossing you around." He smiled up at me and I patted his hair. "I should let you get some sleep now. Thanks for the drink."
"Aw, Gil! It's too early!" This time the whining was sort of cute.
"Want me to make it an order?" I warned, half-jokingly.
Malcolm laughed. "Nah, no need. I actually am pretty tired... well, more than usual. So, fine, I'll go wash up and change now - unless you need me to see you out?"
I shook my head. "I'll manage. Have a good night, kid."
When I headed to the door I caught a mumbled reply that was probably not meant to be heard. I made it out as "doubt it" and turned around, but Malcolm had already shut himself into his bathroom.
It didn't feel right to leave now, even though I didn't know what I could do to help him sleep better. I could fight criminals, but not nightmares. I looked around to his bed which was visible in this open concept space, and I went to check it out more closely, curious. Dani had told me about the cuffs Malcolm put on to deal with his night terrors. Just as she described, they made the bed look like something out of a BDSM scene. Too bad Malcolm wasn't using them for fun. I couldn't help the thought that I'd have been more comfortable finding out he had a kinky sex life - versus what he was actually dealing with at night. God. Poor kid.
I'm not sure how long I stood there looking down at the long chains, imagining him pulling at them in terror like a shackled prisoner undergoing torture... Long enough for Malcolm to finish up in the bathroom. He had hit a switch to shut off most of the lights and we startled each other before we could adjust our eyes to the dimness.
"You - you're still here! Why?" Malcolm's hair was a mess for once. He probably hadn't bothered combing it after changing. He looked like a damn teenager, donning grey sweats and a white tee, his feet bare. It didn't help that he was several inches shorter than me. His tailored outfits did make him seem taller.
"Oh, well..." I floundered for an explanation and came up with, "Dani told me you had trouble with, uh... your sleeping arrangement... that night, after she took you home at my request. I remembered and thought I'd help this time."
Malcolm's cheeks got a little pink. "She told you about that?" He gave an embarrassed laugh and added, "It's pretty weird, huh? But it does help keep me from causing damage... most of the time."
"That's good, then." (It wasn't good at all) "I'm just sorry your night terrors have gotten so bad." (I was more than sorry... I was horrified.) "Let me help you get your cuffs on."
Malcolm blushed red now. He waved his hands in front of his chest and said, "No, that's okay! I was pretty out of it when Dani was here, but I can normally do it myself. Look, I'll show you!" Then he climbed under his covers and demonstrated how the two tethers attached to the cuffs had just enough slack to allow him to restrain himself, one wrist at a time. I could see how he wouldn't be able to free himself unless he were conscious of them. After both cuffs were on he actually gave me jazz hands and exclaimed, "Voila!" - then, after a pause - "Oh shit, I forgot my guard!"
"Your what?" Did he hire a...
"My mouth guard. I wear it to sleep so I don't grind my teeth down or bite my tongue, when... you know..." He wouldn't look me in the eye and my heart gave a pang. The kid didn't deserve to live like this.
"Where is it? I'll get it for you."
"Uh, my nightstand, top drawer. Thanks, Gil. You'd be saving me some hassle."
"No problem," I said, and crouched down in front of the nightstand by the head of his bed. I opened the top drawer and immediately spotted the small plastic case that looked suited for a mouth guard, but then a bottle of liquid caught my eye - or, more specifically, what it said on its label.
CHLOROFORM
I grabbed the bottle, wanting a closer look and hoping to God I read it wrong... I hadn't. My hand shook as I presented it to Malcolm.
"Oh man! I forgot I had that in there!"
I remained speechless, not knowing what to think let alone what to say!
"Woah, woah - don't look so worried, Gil! I just used that on myself, okay? I don't have anyone held captive." Malcolm had the gall to laugh! This wasn't funny at all!
You're holding yourself captive, I wanted to say... and I wasn't thinking of his cuffed hands. His mind had to be stuck in some kind of delusional, twisted thought process because why the hell -
Wait. I wanted to say this part out loud. And loudly.
"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU USE CHLOROFORM ON YOURSELF!?"
I didn't let myself feel bad for the look of fright my shouting sparked on Malcolm's face.
"Gil, calm down! I can explain! A... um, a memory came to me..."
Not this again. "A dream, you mean?"
"My father drugged me, used chloroform on me after I saw the girl in the box. He must've wanted to stop me from calling for help by making me forget. Doctor Brown, she... well, I discussed this with her and she suggested that the familiarity of the scent might help me remember more, trigger other details. It made sense to me, so I just had to try! And - and it worked, Gil! That's when I saw my mother!"
"Bright!" I growled, "Are you talking about the dream you had of her catching you finding the box? You didn't tell me your sleep that night was drug-induced!" I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a mighty headache coming on, and I stopped myself from asking Malcolm if he knew how dangerous chloroform was. It would be a waste of breath because he was too damn smart to have been unaware of the dangerous - potentially fatal - consequences! That made this all so much worse... "Oh God, kid. You need a good smack upside the head."
Malcolm gave an odd snort and replied, "Well, you'll be pleased to know that my mother delivered exactly that."
What?
"Your mom hit you? Your head?" I quickly leaned over to brush Malcolm's hair back, checking for marks on his face.
He looked uncomfortable and told me, "I'm fine! She didn't box me!" then he explained, "She came over the other night and we had a pretty bad argument. I, um... I decided to ask her directly if she had known about my father's murders before his arrest. And she - well, she was a little drunk, judging by her breath. She slapped me on the cheek, that's all. Only stung for a few minutes."
I sighed and put my hand in Malcolm's hair, looking over his left cheek. Jessica was right-handed... I couldn't imagine ever slapping him in the face. "Your mom shouldn't have hit you like that."
"I'm fine," He repeated.
He wasn't.
The urge to make Malcolm smile took precedence over the lecture I had stewing, so I decided to share a funny thought that had briefly come to mind.
"Maybe she should've put you over her knee and spanked your butt instead."
I got a toothy grin and a giggle. Bonus points.
"Oh, geez, Gil! I can imagine that pretty easily! Which is odd, actually... since she doesn't believe in corporal punishment. She never hit me when I was a kid, anyway. Neither did my father."
"You've never been spanked?" He shook his head and I was honestly surprised. I understood if Jessica had decided not to punish her son in certain ways after the trauma they endured, but he was eleven then. I had earned most of my spankings before ten!
I knew physically disciplining children was widely discouraged now, and I was fully in support of that. Kids these days had so many possessions that could be taken away as punishment instead. But Malcolm was a nineties kid! I couldn't help but think that his absence of butt whoopings explained a lot! His poor impulse control, for one. My dad had cured me of that with just a couple good doses of his belt... and I thanked him for that now.
I decided not to bother telling Malcolm he should've been spanked more when he was younger. His childhood wasn't one to be envied and I didn't want to imply that he'd been spoiled. I turned my focus to deciding what I could do now, as his boss and friend, to keep him from trouble. First thing would definitely be getting rid of the chloroform. I stood up, knees cracking, and put the bottle in my coat's inner pocket. Edrisa would know how to dispose of it properly.
"Hey, you can't take that! It's mine!" Malcolm yelled from where he lay, head rising from his pillow.
I crossed my arms and said, "Don't tell me you were thinking of using it again. That would be stupid! And you, my friend, are not stupid..."
Malcolm pouted at me, glaring now. I glared back. After a few seconds he dropped his head back down onto his pillow and turned his face away to look out the large round window.
"Tell me you aren't gonna use chloroform again, kid."
He ignored me and shut his eyes. I sighed and just looked over his thin figure. The soft glow from the city lights highlighted his pale face and, with his arms spread like that, he almost looked like a modern version of Christ on the cross... suffering for the sins of others. Well, I would not let him wind up sacrificing himself. He had to stop needlessly putting himself in danger. I took a breath, ready to talk at him all night, but then he turned to face me again, scowling.
"Go away, Gil. I can't stand another lecture. You... you're not my father! Quit acting like it!"
I tried not to sound as hurt as I felt when I replied, "Oh, I hope to God I'm nothing like your dad!"
"Then just FUCK OFF!"
I was taken aback. Malcolm had never swore at me before. In fact, I rarely heard him swear at anyone. I supposed that could be due to him being brought up with an upper class vocabulary. His mom probably encouraged him to use full sentences in an argument.
"You think it's okay to mouth off at your boss?"
He looked strangely pleased and stated, "Well you can't fire me now, can you? We had a deal! You promised me I could keep my job, remember? As long as I didn't ask for the tape. So, unless you give that to me now, I guess I can mouth off at you all I want... Sir."
The kid was using my ultimatum against me. And the gall of him, addressing me like that! Like he was some sarcastic brat! I had never felt so disrespected by him... A ridiculous idea began to form in my head. I had been joking about it before, but now...
I unbuttoned my coat, shrugged it off and threw it over the foot-board. My holster belt and gun followed. Then I began rolling up the sleeves of my shirt, not quite believing what I was planning to do, but the urge grew and grew and I let myself act on it. I let my impulse control take a back seat for once.
"Huh? What... what are you doing, Gil?" The nervousness in Malcolm's voice was welcome. I hadn't liked the smugness in his voice before.
"Well, since I can't fire you, I better figure out another way to punish you, eh? Maybe I'll hit two birds with one stone... I can teach you a lesson and show you how different I am from your horrible excuse for a father." What an understatement. I refrained from saying the word at work but The Surgeon was plain "evil" in my books. I don't know what I was thinking when I practically delivered his son back to him after so many years! I had to step it up as Malcolm's friend, his boss... his father figure! And that would start now.
I grabbed a hold of Malcolm's blanket and yanked it away to bunch up past his knees, then I knelt down on the edge of the mattress and reached out to grab his bony left hip. "Your father didn't believe in corporal punishment, right? But I might."
I had never spanked anyone before but being on the receiving end seemed like enough experience to go on. I rolled Malcolm on his side, exposing his back to me, and then I raised my left hand...
Malcolm wriggled and shouted dramatically, "Gil, no! Just NO! Oh - oh my God!" He knew where this was going and I didn't make him wait. I slapped him hard on the seat of his sweats, deciding I wouldn't go soft on him. I'd been too lenient before and he needed to smarten up, fast.
The strike sounded muffled but it made Malcolm gasp.
I slapped him again, just as hard.
"OW! Stop it, Gil!"
He kicked the blanket off his legs before trying to kick me. When that failed, he tried to twist onto his back but I was able to hold him in place with little effort. I delivered four more solid slaps, alternating cheeks, before seeing Malcolm reach to undo his right cuff with his left hand. I caught him just in time and wrapped my hands around his waist. With a single heave, I dragged his whole body down about a foot, toward the end of his bed. This tightened the tethers just enough to keep his hands apart.
Malcolm was on his back again and took advantage. He spread his legs wide and tensed his whole body to make it difficult for me to get him on his side again. I gave him a stern look and he opened his mouth. Once again, I expected to hear an apology. And again, I was wrong.
"You're crazy, Gil! You can't seriously think that this is okay, 'cause it's not! You've got no right to spa - to hit me! You're hurting me!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Not as much as you're hurting yourself! You think it's okay to experiment with drugs like that? Well, then I don't see why I can't try out some experimental discipline on you. At least a spanking can't kill you!"
Malcolm hollered without dignity when I reached for him again, and I decided not to provide him with any dignity on my part, either... With some inventive moves, I gathered his legs together like two logs and lifted them up into the air - like he was a baby about to have his diaper changed.
This got Malcolm sputtering, "Gil, Gil... this is... it's - ", then he just squeaked when I bent him in half with my right arm across the backs of his legs, against his calves. His knees pressed down over his chest, butt becoming a perfect target.
Malcolm began a panicked mantra of, "No... no, no, no..." and I listened carefully, determining that he wasn't having any trouble breathing due to the position. Good thing he was limber. He did mention doing yoga.
I took a moment to study Malcolm's face as well, red from anger and embarrassment, and I suddenly felt a little guilty. I wondered if I'd already gotten my point across, if maybe this had been enough. I asked, "Is there anything you want to say to me, kid?"
The response I got was remorseless - "How 'bout let me the hell go!" - and it hardened me to want to carry out a drawn-out lesson, one he wouldn't forget...
So I told him, "No, not for a while."
Malcolm groaned in frustration and then gasped when he saw my left hand rise into the air. "Gil, you can't..." but I could and I would. I had determined this to be the best course of action, however silly it sounded, spanking a grown man for his misbehaviour!
"This is happening. Your only option now is to accept this punishment... and learn from it."
My hand flew.
~ TBC ~