Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s shocking how quickly things can go downhill.

The night is already tense—three detectives and a profiler crowded in a small conference room for too many hours. Pouring over case files with time they do not have. Outside their little bubble the precinct is quiet. It’s late and outside, snow falls heavily.

The wind rattles against the precinct’s windows like it’s desperate to get in.

Malcolm Bright is uncharacteristically quiet. 

They’re all laser-focused, trying desperately to find a lead and make connections where none seem to exist. Without Malcolm’s usual chatter and theorizing, they’re left to work in silence.

JT finally straightens out and stretches, glancing at the window. “Hey, anyone check the forecast in a while?” He frowns, approaching the window to get a closer look. 

At the table, Dani has her phone out. “Streets are shut down, plows are backed up. Fantastic.”

Gil pinches the bridge of his nose. “A blizzard? When the hell did that happen?” He sighs, glancing to the window again like the weather might abruptly change. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere tonight.”

One voice is notably missing from the conversation and, in tandem, they all look to Bright.

Malcolm is hunched over a stack of case files. He shows no indication he heard the conversation.

Gil frowns. “Bright? Did you hear that? We’re stuck here tonight.”

Malcolm doesn’t answer. Under the flickering fluorescent lights, he’s visibly pale.

Dani’s brow furrows. She and Gil exchange a look. “Hey, you good? Bright.”

Malcolm looks up and blinks slowly like it takes a moment to process the question. “Yeah. Yeah, just… tired.”

“Tired, huh? You look like hell,” JT says bluntly, dropping back into his chair.

“I always look like hell,” Malcolm replies with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But seriously. Just had a rough night.”

“A rough night?”

“A series of rough nights,” Malcolm amends. “Sleep and I aren’t exactly on the best terms.”

Gil isn’t exactly appeased, but aside from the paleness and the obvious fatigue there wasn’t much he can call Malcolm on. 

“We should get back to the case,” Malcolm continues. He turns his attention back to the pile in front of him. “If we’re stuck here anyway.”

He grabs a file. His hands are shaking.

No one misses it.

“Malcolm,” Gil sighs. “Are you sick?”

Malcolm, ever perceptive, sees what caught their attention and pulls his hands back. “No,” he says too quickly. “Just cold. It’s freezing in here.”

“The heat’s been on for hours,” JT counters, arms crossed.

“Fine!” Malcolm throws his hands up. “I caught a cold or something. It’s no big deal.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gil scolds.

“There was work to do,” Malcolm mumbles. “It wasn’t important.” A shudder runs through him. He wraps his arms around himself.

Gil frowns and reaches forward before Malcolm can stop him, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, kid. No wonder you’re cold. You’re burning up.”

“Idiot, I can’t believe you tried to hide this from us,” Dani sighs. Her eyes shine with concern.

“I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

JT scoffs. “Well now you’re burning up in the middle of a snowstorm. Real helpful.”

Malcolm wilts. 

“Alright kid, I can’t send you home so here’s what we’re gonna do.” Gil runs a hand over his face. “You’re gonna lay down on the couch and take a nap. Just—” he continues when Malcolm opens his mouth to protest, “—for a couple of hours. You’re clearly not focused right now anyway.”

“I’m fine Gil. We need to figure this case out!”

“Sorry, I guess I wasn’t clear,” Gil replies. “That was an order. You’re not working until you lay down.”

It’s a testament to how awful Malcolm feels when he offers up no further protest. Just sighs and pushes away from the table.

He stands. His knees buckle.

JT grabs his arm to steady him. “Geez, man. Fine, huh?”

Malcolm’s head lolls. He tilts his gaze to JT. “I may be prone to downplaying.”

JT huffs out a laugh, then frowns. “No kidding.” 

An hour passes. 

Then two.

The wind outside bites and groans. 

Inside, the team works in uneasy silence.

On the couch, Malcolm trembles under a blanket. A cold compress is pressed to his head, damp from the bathroom sink. A low whine escapes his throat and Gil frowns.

“Dani,” he says, voice low. “Can you go find a thermometer and some aspirin?”

She says nothing. Just nods and leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Think we should be concerned?” JT mutters, eyes fixed on the profiler.

Gil sighs. “I hope not, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” In truth, he is worried. He can’t help it, when it comes to his team. When it comes to Malcolm.

Dani returns and Gil takes the thermometer gratefully, crouching beside Malcolm.

“Bright,” he says softly, shaking him. “We need to take your temperature.”

Malcolm groans and his eyes blink open. Fever-bright and unfocused, they wander before landing on Gil. “Gil?” His whole body trembles like it’ll come apart.

“Yeah, kid. Come on, gotta put this under your tongue.” Malcolm obliges, his gaze wandering off again.

A moment later, Gil curses. 

“Bad?” Dani asks from off to the side.

“103.2. Definitely not good, and if it gets any worse, he needs a hospital.” Which is not an option right now, he doesn’t say out loud.

“Damn it, Bright, you really can’t do anything halfway, can you?” JT grumbles.

“Gil?” Malcolm asks weakly. His eyes find Gil again and then squeeze shut. “I’on’t… I’on’t feel s’good.” He lets out a low moan and Gil looks up urgently but Dani is already grabbing the trash bin. Malcolm  retches into it but nothing more than bile comes up.

“Oh, kid,” Gil mutters sympathetically. “When was the last time you ate something properly?”

Malcolm flops back down against the pillow, shuddering. “D’nno.”

Gil rests a hand on Malcolm’s sweat-damp hair, brow furrowing. “Okay, Bright. Take this.” He hands Malcolm an aspirin and a bottle of water. Malcolm swallows it with a wince. “Now try to get some rest.”

“D’n wanna,” Malcolm whines, eyes still clenched tight. “He’ll come.”

“Who?” JT asks from behind.

“We’ll be here,” Gil soothes. “Just rest.”

Despite his protests, Malcolm’s face smooths a moment later. Unable to fight the pull of unconsciousness. 

Outside, the wind howls.

Inside, three detectives trade uneasy looks.

Malcolm sleeps fitfully for another two hours. His breathing is labored and punctuated every once and a while by moans and whimpers. The team flips through case files, but it’s clear no one is paying much attention. 

The lights flicker overhead. Outside the wind has died down but the snow still falls.

Few words are exchanged. 

And then — a scream.

It’s shrill and cracks midway, shattering the troubled silence that has settled over the room.

Malcolm sits bolt upright, eyes wide, chest heaving. “NO, GET OFF!” He lurches and tumbles off the couch, landing harshly on the floor. 

Gil and JT curse. Dani is the first to reach him.

“No— NO!”

“Hey hey hey, Bright, look at me,” she soothes, hands hovering. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She recalls, then, that very first case. When Malcolm had a night terror, tackled her and somehow, they ended up in an embrace. Would touch help? Would it make things worse?

She rests an arm on his shoulder. It’s the wrong decision. He recoils back violently, back hitting the couch.

“STAY BACK!” His voice is rough. He coughs harshly. His eyes are hazy and linger on Dani without recognition before darting away. They find something else and whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“No nonononono,” he moans, eyes locked on some phantom horror only he can see. “Don’t— don’t hurt her, don’t—!”

Gil drops beside them, pale-faced. “Bright, come on city boy. It’s just us here. You, me, Dani and JT.”

Malcolm’s eyes flick to Gil and recognition bleeds in. A moment of relief for the detectives. Only a moment.

Malcolm lurches forward, grabbing Gil by the shoulders with trembling hands. Heat radiates off him like a furnace.

“ Gil! He’s gonna kill her, you have to stop him, please— ”

“Shit,” JT curses behind them. “Please tell me he’s not seeing his dad.”

Gil gently grabs his hands. “Kid, listen to me. It’s okay. He’s not here.”

Malcolm let out a sob.

“He’s… he’s gonna…”

“Shhh…” Gil soothes. “You’re at the precinct. It’s just you and your team.”

Malcolm whimpers—an awful, raw sound—and bends forward, curling in on himself. “I didn’t—I didn’t know, I…” His voice cracks. His body shakes.

“Oh, kid...” Gil pulls Malcolm up and against himself. Malcolm doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” the younger man mumbles against Gil’s shoulder, gripping him like a lifeline. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

His words are beginning to slur. His forehead burns where it’s pressed into Gil. Breath hot against his collarbone.

“I know, kid, I know…” Gil rubs his back. Turns his attention to his detectives. “Dani,” he says, voice low, “hand me that thermometer. JT, see if there are any ice packs in the freezer. Please.”

JT disappears out the door. Dani grabs the thermometer from the table, handing it to Gil.

“Come on city boy, you know how this works,” Gil says, gently prying Malcolm off him and leaning him back against the couch. The thermometer is slipped under his tongue and they wait in tense silence.

A beep. 

“ Shit… ” Gil curses, panic clawing its way up his throat.

“How high?” JT says from the doorway, hands full of ice packs.

Gil says nothing at first, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand down his face. Then: “We have to find a way to get him to the hospital.”

“Boss?” Dani asks, eyes flicking down to the thermometer still in Gil’s hand. She swears too. “ 104.7?” She stands immediately. “I’ll make some calls. See about an ambulance. Check on the plows. Something. ” She leaves the room to find a landline.

“JT, help me get him back on the couch. We need to pack these ice packs around him. Now. ”

Malcolm is mumbling now, all coherence clearly gone. His fever-bright eyes wander the room. 

“Come on, kid, up we go,” Gil mutters and they haul him back to lie on the couch. Gil grabs the aspirin from the table. “You need to take this, Malcolm.”

“Md’cin?” Malcolm stares uncomprehendingly at Gil. “Why... d’I go’ take m’cin?”

“Because you’re really, really sick,” Gil answers, dread like a rock in his stomach at how quickly Malcolm is deteriorating.

“M’sick?” He stares up at Gil with eyes all too reminiscent of a much younger Malcolm.

“Yeah, kid,” Gil sighs. He runs fingers through sweat damp hair. “Take it for me, okay?”

Malcolm nods, swallows the medicine down with a wince. Gil eases him back to lie down. “Okay, JT.”

They start packing the ice packs around Malcolm—what seems to Gil to be every single ice pack in the whole precinct. 

Malcolm starts to cry and squirm weakly.

“S’cold,” he whines, ice scrunched shut. “S’so cold, Gil, so cold, Gil—”

“I know, I know, but you’re too hot and we have to cool you down.”

“Gil, please—”

“God, kid, I’m so sorry but we have to,” Gil pleads. “We have to get your fever down.”

Malcolm stops wiggling and just cries.

His breath slows as unconsciousness drags him down again.

“Shit,” JT says after a moment of silence. “Damn it, man.”

Gil just lets out a long sigh, nerves frayed. 

God, his kid was so sick. They needed help. 

There is nothing restful about Malcolm’s sleep. He tosses and turns. They have to repeatedly adjust his ice packs. He moans and mumbles and whines and cries. Gil holds an ice pack to his head. 

It’s not enough.

Dani keeps them updated on the situation outside. They’re getting the plows out, she says. It shouldn’t be much longer. 

It’s not fast enough.

Gil checks Malcolm’s temperature every half hour. It drops, but stays frustratingly above 104.

“ Sorry… m’sorry… sorry…” Malcolm is mumbling again. It’s been a repetitive mantra for the past few hours. Interspersed between frantic begging and nonsensical ramblings.

Gil has not left his side. Dani and JT have given up on the case. JT sits across the room, leg bouncing restlessly as he refreshes live updates about the situation outside. Cursing when his signal drops again. Dani has been keeping busy, swapping out ice packs and grabbing tea or coffee for the detectives holding vigil.

Outside, the snow has all but stopped. A small source of hope in the endless nightmare they’ve found themselves in.

“He should have told us he was sick,” Dani says, sitting on the arm rest on the couch. Arms crossed.

“I hate to say it, but I’m almost glad it turned out this way,” Gil replies, eyes locked on Malcom’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“I keep imagining him at home in this blizzard, sick as he is,” he explains. “Passing out on the floor. No one having any idea.”

“Maybe if he stayed home he wouldn’t have gotten so bad,” JT groused but it lacks any fire.

“Maybe,” Gil concedes. “But maybe not. And now, at least he’s not alone.”

They fall back into uneasy silence.

“103.4,” Gil announces. “We’re getting there.”

They breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Malcolm is asleep. He no longer tosses and turns. His sleep is not easy, discomfort clear on his face. He still lets out little whines. 

But the horrible, aching fear of the past few hours lessens ever so slightly.

“Mmngh.”

Malcolm shifts on the couch, curling in on himself slightly. His eyes blink open blearily. “Gil…” he whispers, then, louder: “Gil?”

Gil drops beside him instantly. “Yeah, kid. You with me?”

Malcolm turns his head to the side, taking in Gil beside him. His eyes close for a few seconds, then open again. “Thirsty.”

Gil nods. Blinks back the wetness he’s surprised to find welling up behind his eyes. “Okay, kid. We’ll grab you some water. Let’s sit you up.”

Gil helps Malcolm sit up and drink some water. Malcolm says nothing, then: “...Where?”

“We’re at the precinct,” Gil explains, one hand on Malcolm to keep him propped up. “A blizzard hit and you decided to check out on us with a nasty fever.”

“Case?”

Gil rolls his eyes. “We’ll worry about the case later.” He helps Malcolm lie back down. “For now you need to keep resting, then we’re gonna get you checked out, okay? Make sure you didn’t fry anything in that big brain of yours.”

Malcolm, awareness slipping, just nods and closes his eyes. He drifts off again.

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” JT asks from where he’d been watching the whole scene.

“I think so, but we should still get him to a hospital as soon as we can in case the fever starts rising again.”

Dani disappears to use the landline again. When she returns, she says, “Good news is the roads to the nearest hospital have been cleared.” She hesitates. “Bad news is an ambulance probably won’t get here for a while.”

Gil stands. “We’ll take my car.”

The view from Malcolm’s hospital is beautiful. White blankets every inch of the city. The sun glints off icy trees. It’s like something from a fairy tale.

It’s also a bitter reminder of the awful night the team went through.

Malcolm sits propped against stiff pillows, IV in one arm, heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s a little pale and his eyes are still a bit glassy, but he’s lucid. 

“You can stop hovering, Gil,” he says, eyes fixed on the detective standing by his bed. “I’m perfectly fine. No lasting damage.”

“You cooked your brain so badly you hallucinated,” Gil retorts. “That’s not ‘fine’ by any definition of the word.”

Malcolm grimaces. “I really don’t want to image what kind of stuff I was saying if I was hallucinating.” 

Gil frowns, holds Malcolm’s gaze. “It wasn’t great to hear,” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

Gil looks startled. “No—kid, not what I meant.” He sighs, sitting on the end of the bed. “I mean it was hard to listen to because you were suffering and we couldn’t do anything about it.”

Malcolm hesitates. “Did… did JT and Dani hear, too?”

“Yeah, kid. They did.”

“Great,” he mutters. 

“If it makes you feel any better, we already knew your brain is a mess so it wasn’t all that surprising,” JT says from the door. He’s holding a coffee in each hand. He’s grinning teasingly but his eyes are still worried.

“Lovely,” Malcolm grouses. “Glad to know I’m the certified crazy one of the team.”

“Did you really think it was anyone else?” Dani teases fondly. She too hasn’t fully shaken the worry in her gaze.

“I don’t know, I think JT could be a be a real runner up.”

JT hands off one of the coffees to Gil and comes up beside the bed. For a few seconds he just stares down at a confused Malcolm, then says, “try not to almost die during a freak blizzard next time, yeah?”

“Will do,” Malcolm says dryly. “I’ll schedule all future near-death experiences around NYPD’s weather protocols.”

Dani comes up on the other side of the bed. “You need to stop lying about how badly you’re feeling.”

Malcolm gives her his best innocent look. “I didn’t lie, I… omitted.”

“I’m serious, Bright.”

Malcolm sighs. “Fine. I made a calculated choice in favor of productivity. We had crucial work to do for an urgent case and I determined that took precedence.”

“Can you just talk like a real human,” JT mutters.

“Yeah well, see how well that worked out for you,” Dani says flatly. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Malcolm’s eyes drop to the blanket. “Sorry…” he murmurs. “I… didn’t want to be a burden.”

The detectives trade pained looks. 

“Bright,” Gil says softly. “You’re not a burden. But you are a member of this team. Which means you can’t just keep hiding things because you think it’s for the benefit of the team. This self-destructive streak needs to end.”

Malcolm looks up. Takes them all in. 

“I’m…”

“Do not say sorry again,” JT cuts in. “Listen man, we get it, okay? We all know by now your brain has all kinds of funky stuff going on up there. Just…” he pauses, looking conflicted. “Just know you can count on us, okay? You’re one of us now.”

Malcolm smiles faintly. “That was actually… pretty sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Dani places a gentle hand on Malcolm’s wrist and he looks over. “Seriously though, Bright. I know you can’t just magically undo a lifetime of trauma but promise us you’ll try to stop hiding so much and rely on us more, alright?”

Malcolm holds her gaze and something undefinable passes between them. Finally, he nods. “I promise. I’ll try.”

Outside, the snow is melting into slush, the world slowly thawing.

Inside, the team is warm.