Author's Note:
This is a little mid-week micro chapter with hopefully another to follow in a few days. This story has a definite chain of events leading up to the conclusion, but there are a terrifying number of side-trips that could happen along the way. To be honest, it's somewhat paralyzing. I'd appreciate hearing from you, faithful readers, about anything you're curious about, hopeful for, or wanting to find out. Your input will help me pick the side-trips wisely and not chase too many plot bunnies. Have a great week!
Malcolm twined a lock of Sam's hair between his fingers, contemplating the day. By the time they went to bed, Sam was almost comically tired, glassy-eyed and unable to stifle huge jaw-cracking yawns. Malcolm was sure she fell asleep the minute her head touched the pillow. Now, several hours later, he enjoyed the silky softness of her locks while she lay as if in a coma.
In spite of being equally tired, Malcolm found sleep unwelcoming. He drifted in and out of slumber, skimming across the tops of potential nightmares. Every time he started to fall more deeply into sleep, he forced himself awake. The last thing he wanted to do was awaken Sam with yet another pre-dawn drama, with or without the gore of dislodging his IV again.
Ollie was still on his mind. The junior adviser's actions were reprehensible – almost sociopathic. Malcolm understood why Jamie was so strongly against giving Reeder a second chance. Julius, too. Hell, probably anyone he asked would agree the wanker should be sacked and then fucking blacklisted. But Malcolm had a special weakness for long shots. He was a long shot himself.
When he worked with someone like Jamie or Nicola and he saw them start to change he felt somehow redeemed. If in some small way he was able to help a person become more authentic, become a better civil servant or trusted leader, maybe he was okay – making a contribution. He'd never worked with anyone as far-gone as Reeder, though. Not successfully.
Sam sighed and rolled over. Malcolm reluctantly let the lock of hair he was fiddling with slide through his fingers.
He still had a niggling concern about Reeder. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he had a sense that maybe the little twat hadn't been entirely honest. Well, of course not. He was probably a sociopath and pathological liar. Bet he wants to be a spin-doctor when he grows up, as long as it doesn't interfere with his sex life too much. He'd have to get past his defences somehow to convince him it was in his best interest to be fully transparent. To get that, Malcolm would have to be equally transparent. Glass houses, indeed.
"What's wrong, Malc? Why aren't you sleeping?"
Fuck. "I'm fine, Luv, go back to sleep." Too late – she was fully awake. Sam rolled back over to face him. She rubbed his chest, something that always soothed him and turned him on at the same time. Have to watch that – Friday was a long ways away.
"No, I can hear you thinking all the way over here. What is it? We've got an early start tomorrow." It was true. Jamie was coming for breakfast at six, followed by Dan Miller at eight.
Malcolm sighed and pulled her in close. "Sorry, just mulling things over." A yawn caught him by surprise. Going to have to give up the vigil – nightmares be damned.