"Why do you think your father said that?" Those words played through his mind again as they exited the precinct. Mixed with the other voices. Added to the never ending loop of noise he couldn't shut off no matter how hard he tried. "That's what I can't figure out."
It wasn't something Malcolm could explain, either. He couldn't when he was eleven and most certainly couldn't now. His eyes traveled over the people walking by on the street, seeing them but also seeing what he always saw: fragments of things he didn't understand.
And a father he loved and loathed in equal parts telling him, "we're the same."
"Mal?" Sorcha's fingers squeezed his. "What are you seeing?"
"Nothing."
"Don't invalidate," she chided gently. "You have that glassy and unfocused look."
"It's what I always see," he finally admitted as a tremor rattled his fingers. "It never changes."
"Your father."
"Yes." He looked up at the hazy sky. "It wasn't this cold earlier."
He could tell by Sorcha's sigh she wasn't happy he changed the subject but she allowed it. Respecting his need for boundaries and privacy. People already knew enough about him now thanks to Ainsley. However, he was under no illusion she wouldn't broach this subject again when they were alone.
"Gonna snow tonight." That haunting scent of hers wrapped around him, teasing him, taunting him, tempting him. "Can feel it in the air."
"Stay with your family if it does," he said as he tried to get his rampaging thoughts and emotions under control. "Come home in the morning." He glanced over at her snort. "What?"
"I doubt it's gonna snow enough for that."
"The roads could still be icy."
"If it makes you feel better... I will call an Uber if the road conditions get that bad."
"Why don't you just stay with your family?"
"Because your mom will be disappointed if I don't come by for dessert."
"You told my mother you'd come for dessert?"
Sorcha seemed almost amused by his reaction. He wished he could say he was. He wasn't exactly looking forward to Christmas dinner.
"I promised her I would, yes."
Malcolm frowned. "When did you promise her?"
And why didn't you tell me about it? Guilt swirled through him before that thought finished. Why hadn't she told him? Maybe because he hadn't seen or talked to her since the night before.
"After I asked to borrow pie pans and other things because you have none."
"Again, not a big baker here."
"No, shit, Sherlock." Sorcha sent him a teasing grin. "We are going to have to discuss your serious lack of kitchenware."
"I'll buy you whatever you need after Christmas." He already bought most of what she wanted before Gil called last night. He just didn't tell her. He wanted to see her surprise and pleasure when it all arrived. "Those extra two pies you baked are for tonight, aren't they?"
"Yes, Mr. Detective."
Malcolm sighed. "You're in a mood today."
"It's Christmas, Malcolm." She turned to face him. "A time to be happy. I know you're passingly familiar with the concept."
He rolled his eyes. "Not feeling particularly festive at this moment, thank you."
"Hey." Sorcha set her hand against his face and drew his gaze to hers. "Don't let Lazar or your father steal what happiness you have. They win if you do."
"They've already won," he said tiredly. "I'm brok—"
"Nope."
"Sorch..."
"You're not broken." She lifted her other hand to frame his face. Rubbed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Just a little bit bent at the corners."
"I know you believe that." He closed his eyes. "But I can't be fixed, Sorch."
"This conversation should likely happen when we're not standing outside a police station..."
"But?" His lips twitched as he opened his eyes to look at her. "That's your but voice."
"However," she said smugly. "I know you've mentioned Gabrielle has a more psychodynamic approach. I've always preferred Erickson, myself."
"I know." His hands drifted to her waist. Touching but not touching. "You wrote your thesis paper on Erickson's theory and how traumatic events effect the successful passage from one stage to the next."
"I wrote my thesis based largely on inspiration from you." Her lips curved. "Big shock, I know. My reasoning for that, though, was because I wanted to learn everything I could so I could help you."
"You have helped me."
"And will continue helping you. Especially after Ainsley's interview."
"I thought you weren't going to watch it?"
"Ains asked and I wanted to see what your father said. His physical reactions to her questions. So, I did. And I know you hate hearing this..." She blew out a breath. "But you're a victim, Mal. I knew that all the way back in school. I just didn't know how much of a victim you really are because we didn't know what we do now."
"The chloroform."
"And the camping trip," she added. "How it relates to the girl in the box."
"Not like my father or Paul Lazar have been forthcoming with information about either."
"No, they haven't been." she agreed with a slight nod. "Not that I'm surprised. It's a power play with your father. A dangling of the proverbial carrot. His way of keeping you coming back to see him."
Sorcha hadn't expressly stated it as of late, but Malcolm knew she was against him seeing his father. As invaluable a resource as Martin Whitly might be to understanding the mind of killers, he was a toxic presence in her opinion. One she felt he needed to get as far away from as possible.
"Believe me, I'm well aware my father is a master at manipulation."
"Oh, yes, he is." She reached out and straightened his tie. Her way of hiding her agitation and nerves. "Something you are, too. All psychologically trained people are. We have to be. Especially when dealing with things like serial killers. You have to fight smarter, not harder against men like Paul Lazar and Martin Whitly."
"You were reading Batman comics last night, I see."
"I introduced Sunshine to The Dark Knight. Gonna teach her to tweet ha ha ha."
Malcolm hummed a soft laugh. "You would."
"Hey, Batman is a hero traumatized by his parents death who responded to his tragedy by turning his pain into good." She skimmed her fingers over his cheek into his hair. "Kinda like someone else I know."
Malcolm scoffed at that comparison. "I'm nothing like Batman."
"Just as moody and stubborn as he is." She sifted her fingers through his hair, stimulating and soothing him at the same time. "And I know about all them secret ninja moves you have."
She managed to make him laugh. Which is what she intended, he realized as a cold breeze carried with it the heady mix of lavender and jasmine.
"You'll be the first to know if I ever decide to don a mask and run across rooftops."
"I better be." She draped her arms around his neck. Pressed close. "Otherwise, there'll be hell to pay."
Now, Malcolm decided as he stared into her bright eyes. Now's the time to give her the charm bracelet. It wasn't exactly where he originally planned to do it but something told him she'd find it perfect.
"Sorch..."
"Can we stay like this for a few more minutes?" She rest her forehead against his. "Before you go off to chase bad guys and I get mobbed by my family asking where you are."
"Are your aunts going to be there tonight?"
"As will Father Malrooney."
"They don't still consider me husband material, do they?"
"Oh, yeah." She leaned her head back to smile at him. "Especially after the way you saved me from Robert."
He scoffed at that. "You saved yourself, Sorch."
"No, you saved me." She placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "And you stopped Robert from getting away."
A choice that resulted in him smelling worse than the subway. Dry cleaning that suit was no use. The stains and smells wouldn't ever come out. It was worth it, however. He wouldn't have her if he hadn't been there.
"Doesn't mean I'm any more husband material now than they thought I was back when we were in school."
Way he saw it? He was less husband material now.
"I think you're husband material."
Malcolm blinked rapidly. "What?"
"I said I think you're husband material."
"Sorcha—"
"Whether or not it will be me or someone else?" She continued. "Who knows." Those quick, clever fingers rubbed the back of his neck in slow, soothing circles. "What I do know is that I'm willing to take things slow. To see where this goes. If it doesn't go farther than this... well, I'm still your best friend. And I'm still going to be there to help you figure out what happened on that camping trip with the girl in the box."
Helpless, frustrated, all he could do was look at her. Why he couldn't simply tell her that he loved her was beyond him. Three words. Shouldn't be that hard to say. Yet for him it was harder than solving a homicide.
Not successfully navigating the intimacy versus isolation stage of Erickson's theory could be one reason for why you suck at relationships, his overeducated mind offered. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say when a familiar voice called out a suggestion.
"This is that point in the movie where you kiss her, bro."
Surprise and guilt at being caught with her almost had him leaping away from Sorcha. Only the ridiculousness of it kept him from doing so. He glanced over to see Sean sitting in the drivers seat of a white convertible.
"That's your dad's Mustang," he said.
"Technically, it's mine and yours." Sorcha touched his arm. "Dad left it to us."
"What?" He swung his surprised gaze back to hers. "Why?"
"As a reminder that all puzzles can be solved with hard work and determination." Her head tilted to the side. The sun caught the stones dangling from her ears and made them gleam. "And that we can fix anything so long as we work together."
"Some things can't be fixed."
"He didn't believe that anymore than I do."
"I know." He rest his forehead back against hers. "You got his stubbornness from him."
"He'd say I got it from Mom."
"Drawing the scene out now," came from the man in the car. "C'mon, it's not like you two don't know how to kiss. Seem to recall..."
"Sean!" Sorcha shot a furious glare at her brother. "Shut up!"
"What?" Sean sent her a lopsided grin. "Wasn't like I was gonna remind you about how I walked in on the two of you that week Mom and Dad were in Hawaii or anything..."
"I swear to God." Sorcha waved a fist at her brother. "I'm gonna brain you if you don't quit."
"Not in front of a police station," Gil said as he joined them. "Wait until you get home to brain him."
"On, I will," she swore as she sent another fulminating look at her brother. "And then I'll tell Mom about who really broke great-aunt Edna's vase."
"You swore not to tell her about that!"
"Yeah, well, you swore not to mention that week they were in Hawaii."
"Can we go?" Malcolm all but begged Gil. "Before any more embarrassing secrets get revealed?"
"Don't want secrets revealed, kid?" A teasing smile flitted across Gil's lips. "Don't do things that are embarrassing."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind from now on." He looked back at Sorcha. "You'll be careful driving back to the city tonight?"
Sorcha snorted a laugh. "This from the man who has been shot at, bitten by a snake, almost had a paralytic agent injected in him, and nearly crushed in a turnstile by a serial killer."
"Which is why I'm asking you to be careful."
Since being careful wasn't something he considered.
"I will be long as you will promise not to do anything stupid."
"I promise." Malcolm made to step back but hesitated. "I'll see you tonight."
"Yes, you will." Sorcha surprised him then by brushing her lips across his. A tease. A test. She then whispered, "next time, you kiss me," before turning to walk to the car.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!
