A/N: Everything I hope for in the series finale, even knowing it won't happen. Song lyriccs are 'Heaven' by Amy Allen. Listen to it, please. It's beautiful.
XOX
The Life Before Your Eyes
XOX
It's time to face
All the things we've been hiding
You're walkin' the line
With the wrong kind of diamonds
And your hands are shaking
I hate that you're playing
A game you'll eventually…
Lose.
XOX
Let him go, Malcolm…
I'm begging you…
You would be free…
You could have a life…
…You could have me.
XOX
Malcolm swallowed hard, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath as his battered mind replayed their hushed conversation. Dani's soft, breathy voice echoing in his mind. The disappointment in her beautiful, sad eyes. She was tired of his half-hearted apologies and poor excuses, and he couldn't blame her.
He isn't good at this friends thing—any friends he's had only lasted as long as it took to google his name, or for the gossip to reach their ears. He's foisted this burden on her without her consent, if he's being honest. Gerald's not so gentle nudging for him to admit his feelings has made that so much more apparent. How dare he subject her to his life and all its terrible complexities.
How dare he kiss her.
How dare he try to taste that light, that beauty and goodness, for even a moment. He'll only ruin her, and that's clearer now than ever before.
He knows what he needs to do, and maybe he's known all along. He's not a hero no matter how many times Gil tells him and he's not quite the villain—he's both, and while there's a certain kind of romance in that, he knows there's no place for it in the real world. He has to face facts. It's a matter of time before everything he's so carefully hidden away surfaces, before they push Ainsley too far with their questions or his father reveals their crimes in some whimsically theatrical manner.
People like him don't get a happy ending, and they certainly don't get the girl.
Can't play both sides forever.
He's been fighting a losing game for far too long.
He was always going to have to choose.
...
Hell of a party
When good times are fatal
Now it's too big
To sweep under the table
You've never been to heaven
But you got pretty close last night
...
She should have seen it coming.
Hadn't she scolded Gil months ago for the very thing she's doing now? Hearing his blood-curdling scream as she cleared the tiny cabin, automatically charging through the forest after Malcolm, alone, without backup. Hell, backup didn't even know she was here.
She'd left Ainsley seething and handcuffed to her steering wheel, shrieking at the detective not to kill him. While part of her wondered which him the blonde was referring to, she only had the patience to deal with one reckless Whitly right now.
You were careless, and it cost you.
Going it alone, playing the hero part.
And that, that is because of…
Focus, she chastised herself. The cloying feelings simmering in her stomach, winding their way to her heart weren't helping matters. What state would she find him in? It was clear Vivian had done something to Malcolm. Edrissa had been able to confirm as much when she shakily informed them the syringe was indeed filled with blood that belonged to their resident consultant. The machine printout next to the gurney showed multiple flatlines. Multiple attempts at….reviving. Air embolism had echoed eerily throughout the basement of the deserted mansion.
When Ainsley came to her two anxiety-filled days later telling her Martin had reached out to her, she'd grabbed her gun, her badge, and the blonde woman and fled the precinct without a backwards glance. "The cabin, I completely forgot about it. He mentioned it when I went to talk to him last."
Dani edged along the tree line as she heard shuffling ahead.
"You're going to kill me," Malcolm stated. It wasn't even a question, and she felt her heart sink. The glint of the knife in Martin's hand caught the light.
"There's really no other way," Martin replied casually. "We're the same. My prodigal son, you're just like me," he grinned pridefully, leaning closer to the profiler who knelt on the damp ground, all energy and self-preservation drained from his body. The killer's tone changed abruptly. Dani watched the expression on the older man's face mutate into something she couldn't quite place. "Except you're not. All that training, all that time I spent molding your mind as a child, and I was wrong. In retrospect, it was a 50/50 shot you would be a sociopath. My fault, really—I assumed it would be you because psychotic traits tend to be a bit more prevalent in, well, men. So I guessed wrong, nobody's perfect. I suppose I should have known, even then. You're too empathetic, Malcolm, you feel everything, always did, and you love—and believe me son, I don't mean love for your family. We all know that's the easiest love to fake—me better than most. No, even now, death staring you in the face, I can see you're not all here with me. You're…reflecting on something. Made your move on Dani, didn't you?"
Martin's gaze flickered to Malcolm's violently shaking right hand. "Don't say her name," Malcolm bit out dangerously.
"See—right there!" Martin clapped. "Can't fake a love like that. Oh, if only your sister had more time to learn from you. It kills me, truly, that Jess never put her in acting classes. I mean, dogged reporter is a great fit for her—it's a job that already lacks empathy and sensitivity, and reeks of ego and manipulation. From our recent father-daughter bonding sessions, it's clear Ainsley's darker impulses have always been tempered by your tortured big brother routine. To see her blossom in your absence…that'll be breathtaking."
Dani swallowed hard, inching ever closer.
"Just think of what she could accomplish without you holding her back! Endicott was merely the beginning. If I'm able to spend some quality time with my little girl…oh, the things I could teach her," Martin nearly wept with a joy that made Dani cringe. "I'd finally have a child I could be proud of."
There it was, Dani realized—the final blow for someone like Bright. He'd sought his father's approval one way or another his entire life.
"I'm sorry you never quite lived up to my expectations, son."
Slipping from behind the tree, Dani held the gun steady on the infamous serial killer. "Martin Whitly, drop the knife, and put your hands up!"
Martin smirked, barely giving her a passing glance. "Ah, the partner! We were just talking about you."
She ignored him, casting a glance at Malcolm. "Malcolm, you good?"
"First name basis, ooh, has this gone farther than—tell me, are you two finally together? Wonderful! He's had a terrible time of it, keeping his feelings for you a secret. Worst kept one at that, honestly," Martin continued gushing. "Now, Dani, if you're going to be part of this family, there's some things you ought to know."
"Put the knife down," Dani demanded a bit more firmly now, though she felt her left hand twitch, her voice pitch up with a tinge of fear. She was certain Malcolm could discern her speech pattern and the nuances that gave her away, and she wondered idly of Martin could too.
The overly cheery demeanor slid off his face and the warped smile twisting his lips had him baring his teeth like a wolf. "No, I don't think I will detective."
"Dani," Malcolm said thickly, finally meeting her gaze. The abject terror in his bright blue eyes wasn't for himself, she realized, but for her. He knew what his father was capable of, and he couldn't stand for her to succumb to the gory whims of The Surgeon. "He doesn't want you, he wants me. I'm begging you, this time. Just go. Now."
"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you!" Dani snapped, angry desperation coloring her words. It was the landmine incident all over again, and she was furious. "Stop being a self-sacrificing idiot for once!"
"Stop trying to save me!" He yelled back, standing now, trembling with the inability to hold back everything that had been suffocating him any longer. "Haven't you figured out I'm not worth it yet? Do you know how many times I've lied to you? Enough to feed your trust issues for a lifetime, I guarantee!"
She shook her head, refusing to listen. "Malcolm—"
"No!" He held his hand up to silence her, then whipped his head around to face a horribly amused Martin Whitly. "I get last words, right? I'm owed that much!"
Martin shrugged, toying with the tip of the blade he held. "Of course, son, I'm not a monster."
Malcolm resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Let me lay them out for you, Dani. I'm the one that stabbed him two years ago, not my mother—she couldn't do it, and I wasn't going to lose her over it. I don't know if I let Nat fall on purpose, or if it was truly an accident. Every time I said I was fine, in truth I was barely keeping it together and all I wanted to do was confide in you but that…that would've been worse than keeping it from you ever was. I couldn't do that to you, be your burden—bad enough I pushed you into this friendship let alone impose my actual problems on you," His eyes fell closed as he sighed, bracing for the next part. "I…I covered up Nicholas Endicott's murder. Ainsley killed him, slit his throat and stabbed him to death. I couldn't let my little sister go to jail, so I covered it up, sent him to Estonia," he took a breath, chest heaving at the weight lifting. "Even after all of that, the worst thing I've done is not tell you that I'm so in love with you, Dani, that it kills me and keeps me sane all at once."
There was a blissful silence that stretched on for eternity and ended all too fast.
"I know, Malcolm," Dani whispered, the tears glistening on her cheeks as the sun filtered through the leaves of the trees.
I'm willing to let go, and trust myself.
The shot rang out in the dense woods.
...
You didn't answer
So I kicked the door down
The third times a charm
But you won't make
The fourth round
You've never been to heaven
But you got pretty close last night
...
"Ainsley, which way—" Gil demanded, un-cuffing the young woman.
The shot stopped them all in their tracks.
They were running before he thought to tell Ainsley to stay put.
"Dani! Bright!" JT called out desperately, pulling ahead of the rest of the officers and Gil.
"Help me!" Dani yelled back. JT picked up the pace, sprinting in the direction he'd heard her plea.
JT came to a halt at the sight before him. Dani's gun lay discarded on the ground, her hands coated in slick, dark, oozing blood. Malcolm gasped beneath her fingers, his own wrapped tightly around her wrist.
"What the hell happened," JT asked quickly, dropping to the ground next to her. "Where's The Surgeon?"
"It was…I was…Martin, they were fighting, and I didn't have a shot, and he stabbed him in the chest. Malcolm, he…he got him but…"
"But Malcolm was your priority, I got you," JT finished for her. "You shot into the air to get our attention."
Dani wiped a hand across her forehead, desperate to push her curls out of her face. Martin Whitly had disappeared. Malcolm was bleeding out beneath her palms. Her head spun in dizzying circles. Something wasn't right.
"D-Dani," Malcolm breathed, wincing at the effort but not breaking eye contact with her.
"Hey, buddy, stop, medics are on the way," JT chastised gently as Gil, Ainsley, and the local officers appeared in his periphery. Malcolm shook his head, clinging to Dani's wrist.
"Dani, how's our boy?" Gil asked, quickly sliding next to JT as he directed officers to flag down the medics and comb the woods for Martin.
"I…um—"
Dani felt a darkness pulling on her. The edges of her vision were clouding over, the ground and Malcolm swimming in front of her. She felt herself falling, felt Malcolm lurch forward to prevent her head from smashing into the downed tree trunk he'd settled against.
"Dani!" Gil startled, suddenly realizing that all of the blood on his pseudo son wasn't his alone.
"Gil, her stomach," Malcolm managed to get out faintly. There would be no coming back from this, and Malcolm knew it. "I didn't…have a choice."
Gil hastily laid Dani down, pulling her shirt up to reveal the bullet wound. He tugged his jacket off, pressing firmly against it, barely noticing when a wide-eyed Ainsley quietly took over for him.
"Kid—what happened, you have to tell me right now," Gil whispered quickly. JT had replaced Dani's hands on Malcolm's chest with one of his own, the other having taken Gil's radio, calling for a second ambulance.
"This is a through and through," Ainsley said distantly. Gil had forgotten the younger Whitly was even there as she shifted Dani to the side to check her back. "There's an exit wound. The bullet, it's—"
"In our father," Malcolm finished for her, a strained, victorious smirk on his face before his eyes rolled back in his head and darkness found him, too.
...
You've never been to heaven
But you got pretty close last night
You'll be no exception
When the gates open up
Next time
...
"Bright, watch out!"
She was too late, watching in horrifying slow motion as Martin drove the knife into Malcolm's chest before twisting, then yanking it back out. All pretense of her own safety vanished as she raced to Malcolm, dropping her gun and throwing her hands over the wound that bled ever too close to his heart.
"He's your son! How could you!" Dani cried ferociously, knowing the answer already.
"How could I? He chose you over his own family, his blood," Martin quipped darkly as he eyed her with a predatory smile. "He told me as much when he decided to out his sister for murder. He was always so good at telling on others. Ratting me out to Gil, tattling on Ainsley to you. Bit of a bad habit there, Malcolm. No one likes a gossip. Well, aside from your mother, of course."
Dani's eyes held Malcolm's ocean blue pools captive as she drew a deep breath, expelling her own truths. "He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."
Malcolm's brow furrowed at her admission, his expression stunned. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed painfully, confusion touching every line of his handsome face. "What…how?"
"I told you, weeks ago, that I knew. You just weren't listening. You were so focused on pushing me out the door you didn't stop to hear me. If you had, I would have told you that you may be an amazing profiler, but you're a horrible liar. Your increasingly erratic behavior, your hot and cold attitude towards me, the way you've acted around our murderers lately, like you sympathize with them on a level only someone who loves a murderer could. I wasn't completely sure, but I put most of it together while Simon was snooping around," Dani shrugged numbly, her smile wane. "I guess once you dismember one body, ruining a thousand dollar coat to cut off a guys thumb is kind of a drop in the bucket," She finished dryly, a hint of her usual sarcasm a pleasant distraction.
"Several thousand, actually," He murmured, a strange lightness filled him despite the gravity of the situation. She knew. Dani knew, had figured it out on her own. He was equally proud and horrified. She'd known for months and still faced him every day, spoke to him, confided in him…
"Your trip down the elevator shaft and the resulting concussion dream put the last of it into perspective. You said both your father and Ainsley were doctors in your dream—surgeons, to be exact. After that…it all made sense," She trailed off, offering him a small shrug. "As far as figuring out you were the one to…clean up, so to speak? You fiercely protect the people you love at all costs, especially your family. As admirable as that quality is, it only ever seems to cost you in the end."
Case in point, the sucking chest wound he was currently sporting.
Dani's thoughts flickered back to their kiss days ago. "I just wish you'd asked for my help, Malcolm. I would have helped you. I'm…starting to think I'd do just about anything to keep you safe."
"Well, as touching as that is, Dani, it unfortunately makes you a liability. We can't have that, now can we?" Martin reached down, gripping her by the neck, yanking her away from Malcolm and raising the knife to rest along her carotid artery. "Sorry son, this is for your own good."
Dani coughed and gasped for air against the crushing grip, her hand grasping at her holster for the gun that wasn't there. The gun that was now in Malcolm's never-better shaky hand, the troublesome appendage utterly still as their eyes locked once again, the unspoken conversation beautiful and brutal in its silent simplicity.
I'm sorry.
I forgive you.
I love you.
I know.
I need you to trust me.
I do...
"Just so we're clear, dad, you didn't exactly live up to my expectations either," Malcolm ground out, using all the energy he could muster to push himself up. He angled the gun, pressing it to Dani's stomach and pulling the trigger, causing the bullet to deafeningly rip its way through both the intended and unintended targets. Martin dropped the knife and Dani, the latter falling into Malcolm's arms as his father stumbled back, covering the bullet wound in astonishment. A strange, short bark of a laugh tumbled from the man.
"That's my boy," Martin whispered before picking up the discarded knife and turning, taking off into the woods.
Malcolm collapsed to his knees with Dani in his arms. She winced, biting back a sob and grabbing her stomach at the jarring motion.
"Sit back against the tree," Dani said calmly as she could, moving her bloodied hands from her bullet wound to the knife wound in his chest. He was ready to protest when she said, "Yours is worse than mine—too close to your heart."
"We both know that's not true, Dani," Malcolm chuckled, gripping her wrist tightly. "I…I did my best to avoid all the organs I could before I shot you, but it's not like I had a lot of time to think it through. Calculating your mass and his, adjusting for height, for the differences in the male and female bodies—I did my best but…can't be sure."
"Well, Sherlock-Freud, we're gonna have to make do. There's no backup and I left your sister handcuffed to my steering wheel, so…options are kind of limited."
"Seriously, this is the one time you don't call for backup?" Malcolm laughed at bit maniacally. He had to force the words out, it was getting harder to form sentences.
"I had other priorities," Dani whispered, pain blossoming at a rate she'd never experienced. She'd never been shot, let alone shot by the man that loved her in an attempt to save her.
"Guess I'm…not the only one with a death wish."
She gave him a watery smile before twisting and pressing her lips in a thin line, flushing slightly. It was his favorite smile, and he was happy to see it on her pretty face. He didn't know she could taste the coppery tinge of blood in the back of her throat. That wasn't a good sign, and she knew it. "Malcolm…I…"
"No," He said firmly. "Not like this, Dani."
She nodded, leaning her forehead against his as she heard JT call out their names.
"Help me!"
...
You've never been to heaven
But you got pretty close last night
...
6 weeks later
...
"Do you know how lucky you are?" Jessica rambled, grimacing as she attempted to wave her arms in the air. Both she and her son had a habit of talking with their hands, and since hers was currently bound in the worlds ugliest cast thanks to Vivian Capshaw, her natural ability to gesticulate her superiority eluded her. "An air embolism followed by multiple attempts at resuscitation, followed by a knife wound to your heart by your father—"
"Heart adjacent," Malcolm corrected the ever-dramatic Jessica Whitly, eyes lingering on her cast. "And we were all a little bit lucky that day, weren't we?"
The fight drained out of his mother as she reached out, gripping his hand. "She's been asking about you, Malcolm. She's here, everyday, begging you to let her in. Why won't you see her? You saved her life, no matter what you think."
Malcolm sighed, massaging his forehead. "Because I made a choice, Mother. I love Dani too much to subject her to this…to me. I won't be the albatross around her neck. I refuse to drag someone as good as her down with me."
"And you suddenly think rehab is the answer?" Jessica questioned dryly, crossing her arms.
"No, a psychiatric facility, on the other hand, certainly is."
She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "You say asylum, I say rehab—one sounds far more socially acceptable than the other and will be what I tell all the friends I don't have," Jessica muttered, but her heart wasn't in the barbs falling from her lips. "I…failed you, and Ainsley, didn't I?"
Malcolm stopped packing, moving to embrace his mother. "No, mom, you did everything you could. Some things are just…inevitable. Some things—some people—can't be saved, no matter how much you want to save them," He winced, thinking of both his father and himself.
Jessica smiled, stroking her sons hair. "Call me when you're ready to head out, Adolpho will be on standby. Gil's picking me up, so the car is yours. And I swear, if you don't call and write to your mother, this place will be a Panera when you return."
"I promise, okay? Now…go. One of us may as well get to enjoy life with the person they love," Malcolm said, ushering his mother out the door.
Jessica stopped, turning to face her son. "Just so you know, sweetheart, the albatross turned out to be exactly what those sailors needed."
Inhaling deeply, Malcolm ran his fingertips along the kitchen counter, settling down onto the stool Dani always occupied when she came over.
The door slowly clicked open, and Malcolm sighed, dropping his head into his hands before turning toward his entryway. "Mother, look, you—"
The woman in front of him most definitely was not his mother.
"Dani."
"You don't call, you don't text, you don't visit…not really how you're supposed to treat a friend stuck in the hospital for the last month."
"Yes, well, most people don't shoot their friends in a misguided attempt to takedown their father, do they," Malcolm said, the self-deprecating sarcasm dripping like acid from his tongue as he spoke. Way to make it worse.
"I don't blame you, Malcolm. Not for that. You saved my life, you know that as well as I do," Dani said, determination lacing every word. While it had been a bit touch and go, there'd been little internal bleeding and she'd only lost her spleen in the end. "I'm angry with you for not showing up after. You know what sucks? Waking up in a hospital room that costs more than my apartment—that I find out you paid for, full of flowers, also from you—with no you in sight. Then Gil informs me you quit, your mother thanks me for bringing you back, and your sister berates me for losing your father!"
"I wanted to avoid this," Malcolm replied, tone measured to hide his distress. "The…after. After the action, and the danger, and the adrenaline, and the injuries."
"And the confessions, and the kiss, and all the dying words too, right? You didn't want to avoid the aftermath, Malcolm…you wanted to avoid me."
His eyes answered for him. "Well, it's the same thing, isn't it?"
"Nice," Dani hissed, eyeing his half-packed suitcase. "And you're running. Wow, can't say I didn't see that one coming."
"It's not running if you're deliberately checking yourself into a psych ward, Dani. It's just self care."
She swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the pounding in her head and the breaking of her heart. She couldn't tell him not to go. That would be selfish, especially if this was what he thought he needed.
Steeling herself, she voiced that very question, "Is this what you need?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes, I think it is. I need…I need to get him out of my head. I need to let him go. I can't do that here, surrounded by…everything. If I want any chance at a life, I have to face this."
She nodded her acquiescence. "How long?"
Malcolm shrugged. "As long as it takes. Unpacking thirty-four years of trauma isn't exactly something you do overnight. Or so I've heard."
A half-smile tugged the edge of her lip. "Well, having unpacked twenty-eight years of it in rehab and all the meetings that followed, I definitely sympathize. Just…don't rush the process. You deserve happiness, Bright. You've more than earned that much, and I hope they can help you see that."
She flushed at the way his gaze pierced through her.
"That said, I hope you know that we will all be here, waiting for you. We want you to come back to us, Malcolm."
He looked away, pausing before responding. His heart skipped a beat, and an immense mixture of sadness and joy filled him. He was wanted. "I don't think anyone has ever said that to me before, and meant it."
Dani couldn't take it anymore, crossing the few feet between them, she threw her arms around him, clutching him to her like she had that very first day he'd crashed into her.
You could have a life
He watched her lip twitch, the sentence incomplete.
…You could have me
She didn't have the courage to say it then, but…
"Come back, Malcolm," She gasped, the tears finally making their way across her vision, her throat sticking in that awful, painful way as she rested her forehead against his. "When you've let him go, come back to me."
It was as close to those three words as she could get for now.
Maybe it was closer, he thought.
Dani had given him an open-ended proposal, whether she realized it or not.
"Okay," He smiled, burying his fingers in her soft curls. "I promise. But only if you do something for me."
She sniffed, laughing lightly. "I'm not polishing what's left of your weapons collection, Bright."
"You don't pol—never mind," He sighed, gently easing her back. "I…can you take care of Sunshine for me? She drives my mother crazy, and, well, Ainsley isn't exactly in a position to take care of her at the moment. JT would probably just shake his head at me, and Gil—"
Their first kiss had been a fit of desperation, pent up longing, and fear.
This kiss, while equally bittersweet, held the promise of a future, even if it wasn't one in the immediate tense.
"I'm suddenly regretting this whole 'rehab' thing," Malcolm laughed, their lips immediately seeking the others each time they pulled away. Dani's hands fisted the collar of his expensive suit jacket, keeping him close.
"Me too," She whispered, pursing her lips and memorizing his face. "But I understand, and I can wait for you to come back."
He smirked, winking at her. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Dani shook her head, rolling her eyes. "It sure is going to be boring without you, Bright."
...
She'd dream about those vivid blue eyes for the next eleven months. She'd talk to Sunshine about her day as she fluttered around her apartment, and found herself spending Sunday's with Jessica and Gil, enjoying late brunches and the company of those who loved Bright most. The team sent him boxes filled with pictures drawn by Junior, elaborate puzzles from Edrissa, an endless supply of licorice and lemon jello courtesy of Gil, and letters from her. She'd made it her mission to find new flavors of lollipops for him, keeping them in a bowl next to the ones he'd given her throughout their partnership, and she'd scour the cold case files for the hardest as-yet-unsolved cases to send him, her own notes scrawled on a sheet of paper. If he was bettering himself, then so was she.
He'd slay every demon to make it back to her. The nightmares ebbed to a dull roar, and while Martin Whitly was free in the world, he'd yet to make an appearance. Talking to a therapist actually suited to his needs did wonders, and his mind was healing every day. His body, too. Food was starting to become palatable, digestible even. The dosages of his medications were lowered, tweaked, and the simple knowledge that he had her waiting for him pushed him to do better.
Eleven months and one day later, he threw the Tom Ford duffle over his shoulder and wheeled his luggage out the door of the boujie "rehabilitation" facility. Jessica had offered to send Adolpho to pick him up, but Gil had waved her off, deciding he would be the one to pick up their kid. Tilting his face up to bask in the sunshine, Malcolm supposed it was time they finally tied the knot—he knew Gil had the ring and planned on proposing to his mother soon, but didn't want it to overshadow Malcolm's homecoming. They planned on teaming up and discussing the where and when on the car ride home.
"Hey, City Boy."
A wide grin stretched across his face as he opened his eyes. Dani leaned back against the blue Coronet, head tilted, the smile he loved accentuating the dimples in her cheeks.
Malcolm unceremoniously dropped the duffle and crossed the few scant feet between them, fusing his lips to hers.
"So, um…that life you mentioned?" He pulled back, thumb grazing her cheekbone. Dani nodded, biting her lip. "If the offer is still good, I'd love to take you up on that."
"You know what, Malcolm Bright—I think that can be arranged."
...
You've never been to heaven…