When it came to anything concerning Bright's skinny ass, JT typically went to Gil for advice. He had years dealing with the guy and his particular brand of crazy.
Gil wasn't there, however.
He was still recovering from his near fatal stabbing by one of the men in Nicholas Endicott's employ. That left JT with two people to go to with his questions and concerns about Bright's latest antics: Sorcha or Bright's other friend, Raya Kean.
As Capable Bright was in Gotham investigating two bodies found in a house fire that left him with Mini-Bright as his best option for getting answers.
JT thanked whatever gods influenced Gil to get approval to add Bright-Lite as an additional consultant. Bright couldn't be at every crime scene — to the guy's frustration — and neither could he and Dani. Having someone else who could work with the other detectives in the unit allowed them to clear cases that might otherwise have remained unsolved for months.
Plus, she spoke fluent Bright.
That, more than anything, made her an invaluable part of the team. Bright was currently absent and that had JT on edge. Especially after the events of the last twenty-four hours. The guy was normally wound tight as the strings on a guitar. Lately, though, it seemed as if those strings were starting to snap. Not good when it came to the guy who almost allowed a killer to inject him with a paralytic agent, chased another killer into an abandoned service tunnel, put a loaded gun to his head, got kidnapped by said same serial killer, dived out a window onto Gil's car after a black widow was accidentally armed, fried his brain... twice, and a ton of other shit JT didn't care to recall at that moment.
Bright was clearly standing on a ledge. And not the one he was on last night, either. Hopefully, Bright-Lite could provide him with some insight as to what might be going on in the guy's head and how to handle it.
Before the guy did something stupid.
A silent Bright was, after all, an especially dangerous Bright.
"Where's your crazy ass boyfriend?"
Sure, JT found it strange she worked in a cubicle on the opposite side of where the guy he once likened to the state of Florida typically worked, but he didn't ask why. Figured it was the way they kept work life separate from home life.
"Uh-oh, he's my boyfriend today." Mini-Bright looked up from the file she had been going over, lips quirked at the corners, and dark eyes brimming with humor and a fatigue JT understood too well. They all had been pulling insane hours the last few weeks. "Must mean he's gone and done something Brighter than usual."
JT grunted as he perched on the edge of her desk. "Yeah, you can say that."
Not that him holding onto a guy several stories up and essentially questioning if he should let him go wasn't Bright being Bright. He was a profiler, after all. PSYOP was the guy's specialty.
Something about this time, though, felt... off.
JT just couldn't explain why.
Hence why he came to talk with Mini-Bright. If anyone could make sense of things, it was her. Bright-Lite set her pen on top of the open file laid out across her desk and leaned back in her chair to regard him curiously.
"You're talking about what happened in the sex dungeon this afternoon?"
JT didn't need to wonder about how she knew what went on down in that sex dungeon. Dani also had taken to talking with Mini-Bright about Bright while Gil recovered. Something that surprised JT given the animosity between the two while Bright was suspected of the murder of Eddie Smith.
"That," he said with a slight nod, "but also what happened on the ledge last night with our perp."
Something she clearly didn't know about given her puzzled expression. "I thought everything went according to plan with Chester?"
"Mostly, it did."
"Mostly?" Her brow furrowed. "Meaning it mostly didn't." Mini-Bright heaved a sigh. "Alright, what did my disastrous half say or do?"
JT let his gaze wander the bullpen as he collected his thoughts. It was largely empty given the late hour. A number of people still milled, however. People talked enough about Bright. They didn't need to have more shit to use against the guy.
"Let's talk in Gil's office," he suggested. "Don't need to give people more ammunition against Bright."
"Okay." Lite-Bright pushed back her chair and stood. "After you."
They made their way through the bullpen, JT stopping occasionally to answer a question or sign off on something. He'd be glad when Gil returned and took over command. He didn't overly mind the questions but the endless amounts of paperwork and phone calls were enough to drive him to drink. He caught Dani's questioning look as he ambled by her cubicle.
"Bright," was all he needed to say.
"He's gone down to talk with Edrisa." Dani turned back to her computer. "Should give you ten minutes. Twenty if they get into another discussion about bondage techniques." JT could see the baffled amusement on her face in the computer screen. Common when it came to Bright. "Apparently, nylon is the best material for bondage."
"If he's ever off on a tangent or can't focus," a trace of wry humor coated Mini-Bright's voice, "ask him about soft bondage restraints."
"Yeah, I'm good," Dani said.
"Trust me, that can keep Malcolm talking for an hour, minimum."
"Bright talks about enough weird stuff."
"Can always file this under things to use to distract a manic Bright."
JT made his way towards Gil's office with a soft grunt. "That list is longer than my arm."
"Long as the Brooklyn Bridge now, actually."
JT suspected that list had grown while the two sheltered-in together in Bright's loft over the summer. How she managed to keep her sanity during those months, JT didn't know. Stuck with Bright for an extended period of time was high on his list of things he wanted to try and avoid in his lifetime.
One of the few positives to come out of the shelter-in order was Bright and Mini-Bright officially acknowledging what he and everyone else knew all along. Not that they didn't have times where they backtracked and claimed they were only friends. He just called them out on their shit.
To Lite-Bright's amusement and Bright's bafflement.
JT pushed open the door to Gil's office and went inside. He always felt like a trespasser when he entered this room. This was sacrosanct territory, after all. A place he never would have entered before without knocking and waiting for permission. He longed to see Gil seated behind the desk, phone in one hand, a harried expression on his face, and a forgotten cup of coffee by his free hand.
Gil wasn't seated behind his desk. He wouldn't be for another week or two, at least. Until then, it was unofficially his office. Not that he used it for anything but conversations about Bright with Mini-Bright.
"I keep expecting to walk in and find Gil seated at his desk." Lite-Bright closed the door behind her. "Barking at someone on the other end of the phone for not doing something or rubbing his face because he's got to call Jessica to explain how Malcolm got hurt."
"Again."
"Good point." She hummed a laugh. "He didn't have to explain the mangled bushes, the electrical short or the thousands of nails in the wall by the bed and ceiling, though."
JT cringed as he imagined how each of those happened. "Guy's definitely a menace with power tools."
Non-power tools, as well. He hadn't forgotten how Bright used an axe to chop off a man's hand to save him from the bomb he had been strapped to.
"He is, yes, but that's not what you brought me in here to discuss, is it?"
"No." JT perched on the edge of Gil's desk. "I wish Bright using that nail gun was the only reason I wanted to talk."
"Oh, he's upped his Bright game, I see."
"I'm probably making a mountain out of a mole hill here."
"It's never a mole hill with Malcolm."
"Look, I know the guy's typically wound too tight." Understatement of the century by JT's way of thinking. "The last few months, though, he's been..."
"Wound tighter than usual?"
"Yeah."
"Well." Mini-Bright took a seat on the couch. "Eve's murder, his bastard of a father almost being killed and then being sent to prison, accused of murdering Eddie Smith, Gil almost dying, Endicott assaulting Ainsley, and then being forced to shelter-in for most of the summer..." she broke off to sigh. "It's played hell on him mentally."
"Yeah, I get that."
"But?"
"There was something different about the way Bright talked with Chester." JT's brow furrowed as he recalled the snippets of what Bright said. "Almost as if he wasn't PSYOPing the guy so much as trying to debate with himself what he wanted to do."
"Psychologists tend to play a game of mental chess," Mini-Bright said. "It's how we gather information from patients and suspects."
That made sense to JT. However...
"How'd you define him saying that maybe it comes down to what he wants?"
"That... that's not PSYOPing." A mixture of concern and anxiety swam across her face. "That's Malcolm questioning his morality."
That didn't sound good to JT. "Why'd he be questioning his morality?"
"Because much like his identity, Malcolm's morality is tied to others. He modeled much of his moral fiber after Gil's because it was opposite of his father's." Mini-Bright tucked her hair, worn long now because of the pandemic, behind her ears. "His questioning that fiber now suggests someone or something shattered what he thought his morality is."
JT frowned. "Phone records show Bright talking to someone on his phone after he left the hospital. Think it was his pops?"
"It wouldn't surprise me if Martin Whitly got his hands on a cellphone and called Malcolm." Her face twisted with anger and disdain. "Martin Whitly's a resourceful and crafty predator. He knows how to control and manipulate. Get what he want."
"He's also in Bright's head."
"He's been in Malcolm's head his entire life. He's the voice Malcolm can't silence no matter how hard he tries." Her fingers curved atop her knees. JT imagined she wished they were Martin Whitly's face. Not that he could blame her. The guy not only murdered twenty-three people but seriously screwed up Bright while at it. "That man stole Malcolm's identity by repeatedly telling him they're the same. His autonomy, fractured. His ability to trust himself and others shattered. Filled him with guilt, shame, and doubt.
All of which contributes to his issues with intimacy, problems with reading social cues, and created a sense of inferiority in him. He's the son of the Surgeon. That's how Malcolm has seen himself for over twenty years."
Something Bright shouted to all of New York while on that ledge with Chester. JT believed he'd simply been using his usual rhetoric. Now? He wasn't so sure. "However," Mini-Bright said, eyes narrowed into thin, speculative slits. "It sounds like he's questioning that."
"Questioning his identity?"
"I think Malcolm Bright is trying to figure out who Malcolm Bright is." Her eyes strayed to a photograph on the table beside the couch of a younger Bright with Gil's wife, Jackie. "He's wondering who and what he stands for. Which is good because it means he's finally starting to work through some of his trauma. However, it also leaves him vulnerable to influence and manipulation. Things his father excels at."
"So, do we keep him away from his pops?"
"Malcolm isn't ready for that," Mini-Bright said with a sigh. "Much as part of him wants to cut his father out of his life forever, another wants a relationship with him. That's part of what Malcolm has to resolve."
"So, what do we do?"
"We give him all the support and encouragement we can. Offer guidance and positive reinforcement. Help him as much as we can with figuring out the answers to the questions he's clearly starting to ask himself."
Bright-Lite once called Bright a roller coaster ride. JT could see his skinny ass being one of those crazy ass Fourth Dimension roller coasters he watched on YouTube over the summer.
Bright: The 4D Experience, coming to a theme park near you.
Thrill seekers would be in for the rides of their lives.
JT wasn't looking forward to it but friendship wasn't always about doing what one liked or enjoyed. It was about supporting someone as they struggled to overcome a situation, lifting them up when they were down, carrying them when they couldn't walk on their own.
Nos mos vallo.
This we'll defend.
He told Colette Swanson after Bright was kidnapped by John Watson that he was one of them.
Part of the team.
A brother-in-arms.
That meant JT would always have the guy's back.
No matter what.
A glance at the clock on the wall showed it was just a little after six. He promised Tally he'd try and be home for dinner. He couldn't go, though, until he sent his team home. Starting with the most difficult member: Bright.
"Why don't you go get Bright's skinny ass and head home."
"Actually, I'm going to drag his angsty ass to his therapist for some couch time." A small smile curved Bright-Lite's lips. "Much as he'll protest it."
"Offer to buy him some nylon rope if he goes."
Her dimples winked. "See, now you're starting to figure out how to deal with Malcolm Bright."
"Yeah," JT rumbled as he headed for the door. "That it's starting to not be weird scares the shit outta me."
"Keep telling you he's the ultimate roller coaster ride."
"How do you put up with it?"
"I don't put up with it," Mini-Bright said as she followed him from the office. "I love his chaotic ass. That means accepting him for who he is."
"Even if he don't know who he is."
"He'll figure it out, JT. With our help." A hand rest on his arm for a brief second. "Now, go kiss your waiting wife."
Tally? JT's brow furrowed. She's here at the precinct? He glanced around and found his wife talking with Dani and Bright by the exit. Tally's head turned and their eyes met. A smile wreathed her face as she gave a little wave. The fatigue, uncertainty, and pressures weighing heavy on him melted away at seeing her.
"Did you have a hand in this?" he asked Bright-Lite.
"I did, yes." She gave his shoulder a playful little nudge. "Thought that one of us should have a quiet night with our significant other. And since mine doesn't do quiet nights at home..."
"Yours likes to throw axes."
"Another phone call I got to make. Now, go give your pregnant wife a kiss or else I'll get Mal started on the criminality of the wrong flavored Jello."
"I'm out."
"Thought so."
Hi all, and welcome! So, this plot bunny formed based on someone on FB wondering if JT and Dani overheard what Bright said to Chester on that ledge. People all thought no. I thought, what-if? Especially after I went back and watched the scene again and saw the window is open. So, here we are with a story that was supposed to be a short one about identity but which decided to spiral into something else altogether.
To be clear, I am a psychology major. My emphasis in school was social psychology with developmental psych as a secondary focus since we didn't offer clinical (which is where I wanted to go had I continued on). I tend to like Erik Erikson's theory on development being in stages so I am using that here as my headcanon for Malcolm and his (identity) issues. I'm by no means an expert and am simply writing what I know/think based on the material we have from the show.
Also, this story is a sequel of sorts to Holy Water so some spoilers are involved as I don't follow the season 2 storyline completely.