AN: Welcome to another multi-chapter fic! I have no idea how long this will end up being, but I can guarantee like at least five chapters, most likely ten, but then again, I'm horrible at guessing how long my fics are gonna end up being. Anyway, this first chapter will be the shortest of them if I have anything to say about it. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!
Malcolm sighed as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He hated lying to Gil, but he couldn't exactly tell the man the truth either. Gil thought he was hanging out with Vijay that night, and Malcolm didn't have the heart to tell him that Vijay had cancelled on him yet again. It was the fourth time that Vijay cancelled on him at the last minute, and he'd completely stopped inviting him out anywhere. Vijay wouldn't even sit with him at lunch anymore. Malcolm wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but Vijay wouldn't even talk to him about it. Whatever he'd done, Malcolm wanted to fix it, to fix the only friendship he had, but it seemed like he'd somehow messed things up so badly that Vijay wasn't willing to give him another chance. So Malcolm was alone, once again.
He supposed he would just stay at school an extra night, and go back to the city in the morning, arriving at the Arroyos' place when he was supposed to. Surely he could come up with a random story about what he and Vijay did, and assuage all of Gil's fears about him losing his only friend. Malcolm didn't want Gil to worry more than he already did, which Malcolm knew was quite a lot.
But that did leave Malcolm with the perplexing question of what he was supposed to do for the rest of the night. Everyone else was leaving school for the long weekend, but if Malcolm were to keep his ruse up, then he couldn't leave until the morning. Ainsley wasn't in boarding school yet, so it wasn't as if he could go visit her without their mother knowing, and although a little voice in the back of his head told him to visit his father, he knew that wouldn't be enough to fill his time.
Malcolm supposed he could spend the next several hours reading John Douglas' latest book. The man was, after all, one of his greatest inspirations. Malcolm hadn't told anyone but Gil yet, but he was already thinking of the FBI as a career path, and part of that was due to John Douglas, one of the greatest criminal profilers who ever lived. Gil was supportive of the idea, of course, although he insisted that Malcolm was more suited to the NYPD. Malcolm knew his mother would freak if he told her, and he couldn't even imagine what his father might say. Of course, they could both say that his career path would change, since he was only sixteen years old, but Malcolm was pretty sure that he knew where he was going. He wanted to bring killers to justice, and where better to do that than the FBI? But that was all a problem for another time. It was nothing that Malcolm needed to worry about for another few years at least.
The hours passed by, and soon enough, Malcolm was surely the only student left on campus. Everyone else had left. Even the staff left was minimal. But Malcolm's eyes were getting tired from staring at the pages for so long. The way John Douglas could construct a profile was enthralling, but Malcolm's eyes needed a break. It was a beautiful day outside, the New York fall not having turned too chilly just yet. He could take a walk around campus, go watch the sunset somewhere. It wasn't as if he had anyone on campus that he could hang out with. Even his teachers weren't fans of him due to his last name, and even if that didn't turn them off, his attitude did. Apparently, finishing teachers' sentences for them because he already knew exactly what they were talking about was frowned upon.
Malcolm shook his head and sighed. It didn't matter. He was fine on his own. He didn't need anyone. He had Ainsley and Gil and Jackie, and sometimes his mother too. He didn't need anyone else.
Fresh air truly was a wonderful thing. Malcolm took in a deep breath of that beautiful fall air as he stepped outside, book in hand, and began the walk to the best place on campus to watch the sunset. The light breeze played with his hair, bringing towards him the scent of someone distantly burning leaves. As much as he loved the city and missed it while he was at boarding school, the city just didn't have that. There were some smells and feelings that could only be captured when you got away a little bit. Every now and then, Malcolm was happy to be away.
Most of campus was deserted, everyone having gone home for the long weekend. A few staff cars still remained around various parking lots, and a supply van was still parked outside his dorm building. Malcolm walked around it as he made his way further away from most of the buildings.
Less than ten minutes later, Malcolm arrived at the benches on top of the hill overlooking the western horizon. The sun warmed his face as he sat down and got comfortable. It wasn't as if there was anywhere that he had to be. Malcolm spent a lot of time on those benches. They were a good place to study when the weather was warm and he wanted to be alone - at least, when he told himself that being alone was what he wanted, and not the life that had been forced upon him by his last name and his father's sins.
No sooner had he opened his book to begin reading again than Malcolm heard the obnoxious sound of a van in desperate need of a new muffler. Malcolm sighed and rolled his eyes, but took a glance towards the van as it came down the street, heading towards the edge of campus. It was the same supply van that had been outside his building earlier, likely having finished whatever deliveries it had for the day. Malcolm turned back to his book and plopped his feet up on the bench once again. He quickly became engrossed in John Douglas' profiling technique, only lifting his eyes from the page when he heard the telltale sound of a van door being thrown open.
The moment he lifted his head up, there was a hand around his mouth and an arm around his torso, trapping his arms at his sides. Malcolm shouted through the hand, but the sound was muffled. He struggled and kicked as his attacker began dragging him off the bench and towards the truck, his book falling into the dying grass below. He landed a kick against his attacker's shin, but despite the man's cry of pain, nothing changed. The arms around him didn't let up. Malcolm twisted and turned and fought like a caged animal, succeeding in dislodging the man's hand slightly from his mouth. Knowing he might not get another chance, Malcolm bit the hand as hard as he could, catching the edge of the man's palm. His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood before the man was able to free his hand with a shout of pain. Malcolm was tossed into the van.
"You little bitch!" the man shouted, tackling Malcolm down onto the floor of the van. He got Malcolm onto his stomach and wrenched his arms behind him, pulling painfully on his shoulders. Malcolm could feel the van speeding away, taking him away from his boarding school.
"Let me go!" he shouted, his fear overriding the knowledge that his protests would do nothing. Malcolm tried to buck the man off him, but to no avail. His wrists were roughly tied behind him, with coarse rope that Malcolm knew would break his skin the more he struggled against the bindings. "What do you want with me?"
The man used his size to his advantage, keeping Malcolm held down with ease. Malcolm kicked out with his feet, but the man grabbed them tight, and tied them together. To Malcolm's horror, his legs were bent back, and his feet and hands were tied together, pulling on his shoulders and hips in a way that stretched to the point of pain.
"No, stop! Let me go!" he repeated as panic truly set in. There was nothing he could do to defend himself, absolutely nothing.
"Shut up, you brat," the man groaned. Malcolm was roughly shoved onto his side, and the man - who was wearing a ski mask - thrust a hand into Malcolm's hair, yanking his head back. He cried out in pain, and the man shoved something into his mouth. Malcolm tried to dislodge the fabric - it was a rag or a cloth or something, and Malcolm had no way of knowing where it had been before it was in his mouth - but before he could make any progress, the man grabbed onto him again and duct taped over the rag, nearly ear to ear.
Malcolm cried out in frustration, but he could tell that his cries were going unheard in every way. His sounds were almost completely muffled. He was completely restrained, gagged, in the back of a van, with a man in a ski mask. His shoulders, hips, and jaw were already aching, and every little movement, both from his struggles and the drive, was agony. His shoulders were going to dislocate if he wasn't careful. What was going on? Where were they taking him?
He tried to take a deep breath through his nose as tears filled his eyes. He was so scared. He was supposed to be hanging out with Vijay, not getting kidnapped. Clearly this was planned, based on the ski masks and the rope. The only solace was the ski mask. Based on what Malcolm knew of profiling, a victim generally had a greater chance of survival when their attacker covered their face. Since the man was wearing a ski mask, maybe he wasn't planning on killing Malcolm at all. His family was rich, so maybe it was for a ransom? It could've been something to do with his father, too. Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good.
Malcolm glanced around the dark van as much as he could, but the only thing he could make out through his eyes blurry with tears was the man's satisfied smirk. He closed his eyes as more tears came. Why hadn't he just told Gil the truth and gone over to the Arroyos' early? He wanted to be with Gil, and with Jackie. He wanted to go home, but now, there was a chance that he would never see home again.