Malcolm awoke to early morning sunlight filtering through a crack in the drapes. A frown furrowed his brow as he stared at the thin slit in the rich blue material. He never slept curled on his side. He usually slept on his back.

A warm body against his back, soft breath tickling the back of his ear, and an arm curved protectively around his middle provided him with the reason for why he slept on his side.

Must have fallen asleep while she was signing, he reasoned as he attenuated to the sound of her breathing. Deep and even.

The sleep of the slightly inebriated.

Malcolm didn't fault her for her indulgence. He had been seeking the oblivion at the bottom of the whiskey decanter when SWAT bust down his door.

That the day before hadn't been a good one for either of them was a gross understatement. Malcolm couldn't claim he wasn't culpable for some of what happened, though.

He poked the bear by taking Eve to see his father. Getting him to tell them about Sophie. He caused her death by not leaving things alone as his father insisted.

He was in this mess because he put what he needed ahead of the case. Instead of smartly and wisely investigating Eve's death, he pushed full-throttle ahead and got himself arrested on suspicion of murder. He needed to take the logical route if he wanted to prove himself innocent.

He just didn't expect to have to do it alone.

Not alone, he realized as Sorcha's hand twitched where it lay atop his. She's here to help me.

Like she always was.

Guilt mingled with the rest of the emotions souring his stomach. If it took the rest of his life, he'd make up for being such a terrible friend to her.

Not just a friend, he amended as he made to free himself from his restraints. Also...

Surprise stopped him from finishing that thought. A frown creased his brow as he held up his arm.

His restraint had been removed.

"I removed them," Sorcha murmured against his shoulder. "Wanted to get comfortable."

"You know better than to remove them."

"Malcolm." She bit the word out in much the same way his mother did when she had enough of his crap. "I'm a tiny bit hungover, emotionally wore out, exhausted from lack of sleep, and in no mood to go round and round with you about this."

"You know why I need them."

"Also know I've spent fifteen years learning your breathing and body movements, teaching myself to wake before you go into a full attack, using classical conditioning techniques to combat the anxiety and paranoia."

"You've been using classical conditioning techniques on me?" More intrigued than annoyed, he looked over his shoulder at her. "What made you decide to try that?"

"Seeing how my singing calmed you after that first night terror inspired the idea to try it before you go into one."

Malcolm shifted onto his side to face her.

"Is that why you always sing Here Comes the Sun?"

"Dad always sang it to me because of how much comfort it brought me." Sorcha stretched her legs out against his. A familiar action that brought comfort and a wealth of good memories. "So, I decided to share it with you for the same reason. And I keep sharing it with you because I love you."

"Even if I'm a terrible friend."

"You're not a terrible friend." She made a face. "You just have moments where you're a complete and utter ass."

"I'm going to make it up to you, Sorch." He made that promise even as Eve floated back and forth in front of his bookcase. "I'm going to make it up to you."

"I don't want you to make up anything, you dope."

"But—"

"Some things you can't make up for." Her hand took his. "You just do your best to never do those things again."

"I want to be a better friend than I have been."

"Well, I think proving your innocence and taking this Endicott down needs to come before that promise." She squeezed his fingers. "Won't be able to do much if you end up behind bars. You know they won't put you in the vulnerable prisoner wing."

He'd end up in general population.

Same as his father.

Only, he'd have a larger target on his back being a former federal agent and the son of the Surgeon.

"Dr. Tanaka is who we need to talk with first."

Malcolm agreed with her.

"Edrisa can tell us about Eddie's body."

"The blood is what I'm more interested in."

"It's not mine."

Sorcha rolled her eyes. "No shit, Einstein."

"It's too early for sarcasm."

"You woke me up by fidgeting."

Instantly contrite, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Go back to sleep."

"No." She pushed herself up with a groan. "We have a small window to work with here before charges will officially be brought against you."

"They can't formally charge me. The evidence they have is fabricated."

"And damming." She moved to sit on the side of the bed. "Grand jury will see that and call for charges. We have to prove it's fake or planted before then."

"Fake?" Malcolm sat up. "Do you think that's possible?"

"Dad worked a case a few years before his death where a doctor was brought up on charges of murdering his wife and children. He claimed he was innocent. Turns out he was telling the truth and that his partner had a fake DNA sample made by a couple of students at Berkeley."

"That doesn't explain how my skin and hair fibers got on Eddie."

"Malcolm." The faint edge of irritation worked its way into her voice. "It really be nice if you'd remember you were a federal agent at some point."

"I've never forgotten I was a federal agent."

"Try thinking like one then."

"I am thinking like one." He frowned. "Why do you think I'm not?"

"Because the case involves you."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"You don't do you." She twisted around at his scoff. "You've admitted yourself that when you're working a case that you don't focus on yourself. Well, you have to do that here because you are the main focus. Not Eve, your dad, Endicott, you."

Much as Malcolm wanted to, he couldn't deny any of that. He didn't think about himself when working cases. His safety and well-being didn't matter when he was trying to find a missing person or stop a killer.

This time, though, he was the primary focus. It was his innocence he had to prove. Eve, her sister, his dad, and Endicott were all part of the problem. They were also part of the solution. He had to find the pieces. Connect all the dots. Arrive at the conclusion that'd see him exonerated.

"You're right." Malcolm drew one leg up and placed his arm across it. "I don't worry about myself or my well-being when working cases. And," he said before Sorcha could interject with her typical no, shit comment, "I can't do that this time. Not if I want to prove I didn't kill Eddie."

"There's just one problem with that."

"What?"

"You're an adrenaline-junkie. You crave the high you get from running into dangerous situations. That's why you pick superficial relationships. There's some form of risk involved. Some element of danger. The potential for pain. And before you say it..." Her lips twitched. "I know your thoughts on Jung and masochism. Doesn't change the fact that you're a borderline masochist. Only, you believe you deserve the pain because of what your father did."

"I am to blame. If I had—"

"Nope."

Malcolm frowned.

"What?"

"Not getting into that." She blew out a breath as she combed her fingers through her hair. "Not until I'm not so hungover, anyway."

"Sorch, everything that's happened in my life has been a direct result of what my father did."

"Yes, it screwed you up, but you're why you can't settle in and be happy with someone like me."

"I was happy with you."

"If that was true, you wouldn't have gone back to Eve." No heat, no rancor, just a weariness Malcolm understood all too well. "Things with us are easy. There's no thrill. No spark. No danger."

"I don't tend to recall our sex life being boring."

"Sex has strong energy, when it's done correctly." Her lips curved, almost affectionately. "We never had a problem in that area. It was everywhere else that we struggled."

"Sex is easy." God, his life had been so much simpler when he was just trying to infiltrate an undercover sex club. Second he decided to try doing normal things was when everything came apart. "Love is dangerous."

"Love is dangerous because it requires us to open ourselves up, make ourselves vulnerable, make us susceptible to being hurt, and to hurting others."

"You've never hurt me."

"I've hurt you plenty of times over the years, Malcolm."

"No, you haven't."

"Sure, I have." She set a hand on his ankle. "You just don't see it."

"I don't see it because it isn't true."

"Just because I'm the healthiest relationship you have had with a woman doesn't mean I haven't done things to hurt you."

"Not arguing about this."

Her words when she didn't want to get into his reasons for why he was broken and couldn't be fixed. Something she didn't appreciate by the scowl she gave him.

"I've been petty, jealous, spiteful, and bitchy in the last twenty-four hours alone."

"Don't minimize your feelings." More of her own words. "They're valid and important."

She harrumphed and turned her back on him.

"Don't parrot my words at me."

Malcolm's lips trembled.

"You use them on me all the time."

"You tend to minimize your feelings to avoid dealing with them."

"You need to go back to sleep."

"No, I need coffee." She flicked a look at him from over her shoulder. "Gimme your shirt."

"Why?"

"Because the reason for why you like how I smell is the same reason why I like how you smell."

It calms her when she's not settled, he instantly translated. Well, there was something he could do to help with that.

"Come lay back down," he coaxed softly. "I'll rub the back of your neck."

"I'm disappointed," she lightly teased as she scooted back in the bed. "Figured you'd suggest sex as a better headache relief than caffeine."

Malcolm hummed a laugh. "While sexual activity has been proven to provide almost complete relief from most cluster headaches and migraines... my mother being down the hall puts a stop to it."

"Your mother suggested using sex when we couldn't get you to stay home to let your hand heal."

Malcolm gaped at her.

"My mother suggested sex as a means to keep me at home?"

"Mhm." Sorcha tucked her head under his chin with a small, content sound. "Tend to recall you were quite happy to stay home, too."

"I was also trying to avoid Gil."

"Well, you did crush his car."

Malcolm hummed softly as he sifted his fingers through her hair to her nape. "Quiet or I won't sing to you."

Her hand curved over his heart. "You haven't sang to me since the night you got drunk and locked yourself in your bathroom."

"I have no memory of that."

"You were completely shit-faced."

"What did I sing?"

"Barbie Girl."

Malcolm grimaced. "I'm surprised you didn't kill me."

"I considered it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Gil said I'd miss you too much."

Malcolm hummed a laugh as he rubbed her neck in the same slow, soothing circles she and Gil did when he was out of balance.

"Well, I'm going to sing something better this time, I promise."

"I Don't Want To Miss A Thing?"

It wasn't his original choice of song but it was what she requested. So he sang it, committing the moment to memory, as he had every time she sang Here Comes The Sun to him.

A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!

I want to send a special thank you to chelsnichole12 for their lovely review!

Also, the song I am using has a YouTube video to accompany it but FFN is a twit about links so the curious can hop over to my AO3 account where I have the link added to the chapter there.