A quick imagining of how the trial of John Watkins might have gone. As well as an exploration of the question I imagine must have plagued Malcolm after the revelations of Alone Time.

"Your statement after your initial interrogation of Dr. Whitley says that, when you informed him I had allegedly taken Malcolm prisoner-"

"Objection, Your Honor." JT grinned at the almost bored, familiar tone of the prosecutor. He glanced over to see the woman was rubbing her temples. "Mr. Watkins is well aware he's been warned against this familiarity with Mr. Bright."

"Sustained." The Judge looked more annoyed than bored. "Mr. Watkins. You have the right to represent yourself, but you must still abide by the court's rulings. If I have to rebuke you again on this matter, I will charge you with contempt of court."

"I apologize, Your Honor." Watkins even added a curt nod toward the bench. JT had to admit, shaved and dressed in his smart suit, the man looked like a normal dude, almost dull. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." She answered, her eyes turning back to Gil on the stand.

"Where were we?" Watkins made a show of consideration. "Yes, you informed Dr. Whitley that you believed I had kidnapped Mr. Bright. What was his reaction?"

Gil cleared his throat. "He had a severe panic attack and had to be sedated."

"Your statement mentions Dr. Whitley saying something though. What did he say when he believed I had kidnapped his son?"

"He said, 'My son is dead.'" Gil's frown had deepened, quite a feat in JT's opinion.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

The frown actually disappeared replaced by an expression of shock. JT could definitely understand Gil's surprise. The prosecution had just run Gil through a mountain of evidence against Watkins and the man's only question was about how The Surgeon reacted?

"Ms. Trenkler? Any rebuttal?" The Judge asked.

The prosecutor shrugged slightly before shaking her head. "Not at this time, Your Honor."

JT didn't blame her. There was nothing there to rebut. Was rebut a word? JT shook his head. He hated court but this trial, in particular, made him uneasy. He'd watched Bright get more and more worked up as the court date crept closer, then seen him go into full on manic mode when they learned Watkins was going to represent himself. It was one thing to have to stare your tormentor down across a defendant's table, it was quite another to have to interact directly with him.

"You may call your next witness, Ms. Trenkler." The Judge said.

"Thank you, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Mr. Malcolm Bright to the stand."

Bright let out a shuddered breath JT could hear from two rows up and he turned to watch Bright gather himself. But when the kid took to his feet, he made JT smile. He'd put himself together alright. There was a determination in his eyes and no hesitation in his stride as he took to the stand. If profiling didn't work out, and lets face it, at the rate Bright was going it probably wouldn't, he had a future in acting.

They swore him in, and the prosecutor started in with the questions. How had he discovered the junkyard. What happened after the man he believed to be Watkins shot at him. All the stuff with the priest, the trail that led to the grandmother's house. That's when the questions seemed to get harder for Bright. Everyone on the team knew the kid still blamed himself for Shannon's death. JT shook his head, chastising himself. Bright was no kid. It was an easy slip up though. He acted like a kid so much. How did a guy so morbid, so comfortable with the truly evil side of humanity still give off innocence and childish enthusiasm?

"I screamed for help." Bright had reached the part of the story that took place in the basement.

"And what happened then?"

JT looked over at the jurors. No nodding off or glazed eyes today. They were all completely compelled by Bright's story.

"Mr. Watkins walked into the room carrying a light on a tripod and a bag of-" Bright's throat caught and he cleared it before continuing. "A bag of tools."

"What kind of tools?"

"Uh, hammers, wrenches, a hatchet and I think an axe? I can't remember exactly but the FBI took an inventory. I believe it's in evidence as exhibit 12C."

"What was his intention with these tools?"

"Objection, Your Honor. Calls for speculation."

JT's attention jerked over to the defendant's table. JT wasn't a lawyer, but he'd had to testify enough times in his career to know that sounded legit.

"Sustained." The Judge sounded as surprised as JT felt.

"Did the defendant speak to you?" The prosecutor said, her lips thin. She clearly did not relish being called to task by an amateur.

"Yes." A smile flashed across Bright's face for a moment but there was no mirth there. "He had a lot to say, actually. I asked him what he intended to do with me. If I was his next mission and he intended to starve me."

"And what did he answer?"

"He said he had a new mission which was, frankly, quite fascinating. Even if it didn't bode well for me at the time. He believed I'd been put in his path, much like his other victims, but that in my case, probably because of his previous relationship with my father, he believed I was meant to be his next partner."

"He wanted you to kill with him?"

"Yes."

JT noticed that Bright wasn't looking, well, anywhere really. His head was bowed now, seemingly inspecting his manicure but even when his head was raised, he was avoiding eye contact and his eyes lacked focus. JT frowned, his concern peaked again. He was glad he'd tagged along today.

"Why would he think that?"

"Again, he had a relationship with my father and it's, unfortunately, not uncommon for people to assume there's something wrong with the children of serial killers. That we might have those same illnesses, drives or inclinations."

JT found himself shuffling uncomfortably, remembering his initial encounters with Bright. What he'd said but, worse, how he'd felt.

"I told him I wasn't a killer." Bright sighed. "Something I've had to tell people my whole life."

"And his response?"

"That's when he started talking about his trials. He believed that he had not only been chosen for his mission of murder but that he had been tested and proven worthy. He was confident I would join him when my own trials ended." Bright frowned. "If I survived them." He looked in the direction of the prosecutor, as though remembering he was off script. "That's what he said at the time. I'd join him after my trials if I survived them."

"What did these trials entail?"

"I'm not sure, actually." Bright was back to looking at this hands and JT wondered if one of them were trembling. "He only performed one and I stopped him from performing the second."

"And what were the trials he performed or attempted to perform?" The prosecutor's voice had an edge of irritation.

"Uh, yes. Um." Bright closed his eyes, centering for a moment. "The first was he stabbed me. Then he left me alone for quite a while. It was hard to tell at the time but looking at the timetable of events, it was most likely 6-10 hours. I believe the first trial was for me to survive the stabbing." He cleared his throat again. "The second trial was, uh, he told me that my family, my mother and sister, that they were," Bright shook his head. "Holding me back or standing in the way of my mission. I don't remember the exact terminology. The point was, he decided he had to remove them from my path and that me enduring their loss was the next step."

"And that's when you realized you were in a sub-basement of your own home?"

"Objection, Your Honor. Leading the witness."

Ms. Trenkler whipped around to face Watkins.

"Sustained." The judge ordered.

Trenkler took a deep breath.

"Did your conversation lead you to draw any new conclusions?"

"Yes, I'd assumed I was in a secluded area. A cabin in the woods and interpreted certain sounds incorrectly. When he took the axe, the immediacy of his actions led me to understand that I was in the city. Underground in the city and most likely under my childhood home."

"And what happened next?"

"As I said, he'd taken an axe and left after expressing a need to remove my family from my path." For the first time, Bright looked at the jurors. "He was going to kill my family. My mother and my sister."

"What did you do when you were convinced of that fact?"

"He'd left the bag of tools. I grabbed a hammer and used it to break bones in my hand so that I could get free of the shackles. I found him upstairs, lured him into the dining room and struck him over the head rendering him unconscious. I then locked him in a trunk to keep him confined until the police arrived."

"And you did this with severe trauma to one of your hands, a concussion and a stab wound to the abdomen?"

"Yes."

JT smiled at the curt answer.

"Mr. Bright. Can you identify for the record, the man who held you captive, tortured you and attempted to murder your family?"

"Yes." Bright stood and pointed a shaking finger at Watkins. "He's sitting here. John Watkins."

"No further questions at this time, Your Honor."

The Judge nodded. "Your witness, Mr. Watkins."

Watkins stood behind the table for a long moment before approaching the witness stand.

"When did we first meet, Mr. Bright?"

Bright blinked, a bit caught off guard by the question.

"Objection, Your Honor. Relevance."

Watkins turned to the bench. "The how and when of my first meeting with the witness is entirely relevant to my case, Your Honor."

"Sustained."

Trenkler retook her seat.

"I'll repeat the question, Mr. Bright. When did we first meet?"

"When I was eight years old."

"And what were the circumstances of that meeting?"

"You were outside my house. Dr. Whitley had invited you to join us on a camping trip."

Watkins smiled.

"I'll remind you, Mr. Bright, that you're under oath."

Bright frowned, for a moment confused. Then a sort of horrified understanding overtook him and he swallowed.

"I apologize, your Honor. I misspoke." His voice trailed off as though he'd run out of moisture and he cleared his throat. "Dr. Whitley told me it was a camping trip." He paused again, his face ashen.

"What was the true reason your father invited me on that trip, Mr. Bright?" Watkins asked.

"He, my-, Dr. Whitley," Bright took a breath and JT could almost hear him reciting one of his million and one affirmations, "He invited you because he planned on killing me with you."

One of the juror's gasped. JT glanced at Trenkler, wondering why she hadn't objected yet but then realized that was part of the plan. Watkins had wound her up with his objections so she'd be ready to retaliate. Now she'd already objected to this line of questions.

"Why would your own father want to kill you?" Watkins asked.

Finally, Trenkler stood. "Objection, Your Honor. What relevance does conspiracy to commit murder over two decades prior have to this case?"

JT nodded and, like everyone else in the courtroom, looked to the judge.

"Your Honor, my history with the witness is of the utmost importance to my case. I ask the court's leniency to continue my line of questioning."

The judge mulled over her decision for an excruciatingly long moment.

"Very well, Mr. Watkins, but this had better be going somewhere."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

It annoyed JT no end how this guy, nuttier than a fruitcake, could pass himself off as so, JT struggled with the right word, normal. That was it. He seemed normal and Bright struck people as a freak.

"Why would your own father want to kill his eight-year-old son, Mr. Bright?"

"I had, um, I'd discovered one of his victims in the basement of our home."

"Really?" Watkins feigned shock. "Why didn't you tell the police?"

"I did, eventually. Dr. Whitley drugged me. He drugged me for some time after the discovery. He made plans to kill me after he realized the drugs were starting to lose their efficacy."

"Efficacy. Interesting term." Watkins smiled. "Very clinical."

"Your Honor." Trenkler's tone said it all.

"Mr. Watkins," The judge reprimanded, "Keep the commentary to yourself, please."

"I'm almost finished, Your Honor." Watkins said with an apologetic gesture.

"Mr. Bright, you're a very talented profiler. I'm sure you're aware that your father could have killed you in any number of innocuous ways. He was a surgeon, after all. The Surgeon. Why would he take you to a secluded location with his partner in crime?"

Bright's eye shone and he focused on the floor and Watkins chuckled.

"It's not the why. It's never been the why, Malcolm. It's always been the how. You want to know don't you? What did he have planned for you?"

"Your Honor!" Trenkler was on her feet.

The gavel rang out.

"Mr. Watkins!" The judge's tone was frigid.

In a flash, Watkins had Bright by the jacket.

"You were meant for me, Malcolm. You were my canvas. He'll never tell you what we planned and it eats at you doesn't it?" He yelled. The façade of normalcy long forgotten.

"Bailiff! Remove the jury, immediately and get Mr. Watkins away from the witness."

JT moved quickly. In seconds he was grappling with Watkins, prying his fingers from Bright's clothes. Hands reached out and took over restraining the man who screamed as he was led away.

"It's never been the why, Malcolm. It's always been the how!" His laughed bubbled up, truly insane. "How did daddy plan to kill you?"

A door slammed and the yells became muffled beyond comprehension.

JT turned to Bright, his eyes wet and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He grabbed his shoulders, afraid his friend looked unsteady on his feet.

"You okay?" He asked before realizing it was the dumbest thing he might have ever said.

"Not remotely." Bright said but his breathing was slowing as he gave JT's arm a weak pat. "I'm okay. I'm not gonna fall."

"No, you're not." Gil's voice was steal. "We won't let you. We're here for you, kid."

"Don't-" Bright shook his head. "I- I'm fine."

JT couldn't see Gil's face but he must have looked as sceptical as JT felt because Bright rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm not fine but I will be. I can handle this. I've got practice."

It took quite a while to sort out the debacle in the court. Watkins returned, calm. The jury was brought back in. The prosecution rested and Watkins offered no defense.

It seemed insane but within a few short hours the jury had read his verdict. Guilty.

Sentencing was scheduled for the following day.

"You going?" JT asked as he and Bright climbed into his car. Gil's orders.

"I don't know." Bright answered with an embarrassed smile and shrug. They'd been driving for a hot minute before Bright finally wised up.

"Um, this isn't the way to my apartment."

"This is why you're a profiler and not a detective." JT said.

"Seriously, where are we going?"

"I'm not leaving you in that museum you call an apartment. Not tonight. I already talked to Tally. The couch might not be the four seasons but I can, unfortunately, attest that it's not that bad either."

Bright shook his head like he were trying to dislodge a spider.

"This is, no." He said. "I appreciate-"

"It's done, my dude." JT interrupted. "You don't know Tally, man. This is happening. And you don't have to talk, though she will, trust me. You just have to let her feed you and put you to bed. Today was intense and, for whatever reason, she cares about you."

Bright sat back in his seat and JT reminded himself of all the potential voices in his friend's head.

"Fine." He said. "There's good reason. A lot of good reasons, actually. Bright, this isn't my thing but, you're, you know, you're a good person. I wasn't always sure of that but you convinced me. And you really have convinced me."

Bright's eyes were on his window.

"Hey!"

Bright turned to face him, eyes hard.

"You're not your father. You're not anything like him or his psycho friend. You're a good man and you're my friend."

"You really mean that." Bright's voice wasn't just surprised, it was hopeful.

"Damn right, I do." JT said, a little hope creeping into his own voice. "And I'm always right."

"Always?" Bright asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Always." JT confirmed.

"What about when you disagree with Tally?"

"Okay," JT amended. "Almost always."