"Hey, kid." Malcolm looks over at the sound of Gil's voice, not getting up from the park bench where he's been for the past hour. The cop sits down next to him, close but not touching, respecting his space.
"You okay?" He's known Gil for nearly six years, but Malcolm is still surprised by the man's patience. If there's ever a time he would expect the cop to be angry, it would be now. But Gil just looks at him, waiting for an answer.
"I'm fine now."
"Your therapist called your mom, and she's worried sick. I'm here to drive you home."
Malcolm nods and gets up to follow Gil to his car, shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean to." It's close to a whisper.
"We'll talk about it on the way," the cop answers, unlocking the car and motioning him in.
Malcolm has been trying to use the breathing techniques from his therapist to calm himself down for the past hour, but getting into Gil's car calms him more than any of them. As soon as the door closes beside him, he feels safer than he has all day.
"So, what happened?" Gil starts the car, and Malcolm stares straight ahead, not wanting to answer, but knowing he will sooner or later. Call it a self-profile; he knows he can't ever ignore Gil.
"Dr. Le Deux—in our session she started talking to me about going to see my dad."
"And that upset you?" Gil asks.
Malcolm squeezes his hand to keep it from moving when he doesn't want it to and speaks quickly. "I—um, I told her I still go almost every week when I'm on break. She wanted to talk about why, since the court doesn't make me go any more."
"It's okay, breathe," Gil says gently. "You're okay." Malcolm closes his eyes, centering on the feeling of the seatbelt around him and his fingernails digging into his hand.
"She—she said maybe it's because I still want to have a relationship with him, because I still love him." The words come out in a breathless rush.
"So you left," Gil supplies. "You didn't want to talk about it." Malcolm feels the anger he'd felt in the therapist's office rise back up inside him. Anger? He's not really sure what it is, other than that it feels like it might suffocate him.
"I had to get out of there, Gil."
Gil nods and says neutrally, "I'm not surprised. I know that's a tough subject for you. But you really scared Dr. Le Deux and your mom, disappearing like that."
"I'm sorry," Malcolm says sincerely, his breathing evening back out.
"I gotta say one thing," Gil answers, "and I don't care what your therapist or anybody else thinks." Malcom looks over at him, interest piqued.
"You know how I feel about you going to see your dad, but that aside, kid. It doesn't make you a bad person to want to see your father. And it doesn't make you like he is if you still love him. It just makes you a human being."
Malcolm breathes hard and closes his eyes, holding in tears. Somehow, he doesn't want to get away when Gil talks to him about things. He just desperately wants them to be true.
The cop doesn't say anything else, and Malcolm uses the remaining twenty minutes home to get his composure back, finally speaking again when they turn onto his street. "Gil, on a scale of 1-that time I drove her Porsche, how upset is my mom?"
"Dialed up to 11," Gil answers drily, "but I have a feeling she'll get over it quickly when she sees you in one piece." The cop pulls up to the house, and Malcolm gets out of the car, a huge wave of relief washing over him when Gil gets out too, to come with him.
"Hey, kid?" Malcolm stops in front of the door, waiting for Gil to continue.
"Want a hug?"
He could say no. He could say no, and Gil wouldn't be upset or push him. He may have issues, but Malcolm is enough of a teenager to get embarrassed by things like affection, sometimes. This is not one of those times.
"Yeah." Gil wraps his arms around him, and Malcolm returns the hug. He reaches higher against the cop's shoulder than he did when he was younger, but it feels just as good and just as safe.
Gil lets him go just as the front door flies open and Jessica comes rushing out with a confused Ainsley trailing behind. "Gil, you found him!"
I was only missing for two hours, mom is what he doesn't say. Instead, Malcolm puts on an apologetic face and prepares to be grounded. Who cares about being grounded anyway, when you have nowhere to go?
"Malcolm, you can babysit your sister while I'm at dinner tonight," says his mother, who has quickly gone from worry to indignation.
"Okay," he shrugs, looking at Ainsley, who sticks her tongue out at him. He doesn't mind hanging out with his sister, actually.
"Be good, kid." Gil turns to leave, and Malcolm nods. He may not have had his full therapy session, but he feels lighter anyway.
