Malcolm is nervous, jumpy, on edge. It wouldn't be that unusual, except that he's eating his favorite pizza across the dining table from Jackie, which is usually when he's his most comfortable. Gil is concerned. He doesn't want to think about it, but he suspects why.

"Sweetheart, did you see Dr. Whitly this week?" It's Jackie's way to be direct, and she's no fool. She sees the signs as much as Gil does.

"Yes, ma'am." Malcolm, now close to graduation and adulthood, is rarely that deferentially respectful with anyone. Except Jackie.

"You want to talk about it?" Gil asks, jumping in because he can see how much the confirmation upsets his wife, who has never had a poker face to save her life.

Malcolm looks up from his pepperoni, and Gil once again feels the force of his impossibly blue eyes. "You don't have to worry," he says, the tremor in his hand belying his words. "At this point, I'm using him as profiling material."

"I do worry," Jackie insists. "You're better the longer you go without seeing him."

Malcolm waits a moment, then starts again, "You're afraid he's going to destabilize my mental health, but you're also afraid he'll pull me away and you'll lose me. That's not going to happen."

Gil takes his wife's hand, feeling her tension rise. "Are you actually trying to profile me, Malcolm?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No profiling at dinner," Gil puts in, trying to lighten the mood.

Jackie goes uncharacteristically quiet, stewing in a combination of worry and frustration, and Malcolm eats practically nothing, which isn't unusual at all.

Finally, Gil has had enough of silence and untouched food. "Kid, I'll drive you home."

Jackie hugs Malcolm goodbye very, very tightly, not one to let momentary frustration hold her back from being affectionate, and he hugs her back just as fiercely.

Once they're in Gil's car, the cop tries to smooth things over. "You know Jackie gets upset just because she loves you so much."

"I know. My father never stops smiling, and it feels horrible; Jackie gets mad, and it feels great." Malcolm shrugs. "This is why I love psychology, Gil. It's full of strange paradoxes, but it's beautiful."

"And, the more you understand about it, the less out of control you feel," Gil supplies.

Malcolm's face registers surprise at the cop's straightforward observation. "I'm not an idiot," Gil adds mildly. "To have any success at my job, you have to learn something about people. Besides, I've known you for a long time, kid. I don't just sit here and drive; I pay attention."

"Gil, why did you believe me, that night I called my father in?"

"That was pure intuition," the cop answers. "I can't give you logic for it. I just looked at you, and I knew you were telling the truth, the way I knew Jackie was the one or that I should take my last promotion. And you saved my life."

Malcolm squeezes his hand to stop it moving, too much of that lately. "Thank you for believing me. I think—I think it's why I'm still here."

"You're welcome, kid," Gil answers readily, "but be careful. I haven't stuck around this long to watch the Surgeon steal another victim."

Malcolm nods. "I promise I'll—consider going to see him less often."

"It's a start," Gil answers, putting his hand on the kid's shoulder. "Compromise."

When Gil gets home, he wordlessly reaches out his arms to hold Jackie, still perpetually amazed that she's his. "He said he'll consider seeing his father less frequently."

Jackie leans into him and closes her eyes. "Thanks, honey. I know he loves us both, but you're so much better at talking him into things."

"I wouldn't say that," Gil answers. "You've gotten him to trust you, which is more than I thought was possible."

"You can't get lies past him," she says. "He knows I love him like he's my kid, and if I didn't, he knows he'd be able to tell. He needs a lot of love, that one."

"You're right," Gil agrees. In his optimistic moments, he hopes that love will be enough to help the kid through. In his less optimistic moments, well, he looks at Jackie and knows she believes enough for both of them.