It took Malcolm two tries to slip the phone into the front pocket of his jeans. His limbs were still shaking uncontrollably. Despite the worsening side effects of the withdrawal, he couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face.

Gil glanced over from the driver's seat, "What's that smirk about?"

Dani playfully rolled her eyes, answering from the back seat, "He's going back to work."

Malcolm turned to face her from the passenger seat, raised his eyebrows in excitement, and nodded like a hyperactive puppy. The pure joy that was emanating from every part of him was infectious. He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and scratched his forearm vigorously. When he did, the phone in his pocked vibrated once again. He answered.

"Does she have it?"

Gil made eye contact with Dani via the rear view mirror.

Malcolm continued, "No, no, no. Topiramate. Two very different things. Wait. What's the brand name? Shit. I know this. Topamax. It's there? I knew I saw it! Can you drop it off at the precinct? I seriously owe you one. Thanks, Ains!" After he ended the call, he looked up at his fellow passengers. Dani and Gil were both staring at him, as they pulled into the parking spot in front of the precinct. "That was Ainsley. She's currently raiding our mother's substantial inventory of medications for me."

Dani was taken by surprise, "At 1:45 in the morning?"

"Mm-hmm" Malcolm responded in earnest.

"That's the kind of sentence that makes me feel like I should be concerned," Gil declared, unbuckling his seatbelt, "Well, more concerned."

Malcolm chuckled as they exited the car, "Not at all. It's an anticonvulsant to help with the tremors, until," he gestured up and down his entire body, "all this passes. At this point I don't think I can even hold a pen."

His companions nodded, as they approached the building. Once they entered the bullpen Dani went straight to her desk, grabbed her laptop, and set up in the conference room. Gil stepped into his office, exiting with a spare computer. He jerked his head toward the conference room when he handed it to Bright.

"Have Dani log you in."

The profiler nodded, setting up across from her at the table.

Gil started a pot of coffee before, joining them.

Malcolm's phone buzzed. "Ainsley's here," he proclaimed, as he jumped up and headed toward the door. He passed a decidedly stunned JT on the way out.

The detective poked his thumb in Malcolm's direction as he darted out the office door, "How is he here right now?"

Dani and Gil shared a meaningful look before she turned back to him, "There's something you need to know, JT."

Malcolm rushed back into the room, prescription bottle in hand. He stopped half way between the door and the table, when he saw JT, arms crossed, staring at him. The profiler knew in an instant that Dani and Gil had filled their teammate in on everything he confessed on his kitchen floor. Telling him was necessary, Malcolm knew that. However the shame didn't disappear, due to necessity. It flushed his face, as he awaited his friend's judgement. JT had every right to think less of him, but that didn't change how much it would hurt.

The detective nodded upward in greeting, "Welcome back, man."

Malcolm smiled, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, "Thanks."

"Okay," Gil began, "JT is on work history."

"I've got bank records," Dani added.

"Anything they print," Gil's finger wagged between himself and the profiler, "we go through with a fine-tooth comb."

"Got it," he replied.

Fifteen minutes later, Dani had printed a mountain of financial records. Gil peered down through his glasses at the fine print, highlighting lines as he went.

Malcolm tried to hold the packet of papers still in his hand. It was like he was having a seizure. Both of his arms were trembling so much that he couldn't read the words. After trying to tense his muscles enough to steady them, he finally gave up and slammed the packet down in the table.

Three sets of eyes turned in his direction.

"Sorry," he mumbled, leaning in to read the lines of numbers.

"How long will the meds take?" JT asked sympathetically.

He shrugged, "Six to twelve hours, most likely, before any noticeable change." When he saw the concern on their faces he added, "I'm fine. Just frustrated."

"You know it's going to get worse before it gets better," Dani's personal experience resonated with her words.

He sighed and met her compassionate gaze with his own appreciative one, "I know."

"We all do. So, you don't have to try and hide anything," Gil's glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he looked at Bright over top of them. "We're all here for you. Okay?"

Malcolm eyed each of them as he responded, "Thank you."

Forty-five minutes in and they were still swimming in professional and financial records. It turned out Chris Michaels had a number of accounts open at various banks throughout the city.

Malcolm was struggling to stay focused on the task at hand. He read and reread the same deposit line four times before it finally registered. Immediately, he flipped back a few pages, and started marking other lines. Then, he pulled out his phone and started frantically typing. When he finished, he wrote something at the top of the page and circled it.

"Uh, guys. I think I found something."

"Finally," Dani dropped her packet and rubbed her eyes, as Malcolm got up and made his way to the opposite side of the table.

"Eleven weeks ago, Michaels started making cash deposits into three separate accounts once a week. The deposits were never the same amount, sometimes a thousand, sometimes two, sometimes six hundred. If you add all of these deposits up…" he tapped the number written at the top of the page, "$47,800."

JT whistled.

"Yeah," Malcolm agreed, then he turned back toward Gil, "That's got to be it."

The lieutenant stood to stretch his legs, "You're probably right, but the problem is none of that links Micheals to either of the Bennets."

Malcolm's short-live excitement fizzled. Gil was right. He dug his nails into palms, scratching, as he watched his boss pace the floor.

They were so close, but it still wasn't enough.

JT broke the silence, "Well, it's not a connection to the Bennets either, but," he turned his laptop around pointed at the screen. "Nine months ago Chris Michaels was rejected for a promotion to detective. File cites 'questionable psych. responses' as well as a few run-ins with superior officers."

Gil stopped pacing, "So, he's got issues with authority."

"Looks that way," JT replied. He turned the computer back around and kept reading, "After the rejection he applied to become a P.O.. Guess they figured he'd be less of a liability that way."

Malcolm huffed, sarcastically.

"Right?" JT's eyes were speeding back and forth as he skimmed the records, "Hold up. Guess who our boy's partner was before he transferred."

"Who?" The three of them begged in unison.

"Jonathan Serratos."

Dani pulled the end of the pen she'd been absent-mindedly chewing out of her mouth, "As in the guy you questioned about the two missing ammo cartridges?"

Gil walked around to JT's side of the table, "The very same," and leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen.

"That's no coincidence," Malcolm noted, his excitement returning.

"Definitely not." Gil finished the remainder of the coffee in his mug, and pointed at Dani and him, "You two keep digging in the financial records; check for any small businesses that can be linked back to Niners or associates. JT and I will bring Mr. Serratos back for another chat."

Malcolm stood behind the mirrored glass in the observation room. His heart was pounding in his chest, only partially due to the withdrawal. Serratos could be their missing link, the thing that connected Chris to the Bennets, his get out of Jail free card - well, for the drug test at least. Dani entered the room with two cups of coffee. He gratefully accepted the one she offered him.

Dani rubbed her eyes, prompting him to check his watch: 4:09am. None of them had slept. Malcolm had gotten less than five hours over the course of the last three days. He was running on coffee and desperation. Funny how those two things were enough to keep him going.

Dani looked down at his still-trembling hand, "You doing okay?"

Malcolm stared at her for a moment, truly looking into her eyes. He sat his coffee down on the table next to them, took hers, and did the same. Then, he cupped her face in his hands softly and kissed her. As soon as their lips touched, relief swept over him, bringing with it a much-needed calm. Before he pulled completely back from her, he gently kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Dani."

She smiled, "And I love you."

Their tender moment was interrupted when Gil and JT entered the interrogation room.

Jonathan Serratos was a tall, thin man in his early forties. His mustache was that of a quintessential officer who grew up watching 80s cop drama reruns. He was compliant enough, given the time of day. But, that was the first thing he noted after being seated.

"You guys know it's like four in the morning, right?"

"Believe me, we do," JT retorted.

"This couldn't wait 'til, maybe, six?"

Gil was in no mood for banter, "Tell us about Christopher Michaels."

Malcolm watched the man's reactions intently.

Jonathan's eyes widened for a split second, before he cloaked his tell, "Chris? What do you want to know?"

"The two of you were partners up until nine months ago. What happened?"

Serratos shifted, causing the metal around his wrists to clang against the table, "I'm sure you already know this, but Chris put in for a promotion and got denied. After that he changed, was pretty bitter, did the job half-assed on a good day. Let a few misdemeanors off with a warning just for spite. Brass gave him a talking to. Next thing I know he's transferring to the P.O. department."

"You keep in touch with him?" JT asked from the corner of the room.

"We were partners for eight years. He was family. Yeah we kept in touch."

"How long has he been in bed with the Niners?" Gilt asked, point blank.

"Excuse me?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes, "He's deflecting. He knows."

"Yep," Dani agreed. "Now they just have to get it out of him."

The profiler's hand went to his abdomen and his eyes closed. His face winced in pain.

Dani grabbed the cup from his hand and sat it on the table, as Malcolm slowly crouched down and sat against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was doing everything he could to stay silent and not interrupt the interrogation.

"Breathe," Dani reminded him, kneeling. "It's like childbirth: horrible pain, but you have to remember to breathe."

Malcolm would have laughed at the analogy, if he had the capacity. At the moment, he was too busy biting his lips closed to keep the blood curdling screams from escaping.

"Listen," Gil rubbed his forehead then leaned forward on the table, "It's four fifteen in the damn morning. None of my team has slept, so we're a little on edge. You're a cop. You know the interrogation techniques. So, why don't we just cut the bullshit and show our hands? We know Chris is in with the Niners' royalty. We also know there's a connection between the Bennets, Chris, and you being the one to transport that ammo when two cartridges went missing. A cop trafficking illegal armor-piercing bullets to known cop killers. They'll crucify you in a heartbeat. You tell us what we need to know about Michaels and Joslynn Bennet, and you'll get leniency for the stolen ammo. That's the deal."

Jonathan didn't even try to deny that he knew anything. Without skipping a beat, he demanded, "I want immunity."

"You know I can't guarantee that. Leniency is the deal. Maybe a nice low-security situation, cut sentence for good behavior, then a little probation. White-collar style."

Beads of sweat ran down Malcolm's face. Dani was in front of him, her hands on his knees. Suddenly, the pain intensified. His eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist tightly.

"It's okay. Look at me," she grabbed the back of his neck with her free hand and leaned in, an inch away from his face. Her eyes locked in on his, "Breathe. Breathe. Your body wants more. It's trying to force you to use, to make it stop. You're stronger than the pain. Just breathe."

Malcolm's hand was still gripping her wrist so tightly it was cutting off her circulation. His gaze never left hers, as his chest heaved rapid breaths in sync with hers.

Jonathan contemplated Gil's offer for a moment, "People know who you are, Arroyo. Around the precincts. You're Mr. By The Book Always Do What's Right."

When Serratos paused for a second, Gil simply raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.

"Have you ever even been tempted? Or is that just not something within your realm of possibility?"

"Of course I've been tempted," he admitted. "Everyone has. It isn't about whether or not we experience temptation. It's about how we react to it."

Serratos grinned and nodded, as though Gil's response solidified every rumor he'd ever heard about him. "Then, I want your word - since clearly yours actually means something. Your word that you'll do everything you can to protect my son."

JT straightened his posture. Gil's brows furrowed in confusion, "Your son?"

Finally, the torture subsided. Malcolm stretched out his legs and Dani stood, offering her hands to help him up. He ran his hands through his now-damp hair, to get it off of his face. As though he hadn't just spent the last five minutes on the floor in anguish, he asked Dani, "Did he just say son?"

Jonathan ignored the lieutenant's inquiry and extended his hand as far across the table as possible, "Your word."

Gil shook.

Relief spread across Jonathan's face and he nodded to himself. "I was there the night Joslynn Bennet was arrested in the sting op. The next day, Chris and I had plans to meet for lunch, to catch up and all that. So, I told him the whole story of the operation and how the arrest went down. Thought nothing of it. Cops share collar stories all the time. A week later, my son, Patrick, gets busted for dealing. Pot, thankfully, nothing harder."

Malcolm's eyes fell at the comment. Dani silently took his hand in hers, banishing the rush of guilt that threatened.

Jonathan continued, "Pat's nineteen. It was his first offense. But, he was still dealing, luckily in minor league quantities. The judge was kind and didn't force any jail time on him. Instead he got a year's worth of probation. Chris went to his supervisor and specifically asked for Pat to be one of his clients. Said they already had a great relationship and that he felt like he could really help the kid. So, they let him be Pat's P.O.. And everything's great."

"Until?" JT amended.

"Until five weeks ago. I get a weird text from Chris at like one in the morning. Said he needed to talk about something important. Couldn't be over the phone. Sends me an address. I'm thinking he's in a bad place, maybe thinking of hurting himself or something, so I'm out the door in minutes. When I get there he's sitting in his car. I get in. As soon as I sit down, Chris points a gun at me. Tells me that these ammo cartridges are about to be transported to the marshals. He hands me these two look-alike rounds and says I needed to swipe these for two of the real ones."

"They used his son to blackmail him," Malcolm had already deduced the rest of the story. "That's why he wants assurances that someone will protect him now."

Jonathan confirmed the profiler's analysis, "I refused, of course. Then, Chris threatened to plant a weapon, send Pat to jail, and get word out that he was a cop's kid. We both know what they'd do to him if that happened."

Malcolm's hand instinctively went to his side, not in pain this time. Beneath the hand, and the material of his shirt, was the evidence of his own experience inside the system. A three-inch scar that was still bright purple, to remind him of exactly how close he had come to death in prison.

"So, I agreed. I swapped the ammo en route to Newark and brought the real rounds back to Chris the same day. Haven't heard a single word from him since."

"Has he still been working with your son?" Gil asked.

"Yeah. As far as I know."

"Anything else we should know?"

"The last thing Chris said, when I handed him the ammo, was 'bright'. Take that for what it's worth."

Gil's head whipped around toward the mirror behind him. Dani's turned even faster. Her mouth sat agape, as her eyes screamed in horror.

Malcolm didn't look at her. He stared, unfocused, through the glass, at nothing in particular.

Why are you so shocked? His psyche asked, for once not taunting him. Genuinely curious. Joslynn wanting you dead isn't news.

It was a fair point. But, Malcolm had assumed that the drugs and potential return to prison were the end game, that Joslynn was banking on him accidentally overdosing thanks to her crafty set up. And if for whatever reason he didn't, then he would go back to prison and she'd have him executed. Never once did it occur to him that he might just randomly get shot in the street - with a cartridge capable of slicing through kevlar like it was tissue paper.

And now there's that.

As soon as the transporting officers picked up Serratos, the team rushed back to the office. JT detoured down another hallway at Gil's request and returned to the unit with four protective vests. Gil practically threw one at Malcolm.

"You're in one of these until further notice," he demanded.

The profiler scoffed, as he obliged, "You do remember the ammo is armor-piercing right?"

Gil snapped, "Yeah. And without the vest, those cartridges will blow a hole the size of a golf ball through your torso."

The entire room froze at the reply.

As soon as he said it, he backpedaled, "Sorry."

Malcolm waved him off, "It's okay. I deserved it."

"You really did," Dani added, velcroing the last part of her vest in place. "No more morbid assholeishness."

He grinned at her phrasing and she tried to glare at him, while biting back a reciprocal smile.

As they finished gearing up, Gil barked out orders, "JT and Dani go together. Bright you're with me. When we get there, you two take the back exit. Bright and I will go in the front. Hopefully, the time will work to our advantage and he'll be asleep. Stay together. And be smart."

As they exited the building, Malcolm grabbed Dani's hand and squeezed it once. She returned the gesture, before they split toward the different vehicles. Their eyes met quickly before he ducked into the passenger seat of Gil's car.

As soon as he got in, Gil popped a key off of his ring and tossed it to Malcolm. "Glove box," he explained as he backed out and headed down the street.

Bright opened it to find a gun in a holster.

"Use it if you have to," the lieutenant approved.

The profiler stared at his mentor, "This is the second time you've-"

Gil cut him off, "I'm well aware."

"You're going to get in some serious trouble for this, aren't you?"

"Probably. But I'm already letting you work the case, in the midst of a pretty substantial drug issue, so what difference does it make?"

Malcolm pulled the weapon out of the glove box and locked it back, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

"I didn't mean it like that, kid," Gil glanced over at him as frequently as he could.

"I know. I just-" Malcolm's phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he had a message from the all-too-familiar "UNKNOWN" sender.

"What is it?" Gil asked, the look on the profiler's face worrying him.

"It's an address: 350 Central Park West,"

"Say that again?

Malcolm repeated it.

"That's the captain's address," Gil pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street.

"The list," Malcolm remembered, "Joslynn's got the list."

At that moment, his phone rang. Thankfully, Dani's name appeared on the screen.

"What's going on? Why the U-Turn?"

Malcolm put her on speaker, "I just got a text from the unknown sender. An address."

"It's Captain Martinez's," Gil finished. "We go there first."

As the lieutenant spoke, Malcolm got another text, "I just got a second message. Another address: 421 West 45th."

JT's voice echoed through the speaker, "That's my address."