Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of the heart monitor resonated through the wall. The sound that filled Malcolm with a sense or regret. But why? This man... Martin Whitly, had put him through so much, too much for most to handle. Martin Whitly was the reason Malcolm was the person he was now. Damaged.
Even before all….this. Before his father brought him to that spot, to kill him. 'He was only doing what was best for us, dad cared about us. He couldn't kill us in the end, could he?' His fractured mind helpfully, or rather not so helpfully, supplied. 'Cared? No. Psychopaths like Martin Whitly didn't care. Didn't know what it was like to have genuine feelings, not outside those one used to manipulate. Like how he had manipulated my fate, a fate I didn't deserve.'
The fate of standing here now because regardless of the culprit, Martin would have ended up here one way or another. And yet there he was wishing that anyone else laid in that hospital bed. Because no matter what Martin Whitly had put him through, at the end of the day they were blood.
Malcolm silently watched from the other side of the glass.
"Malcolm, are you okay?" He could feel Dani's arms wrap around him in her attempt to comfort him. "It must be hard, seeing your father like this."
"Surprisingly true, but he's put his life in my hands." The raised eyebrow on Dani's face urged him to elaborate. "So to speak, that is. I'm his emergency contact, and his power of attorney it turns out."
"But you don't want that do you?" Dani inquired, though no doubt had some idea what his answer was. "Look, if you need someone to go in there with you just say the word."
For the first time since arrival, there was a hint of a smile as he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. Dani always knew how to bring a smile out of him, even if only for a second.
"I appreciate the support but I think this is something I need to do on my own," he murmured softly, a carefully masked layer of pain underneath his calm tone. "I'm just not used to seeing him in a coma."
The arms around him tightened ever so slightly, Dani's head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Do you think he'll come out of it?" She inquired and he glanced down to see her peering into the hospital room. "I heard coma patients get trapped in a dream."
Did Malcolm think Martin Whitly would wake up? He wasn't quite sure. It differed from each individual. However, perhaps he would. His father was just as stubborn as he was. If he had reason, a purpose, he would. Malcolm hoped so, if not for his sake, than to save him from a guilty conscience.
On the other hand, something he did know was that coma patients suffered horrible nightmares.
"Coma patients don't have dreams, they have nightmares." Malcolm said matter-of-factly as he too found his eyes trained on his father's unconscious form. "But I do wonder what kind of nightmares a person like him has."
Just as Malcolm finally reached out to touch the doorknob, Dani's phone went off, causing him to withdraw his hand.
"Powell." Malcolm stayed quiet, eavesdropping as much as he possible to catch both ends of the conversation but to no avail. "It's Edrisa, she's got a case, sounds like an interesting one. Do you want me to give you a lift? I can wait."
"No, you shouldn't keep them waiting, go on ahead." Malcolm shook his head and shifted back into her space to give her a quick, soft, kiss on the lips. "I'll catch a ride over as soon as I'm done here."
Something in her eyes told him that she didn't want to leave him but he sent a reassuring nudge. "Hey, I promise I'll be fine. Now go already. You're missing out on the fun."
"..." Dani still seemed hesitant, but there was no way around it and she knew that. "Alright, but if you need me…"
"I'll call you." He finished her sentence with a smile. A smile that gradually faded as Dani exited his view. A frown took it's place as he faced his father's hospital room, as he twisted the doorknob.
Martin's features looked deceivingly angelic. But he was no angel and he most likely was feeling every bit of pain and torture in whatever nightmare he was trapped in.
It hurt seeing his father in this condition, because he put him there.
"I'm sorry I put you here… But I'm sure whatever you're seeing, whatever you're feeling right now hurts like hell, doesn't it?" He commented, quiet enough that no one would hear them outside of the room. "Can't say you didn't have it coming."
'Oh don't be like that Malcolm, I mean, I'm sure I did but did you really have to say that?'
Malcolm didn't have to look to know the apparition was there, a visual representation of his guilt no doubt. 'Please, all you are is a manifestation of stress and guilt. You're not real.'
'You're right, but you're still talking to me.' The apparition of his father was grinning in his direction, which Malcolm would have noticed if he was paying an ounce of attention to him. 'Hey, I get it, you're feeling guilty because you're the one that put me here. But I'm proud of you my boy. Knew you had it in you."
Now that got Malcolm's attention, eyes zeroing in right on the image as it stood next to him. 'Mom would have killed you! I did what I had to do, not what I wanted to do or because I felt compelled to do it. I didn't want to kill you!"
The grin on other widened. 'But you didn't my boy. You're going to make sure of that, aren't you? You still need answers, after all.
Malcolm briefly closed his eyes, it was only for a few milliseconds, willing the image away. By the time they fluttered open, the apparition was gone. He didn't realize it until now, but at the time he hadn't felt alone but now "he" was gone; the loneliness was undeniable.
"Hurry up and wake up." There was a shakiness in his voice as he spoke. "Please… I can't let you leave me, there's so much I still need to know…" The 'I need you' was there, unspoken… Please don't leave me.
Unbeknownst to him, his hand had reached out to hold one of Martin's squeezing it enough to cause pressure. "Please..."