IN MY DARKEST HOUR, WHEN I FEEL AS THOUGH I'VE REACHED MY BREAKING POINT, I WILL LOOK FOR HOPE.

Malcolm had no idea how much time had passed since Nathan exited the room. He didn't care. It didn't matter. All that mattered was what he'd done. The anguish in Dani's eyes. The tears. The detestable, monstrous way he had actually lost himself in those final few seconds. Malcolm never thought himself the type of person to have a breaking point, a moment where your mind simply snaps and can no longer survive the trauma. Now, as the weight of his actions kept slowly crushing him minute by minute, he wasn't so sure. His chest literally ached as though someone was piling brick after brick upon him, gradually burying him under a mountain of guilt. He couldn't take full, deep breaths anymore. The weight was too heavy. He deserved it. All of it. Every ache, every arduous breath, every agonizing pain was a fraction of what he deserved to feel for what he'd done.

About an hour ago he risked a fleeting glance across the room. Dani was partially hidden in the shadow, seated against the wall with her arms and head on her knees. Malcolm was grateful she was positioned this way, he wasn't sure how he would ever look her in the face again.

The door clicked four times and Nathan entered, unidentifiable food in hand. Again, Nathan served Dani first and then Malcolm. After setting the paper plate down before him, Nathan tossed the antibiotic ointment and new gauze at him. Malcolm didn't move a muscle. He simply let the items fall to the ground next to him and left them where they lay, continuing his unfocused gaze toward the wall.

Nathan stepped over Malcolm's legs to his right side and crouched down next to his injured arm. Malcolm didn't acknowledge him, his eyes remained forward. Nathan took a moment to look Malcolm over then raised his hand in front of his prisoner's face and snapped his fingers. Malcolm's catatonic stare never faltered. Dani raised her head for the first time since Nathan had entered the room. He snapped again. No response.

"What's wrong, Malcolm?" Nathan asked in faux sincerity. "Talk to me, buddy. What's on your mind?" He paused. "Having a little trouble coming to terms with it all? I'm curious, which part is bothering you more," he leaned in closer to Malcolm's face, "the fact that you raped your partner or the fact that part of you actually enjoyed it?"

Without warning, Malcolm lunged at Nathan. The force and sheer surprise of the blow knocked him flat on his back. Fury filled Malcolm as he put every ounce of hatred he had for himself and for Nathan into the first punch he threw. But his arm came to a violent halt four inches away from Nathan's face. The chains groaned with the force he had put behind the swing, and his wrist, clasped in the manacle, paid the price for it. Nathan lay there beneath Malcolm, fully prepared to take the hit. Then opened his eyes in shock when it never connected. A diabolical smile stretched across his face. He quickly pulled the switchblade from his pocket and under Malcolm's chained arms, held it to his chest.

Malcolm looked down at the threat.

"AaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" he bellowed in frustration at his missed opportunity. His misery at the horror he had inflicted on Dani, everything, came out in one gut-wrenching sound. He let his fist drop. He picked himself up off of Nathan, walked back to the wall, turned, and slid down it until he flopped onto the cold ground, his head in his hands.

Nathan got up and dramatically dusted himself off, "Now that was exciting!" He turned to Dani and gestured emphatically, "Wasn't that exciting? Wow!" He returned the knife to his pocket, ran his hands through his hair smoothing it back into place, and looked around the room. "You almost had me there, Malcolm," he snickered. "Seriously, though. Whew. Close one." He headed toward the door, "Eat your food. Clean up those wounds. Get some rest. I'll be back for more excitement soon." The familiar sound of the latches echoed throughout the room.

Malcolm sat there, his head in his hands, lamenting what was likely his only opportunity to free Dani from this torment. Whether or not he escaped was irrelevant at this point. His only priority was to get her out. In a sea of impossibility, fate had thrown him a life preserver. And he'd dropped it.

Damn it! I had him. Malcolm groaned as he lowered his head into the crooks of his arms and fisted his hair in his hands. I fucking had him! He squeezed his head in his arms, the pressure painfully reminding him of his jerked his head back, glaring at his bandage.

"You should probably re dress that," Dani's timid voice suggested from across the room.

Malcolm's head whipped in her direction. His whole body tensed at the sound of her voice. She was looking directly at him. Their eyes met and he recoiled, as though he'd been struck. He instantly looked away in shame, unable to bear her gaze. She didn't comment any further as she reached for her food.

Reluctantly, he decided to follow Dani's suggestion. He untucked the end of the gauze near his wrist and began to slowly unwind it. He winced as it peeled stickily off his wounds. As the cloth reached the end of his forearm, it fell away, revealing Dani's name. In the midst of all that had happened, Malcolm had forgotten about her signature. A fresh surge of guilt washed over him at the sight. Without thinking, he ran his fingers across her name tenderly. As though the caress might soothe the inevitable ache in her soul. He applied the ointment gingerly and wrapped the new gauze in place.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at the bare-stud ceiling. His food and water lay untouched a foot from him.

"Malcolm?" again Dani's voice floated across the room.

He closed his eyes and didn't respond. He was unworthy of conversation with her.

"Please."

"Please, Malcolm... Not him." Dani's desperate plea echoed in his mind.

"I can't get through this alone, Malcolm. Please."

His eyes remained closed. He knew talking to her would add more weight to the ever-growing force crushing his chest, but how could he refuse her anything after what he'd done?

"How can you stand to even look at me, Dani?" he asked.

She was silent.

"How does my name on your lips not make you violently ill?"

"Look at me," she requested. When he didn't comply, Dani's voice grew stronger, more firm "Look at me."

Malcolm began picking nervously at his fingertips. His hands were shaking so badly he wouldn't have been able to hold a pen. His heavy head tilted just a fraction in her direction, letting his eyes move the rest of the distance necessary to see her. As their eyes met, Malcolm inhaled sharply, the agony of his actions engulfed him anew. A few minutes passed while they sat there, the contact never breaking, wordlessly looking at each other. Malcolm felt the familiar sting behind his eyes and tears silently fell down his cheeks while he continued looking at her. Her stare was unwavering, the silence overwhelming. He couldn't take it any longer.

Malcolm took a trembling breath, "I'm sorry, Dani." He lowered his head in contrition. If ever there was a sentence that was criminally inadequate, this was surely it. The tears flooded his lap as he continued, "I'm so sorry." Malcolm repeated the phrase several times like a mantra. He would never ask for her forgiveness, but he would spend the rest of his life attempting to atone for his sin.

Once more he apologized, as he sat, tapping the back of his head against the wall.

Dani wiped her own tears away while she responded softly, "I know."

Silence permeated the room yet again.

Dani stood, walked the short distance forward that her chains would allow, and sat on her knees. "Malcolm, this is on him. He did this."

"Don't, Dani," Malcolm begged, "please don't try and make this easier for me. I don't deserve your compassion. I deserve your resentment. Give me that at least."

"I don't resent you."

"Why not?!" he brought himself to his knees exasperated, "After what I did to you? Dani I-"

"Stop it, Malcolm."

"I ra-" he choked on the word; it doubled him over. Malcolm wiped the unending tears that were flowing down his cheek. He forced himself to look her square in the eyes as, on his knees, he confessed his transgression, "I violated you in the most abhorrent way possible." Malcolm lifted his head toward the ceiling as though he was looking for persecution from the heavens. His volume steadily rose with each admission, "And some monstrous part of me actually got gratification from it, Dani! I was doing that to you, and was still able to…" He bit his lip to keep from hysterically sobbing. "And then I looked down and there you were… crying. Because of what I'd done to you!" Malcolm's head fell in shame.

"I begged you, Malcolm. I needed it to be you, to keep it from being him!"

"That doesn't make it OKAY, DANI!"

"I KNOW THAT!" she yelled. "I KNOW THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT OKAY, MALCOLM. NONE OF THIS IS 'OKAY'. IT'S NOT OKAY THAT WE'RE CHAINED TO THE FLOOR IN THE BASEMENT OF A SADISTIC KILLER. IT'S NOT OK THAT I BURNED MY NAME INTO YOUR ARM WITH A SOLDERING IRON. IT'S NOT OK THAT THAT BASTARD MADE ME CHOSE WHO WHO WAS GOING TO -" she too couldn't bring herself to say the word aloud.

Dani paused, visibly choosing her next words wisely. "I'm not trying to make you feel better. But I'm not trying to make you feel worse than I know you already do. To be honest I'm not trying to feel anything right now. This whole situation," her arms opened in a wide motion, "is for us and a therapist to figure out some other day." Malcolm looked up at her questioningly. "I'm not denying what happened, Malcolm. I know it did. We just can't afford to have the breakdown it deserves. Not right now. We need each other to get through this. We can't do it alone. First, we survive. We get out of here. Then we deal with these demons." She looked him in the eye and pleaded for his agreement, "Okay?"

Malcolm was in awe. She was, by far, the most courageous person he had ever met. If Dani could find that level of strength despite everything that had happened, then so would he. For her.

He nodded slightly, "Okay."

Gil stirred the emptied sugar packet into his coffee as he watched Jessica exit the office. She was terrified for her son, she was helpless, and he understood her frustration more than she would ever know. It had been almost three days since they lost contact with their teammates. While they were exhausting every possible lead, it felt like they were getting absolutely nowhere. They'd traced and retraced their steps the night of the attempted sting, checked dozens of security cameras, and interviewed almost a hundred people who came forward as being at the club that evening. Some remembered seeing Dani and Bright throughout the night, others didn't. A few guys admitted they had attempted to hit on Dani to no avail. One woman claimed to have given Malcolm her number on a napkin complete with a lipstick kiss. Gil would have paid a large sum of money to see that exchange.

Despite little to no sleep, snacking on small bits of food as they went from place to place, and an ungodly amount of caffeine pumping through their systems, progress was hard to come by.

Until JT burst through the conference room door, "We've got a witness that called the tip line. Says she lives behind the club and heard screaming about three days ago. Claims she saw a man hit a woman in the alley and push her up into his truck. Then drove off. Gave us a partial plate. We're running it along with the description as we speak."

"That's great news." Gil responded feeling slightly rejuvenated.

"Hopefully this is our break, boss." JT replied as he left the room and returned to the bullpen.

Gil silently prayed his detective was right.