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“He needs to work, Gil,” her voice was quiet but persistent as she stood across his desk, facing him. The determined look on her face was slightly compromised by her right foot tapping the floor, a hint of her nervousness.
The Lieutenant sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to say, kid. You know just as much as I do that he can’t be on the field with us. For several reasons and you know damn well all of them.” His tone was sharp, but Dani knew it wasn’t directed at her, it was merely a mixture of his frustration and anger over his own helplessness. She knew that mixture well herself.
She couldn’t argue with him. Ever since the trial had started, and the Whitlys have once again become the talk of the town, it became increasingly impossible to work on a case on site with Bright there. Even though he had legally been cleared of charges, he’d still been drawing too much attention to himself and to the case at hand, threatening to compromise it. Gil had no other choice than to pull him back from cases. No matter how much it pained him to deprive his son of the one thing he felt useful for, the one thing that held him together, he couldn’t risk jeopardizing their investigations. Bright had to be pulled off. For the time being, at least. Until things…died down and the press found something else to sink their bloodthirsty teeth into.
Unfortunately, the Whitly trial was just too damn sexy to not be milked thoroughly by the press. The daughter of The Surgeon murdering the town’s fallen king and covering it all up with the help of the son, the profiler who catches murderers for a living?
Even Dani had to admit that the facts itself were spectacular enough that any additional hype was practically unnecessary. Not that there wasn’t any, of course.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. There had to be a way. There were only so many cups of tea, packs of Twizzlers, midnight calls about cold cases, bad jokes and occasional stilling of the hand tremors by a light touch that she could offer to keep him glued together. She was getting at her wits’ end soon.
“Let me at least bring him up to speed. He doesn’t have to be with us on site, he can do…remote work.” her voice trailed off, knowing that it wasn’t exactly a win-win idea, but anything better than lose-lose would suffice for now, she decided.
“Besides, you know we need him.” In more ways than one, floating silently in the air between them.
Gil eyed her skeptically, eventually shaking his head with a sigh. “Okay. If you think that’ll help the case and… him, go ahead.”
Dani nodded and turned around, biting her lip to prevent it from curling upwards.
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She was always impressed and slightly intimidated by the transformational power his mind had over him. One moment, he is being pushed down an elevator shaft, falling three stories and getting knocked out, then twenty minutes later emerges half-dead and having the case solved.
One moment, he is sitting on his couch, fragile, lifeless, hollow; the next he is alive, animated, fueled by their current case’s peculiarities, pacing up and down in his apartment with a level of energy that JT and Dani could only match after at least three espresso double shots.
It was well past 11 pm, which meant they’d been working for at least six hours straight from Bright’s loft, only taking short coffee breaks and an even shorter dinner break. But, they were finally making progress with the case. The soft buzz of JT’s phone was a welcome distraction as they were now all feeling fatigue creeping up their veins. JT tapped his phone and glanced at the text, then let out a resignated sigh.
“Well, that’s my cue. Gotta go home, Tally’s been patient enough.”
Dani nudged him with a smirk, “You covering the night shift?”
“Yep. And I’m not sure it’s gonna end in the morning,” he added gravely. Dani winced in sympathy. With Junior’s teething, JT’s nights were equally intense as his days at the precinct. But to his credit, he wasn’t complaining. She didn’t know how the hell he was still being able to function on so little sleep, but then again, he wasn’t the first man in her life whose irregular sleeping habits left her wondering. At least she knew that JT’s insomnia was only temporary. Her eyes wandered to Bright, sitting next to her on the couch, absentmindedly tapping his pen on the notepad, his thoughts still lost in the case, his brows creased.
“Hey man, I almost forgot,” JT cleared his throat as he was standing up, “congrats on being cleared. That must be one helluva giant rock falling off your chest now, huh?”
Bright looked up at him surprised, but quickly smoothed his expression into a polite smile.
“Yeah. Thanks.” He wanted to offer him more, to say more, to show him that he appreciated the gesture. Even after learning that he had lied to them for so long, JT still didn’t turn his back on him. Bright really wanted to agree with him and tell him how utterly relieved he felt that he was officially cleared off the Endicott case – his mother’s money and his mother’s lawyers bought by that money worked their magic again. But truth was, his own fate in this trial was the least of his concerns.
So all he could offer JT was a polite smile and a semi-enthusiastic nod. “It’s great, yes.”
“It’ll die down soon. You’ll be out in the field in no time,” JT patted his back then turned towards the door, “and in the meantime, we’ll do it the home office way.”
Bright chuckled softly as he stood up, walking him to the door, “Yeah, well, I guess it’s better than no work at all.”
JT pointed to Dani, “you gotta thank her for pulling you back into business. It was her idea and she was the one convincing the boss.”
Bright nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips, his suspicions now confirmed. “I will.”
He closed the door behind JT and turned, his eyes finding her as she was hovering over their notes, collecting hers in one pile.
“You want some more tea?” Bright strode back to the couch, watching her gathering her things, hoping for some more time in her company.
No, I gotta head home, it’s been a long day.
“Sure,” it slipped out of her, catching her – and him – by surprise. She really planned to go home, it really was late. But as she watched him reassuring JT how fine he was, she could practically feel the weight descending on him, crushing him. And it wasn’t letting her leave his apartment, pulling her back like a magnet.
Her eyes followed him to the kitchen, her mind wandering off.
It’s been exactly three weeks since the trial had begun and while the media offered a surprisingly favorable narrative for them for once, it was still an amount of attention that was suffocating. Truth was, the death of Nicholas Endicott served more than just the Whitly’s. Many of his former adversaries, business partners, prominent figures and authorities in law enforcement and media that had been basically in his pockets were eager to cut any and all ties to the deceased and were keen on spinning the press against him, washing their own hands clean. And that’s how Ainsley Whitly, the young, brilliant journalist who discovered Endicott’s darkest secrets had finally snapped, mentally crushed by her serial killer father’s bloody legacy. Her brother, the equally brilliant profiler, the one who got the Surgeon arrested, the one who dedicated his life to catch killers, did everything to protect his family, his mentally fragile sister and his prominent mother.
Yes, without a doubt, the general opinion of the public was very much in their favor, painting Endicott as the bad guy, Ainsley as mentally unstable and Bright as the protector and hero who didn’t have any other choice.
But that still didn’t stop the press to run Ainsley’s former reports with an analysis provided by a celebrity psychologist, pointing out all the signs that were there, hinting at her eventual psychotic break.
That still didn’t stop the press from pulling out the Surgeon’s story from over twenty years ago, running the same footage of Martin Whitly in handcuffs and his two children, scared and half-hidden behind their mother, over and over again.
And it certainly didn’t stop Bright from reliving his past over and over again, blaming himself, suffocating himself with the images he so desperately wanted to bury.
Dani knew she couldn’t fight these demons for him; all she could do is keep them at bay, pushed in the background, at least for some moments, allowing him to come up for air.
And so, as she accepted the steaming mug he offered her, she turned his attention back to their case at hand, asking him questions, challenging his profile, making him use his brain so that it wasn’t being overwhelmed by unwelcome thoughts.
But after an additional hour spent hunched over their files, she felt fatigue creeping back up her bones and she put down her empty mug on the table, closing her eyes for a second, then forcing them open again, only to find Bright’s eyes on her, his expression soft.
“You’re tired. I’m keeping you from sleep.” Thank you.
“Yes I am and no you’re not. This case is.” She stifled a yawn as she stretched her arms, cracking a few bones in the motion.
Bright hesitated as he watched her slowly collecting her things for the second time. He wished she would stay, sharing his empty space with him; he wished he would wake up again in the night and turn over and see her curled up, and then wake up and realize that she was still there, and she wasn’t running away.
He wished she would stay and he wished he knew how to ask her, without feeling like a burden to her. But he didn’t know how. So he watched wordlessly as she stuffed her notes and laptop into her bag and slipped into her jacket and he walked her to the door.
“Thank you, for…tonight.”
His eyes found hers for a moment. And for a moment, she hesitated. She was tired. It was late. Maybe she could...
Suddenly, images of his reassuring smiles, his I’m fine’s, his it’s nothing’s, his wouldn’t wanna bore you with it’s flashed in her mind that made her chest tighten and made her feel like the brick she was just tearing down found its way back into her wall.
And then, there were the images her mind conjured all on its own. Him, bending over Endicott’s lifeless body. Him, holding a…saw and- -
She could barely avoid visibly flinching and slightly stepped back. Though he couldn’t put his finger on what it had caused, Bright sensed the shift.
“Goodnight Dani,” he said quietly, “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Goodnight Bright.”
It was barely a beat, a second of hesitation, but he picked up on it nevertheless and as he closed the door behind her, he felt that weight pulling him down again.
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Dani threw her pen on the antique coffee table and let out a frustrated sigh.
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
Bright watched the pen slowly roll down the table and land on the ground with a soft clunk, as if it tried to make as little noise as possible, sensing its owner’s tension. His eyes followed her as she got up and paced in front of the large window.
“What doesn’t? The snowstorm no one predicted or our arsonist guy?” JT quipped and Bright rolled his eyes at the screen. JT’s amused expression froze for a second, a sign of their increasingly unstable connection.
“Both. Neither,” she scoffed as she watched the bulky snowflakes pouring down, covering the whole city in a thick white blanket. What a shitty, impossible weather. And a shitty, impossible case. And a shitty, shitty day. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Any progress they had made yesterday on their arsonist case was practically nullified by today’s developments.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she repeated, her hand running through her curls as she whirled around, facing the monitor on the table. “These crimes should be escalating. Whoever our guy is, he should feel more empowered, more bold. At least that’s what the profile says, right?” the tension simmered in her tone and it almost had an accusatory edge to it as her eyes slid to Bright, even though she knew it was ridiculous and this made her even more annoyed with herself. Bright wasn’t to blame. They all were. Tapping in the dark like that.
Bright nodded, carefully choosing his words as he sensed her tension, not that he knew the reason for it. “True, after lighting up a church and a school, an empty diner does seem like a…step back.” Truth was, they weren’t even sure whether the recent incident was tied to the previous two, given the fact that there were no casualties this time. But the MO checked out and Bright had a gut feeling.
“It has to do with the motive. I still think our unsub doesn’t personalize his potential victims, especially since there weren’t any in the last incident. It has more to do with the buildings themselves. There’s gotta be a link between them and that link is our guy.“
“Great, so now we only need to figure out how to narrow down the suspect pool,” JT’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. Bright chuckled, but his eyes were on her, trying to decipher her posture, her faraway look as she returned her gaze to the window.
She could feel his questioning glance but she deliberately avoided looking back at him. She was entitled to her darkness, too. This wasn’t Bright’s prerogative.
She cleared her throat, glancing at the monitor.
“I think I’m gonna call it a night. I should go before we get snowed in,” she added, her gaze flickering to the window again. Judging by the sight, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought.
JT nodded. “Yeah, gotta go too. Talk to you later.”
They waved goodbye and Bright slowly shut down the monitor. His eyes followed Dani as she collected her things. There was something else bothering her besides their case; a strange, inexplicable sadness radiated through her moves and somehow found its way to his chest. He wanted to ask her what was bothering her, he wanted to offer her comfort. But he sensed a line, one that she had drawn a while ago now and while he sometimes felt it was so thin they could dance around it, now he didn’t know how to cross it.
Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“So…talk to you later.” She zipped up her jacket that looked far too thin to be warm enough – to be fair, no one expected the sky and the temperatures to fall down that evening. He wanted to ask him whether she’d like to borrow his scarf, or whether she’d like a cup of hot tea, or whether he could take away her sadness, but she was already out, shutting the door behind her quietly but firmly.
He sighed and walked to the kitchen counter, grabbing a tumbler glass and went over to his liquor cabinet, his fingers gliding on the smooth, curvy glass of the single malt. He poured himself a drink and went back to his files, grateful that he had an arsonist with a tricky profile to occupy his brain, to prevent his thoughts wandering to his sister who was now on the verge of being sentenced to Bellevue on accounts of temporary insanity and for all he knew, she could be already signing lucrative book deals, to kill her time while being put away. Yes, those lawyers of his mother’s worked their magic.
He rubbed his face and quickly gulped down the liquor. He grabbed the crime scene photos and laid them out on the coffee table, looking for something…anything he could have been missing. His focus was promptly shattered when he heard a knock on his door. He quickly got up opened it.
She was standing there, visibly shivering, her lips practically turned blue.
“My car didn’t start,” her teeth were chattering, and he quickly motioned her inside. She unzipped her jacket and shook the snowflakes from her hair. “I tried everything but I guess my battery is dead, so I-I called an Uber but they’re out of service due to the storm, so I…” she trailed off, looking at him nervously, sheepishly. Uncomfortably.
Bright nodded, grabbing the cashmere blanket from the sofa and offering it to her. She swiftly took it and wrapped it around herself, still shivering. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to call an uber. That she didn’t have to exhaust every last possibility to get home before she would turn to him. That she didn’t need any reason at all to come back and stay. He cleared his throat.
“Tea?”
Dani nodded, her eyes gliding over the crime scene photos as she was pulling the cashmere tighter around her frame. On his way to the kitchen, he turned up the thermostat by a couple of degrees.
They drank the tea while discussing the connections between the three incendiaries, but he sensed that her mind was elsewhere.
“Dani, are you- -“ his hesitant voice was cut off by hers quietly but firmly.
“Actually, if you don’t mind…could we call it a night? I’m dead beat.” she glanced at him, her fingers twisting her rings in swift motions.
“Sure. Sorry. I have no sense of these things,” he smiled softly and he saw the corner of her lips tilt upwards.
He got up to bring her an extra set of bedding, along with a Quantico T-shirt and a pair of shrunken jogging shorts he thankfully found in his drawer.
As she helped him tuck in the corners of the bedsheet on the couch, his thoughts wandered back to that night when her fingers, curled around his, lulled him back to sleep. He deemed it unnecessary to ask where she would want to sleep tonight. He was a way better profiler than that.
She curled up under the cover, her chest painfully tight, her mind constantly drifting miles and years away to a very different life and then back to his bed, to that night, when she saw his peaceful features as he was finally fast asleep, her fingers stroking his temple. As he switched the last light off and she heard the soft clicks of his restraints, she closed her eyes.
xxxxxxx
At first, he couldn’t make out the sound, the unfamiliarity of it confusing him in his half-asleep state. But as he heard it again, this time louder, more desperate, his mind immediately cleared up and he was wide awake, sitting up, his head turning to the couch. Her incoherent whispers now transformed into quiet whimpers and sobs and Bright quickly undid his restraints and crossed the room in swift strides.
She was tossing and turning; he knelt beside her and touched her arm as he saw her distressed features, her lips trembling. “You promised…you promised…”
He gently touched her face, trying to wake her up from her nightmare, but her body was still tense, living the nightmare and she kept tossing her head.
“She’s not okay…you promised.”
Bright cupped her face with both hands, trying to still her. “Wake up Dani, it’s okay. Wake up,” his low, firm voice eventually got through to her and her eyes sprang open, darting around the unfamiliar surroundings, finally settling on his crystal blue eyes. He let go of her and wanted to sit down on the floor, to grant her some space as she was gradually regaining consciousness, but she sat up and grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight embrace, still shaking. His arms immediately encircled her, the palm of his hands gently stroking her back. He felt her ragged breaths in the hollow of his neck and held her tighter, wishing he had had the courage to ask her what was wrong a couple of hours earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to suffer from a nightmare now if he had done so. But he didn’t and now she was shaking and trying to keep the demons at bay.
He didn’t realize he was gently rocking her back and forth until he heard her steady breathing and her heartbeat slowing down, her head now resting under his chin, her warm breath tickling his skin. She fell back to sleep again. He slowly leaned her back.
He remained there, sitting next to her on the couch in case she had another nightmare, determined to stay awake for her, it being one of his strong suits anyway. He occasionally glanced at her peaceful features, wondering whether she would have chosen his bed instead of the couch if only he had more of those strong suits.
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She squinted as she opened her eyes, adjusting to the light and the unusual sight that greeted her. Bright’s coffee table. Bright’s loft.
She felt something warm and soft on her shin. She glanced down at her legs that somehow ended up stretched out across his lap, his hands resting on her bare shin, his fingertips leaving a warm imprint on her skin. She swallowed as her gaze wandered to his face. His head was resting on the couch headboard that was way too low to serve as a comfortable support. His eyes were closed and for a moment, she allowed herself to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. She closed her eyes back again and only felt the warmth of his fingertips on her and it filled her with a sense of…. belonging. She remembered his hands on her arms, her face, his all-encompassing embrace as he calmed her down from her nightmare.
Her nightmare…suddenly, she felt like his fingers were burning her skin and he was too close, she had let him too close and she will only get burned even deeper.
She slowly, carefully retrieved her legs from his lap, trying not to wake him up in the middle of this awkward retreat. She managed to shift and sit up without stirring him, and quietly slipped in his bathroom.
When she emerged fully clad and somewhat composed later, he was already at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee in two mugs.
“Sorry to wake you,” she cleared her throat and accepted the mug he had offered. Bright shook his head dismissively but winced at the motion, touching the back of his sore neck.
“And sorry for…disturbing your sleep,” she murmured sheepishly, tucking one curl behind her ears.
“I literally jumped out the window once, so this still qualifies as a fairly relaxing night.”
She snickered, nodding. She blew on the hot liquid and felt his hesitating glance on her and it made her nervous.
“Sorry about your…nightmare. Anything you wanna talk about?”
There was something about his soft voice, the quiet question that pulled on her heartstrings, that made her feel like she was again standing on the edge of a cliff and she was asked to jump, but there was no safety cord. His eyes and his voice and him, were asking her to let him in, to expose another piece of her and she just couldn’t; she had to protect herself because every time she was able to climb over her own wall, she hurdled into his wall of I’m fine’s and it’s okay’s and polite smiles and with each polite smile and each dismissal, she got burnt a little more.
“I wouldn’t wanna bore you with it.”
The words slipped out of her quietly, almost unintentionally, but as she caught his eyes, she could tell it hit him just where it hurt.
He watched the line in the sand between them deepen and quietly accepted it.
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That night, when she came back to resume working on the case, she realized that things could actually return to normal. Her kind of normal. Bright didn’t make any hints or comments to the previous incident, he didn’t act hurt, he wasn’t distant, perhaps just the tiniest bit…aloof. But he was friendly, argumentative, challenging JT’s and her own theories. He didn’t try to catch her gaze. He didn’t bore his eyes into hers, searching for answers, exploring her soul. He didn’t try to climb her walls anymore, having seemingly accepted them at last.
And Dani realized that her kind of normal was quietly suffocating her. It has been doing so ever since her father had died. It has been doing so every time she decided not to jump.
It was time to jump.
“I went down to the morgue yesterday to consult with Edrisa and I came across the death report of Shailene Hayley,” she began, her eyes nervously flickering to Bright who was studying the crowd photos taken at the recent crime scene. At her voice, he glanced up, almost startled, then quietly put down the photo, his eyes following her as she slowly, hesitatingly sat down next to him on the couch.
“Shailene was one of the girls I knew back from undercover,” she continued, her eyes cast down, “she was one of the new… recruits in Desir’s crew. There were seven or eight new additions, hostess girls each, still very young and very green. I’d been there for a while when they arrived but Desir was still testing me I guess and he ordered me to…loosen them up a bit.” she bit down on her lower lip, trying to find the right words, “most of these girls, they were barely eighteen. They thought they’d make some good money, have some fun. Most of them hadn’t even tried pot before,” she ran her fingers through her curls, still unable to make eye contact with Bright. He was just sitting still, listening to her intently.
“I only gave them clean stuff to minimize the damage. Estimé helped me, I told him I don’t want to mess these girls up with some mixed shit any more than necessary and so he got me the quality stuff. But, of course, they still got hooked. I got them hooked. I asked my case officer to make sure these girls would be extricated once my op was over. He guaranteed,” she cleared her throat, her words were now barely audible, “I was guaranteed the girls would be pulled out. That they would be saved.” she paused and finally her eyes found Bright’s. “But, that never happened. Once I was out and I demanded their extraction from Desir’s crew, I was told that ‘rescuing these girls would provide a greater threat to future possible infiltration jobs’.” She swallowed hard as her eyes slid past him and found a spot behind him she could stare at.
“I was furious. I couldn’t go back to Estimé to ask him for help and my unit had let me down. These girls…I’ve let them down, I…” her voice trailed off again and she needed a moment. “Anyway. That’s when Gil approached me and that’s when I decided to join Major Crimes and leave behind Narcotics. I couldn’t trust them anymore. And yesterday…when I recognized Shailene’s name on that certificate and saw the cause of death…I knew that it was me who gave her the first…” she went silent as her throat closed up.
“It’s not your fault. And I know you tried everything in your power to save them, even though it wasn’t your responsibility. And I know you know, and I also know that sometimes, you need to hear it to maybe believe it.” his quiet voice reached her heartstrings again. She nodded.
“Do you believe me when I’m telling you this?”
He smiled gently. “I try to.”
That night, she stayed. It wasn’t discussed or contemplated or hesitated upon; he didn’t have to ask her to stay and she didn’t feel the need to leave. When they grew tired, they stretched their legs out on Bright’s bed, quietly continuing their discussion. When they both started to feel sleepy, she merely slid down and curled up next to him.
He didn’t have to ask her to stay and she didn’t feel the need to leave.
The days turned into weeks and their case still remained unsolved, though their profile was slowly but surely coming together. That week when Ainsley’s sentencing became final and she was transferred to Bellevue, Bright stayed with Jessica in the mansion. When he finally went back to his apartment, Dani showed up with three packs of Twizzlers, a new blend of Earl Grey and developments on their case. She stayed that night too and listened to Bright’s quiet breathing. She knew he wasn’t sleeping and that he wouldn’t. Her fingers occasionally found his and he occasionally squeezed them, silently thanking her.
He knew she wasn’t sleeping and that she wouldn’t, either.
She stayed that night and occasionally on other nights, too. It was never planned or discussed or agreed upon. It just happened, just like the opposite, when they needed – or simply, wanted – to be alone.
He got used to feel her weight next to him, to have her scent slowly settling on his bedsheets, reaching his senses, her occasional touch reassuring her presence and calming him. Weirdly enough, he was the one who fell asleep first; but lately, he found it increasingly difficult. He became very much aware of her close proximity and while his attraction to her was always there, it was also just shimmering, forcefully muted in the background, because he knew how far out of reach the idea of her closeness – as conjured by his subconscious –was.
But lately, as she became physically within reach during these nights, her scent that settled on his bedsheets also settled in his chest and clouded his brain. When he felt the warmth of her body, though never really touching his, it flamed up his core. When her fingers brushed his, he felt her touch everywhere and he wanted to feel her everywhere.
He wondered how long their platonic sleeping arrangement could last as he felt himself slowly crack and crumble under her magnetic pull.
However, losing her was not an option anymore.
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It happened two and a half weeks later.
He was finally back on the field, at last, as the media, having had a tight grip on the Whitly story for weeks on end, finally moved on to a similarly attractive, high-profile corruption scandal. The Whitly trial had come to a conclusion and now that the press moved on, all that was left for them was to pick up the pieces, and trying to move on too, somehow.
Gil had finally let him out of the doghouse; he could rejoin the team on the field. Yes, things were somehow getting back to normal. Or, at least a new kind of normal.
And finally, after weeks of never ending all-nighters and numerous dead-ends, they have built a solid profile on their arsonist despite his ever-changing MO; based on the witness accounts, they were able to come up with a vague possible sketch and all of this had finally led them to a concrete suspect and a concrete location. Well, at least to the suspect’s mother, who recognized his son based on the description released at the news conference and was willing to provide info on his son’s whereabouts and his possible next target.
White Plains, Westchester. Nomen est omen.
He cursed himself for not bringing his sunglasses as he stepped out the NYPD vehicle and glanced around, squinting. The city, and specifically this neighborhood was a real America Winter Wonderland, covered in a thick, dazzling white blanket of snow. Bright turned the corner and caught sight of the weathered two-story house a couple of blocks away. He glanced at his watch. Dani should be soon finishing up with the initial questioning. They decided the best course of action would be for Dani to go in first, as it was Bright’s first on-site appearance since the press turmoil and they weren’t sure how much of a distraction he would prove to be. They couldn’t risk the case to be thrown off course again, because regardless how accurate their profile might have been, they still could only narrow down the suspect’s next target to two possibilities, his last two employments, and time was not on their side. They needed to talk to the mother, and they needed to talk to her fast to figure out which building needed to be alarmed and secured.
Turned out, Bright was right, after all; once they had the perpetrator’s signature, the one critical clue, they were good to go. His MO was changing with nearly all targets, but it was the targets themselves that were his signature - each building he had set fire to was connected to him. His former school, the church he went to as a kid, the diner his mother worked at and two local shops from his old neighborhood he used to work at. As most arsonist perpetrators do, he blamed society for all his failures and such, he took out his revenge on institutions from his past. Bright was right, after all. He depersonalized the victims, but the buildings were very much personal and all tied to him, all symbolizing his failures.
Bright squinted again. The dazzling sunlight was reflected back by the crisp whiteness of the snow and his eyes hurt. He really shouldn’t have forgotten those sun- -
The earsplitting sound of an explosion, along with the force of the blast wave sent his body flying, then knocking him to the ground.
For a moment, the world went silent and the only sound he heard was the shrill ringing in his ears. And then, it was just deafening silence. He scrambled to his feet, barely acknowledging the cuts on his arm and forehead. He looked in the direction of the two-story house.
There was no more house. Only a black cloud of flames and debris.
Dani.
As if trying to protect him, his mind refused to make the deduction. As if acknowledging what had happened would be equal to acknowledging that his heart stopped beating. That he was shutting down.
Dani.
He felt dizzy as he took a couple of unstable steps closer to the house. The explosion site. The changing MO. The signature.
Dani.
He stopped walking, he couldn’t take a step further. He should’ve known. All the buildings, symbolizing his failures. His mother. The changing MO. The signa- -
“Bright? You okay? What the hell happened?”
He turned around and saw her, at the corner of the street, walking, then jogging towards him. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating because he felt his pulse again. He started walking in her direction with unsteady steps.
She was now getting closer, her dark curls flying around her, a dazzling contrast to the blinding white snow.
“You weren’t in the house” His voice came from far away, his eyes were fixed on her.
She was now a couple of feet away.
“No, my car broke down again a couple of blocks further down and I tried to kick it in but then I realized I’m gonna be la- -“
Her last word was caught by his soft lips, landing on hers. Her eyes grew wide and fluttered shut, her hand covering his as it held her cheeks, a seal of warmth, shielding her skin from the crisp cold. She felt lightheaded; one moment, she was heading towards the house and the next moment, there was no more house, only Bright’s lips, and his arms and his warmth, only Bright.
The sound of sirens, gradually approaching finally made him break the kiss.
“You weren’t in the house,” he repeated quietly, out of breath, his eyes still fixed on her, his hands still on her cheeks. Dani searched his gaze.
“No.”
Her phone in her pocket started buzzing and he stepped away, regaining composure. He blinked at the explosion site where up until six minutes ago a house stood.
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They made one mistake. They never connected the mother, the family home to his signature, a symbolic or very real location of his failures. They should’ve known. He should’ve known. He should’ve guessed by his evolving MO that explosives were a plausible progression for him and that residential homes couldn’t be ruled out.
He sighed, turning around in his bed, the chains of his restraints softly rattling by his movement. He knew that if and when sleep would finally come, it wouldn’t be gentle to him. At least, he could make a fairly educated guess on tonight’s nightmare topic.
Dani.
She wasn’t in the house.
He closed his eyes forcefully. She wasn’t in the house. She was alive.
After the explosion, they drifted from each other, as things were speeding up and demanding their attention; they had an arsonist killer on the loose.
He tried not to think about the moment he saw the house blowing up in front of his eyes, or when realization hit him that she was in the house, or the taste of her warm lips after he realized that she wasn’t in the house. He also tried not to think about a certain line drawn in the sand.
He heard the faint sound of the key shuffle and he turned his head towards the door. His pulse quickened. She became more efficient with the emergency key, although she rarely had to use it. He watched her stepping in, quietly closing the door behind her. Dani stepped out of her boots and shed her jacket, putting it on the back of the couch as she approached the bed. He watched her as she climbed next to him and felt the mattress shift. It was dark but he could see her eyes, searching his face. He swallowed, feeling his throat dry. He didn’t know what would happen. Or where the line was.
“You kissed me.” she said almost matter-of-factly as she watched him, propped on her elbow, her body facing his, but still keeping her distance. For long seconds, he just watched her and listened to the loud beating of his pulse in his eardrums.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
He couldn’t offer more than the truth. He really hadn’t been thinking. He had acted on instinct. Because ‘relief’ wasn’t exactly covering his feelings when he saw her, being alive. He watched her, trying to read her, but it was too dark, her eyes were too dark to decipher her. Though she was almost at arm’s length distance, he could still feel the warmth of her body and it was burning him. He didn’t dare to move, so he just watched her.
The mattress shifted again and she sat up and for a moment, Bright thought she would leave, but then he felt her cool fingertips grazing his wrist as she unclicked one of his restraints. She carefully pushed it away and leaned over him to his other hand and did the same, and her curls fell forward and brushed his chest and Bright’s heart was beating more rapidly by the second. He reached up and tucked back a loose curl behind her ear with his now restraint-free hand and touched her face. She caught his hand as he was slowly retrieving it and lifted it and Bright watched her, mesmerized, as she raised his hand to her lips and placed a feathery kiss to his fingertips.
And then, Dani Powell leaned down and kissed him. She kissed him, like she had wanted to when he fell out the window after the landmine blew up; like she wanted to when they finally found him after Watkins; when he sat broken at the hospital, waiting for Gil’s surgery; when she laid eyes on him after emerging from the elevator shaft and those many nights when she slept next to him, feeling him close and wishing she could bury all her secrets under his skin.
As soon as Bright felt her warm breath on his lips, he rose up to get closer to her and pulled her to him with one hand, his other cupping her face to deepen the kiss, his tongue finding hers and he realized that no subconscious construct or fantasy could ever live up to the kiss and feel of the real Dani Powell.
His hands found their way under the hem of her shirt, touching her bare skin; his fingers slid up, drawing circles on her sides and as his thumb brushed the side of her breast and realization hit him that she wasn’t wearing a bra, that she came here, wanting this just as much as he did. A soft moan escaped her lips, a captivating sound to his ears and he watched her as her eyes fluttered shut and she licked her bottom lip and it hit him like lighting that he was doing this to her, and the thought alone sent him to overdrive, because he had so much more to offer her if she was willing to take him.
He pulled her into his lap and Dani started to roll up her shirt, but he stilled her hands. Their eyes met and he saw the questioning look in her eyes.
“Let me,” he breathed, and Dani understood.
He bored his gaze into hers as he slowly rolled up her shirt and pulled it over her head and only then did he break their eye contact, his gaze sliding down, sweeping over her bare skin and he swallowed hard, because he’d never been more enticed in his entire life than watching her naked body and finally be able to touch her, the way he had always wanted to. He leaned forward again and captured her lips in a deep kiss, then slowly kissed his way down, his tongue tasting every inch, his mind filing away every whimper, soft moan, hitched breath that his lips and fingers and the swirls of his tongue elicited from her.
She wanted him so much it ached her. And she was finally able to kiss and touch Malcolm Bright like she had always wanted to, needed to. She gave in completely and there was nothing more left then his touch imprinting her skin; his hot breath on her naked body; his scent, his lips, his strong arms, holding her tight while they both lost control and lost themselves completely in each other; and his beautiful, haunted, honest, questioning, piercing blue eyes, now boring into her soul.
They lay there, utterly spent and satisfied; bodies entangled, fitting together like two pieces of a broken puzzle. Neither of them felt the need to speak. His fingers were drawing lazy circles on her thigh, draped across his legs and she watched him as he closed his eyes. The line that ran between his eyebrows, that got deeper with each loss, tragedy, break – she got to fade it with her touch. The delicate crinkles around his eyes – she got to sprinkle it with her kisses. His perfectly shaped lips – she got to taste them and feel them everywhere on her body. Every particle of his face was burnt in her memory, and now his body, too. She lifted her hand from his chest and stroke his stubbled cheek, just because she finally could.
His eyes flickered open and he turned his head to her, a smile dancing on his lips as he watched her smooth features, breathtaking in her afterglow.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly, his fingers entwining hers that found their way back to his chest.
That I jumped and now I’m falling for you.
“That it was about damn time,” she replied, scrunching her nose, her lips turning up into a beaming smile.
A genuine, happy laughter bubbled up in his chest, a sound she had rarely heard and made her heart warm. He pulled her closer and kissed the tip of her nose, just because he finally could.
That night, he slept without his restraints, with her in his arms. And when he woke up, she was still there. And she stayed.
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She was still struggling sometimes to let him in. On the anniversary of her father’s death, she had usually disappeared for a day and hadn’t talked to anyone. She had usually just wandered the city alone, waiting for the day to come to an end.
When the anniversary came, she headed out on her usual path. But this time, she stopped at his apartment and asked him whether he would join him in her walk, even though it didn’t come naturally for her to ask. He joined him and he didn’t push her to talk. They didn’t.
There were still nights when he slept alone in his restraints, when his demons were reclaiming their place. But for every I’m fine uttered, there was an I’m not, buried into her skin. For every hand tremor, there was a kiss and a touch to still it. For every denial or dismissal, there was an unspoken language of truth and honesty they spoke through their touches. She knew she couldn’t fight his demons for him, but she hoped she gave him a reason to fight them.
xxxxxxx
“Gil, I know what I’m doing, trust me. I’m telling you he will cooperate.” He was pacing on the sidewalk back and forth, his eyes glancing up the window of run-down condo on Hester street.
He started to get impatient. They had him. He had him.
“And I’m telling you to stand by and wait for us.”
He sighed in frustration as he tapped his phone. They could really just record this dialogue once and then play it whenever.
He glanced up the window again, chewing his bottom lip. He knew what he was doing, he had built the goddamn profile on James Clarevoy. Bright knew the key element needed for a confession was to make their arsonist feel important. He advised for a police convoy with sirens blazing to bring Clarevoy back to the task force headquarters, to dress the interrogation location for maximum effect, as this type of attention would speak to the man’s ego and make him more likely to confess.
However, Bright didn’t want to leave anything to chance and he knew that Clarevoy’s first contact with authorities would be crucial in eliciting a confession from him. And for once, their recent family scandal could pay off – Bright was still somewhat a prominent or infamous profiler due to the recent press coverage and that would likely impress Clarevoy. For once, their family drama could actually prove to be of use. Besides, a regular arrest would make the suspect feel like he is treated as a petty criminal and that could backfire.
Bright shot one last look in either direction, the familiar rush of adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had him.
He miscalculated one thing though. When Clarevoy recognized him, Bright saw his eyes widen. He had indeed impressed him and made him feel important. However, as Bright saw the suspect’s lips curving up into a satisfied smile and pulling out a 44 Magnum, he realized he greatly underestimated something – the only thing more impressive than being chased by a prominent profiler is to take down one.
The realization hit him like the bullet did, right in his chest.
xxxxxxx
He poured himself a scotch neat, his regular celebratory drink, which he usually drank at the precinct once a case was solved and the perpetrator caught. This time, though, he was drinking alone and in his apartment, as JT had to go home to Junior and Gil was still tied up with the aftermath of Clarevoy’s interrogation. And Dani…
He took a long swig from his drink. She immediately rushed to him once the rest of the unit swarmed the place and arrested Clarevoy. She asked him with a shaky voice whether he was okay. The force of the bullet had knocked him to the ground, but other than that, he was okay. The Kevlar did its job. He was fine. He saw the trembling of her hand as she searched the ruptured fabric. He offered her a reassuring smile and a lame joke, because he didn’t want to worry her. Her eyes slid away from his as he searched her gaze, and he couldn’t find his way back to them.
And he wasn’t sure anymore whether it was anger or anguish shaking her voice.
xxxxxxx
The knock on her door didn’t take her by surprise. She almost expected it, knowing he’d probably decipher her behavior by now.
She opened the door and let him in wordlessly, looking at him, letting him search her face and reading her micro expressions. He watched her for a long time and she let him, until his eyes became too blue to look into anymore. She dipped her chin, crossing her arms over her chest. He stood close but he didn’t touch her, sensing her distance.
“I’m sorry.” his voice was soft and warm and Dani didn’t look at him.
“What for?” she asked, curious to know whether he understood.
“For scaring you.”
The uncertainty in his voice elicited a dry chuckle from her in response and she finally looked at him. And the genuine confusion she saw in his eyes made her throat close up and her heart break a little. He really didn’t get it. She swallowed, shaking her head.
“You can’t keep doing this Bright.”
He didn’t respond, just kept on watching her.
“Whenever you go in without backup, you’re risking… leaving me without one,” her voice was hoarse, “and you can’t keep doing this to me.”
She went silent and she felt her eyes sting. She didn’t want to cry. She hated to cry. But it was just too much emotion clouding her, overwhelming her. She heard the gunshot and she felt the raw horror of losing him and then she felt anger over his indifference, and she felt so little, so unimportant.
She cleared her throat again, trying to keep her emotions at bay.
“Whenever you decide your life isn’t worth that much, you decide that this”- she gestured to the space between them- “isn’t worth that much either. And if that’s the case, then…okay, it is what it is, but I can’t keep doing this then.” she chocked on her last words, cursing herself for being unable to keep up her walls and cursing him for crumbling them.
Her words stunned him and burned him and he stepped closer. Truth was, he never really made any such decision – it never occurred to him to deem himself ‘worthy’ of anything in the first place, his only worth being catching killers, which was kind of the very least he could do, he believed.
He hesitatingly lifted his hand, his fingers brushing the side of her face, to make her look at him. She did.
“This”- he squeezed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers- “is worth more to me than you know," he spoke quietly, “I’m sorry Dani. It doesn’t come naturally to me to…think my life’s worth anything. But if it is to you, then I will do better. I promise.”
From anyone else, these words would ring falsely modest, its sole purpose being to extort pity. And Dani almost wished it were the case and not the fact that what he said he simply believed to be true, because this truth clenched her chest and scared her, not knowing if she’d ever be able to make him really understand.
He still had his coat on, like he didn’t know whether he could stay, when all she wanted was him to never leave again. She entangled her fingers from his and slowly slid his coat down his arms. She unbuttoned his shirt and let the crisp white fabric fall. She closed the remaining distance and kissed him softly, her hands caressing his neck and his arms encircled her waist, his fingers searching for her skin. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her deeply and she kissed the side of his face, her fingers stroking his nape. They stood like that for a while, entangled in their embrace, and then, she stepped back, reaching for his hand and walked him back to the bedroom.
She might never be able to say the things she wanted to say, but with every kiss and every touch and every stroke, she tried to make him understand.
“Promise me you won’t die, Malcolm.” Her quiet words vibrated in his chest as they laid entangled, their body heat still shielding them from the cold. He looked at her and he saw the scared sixteen-year-old girl who lost his father and he saw the headstrong, captivating, beautiful woman who was forced to become his partner and then chose to be his over and over again.
Stay. Stay for her.
He was home.
“I promise.”