#2. it hurts. like geninunely

[stormyjisung]

Where my sensitive scalp galls at? 😔✊️

[throwaway-sinfulwriter]

The Same - Chapter 7 - 2/6

A handful of lollipops in his pocket, Malcolm arrives at the crime scene.

"One for you, one for you, and one for you.. lemon lime." He says as he hands out the lollipops, only getting a smile from Gil and Dani as he did. JT just looked mildly confused, staring suspiciously at the wrapped candy before putting it in his pocket.

Looking over the body, Malcolm hums. "The eyes.. This is a side effect of lobotomy. Are there any incisions?"

Edrisa comes over to him, nodding. "Yes, at the top of the skull. Hello, special agent Bright."

Malcolm gives her a small smile. "Hello, Edrisa. Cherry?" He holds out a lollipop.

She looks mystified, gently taking it from him. "My favorite.. I'm sorry, I-I didn't know we were exchanging small gifts. I don't have anything for you, but I can go get..?"

"No need. It's okay." His smile is more tight, more forced. The doctor was kind, but her interest in him was so obvious it made him wince.

Still, he smiles fondly. Edrisa was one of the only people who seemed to understand him, even more so than Gil. She didn't look at him strangely, and seemed to share his passion of crime and investigating.

A good ally.

No one could match his father, though. Those were big shoes to fill.

Malcolm had no recorded attraction to women, romantic or otherwise. It was probably a psychological effect to his Mother's influence, or his admiration of his father, even after he had been arrested.

Though, it could just be him. He would never get a solid answer to that one, as there wasn't a single Malcolm Whitly in the multiverse that wasn't affected by his upbringing.

(And yes, he believed in the multiverse theory.)

Regardless of this fact, in this universe he had only ever been with men, and was determined to have it stay that way.

He's shaken out of his static thoughts when the examiners tell them they've found something.

Staring at the note left by the killer, Malcolm calmly explains how the person who wrote it must have been mentally ill, the "word salad" (clever phrase he learned in college) making no coherent sense.

Leaving Gil with the note, he heads back over to Edrisa, who is examining the man's skull.

"These incisions are incredibly deep.. it's almost like he wanted to cut through the skull itself." Edrisa says, gently pulling back the scalp, and..

Dani and JT gag behind him.

Malcolm lights up at the sight of the pink, gorey cavity of the man's head, heart beating furiously at the sight. The entire head was empty, just a husk of a place that once held a brain.

It was.. wonderful.

He crouches down next to Edrisa, observing inside.

"He removed the entire brain.." The profiler whispers lowly. "How?"

"I don't know, but it's kinda impressive." Edrisa says, and they glance at each other, smiling.

------

Throwing his blue stress ball in between his hands in the debriefing room, Malcolm looks over the crime scene photos, the note, and the death report once more.

He died of a heart attack.. How strange. For a moment, Malcolm thought that Edrisa had been wrong. But now, looking at the evidence.. the nail marks on his palms..

It was entirely plausible.

"Why would he remove the brain?" Dani asks, and JT shrugs next to her.

"Beats me."

Malcolm rolls his sleeves back, standing. "Removing the brain fufills some sort of psychological need for him. It has to have some meaning.. I just don't know what it is yet."

"What do we know about him?" He asks, looking at Dani.

"Well known professor. Widower. Neighbor last saw him leave at 9 PM. He never came back. His lab is still being run, by, uh.." Dani pulls out a paper from her case file, reading it over.

"Carl Mitchell and Elaine Brown."

Malcolm gasps loudly, and everyone's eyes snap over to him.

"Elaine Brown?! Sh-she's a legend." His eyes sparkle. True excitement rising in him.. What he wouldn't do to meet the Elaine Brown.

Dani raises her eyebrows.

"…Okay."

"I researched her work at Quantico.."

He would be elated to meet her. That being said, he was hoping he wouldn't have to meet her under case circumstances, but he would take what he was given.

Malcolm's hand rests on his chin, and he stares at the photos for a moment longer before someone comes into the debriefing room.

"Mr. Bright? Your doctor is on the phone." One of the officers in the front says, and he stands as she leaves. Looking at the others, trying not to hunch his shoulders up. It must be his therapist. Or.. him.

"It's uh.. my.. dentist. Bad gums, y'know." He makes a flimsy excuse, quickly leaving the room. Being led to the phone that he had been called from.

Malcolm sits down, picking up the phone and putting it to his ear.

Picking up on the breathing before saying anything, he knows who it is.

"I'm tiring of these phone privileges." He says bluntly, glancing around, paranoid.

"Awh, Malcolm. Don't be daft. We both know you love it when I call. You didn't answer my calls yesterday." His father starts off sounding cocky, but he sounds geninunely sad that Malcolm hadn't answered him.

"I was.. busy." He lies. Yeah, busy. Busy throwing up and masturbating in sporatic intervals.

"Did you get my voicemail?" His father asks in a hopeful tone.

"No." He answers, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. Malcolm didn't have time for this. "Why are you calling me?"

"Did he take the brain? I saw you and your sister on the television. Aw. Local news is always amateur-ish, but Ainsley has some real chops, don't you think?"

Malcolm goes to respond, but stops when his father's voice becomes muffled. He's talking to someone else.

"Can you turn that down? I'm talking to my son."

Said son presses his forehead to the table, ignoring how fast his heart was beating. He didn't want to see his father again. But just hearing his voice made him want to jump into his arms and be safe with him.

He shouldn't feel so strangely aroused and happy when the man he was in love with called him his son.

"So? Did he take the brain, Malcolm?"

The profiler groans quietly, shaking his head even though his father couldn't see him.

"I'm not telling you anything. That's police business."

"Oh, come on, my boy. Someone taking the brain of Dr. Elaine Brown's colleague.. you don't think that means something? You know, I'm quite good at deducing killer's meanings.. you know, from reference."

Malcolm sits up fully, ignoring that last bit, eyebrows drawing together. "You think he's sending a message?"

He can hear his father's smirk over the phone. "Are you asking me for my advice?"

"No." Yes. Please help me, father. I'm lost.

Doctor Whitly sighed on the other end. "Fine, then. If you don't want my advice, please tell your sister that her diction is impeccable."

Bright doesn't know how to respond to that. "Goodbye, Dr. Whitly." I love you.

"Wait, Malcolm." Malcolm hadn't moved the phone from his ear, even thought he should have.

"Fear, my boy, has always been your.. stumbling block. This case may be difficult for you."

Irritation grows in Malcolm. How dare his father tell him what was difficult for him, he didn't know how he reacted to situations like this..

But, deep down, the man knew that his father was right.

"I catch killers for a living. Fear isn't a problem for me." He says in a biting tone, grip tightening on the phone until it creaks dangerously.

"But your nightmares.. those tremors." Said tremors were acting up, making the phone shake as he gripped it. "Push yourself too hard.. and you'll break into pieces."

"You have always been good at pretending fear isn't there, Malcolm. But we both know it is. You're not the best at hiding it, I'm afraid."

Malcolm digs the nails of his free hand into the table. "Because of you."

His father sighs loudly on the other end, like it was a game and Malcolm had given the wrong answer.

"Here comes the blame game again, Malcolm." He sounds exasperated. Part of Malcolm is satisfied with that, while the other part of him was devastated at his father being cross with him.

"Let's not go there today, hm? Keep it civil."

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

"Uh, listen, why don't you swing by? You looked so troubled at our last visit.. So many questions left unanswered."

"I have no intention of returning." He didn't, but Malcolm knew he would end up going there again. It wouldn't be today, tomorrow, or hell, the next week. But it would be some day. He couldn't stay away for long.

"Very well." Doctor Whitly says in a brisk tone. "Have it your way, Malcolm. But.. when you do see Doctor Brown, please tell her that her work helped me.. resist convention."

Malcolm hangs up. He doesn't have time for his father's games right now. There's a crime to be solved.

Even when he leaves the phone, his chest hurts. He wants to call back and beg for forgiveness. But he won't.