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Here’s the thing about Dani, it’s not that she doesn’t want a relationship, it’s that she’s usually too busy for one. She’s learned at a young age to put herself first, which means that she doesn’t need to be in a relationship to be successful. The few friends that she does have at her age are already married with kids and sometimes? That digs in her stomach and festers, like she’s somehow missing something by not being on the same track, sand slipping through her fingers. She knows that’s a ridiculous knee-jerk reaction brought on by society, about what people think women should be doing at a certain age—
But it doesn’t always stop the feelings either.
Coming home to an empty apartment, focusing on her work with Gil and the team, making time for friends, considering getting a cat—these are the things that ground her, that make her feel complete. She’s never needed a man for that.
Which is why this thing with Bright is so different. It sneaks up on her and before she can realize what’s happening, she’s in the throes of a wave coming in—she either needs to let it engulf her completely or get the hell out of the way.
It goes a little like this.
After her kidnapping, things stay the same as much as they begin to change. She’s always been a very tactile person, she communicates a lot through touch, and seemingly Bright is similar. It takes a little for him to build up to it, for him to become comfortable with someone, but once that happens his hands are his words.
A touch on her lower back to guide her into another room, their shoulders bumping into one another as they talk, his fingers brushing along hers when he hands her a cup of tea—these things are normal, these things don’t really register as something that’s changed.
What changes is how long and frequently he does them, and then there’s something else; it’s his lingering looks when he speaks to her, his eyes trailing over her face and lips. She’s used to him analyzing her micro-expressions, for him to dig and dig as a profiler until he finds what he’s observing for, but this is different.
He’s looking to see her, to connect on that electric level that seems to hum between them like raw energy—she’s felt it too. Malcolm is trying to dissect that, to tear it open and expose the veins and figure out how it works; an experiment with feeling. He stands closer than necessary to her when he talks, their bodies like magnets. Sometimes he touches her without needing to, something that feels completely absentminded. Like the day in her kitchen, hands finding eachother’s and just holding, a barely there pressure of fingers.
But there, nonetheless.
She finds herself mirroring him; a touch to his arm, a hand on his shoulder or back after a rough day, fingers on his knee when he can’t stop fidgeting. But she also finds herself doing things like grazing a touch down his shirts, fixing buttons or his tie or the collar of his shirt—the intake of breath through his mouth when she brushes the soft, warm skin of his neck is nearly enough to knock the wind out of her.
And Dani knows in moments like those that something has shifted.
She’s standing at the edge of the ocean, wading in slowly—until a wave comes and she has to make a decision. To stay or flee.
She’s pouring over paperwork late, most of the team already home to recharge for another day. Sore pinpricks begin to map out over the back of her neck and shoulders, signaling that she should give herself a break soon.
There’s that feeling though, like something is on the tip of her tongue, as she looks at casefiles that prevent her from moving. A moment that might lead to a breakthrough of important information, connecting the dots that weren’t there before, grounding her into hunching over the table.
A hand finds her back, nearly making her jump and she looks up to see Bright’s come in and set a cup of tea down near her. The steam curls out like cigarette smoke, faint Earl Grey wafting to her nose.
“How long are you going to stay?” He asks quietly, his hand not leaving her spine, thumb working circles into sore muscles.
“Not long if you keep doing that,” There’s a hint of a smile on her voice despite not showing up on her mouth and Bright smirks, reaching for a file with his other hand. He pulls the paper aside, eyes trying to dig through what’s printed on paper, to see something deeper that he’s missing.
That they’re all missing.
She stands from the chair and moves to sit on the table itself, straightening her back, Malcolm’s hand traveling down her spine until his touch eventually disappears. She misses the warmth of his palm almost immediately.
“I just…you know when you feel like there’s a part of a case that’s scratching the back of your mind, but you’re not sure what it is?”
He hums, picking up the autopsy file of the latest victim, “Unfortunately there’s a lot scratching around in my head on a daily basis,” His thumb plays with the corner of a sheet of paper in the file, “You’re not going to see anything if you force it.” Dani tries not to give him a look, because seriously? He’s telling her to take a break?
Bright smiles a little, reading her without her saying anything before he nods. “Alright,” He takes a look at paperwork again, “You know, the victims were alive for a decent amount of time after they were cut open.”
Dani pulls her lower lip into her mouth a moment, “That’s difficult right? Without medical experience?”
“Very difficult,” Malcolm agrees, “There’s a lot to keeping someone alive once you cut through the internal and external intercostals.”
She nods, her hand resting on the back of her neck, rubbing the muscle there, “So we’re dealing with a talented…homicidal surgeon?”
“I hate to say that we should probably talk to my father. He probably knows others in the field we can look into; he’s good at that.” He pauses, glancing at her, “Medical professional connections, not homicide.”
Dani winces, “Kinda both.”
He shakes his head, putting the file down before flipping through some others, trying to force connections by seeing underneath the words printed. “Pretty sure we’re dealing with a woman in her late twenties, divorced or…” He tilts his head as he looks at one of the crime scene photos, his gaze hesitating on the placement of the body again. “Or never married at all.”
“Okay, how can you tell that by these photos?” She asks, a soft tilt to her voice. There’s a hint of a smile there, impressed amusement wrapping around her syllables. She learned about profiling a little at the academy; how it’s all about body language, tells, pupils dilating, like trying to see someone through a screen.
With Bright, it always seems like he’s telling someone’s story, building their pages like he’s writing a novel.
He looks over at her, blue eyes tracing over her face, “It’s in her work. It’s too delicate for it to be a man, even with a surgeon’s precisional hands. And it’s…it’s lonely. All the victims are male, she opens up the chest cavity to observe the heartbeat, especially when it slows. I think that’s how she feels living her everyday life; unable to make a connection.”
And despite the fact that there are four murders in front of her, the profile feels unbearably sad—and she tells him that. Sometimes she has to remind herself that, not only is she working with victims, but that the perps have gone through something to get them where they are in the first place.
Dani sighs and gathers up the paperwork, her watch reflecting numbers that tell her it’s time to head home. Bright looks equally tired, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyebrows crinkle together.
“Headache?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t offer anything else; it’s unnerving how used to this she is, only putting together the pieces that he’s letting her see. If she has to guess, he’s not getting enough sleep. Though are any of them?
“Caffeine withdrawal,” He says after a moment, giving her a gentle smile that is capable of stilling her movements.
She hums, setting the paper aside as she picks up her cup of tea that he’s brought her, blowing on the steam until it feels safe to drink. Her lips hover over the rim; they really didn’t have time to do this together today.
Usually at one point throughout the case, they stop, take a breather, make cups of tea and talk about anything, everything, that’s not the case they’re working on. It helps reset, to clear their minds, but it’s also nice just to spend time with one another—as friends.
She takes a long sip of tea that burns her tongue, right, friends.
Dani then hands her his cup, motioning for him to take a sip too, “Well, can’t have that. We all know you’re not going to bed any time soon.”
Malcolm smiles, “Too much to do,” He teases and plays with the end of the tea string. His eyes find her hands sitting on her lap, but when his gaze stays there, she begins to fidget with her sleeves. “How are your wrists healing?”
He reaches for one of her hands, his thumb brushing up and under her shirt. A shiver courses down her spine at the warmth of his skin and she swallows, “Better. The lavender oil you suggested really helped.”
“Don’t act so surprised,” He teases but he doesn’t let her wrist go, his eyes flickering up to hers, “And how are you?”
Dani hates the scrutiny, feels it dig under her skin like the skittering of bugs. She shrugs, licking her lips, taking the time to reply. She knows he’s coming from a place of caring, but sometimes it feels like too much to have so much attention siting on her shoulders like cinder blocks.
“Fine,” She admits. “The nightmares stopped.” There had only been a few sleepless nights, consistent tossing and turning, feeling like someone was in her apartment with her. She’d told Malcolm about them over tea, never really shared it with anyone else, because it felt so silly to her that she was having them in the first place.
He talked her ear off about the subconscious, rambled that it was her mind’s way with dealing with what happened to her. But underneath it all, he was really sharing that it was normal—that it was okay for her to be going through something that felt alien and uncontrolled. That he understood, because he sometimes went through it too.
That was comforting more than anything else.
He takes a sip of the tea in his hands before setting it down. She finds her gaze drawn to his movements, the hand that’s still on her wrist and the gentle circle he’s creating against her skin with his thumb.
“Sometimes I feel sorry for them,” She says after a moment and then bites the tip of her tongue, the thought sneaking up on her. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Malcolm is quiet, patient, waiting for her to continue, “I get that it’s…it’s a fine line. But something made them this way, you know?”
Bright squeezes her wrist gently, “I think people are capable of terrible things and it doesn’t take much for that line to be crossed.”
Dani bites down on the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes a moment, almost embarrassed at offering that unfinished conversation outloud. She can’t help but think of his father, of people like him and the things they’ve done—and she’s trying to say what? That she feels bad for them? That some things, some people, can break others’ hearts and psyche into splintered pieces, unable to be whole again?
Beyond repair.
She shifts against the table, suddenly uncomfortable, ashamed that she’s contemplating ideas that sympathize with monsters. Malcolm must read her expression, catches words as if they’re slipping off her skin and shakes his head,
“Hey,” He says, his hand moving to touch her chin like she did the first case they worked on together. He grabs her attention, forcing their gazes to meet and nearly hates that his eyebrows crinkle together in understanding, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Dani swallows, caught in the riptide of his gaze, of his touch, her eyes slipping to his mouth on their own accord. He’s standing incredibly close and when he seems to realize at the same time how their bodies are fitting together, how his hand still hasn’t left her face, he begins to drop it.
She expects him to pull away, to apologize, to stumble over words about how they better head home to begin a new day tomorrow.
Malcolm does none of those things.
Instead, his fingers move to her hair to slip curls around the shell of her ear. She’s pretty sure she’s never felt or seen his hand so still, tremor gone as she finds herself leaning closer.
“Dani,” He says softly, though she’s not sure whether she should take it as a warning or encouragement.
She goes for the latter and presses their lips together. There’s a short intake of breath, hesitation on his part where she nearly pulls away but he tips his chin and draws them closer together. His hand slides down to cup the back of her neck and Dani deepens the kiss, her own touch falling to the lapels of his suit jacket to hold onto something.
He tastes like Earl Grey tea, a soft sound of displeasure sounding in his chest when she eventually has to pull back.
They breathe the same air for a moment, Bright leaning in to press one more kiss against the corner of her mouth.
She smiles a little because, “You look surprised for a profiler. Didn’t you see I was going to do that?”
Malcolm smirks, chewing on his lower lip, his thumb brushing over her jawline. “Contrary to what JT thinks, I’m not a mind reader.”
“Are you sure?” She narrows her eyes, “Can’t figure out what I’m thinkin’ right now?”
His gaze ticks to a few tells on her face and reads her like an open book, leaning in to kiss her again.
--
Things change as much as they remain the same—they keep the same schedules; they go to work, they have tea breaks, they eat dinner in one another’s apartments. The difference is the way they move around one another, closer, like circling planets in the same orbits. Their lingering touches are intimate, they share smiles when they think no one is looking.
If anyone notices, nothing is said, not for a while anyways.
--
Then Gil pulls Dani into his office; “How’s our boy doing?”
She blinks, feeling like this is some sort of trap. She lays her hands on the back of a chair in front of his desk before, “I’d say he’s good.”
He hums a little, watching—more like waiting, for her to offer something that her teeth are clamped down on her tongue for. Dani clears her throat and straightens her back, motioning over her shoulder,
“I should probably—”
Her hands on the doorknob, “This does not get in the middle of work.”
Dani shakes her head, instantly, “No, sir.” Because she gets where he’s coming from but she can handle having her personal and professional life separate, even when they work together.
She thinks it’s the trick of the light but she swears she sees him smiling, just a little, when she leaves and closes the door behind her.
--
It only spreads from there.
JT is staring at her over a file while Gil and Malcolm are with Edrisa in the lab. She ignores him at first but then it’s clear she has to get this over with. She puts down her own paperwork, glaring,
“What?”
He scrunches his nose, “Bright? Really?” But he’s teasing her, his voice light and warm in an affectionate way that reminds her of a sibling.
“Oh shut it,” She rolls her eyes and leans further back into her chair, “I’ll throw down with you right here and now.”
“That’s cute, defendin’ your man.” He nearly avoids a pen being thrown at his head, even though Dani is grinning, can’t help it—an infectious bout of giddiness threatening to overtake her. “I’m just kiddin’, truce, alright? Truce.”
“Yeah, cause you know I’d kick your ass.” She taps her fingers on the table, to which JT nods his head enthusiastically.
“Damn straight.”
She laughs before returning her attention to the file in front of her.
--
Edrisa takes the longest to notice and it’s only through a joke that she gets it.
They find their latest victim displayed in a cemetery. The ‘lonely hearts club killer’ as the media is calling her, though Dani thinks it’s too much of a mouthful, placed her fifth male victim against a tombstone.
His chest cavity is completely torn open but there’s not much blood splatter—which just tells them that he was killed elsewhere and then brought here. She’s not sure what the significance of the placement or why their murderer would take so much time and effort to kill him one place, only to bring him to another.
“It’s romanticism.” Malcolm buzzes around the body, not being able to stay in one place as his eyes drink in the crime scene.
“I’m sorry, what?” She asks, gaping a little as he makes this connection.
“Oh, like Edgar Allan Poe!” Edrisa fills in helpfully, grinning as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand.
Bright crouches on the ground, carefully peeling back the corpse’s shirt so he can see inside. He smiles over his shoulder at the doctor, “Exactly,” And Dani sticks her hands in her pockets as she shakes her head—how is it that these two always seem to find themselves on the same wavelength? “Our killer is a dark romanticist, she’s fascinated with the grotesque, probably finds moments like this euphoric.” He bites down on his lower lip, concentrating as he can observe the chest cavity clearer, “The heart is gone this time.”
“Maybe it’s under the floorboards somewhere,” Edrisa snorts at her own joke, looking at the rest of the team for validation but Malcolm is really the only one who smiles.
Dani hums a little and steps forward as Bright stands, trying to get a better look at the body herself. Male, mid-forties, African American—their killer doesn’t seem to have a type other than the fact that they’re all male. They’ve tried to find connections over her victim pool but currently have found nothing to tie them together.
“We’ve found all the other bodies in dumpsters,” She says, tilting her head to read the name on the tombstone, Sheril Lasko; “It has to mean something that she’s changed her method of disposal.”
“Public display,” Malcolm hums in agreement, seemingly on the right track as he stands.
He’s lost in his thoughts as she goes to step over the legs of the corpse, but the heel of her boot must catch on his shoe or a wayward patch of grass because she trips. She swears she’s about to bite it, gets ready for the grass stains, the awkward angle of her tumbling and JT laughing his ass off but nothing happens because Bright catches her.
Just barely wraps his arm around her waist, a soft noise leaving his chest as she collides with him. He helps her stand up straight, his hand slipping low on her leg and lingering as she pulls away from him,
“Fast hands,” She quips, straightening her jacket just so that she has something to do with her nervous energy. He doesn’t step out of her space, his hand against her lower back because that’s something he’s been doing lately—it’s more out of habit than meaning, but Edrisa clocks it.
“At least buy her dinner first.” She jokes, writing something down on her clipboard.
Malcolm and Dani exchanges looks, something hidden bubbling to the surface as a soft smile tugs the ends of his mouth as she pulls away from his touch. The mortician blinks at them, her mouth falling open as she notices Bright looking the tiniest bit sheepish and blush beginning to crawl up Dani’s neck to rest on her cheekbones.
“Oh.”
--
“Edrisa still giving you the cold shoulder?” Dani asks as Malcolm sits down on the couch next to her, handing her a container of Pad Thai
She draws her legs up to her chest, in comfortable joggers and one of his sweaters that feels a little oversized against her frame, but she’s not complaining. He sighs, running a hand over his face before he nods,
“Yeah, she’s definitely still mad at me.”
Dani stabs a piece of broccoli with her fork, a soft sympathetic smile to her face, “Sorry, she’ll get over it,” She chews on her food before turning to face him, “Before you she had a crush on the doorman of the precinct for about a year before he got another job. You’re just flavor of the month.”
He huffs out a sound like he’s offended, his arm stretching over the back of the couch. “Ouch, tell me how you really feel.” He’s joking but there’s something there in the tone of his voice, underneath his words—he’s genuinely concerned he won’t be able to repair his friendship with Edrisa.
Dani sets her fork down in her container, moving to brush her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes almost instantly at the action, turning his head a little so he can lean into her touch. She scrubs her nails against his scalp, working through his locks until she settles her hand on the back of his neck.
“She’ll forgive you,” She tells him seriously, making sure he hears her before she pulls her hand back. She turns her attention back to her dinner, scooping up a forkful of noodles, “ Who else is she going to make inside jokes with about dead bodies?”
A soft laugh tumbles out of Malcolm’s mouth and he reaches for her fork to steal a bite of broccoli.
--
There’s a note in the latest body where the heart should be, which wouldn’t be a big deal, except it’s addressed to Malcolm.
It’s not long, a careful set of loops that says, Malcolm Bright, you understand, blood near the corner of the paper. The idea that this woman is watching them sends Dani on edge, her skin crawling as they add this piece of evidence to their growing set on the whiteboard in the conference room.
And what is it, exactly, that Bright understands? She’s lonely…wants to make a connection. Does she somehow think she has that with him?
She leans against the far wall; JT, Gil, and Malcolm discussing the placement of the note and what exactly they’re going to do with it. Her eyes flutter over the victim pool and tries not to think about how Bright could end up becoming one of them; he’s not always cautious when it comes down to catching the perp. Now that he’s in the mix of it, in this woman’s crosshairs, he’s going to want to get involved.
He’s nearly bouncing with the idea as it comes out of his mouth, his fingers resting on his chin, “This is actually a good thing; I can lure her out.”
The muscle in Dani’s jaw clenches as Gil exchanges a glance with JT, looking like a frustrated parent who’s told his kid ‘no’ one too many times. “I don’t like the sound of this; it could fly South, fast.”
Malcolm drops his hands, a soft sigh leaving his lips, “We could lose her or she could kill someone else. We have to try.”
Dani crosses her arms over her chest, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her forearms as she watches the tennis match of a conversation bounce back and forth. She knows, in theory, that this is a good idea. Their visit with his father was filled with snide remarks and observations that made her feel like she was living between a microscope slide.
He could sense the shift between them a mile away, his perception just as impressive as his son's. By the time Martin asked them if they were having sleepovers, Malcolm had reached his boiling point and was ready to leave.
Needless to say, he gave them zero information about this case to actually work with.
“These corpses are like letters to her, details of why she’s doing this. She’s desperate and she’ll go back to where she left the last body to reminisce—” The words drown out in her ears, JT and Gil’s replies going with it until her name snaps her back into the conversation.
She’s not sure how long she’s zoned out for, “Sorry?”
Dani can feel Bright’s gaze on her from the side, eyes assessing, trying to dig between her layers—figure out what she’s not saying. Gil turns to face her, letting out a patient sigh as he repeats himself,
“As much as I hate to admit it, Malcolm is right. We need to do this tonight.”
She nods softly and swallows down an argument building up in the back of her throat. She collects the files on the table, “I’ll get the wire paperwork all squared away.”
Gil and JT continue their conversation of what needs to happen for the plan to be placed in motion, walking out of the room, leaving Malcolm shifting on his feet as Dani avoids his eyes. She moves towards the whiteboard instead, lifting her hand to run her fingers along the note this killer’s left behind for Bright.
“You don’t want me to do this.”
She sighs and turns to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest like a false shield. “I didn’t say that.”
He watches her for a moment, nodding slowly before taking some steps towards her, “You didn’t have to. You’ve been quiet, you’re obviously agitated.”
Dani bristles, “I’m about to be, you know I hate it when you do that. I’m not a profile you need to figure out.”
Bright takes a careful step towards her, his body language open, “Your stressors aren’t difficult to figure out,” Because of course he presses on even when he shouldn’t, “Your eyebrows are drawn together, your shoulders are tight, your mouth…is doing that thing where you’re trying not to grit your teeth.”
“Malcolm.” She warns, but the moment his name leaves her lips, he’s got her.
He’s unlocked her behavior with a single syllable, mouth opening slightly and a laugh tumbles out of his chest before he can stop himself. “You’re jealous of the ‘lonely hearts club’ killer?”
She shakes her head, frustration starting to boil her blood. She’s pretty sure she could strangle him, “That’s insane.”
He smiles a little and rolls back on the balls of his feet, definitely teasing her, “And sort of sweet.”
She settles with smacking his arm rather hard with the file she’s holding in her hands but Malcolm uses the opportunity of their proximity to draw her closer until their bodies are pressed together. She squirms just slightly, eventually succumbing to his touch, refusing to look at his face because jealous is not the right word to use.
Protective, worried, something other than that.
He gently catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, waiting until her gaze meets his own. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, instead he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
Dani feels herself unwind; a breath she didn’t realize she was holding slipping out of her lungs. This is so stupid—she told Gil she wouldn’t let the line between her personal and professional life blur, convinced herself that she doesn’t need a man to happy…and now she’s irrationally worried about losing one because they’re using him as bait.
They’ve both done this before but, this time feels different, even though it’s exactly the same as any other time. Nothing has changed but them.
He allows her to pull back and she squeezes the files in her hands a little tighter than she needs to.
“Seriously,” He says after a moment. “When have my plans not worked out?”
She laughs suddenly, the sound almost surprising her and she rolls her eyes. “Probably the amount of times you’ve waited for backup.” She adds dryly and leaves the room to get ahold of that wire.
--
Dani finds herself tapping her foot again, rather impatiently, as they sit in a black SUV parked a few sections over from where Bright is. The sun has gone down, the orange glow disappearing into the inky blue clouds, creating a soft aura around the tombstones. She shivers, wraps her arms around herself, a chill working its way down her spine—though she can’t tell if it’s the ambiance or the fact that she’s anxious about Malcolm.
“It’s been hours,” She mutters, mostly to herself even though JT is reading an article on his phone beside her.
Bright is suddenly in her ear from the wire, “She’ll be here. My profile isn’t wrong—she feels isolated and she very pointedly wants my attention in the way she’s decided to display the bodies instead of keeping them private in dumpsters. She wants a connection.”
“Definitely seems like she’d be your type,” JT talks out the side of his mouth, giving her a teasing look to which she only matches with a glare.
Bright is smirking, she can hear it in the tone of his voice as he says, “Well, little too late for that.”
She can barely see the top of his head where they parked, but every so often Malcolm moves and a giant obelisk isn’t blocking their way. There’s that scratching in the back of her mind again like they’re missing something.
She looked up the name of the tombstone that the fifth victim was propped up against, Sheril Lasko. She was young when she was murdered, beautiful, in the prime of her life. Raped and disposed of like a piece of garbage but there’s no clear correlation about how she’s tied to the ‘lonely hearts club’ killer.
She sits up in her seat as she sees a flash of blonde hair, moving through the graveyard towards him like a ghost.
“Heads up.” She says and smacks JT’s arm to get him off his phone.
She hears the rustling of grass as Bright turns, getting a good look at their murderer. “I didn’t think you’d come.” She says, voice melodic like windchimes.
Bright sticks his hands in his pockets and very slowly approaches her, “How could I not? With an invitation like that.” He clears his throat and, “You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
There’s a hesitance there, the woman is afraid to share but Dani can picture the openness of Malcolm’s face, the soft comfort of his blue eyes—she falls right into it, “Christine Pierce.”
Gil, in the back of SUV, has a laptop and types her name into the database, “No priors.”
She sighs, leaning back against her seat, her head hitting the headrest. “What happened to her?” Dani says, mostly to herself, as she observes the scene unfolding in front of her.
She remembers her earlier conversation with Bright which feels like days even though so much time has past since this case began. She knows that Christine Pierce has done terrible things, men are dead, lives destroyed—and yet something hangs heavy in her chest when she considers her profile, when she remembers Bright describing her as someone so lonely, wanting someone to understand her.
She can’t help but try to empathize for her, and as ashamed as that makes her feel; it also makes her very human. There’s nothing wrong with that.
“Christine,” Malcolm says after a moment, “Why did you reach out to me?”
She’s quiet a moment, Dani can hear grass shift underneath her feet, “I thought you’d get it—who understands death and betrayal more than you do?”
She glances at JT, who’s looking back at Gil through the rearview mirror.
“I did society a favor,” Christine’s voice begins to shake as she takes a step towards Malcolm. Dani can feel the atmosphere begin to shift; somehow she feels betrayed by something he’s said. The profiler’s spine becomes a straight line but he holds his ground, “Those men were pigs and they deserved what they got.”
“That sounds like a confirmation to me, boss.” JT looks over his shoulder at Gil and Dani grabs onto his arm to prevent him from getting out the car.
“Wait,” She watches carefully; Bright is not in trouble, not yet. “Just let her finish.”
“Men have no idea how hard it is for women to put themselves out there, what it’s like for society to tell you that you have to be a certain way—they think they can just take whatever they want when all you’re looking for is a connection.” Her movements are a little more hysterical, prompting JT and Dani to get out of the SUV and begin to approach the scene.
Malcolm lets out a slow breath, a constellation of evidence mixing with the profile coming together in front of his eyes, “Is that what happened?” There’s a string of realization in his tone of voice as he speaks, “Someone took advantage of you?”
She laughs wetly, hands beginning to shake, “Not me,” She wrings her hands together, looking at the tombstone, “Sheril. She was…my friend. I-I tried to tell her, she wouldn’t…wouldn’t listen. Victor was…” Christine shakes her head, “He was everything. Until he got what he wanted. In the middle of the night, even when she said no.” She swallows and suddenly her demeanor changes, as if she remembers who she is and the things she’s done, “The police did nothing. The least I could do was protect other women from the same thing happening to them.”
These men, despite not having the priors that could have tipped them off, Christine saw. She thought she was doing a public service by not having another woman end up like Sheril.
Dani rounds the obelisk, her gun raised at Christine. The woman sees her almost too late, her eyes widening from the deception as police swarm into view, Bright taking a step back out of her reach.
“Put your hands up, Christine,” She instructs carefully, “It’s over.”
She eventually does as she’s told but it takes a moment, too busy starting at Malcolm as Gil puts handcuffs on her. She’s almost frozen in place, tears welling in her eyes when she thought she’d reached out to someone who understood for that to be the same person to betray her. Bright dips his chin, can’t quite make eye contact with her—knows he was doing his job but, at the same time…
Dani gets it; it’s the same line she felt herself try to straddle and balance over. It’s never easy.
She puts her gun away and approaches him, tilting her head to try and catch his gaze. “Are you okay?”
He nods before lifting his head, blue eyes finding hers, “I was wrong about the profile. It was never about euphoria with the killings,” He swallows and brushes over a patch of grass with the tip of his shoe, “She just wanted to be heard.”
She sighs softly, glancing to where Gil’s putting Christine in the back of the SUV and she gently reaches out to squeeze Bright’s arm.
--
They go back to Malcolm’s apartment but don’t really talk, which is fine. Dani’s realized that she kind of likes that about them, they don’t always need to fill the silence with words. Sometimes just being there is enough.
Bright hands her one of his sweatshirts to put on and she crawls onto the couch, puts a movie on but isn’t really watching it. He sits down beside her with a plate of grilled cheese and she smiles as she picks at it—practically eats the whole thing because he sometimes tears the crust off and munches.
At one point, when the food is gone, he puts his hand in her hair. He’s playing with the strands for the most part but occasionally his thumb brushes against the back of her neck.
It makes her eyes flutter closed, and before she knows it, she falls asleep.
--
Vivid sunlight presses its way in-between her eyelids and she squints against it, hiding her face in a—pillow? She sits up slowly, running a hand through messy curls. She hears the sounds of pans moving in the kitchen and if she concentrates, she can smell something sweet wafting to her nose, mixing with freshly brewed tea.
She doesn't remember falling asleep but Bright must have moved her to the bed at some point and she really hopes he didn't spend another night on the couch. She's got to get into the habit of leaving his place when she starts feeling tired.
Dani slips out of bed and makes her way into the bathroom to use it and brushes her teeth using the trusty toothpaste on the finger routine. She must have been really out of it because the sweatshirt she was wearing is no longer on, crumpled up on the other side of the bed. She assumes Bright took it off her when tucking her in, remembering something she once said about not liking when she wears sleeves to bed—the concept too constricting. She’s very much satisfied with just a sports bra.
She adjusts the waist band of the leggings she's wearing as she moves to slip back into his bed, lying on her side as Malcolm notices she's awake.
He's dressed comfortably as he approaches the bed, a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and she finds herself reaching for him out of instinct. His falls easily on top of hers, his arms creating a cage around her body, hair falling onto his forehead because there's no gel to hold it up yet.
He dips his chin down, brushing their noses together, “Morning.”
“Hi,” She whispers. “Did you sleep?”
“A little,” He lies, his fingers winding their way through her curls a little absently, “You?”
“Clearly,” she huffs out softly, shaking her head. “You gotta start kicking me out.”
He leans down slowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I like having you here.”
Dani opens her legs slightly to let Bright sink between them, tilting her chin up to capture his lips in a real kiss. His one hand moves to cup her cheek, thumb tracing her cheekbone as her arms wrap around his neck—
and then his front door bangs open.
She jumps so high she nearly bucks him off her body and onto the floor, a soft yelp leaving her lips as Jessica Whitly stalks into his apartment.
“Honestly, Malcolm, still in bed at this hour?” She turns, almost completely dressed in white with gold accents and bright red lipstick. When she catches that her son is still in bed and very much not alone, her jaw nearly drops to the floor—especially when she realizes who he's with.
“Mother.”
“Detective…detective Powell, is that you?”
She smiles weakly, covering her chest with blankets even though she has a sports bra on as Malcolm slips off her body and beside her. “Dani is uh, is fine too. Nice to see you again Mrs. Whitly.”
His mother approaches the bed with what looks like two plastic cups in her hand, probably filled with coffee or tea, “It's Jessica, please.” She grins.
Malcolm sighs, running a hand through his hair as he props himself up on his elbow, “Well, if this wasn't terrible enough—least you can do is let Dani put some clothes on.”
“Oh, right, right. Of course, if that's what you want, dear.” She turns on her heel, beginning to walk into his kitchen. “Is that pumpkin bread I smell in the oven?”
Bright shakes his head, looking down at Dani with an affectionate eyeroll before pressing a kiss to her temple. He pulls himself from bed, allowing her to get herself together before she joins them in the kitchen. She’s got Bright’s sweatshirt on again and pulls the sleeves down over her hands, a soft smile that she’s biting on her lower lip to get rid of as she sinks into one of the counter chairs.
Jessica is buzzing around the kitchen, talking about her latest set of issues with Malcolm’s father as Bright takes pumpkin bread out of the oven. Dani watches them interact but stays quiet for the most part, only saying ‘thank you’ when he puts bread and tea in front of her.
His mother takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders like she’s finished discussing what she came to say before smiling, pearly white teeth and perfect red lipstick. “So, when did this start?”
“Alright, you got your daily allotment in for venting about dad and you’ve got a slice of pumpkin bread—I think it’s time to head out,” Bright says quickly, Dani smiling into her cup of tea as Jessica huffs and definitely pouts.
“Fine,” She breathes, waving at Dani as she grabs her purse, “But this conversation isn’t over. Enjoy your morning you two!” Bright walks her to the door, a soft discussion between them before she eventually leaves.
He wanders back to the kitchen and leans against the counter, picking up his own cup of tea to take a sip. “Could have been worse,” He says after a moment, “My sister could have shown up too.”
Dani laughs gently, cutting into her pumpkin bread with her fork. “I don’t mind your mother.”
He smiles, “Just wait until she's insisting you come with me to all her events.”
She leans back against her chair, running a hand through wild curls, “Would that be so bad?” She asks curiously, her eyes tracing over his face. She doesn’t know his tells; not like he sees hers but she’s trying.
He’s watching her equally in return, trying to read something printed under her skin, lying in-between her words. She’s not the best at this; sometimes she has trouble maintaining friends let alone relationships.
She’s out of practice, but then again, so is he and there’s almost a comfort to that.
“I don’t scare easily,” Dani says after a moment, letting her words sink in. She’s not really talking about Jessica’s events.
But he knows that as he nods his head. They’ll figure it out because at the end of the day, they’re still the same people, even if the situation has changed. Malcolm reaches for her hand and squeezes before putting another slice of warm pumpkin bread on her plate.
The words are there, even if he doesn’t say them.