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Getting hit by the car, in hindsight, was the easy part.
It wasn't intentional. Malcolm fully believed that the car would stop; that the driver was just a simple witness. He didn't expect him to press on the gas.
It was stupid. Really stupid. He knows that. Even if the person hadn't turned out to be the killer, no one should be using their body as a barrier for a two-ton death machine.
He felt the impact fully. He's not stupid — well, not entirely — and he did manage to jump onto the hood last minute, so he wouldn't get dragged under. He put his training in ukemi to use, letting his body fall limp as he rolled and rolled and —
Everything went in slow motion as he tumbled above the car. He felt as the car hit him, as he flung himself over rather than under, as he rolled on the roof and down to the ground. He saw Dani's face, filled with a scornful expression, — probably due to his bad choice of car-stopping — which quickly morphed into a helpless horror as she realized the severity of the situation.
His body hit the street with a sickening crunch and he heard a yell and tires screeching.
But, no, that was the easy part.
The hard part started when he opened his eyes and suddenly Dani was hovering over him, screaming over her radio. Had he been unconscious? For how long?
"Bright? Oh, thank god!" Dani cries out as he blinks.
The car's screeching tires can still be heard, echoing. He hadn't been out for too long. They could still get him.
Malcolm tries to sit up, ignoring the pain. "The suspect," he tells her meekly. He's about to give standing a chance when she pushes him back to the ground firmly.
"Bright, you've been hit by a car," she yells harshly.
"'m fine," Malcolm wheezes. He ignores the way his vision is blurring as stars fill his sight. "He's getting away. We need to — "
"He isn't worth your life!" Dani shouts. Her eyes widen and her angry expression falters, realizing how loud she's spoken. "He isn't worth your life, Malcolm," she repeats, whispering.
He thinks he gets a little lost in Dani's hands caressing his face in a soothing manner, because suddenly, he can't deny the blurring vision nor the muffled hearing. It consumes him, dragging him down into the void until there's nothing left of reality.
The last thing he sees is Dani's frantic eyes as she screams something that he can't quite make out, right before everything fades to black.
-
The hard part only gets harder.
His demons don't leave him alone, even while his life is hanging by a thread. He knows the nightmare isn't real from the beginning. He knows that in reality, he's probably fighting for his life in some hospital bed, drugged up on whatever the EMTs likely gave him.
That makes it even worse.
Malcolm knows it's not real. He knows he's still trapped in there regardless of that fact.
He watches the car over and over again, like a broken record stuck on repeat. Except it's not him getting run over most of the time — the roles are reversed, and he has to watch Dani get hit each and every time.
His mind plays cruel games with him. With every loop, the scenario plays out a little differently. It starts off close to reality, just swapped: Dani steps out in front of the car in a feeble attempt to get the witness-turned-suspect to stop, the car speeds up instead, Dani jumps up, and she tumbles over. It's about the best case scenario for such a terrible scene. He runs to her, she says her piece, and the ambulance arrives just as she passes out.
It gets more mangled after that.
The first changes are simple. The conversation in her brief regain of consciousness warps into strange dialogues. One time, he's allowed a glimpse into a confession of love — he's not sure if that's meant to be a blessing or a curse that this nightmare is giving him. There's a few instances where she says things that Malcolm figured out about her from his profiling, but never dared speak to her about, waiting for her to bring it up — he knows that's his subconscious letting him resolve those bits of knowledge. Then, things get more wretched.
"This is your fault," Dani accuses him in one loop. When Malcolm looks at his hands, they're covered in blood.
The next loop only spirals more. "You killed me," she says, and this time, he's holding a knife, and she's bleeding out. "You're the reason I'm dead."
Things only get worse from there.
The loop of the car hitting her becomes gruesome. There's turns where she gets dragged under. There is little that needs to be said about those scenarios — the mere thought of it makes Malcolm want to puke. There's times he's splattered in her blood, where he's begging her to stay alive, times where he knows she's gone, times where he's the one behind the wheel.
It feels like this will never end.
Maybe he's in hell. Maybe, for once, his stupid plan actually got him killed. Now, he's stuck living the same loop over and over again, watching the love of his life dying in the way that he may have died. Watching his smirk in the rear mirror as he presses on the gas pedal, or in the glint of the knife that finds its way into his hand as Dani bleeds out in his arms. That sure feels like it's hell.
And Malcolm can't escape it.
-
Malcolm wakes up in searing pain.
It takes a minute to realize his surroundings. The bright white lights, the rushing figures surrounding him, the restraints he's fighting against, the deafening screams —
That last part is him, he realizes.
His screams turn into heavy breaths as the room comes into focus, but the noise hasn't stopped.
There's someone else screaming, but in an entirely different way.
Dani.
"I said no more goddamn sedatives!" she's screeching at a nurse with a needle near his I.V.
"Ma'am," another nurse says, trying to pull her away, but she stands her ground. "Ma'am, we're going to have to — "
"Don't you 'Ma'am' me!" she screams. "I'm NYPD, if I say no sedatives, that means no sedatives!" She looks more murderous than Malcolm's ever seen her before. He briefly wonders if she's about to pull a gun against these nurses. "He has night terrors, leaving him stuck in his mind will only make him worse!"
"She's right," Malcolm says out loud, even though it's quiet. (It's the loudest he can talk at the moment, which counts for something, right?) "I don't consent to sedatives," he adds, hoping to diffuse the situation.
Everyone in the room looks at him in shock, suddenly realizing that he's fully awake and conscious. "Sir, we can't advise — "
"I don't consent," he says again. From there, he knows the nurses won't do much else unless they escalate the situation, but he's clearly fine now — the screaming and thrashing is over, it's only some pain — and he hopes that's enough to get them to leave him be.
They do. Dubiously, they leave.
"Thanks," he says lightly once he and Dani are alone. "I... I didn't realize you remembered."
"Bright," she says with a light smile, "You've almost died enough times for me to know your entire medical history by now."
Well, that's true. He more meant that he didn't realize that she cared enough to fight for him. He doesn't think he should say that, though, unless he wants some kind of speech about self-worth.
"Can I...?" Dani motions to the bed a little awkwardly and Malcolm nods. A little painfully, he shifts to give her some room to sit. "Are you okay? Really?"
Malcolm opens his mouth to tell her —
"And I don't want any bullshit," she says quickly. "I want a real answer."
"I'll live," he settles on.
Something about that statement seems to hurt Dani, because her eyes well up and —
Dammit, this is why he always just tells people he's fine. He doesn't want people to feel bad because he lives a terrible life. And he doesn't ever want to see Dani cry, especially because of him.
To her credit, she's not actually crying. It's just that her eyes are welling up and it just makes Malcolm feel awful.
"That was really stupid," Dani says finally, letting a little chuckle out.
Malcolm breathes a little easier, feeling the weight dissipate a little. He can handle this side of Dani; the one that bluntly insults him in a fond way. "It was," he agrees lightly. "But, hey, in my defense, none of us guessed that he was the killer."
"Still," she scolds, "you don't use your body as a shield. That's just dumb."
"What can I say?" he replies cheerily. "Did you catch him?"
Dani scrunches her face a little. "I'm not sure." Malcolm frowns, so she clarifies, "Gil and JT are on it, but I haven't left the hospital since we got here. My phone died a while ago."
"That bad, huh?" he asks, laughing to keep the mood light. He's in a lot of pain, but he doesn't seem to be covered in any casts — just a head wrap for what he assumes is a head injury and concussion.
"Well, you were doing surprisingly well for someone who just faced a battle with a car," Dani responds.
"You should try out ukemi," he jokes, "it's magical." At her quizzical look, he explains, "It's the Japanese art of falling. The techniques become second nature and it helps you fall without hurting yourself so much. Actually, it's interesting, Ukemi in a literary sense means — "
"Okay, okay, I get it," Dani interrupts. "You're great at getting hurt but not dying. I knew that. I get to witness it weekly." She gives a bitter smile before adding, "No, it wasn't that bad."
"What?"
"The doctors knew you were fine from the beginning," she clarifies. She's answering his earlier question. "I just... I didn't want to leave you alone."
The memory of her being steps away from starting a fist fight with some medical professionals in the middle of a hospital comes back to him. She didn't want to leave, probably to protect him from the main reason he avoids hospitals at every given near-death occasion.
"Thank you," he breathes out again, not really able to convey how much her actions actually meant to him. He's never had anyone who has gone to those lengths for him — not even his mother or Gil, who usually begrudgingly allow the hospital staff to do their thing (probably for good reason, Malcolm can't help but reason) while giving apologetic looks.
"Anytime," Dani replies quietly, but in a way that makes it seem like it's no big deal. But Malcolm knows her well enough to see the glimmer of her eyes that indicates that she really means it; that she cares enough to fight for him.
Malcolm is overcome by so many feelings of adoration and respect and love that it almost crushes him unless he says something —
"Oh!" Dani bursts out, startling Malcolm out of his spiral. She fiddles at her jacket until she pulls out a little container of lemon jello. "I got this from the cafeteria. Turns out they do serve lemon jello on occasion."
Mark that as something else he didn't think she'd remember, or care enough to actually do something about. The feelings come back rushing in, pushing a heavy weight on his chest that makes it hard for him to think or breathe or exist.
Malcolm takes the container of jello and the spoon she produces with it as if it's the most precious thing in the world. And, as far as he's concerned, it is.
Then, he does something unexpected. Something even he doesn't see coming.
He hugs Dani.
He pulls her in quickly and wraps an arm around the small of her back, ignoring how his body is screaming in pain at every joint. She returns it after her initial surprise.
"Jeez, Bright, it's just jello," she quips and his chest bubbles with a little laugh. Oh, it's so much more than jello. "Should you even be hugging right now? Aren't you in a lot of pain?"
"Oh, yeah," Malcolm answers, only hugging her tighter, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Hurts like hell, but it's worth it."
Dani laughs lightly against him, and he can feel the tremble of her body through his. It's the best feeling in the world.
"God, Malcolm, you're so stupid," she whispers as she nuzzles her face into his neck, and he can feel her smile against her skin.
Malcolm wouldn't have it any other way.