Archive of Our Own

“Good Morning Mr David, did you have a good evening?” Larry asks in a singsong tone as he walked into the locker room.

Abraham gave him an offended stare.

“Sorry man, thought you might be missing the old bastard. Not like the Son gives you much chatter,” Larry snarked at him as he shut his locker and walked from the room.

“Bastard,” Abraham muttered under his breath.

It’s not like the poor kid was doing it on purpose.

Abraham frowned as he thought about young Malcolm Bright who had been brought in after fatally stabbing his Father. They had held him Rikers initially but it was pretty clear the kid needed psychiatric help when he remained catatonic since they picked him up. They must have thought it was an act initially, but when he had nearly died from dehydration after days of not eating and drinking and just staring into space while he was awake, they had transferred him over to Claremont.

Abraham had been annoyed at first at being assigned as the kid’s guard.

Hadn’t he done his time with the Whitly family?

But after a couple of days of caring for the kid and seeing just how broken his Father had made him, he was glad it was him as he wasn’t sure how some of the other guards would treat him. Especially when he launched out of his nightmares scratching and crawling to get away from the demons that chased him in his sleep. He was pretty sure he knew exactly who that demon was, one Martin Whitly. Even in death he was still haunting his kid.

Abraham cracked his neck and placed his key card and keys to his belt, shutting and locking his locker and headed to the east wing where Malcolm was being held.

He acknowledged the night guard with a nod, “any issues overnight?” Abraham asked as he looked in through the glass window to see the kid curled up on his bed in a foetal position.

Nick grunted at him, “damn kid nearly scared the crap out of me when he woke up and fell out of bed scratching and crawling at himself. I put him in the again restraints after that.”

Abraham fought not to grind his teeth as he asked, “did he hurt himself?”

Nick rolled his eyes at him, “I’m not an idiot, contrary to popular belief. I know how to do my freaking job, David.”

Abraham hated how he called him by just his last name. Either call him Abraham or Mr David, was it really that hard.

“It’s Abraham, and I was just checking to see if there was anything I needed to watch out for,” Abraham appeased him as he worked not to clench his jaw and give himself a tension headache before his shift even started.

“Yeah, whatever. He’s fine. Still a nutjob, but can you do? See ya tomorrow,” Nick replied as he pushed out of his chair and salunted off out of the wing.

‘Good riddance’, Abraham thought angrily. He just didn’t understand why people would do this job if they didn’t actually give a shit about the patients. Yeah, ok, most of them were not to be trifled with, being killers and worse, but they were sick, so who were they to judge?

He really didn’t understand how they could be hating on Malcolm. Kid had managed to put some of the guys in here when he was consulting with the NYPD. He was a bonafide genius like his Dad. Honestly, Abraham felt sorry for him. To see him so broken and vulnerable in here. He knew his Dad had done a number on him, but he didn’t realise just how damaged he really was.

Abraham sighed and opened up the door to the room. He preferred to be in the room with him. Malcolm might not respond to him, but he felt like he knew he was there and hoped it was some comfort to him to not be completely alone. He was worried that he would be reinforcing memories of his Dad, but really just being in here would probably be doing that anyway.

Malcolm was still curled up like he had been when he saw him through the window. At least he wasn’t dreaming for a change. They had changed up his drug regime last week and it had made him sleep, but it wasn’t restful. Poor kid woke in terror, but dropping back into his glazed over state staring into space once he broke free from the nightmare. All the drugs seemed to do was hold him in the dreams for longer. His thrashing, scratching and clawing made him more a danger to himself than the minimal sleep he was getting prior to the drug change. Hopefully they would be able to do something to reach him soon. It had been months now with no real change. Even when they let his Mother see him, he hadn’t reacted to her at all, just kept staring into space. They had refused anyone else and Abraham thought that was a mistake, Malcolm had been close to his team from what he had seen when he was here. Maybe one of them could get through to him where his Mother couldn’t. They had a difficult relationship, even he could see that, and he wasn’t sure she had been the best choice to try and pull him out of his current state.

Well it wasn’t any of his business. The Psychiatrists were in charge of that and hopefully one of them would get a clue on how to help him. They were talking electroshock next, but he was hoping something else could be done before they went there. He hated seeing the patients after ECT. For some it was almost like a miracle, like hitting the reset button. For others it was just a form of torture, with a day or two of lucidity before they were dragged back into being walking zombies.

Sometimes he hated his job.

Abraham was about to settle himself into his chair when there was a soft knock at the door. He stared in surprise when he saw Lieutenant Gil Arroyo at the door with one of the Psychiatrist, Dr Lucian.

Abraham smiled briefly and gave a questioning look to Dr Lucian as he opened the door.

“Good morning Mr David, how is our young man this morning?” Dr Lucian greeted him.

“Uh, he’s ok. No real change. Nightmares are still intense despite the medication changes from last week. He had another episode last night from what Nick said at handover,” Abraham reported as his eyes flicked back and forth between Dr Lucian and the Lieutenant.

“Yes, if he doesn’t respond soon, we’re going to have no choice but to try ECT I’m afraid,” Dr Lucian replied, looking briefly at Malcolm with a sad expression before his mask of professionalism was back in place.

Abraham looked anywhere but at the Lieutenant when he gasped at the mention of ECT.

“You mean electroshock therapy, right?” Lieutenant Arroyo asked, his eyes never leaving Malcolm’s still huddled form on his bed.

“Yes, unfortunately in cases like this where they are unresponsive to medications, ECT is the only viable option. It actually has high rates of success in catatonic depressive states,” Dr Lucian reported.

“But you are talking about electrocuting him,” Lieutenant Arroyo said, his voice incredulous.

Dr Lucian chuckled, “no, no, it is nothing as barbaric as that, I assure you. It is all done under general anesthetic and very precise amounts of electricity are used. It is safe. And effective for cases like Malcolm’s.

Lieutenant Arroyo looked more distraught than he had when he came in as he looked back at Malcolm, his face twisting with his obvious distress.

Dr Lucian patted him on the shoulder, “how about you have some time with him. I know you fought very hard to get in to see him. Unfortunately I can only give you half an hour. That is all that administration will allow I’m afraid, and I had to argue to get you that.”

Lieutenant Arroyo nodded, “thank you Doctor, I really appreciate it.”

Dr Lucian bowed slightly at the Lieutenant and with a brief look at Abraham and made his exit.

Abraham looked awkwardly between Lieutenant Arroyo and Malcolm, feeling uncomfortable at intruding on his time with him. He had seen first hand, just how deeply he cared for Malcolm.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant Arroyo, I have to stay in the room while you are here. He is still technically a prisoner,” Abraham advised him apologetically.

Lieutenant Arroyo sighed, “call me Gil, please. And yeah, I know. I am trying my darndest to make that right too,” Gil told him, his face hardening.

Abraham smiled at him warmly, “I’m sure you are. You always looked out for him Lieu…Gil.”

Gil smiled sadly at him, “yeah, just wish it had been enough.”

Abraham nodded and quietly went to sit in his chair in the corner of the room. Doing his best to not be noticed as he watched Gil slowly walk over to the edge of Malcolm’s bed and stare down at the curled up man.

He couldn’t help but continue to watch them as he saw Gil sit on the edge of the bed and gently unfold one of Malcolm’s hands from where it was crossed over his chest, instinctively giving himself comfort even in his sleep.

Malcolm didn’t stir at first, but eventually his head started to thrash and jaw clenched tight. Abraham went to intervene, but stopped when he saw Gil lean in and whisper to him while brushing back Malcolm’s dishevelled hair off his face. His hand still firmly clasping Malcolm’s.

“You’re ok Kid. I’m here now. I’m sorry I took so long to get to see you, but I’m here now. You can wake up, ok?” Gil encouraged him in a whisper as he continued to stroke his hair.

Abraham’s heart clenched at the raw pain he could hear in Gil’s voice. This had been tough on him, not being able to help his friend…his kid, as he himself called him. God knows he had clearly been more a Father to Malcolm than his real Father had been.

“Come on Malcolm, wake up now,” Gil continued to comfort him and encourage him to break out of his dream.

With a sudden flailing of his arms, Malcolm woke with a start. Gil barely avoided being hit before he was able to grab his other hand in his. Malcolm’s eyes darted around the room, clearly still seeing his dreamscape for a moment after waking, before he slumped back into the mattress panting as he came down from his nightmare.

Abraham was half out of his chair to help Gil, when he motioned him back and continued to speak quietly and gently to Malcolm.

“Hey kid, good to see those baby blues again. You’re ok now. Just breathe,” Gil coached him as he let go of one of his hands and went back to stroking his hair.

Abraham nearly missed his chair as he was sitting back down as he saw Malcolm’s eyes flick up to Gil’s in recognition and his hand squeeze tightly over Gil’s.

“Malcolm! Can you hear me? Are you with me?” Gil cried as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s temple.

Abraham had to swallow down the lump in his throat as Malcolm blinked up at him, tears swimming in his eyes before they started to fall down his cheeks unchecked.

“Oh kid, I got you. I got you, I promise,” Gil assured him, his voice cracked and strained as tears of his own slid down his cheeks unashamedly.

“I got you,” he promised as he pressed their foreheads together.

Abraham had to look away as he discretely wiped away the stray tear that he slipped past his own control.

Sometimes he really liked his job.