At The End of His Rope
Summary: Set after the season two finale. Gil finally gets his hands on Malcolm
Warning(s): Spanking, including wth a belt; spoilers for both seasons of Prodigal Son; AU; references to violence and murder; references to torture
Author's Note: This fic disregards the ending scene of season two's finale, where Malcolm supposedly stabs Martin, and assumes that Martin is arrested and taken back to prison. Sadly, the series was cancelled on a pretty major cliffhanger, so there's no way of knowing what the writers intended to do with the series after that ending scene
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Bright sat on the hospital bed, only allowing himself to be checked over because Gil was standing in one corner of the room, staring at him with a stern look and arms crossed over his chest. And he wasn't entirely sure the older man wouldn't put him across his knee right here in the hospital room, no matter who might be there to see.
"Well, there are no injuries. Really, I would prefer to keep you in overnight for observation, but I suspect you'd go ahead and check yourself out against my advice anyway." The doctor straightened up and shook his head, then turned to look at Gil. "I recommend he has at least two weeks of medical leave."
"You don't need to worry." Gil's stern gaze was fixed on Bright as he spoke. "He'll be lucky if he's not suspended."
The doctor didn't say anything, which Bright was thankful for. Instead, he passed Gil, of all people, the medical file, then walked out of the room.
Silence descended, heavy and thick. Malcolm didn't dare look up at Gil. He could feel his father figure's eyes on him, boring into him. He braced himself, waiting for the moment that Gil would explode.
When the older man finally spoke, it was in a low, carefully controlled tone...one that belied the anger and emotional turmoil he had to be feeling. "What were you thinking?" Before Bright could open his mouth to respond, Gil was shaking his head. "You know what? Don't even bother answering, because I know you weren't thinking."
"I didn't choose to go with him." Bright's eyes darted to Gil's face as a slight pleading note crept into his voice. "Capshaw had put me under. By the time I woke up, the Surgeon had already made his escape."
Gil walked over to stand next to the hospital bed, towering over Bright. "Did he tie you up?"
"No."
"Did he keep you in a locked room?"
Bright flinched at the question, but had to admit, "No."
Gil's eyes bored into Bright's as he asked, "Did he otherwise prevent you from calling me, Dani, J.T., or even your mother to let even one of us know that you were alive and safe?"
Bright flinched at the words, hunching in on himself. He couldn't help it. Gil scolding him made him feel like a child. "I wanted to see where he'd go with it." The admittance was made in a low voice as he stared down at his lap. He didn't say that a part of him had hoped that Martin Whitly really had changed. No matter how old he'd got, there was still a part of him that was that little boy who'd looked up to his father; who'd loved Martin Whitly and believed his Dad was a surgeon who saved lives...not a serial killer who took them.
"Bright." Gil sighed, his eyes softening slightly, even though he still looked stern. "You were far too close to this situation." He held up a hand to forestall the protest Bright had been about to make. "Don't even try to claim that you weren't, because we both know better."
Bright very determinedly did not pout, though he couldn't help the slightly sulky note that crept into his voice as he said, "None of you were willing to bring him in alive."
"You know better than that. Yes, the Surgeon was the most prolific serial killer case I came across, and he certainly doesn't deserve to ever be free. No matter what good he's done, and how much he might have helped solve cases, he will always be a danger to society and innocent people." Gil took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he continued, "Equally, the Surgeon, or Martin Whitly, is better to keep alive if at all possible. Not for his own sake. Not even for the sake of society. But for your sake. For Malcolm Bright's sake." He paused, shook his head, and corrected himself. "For Malcolm Whitly's sake."
Bright raised his eyes to meet Gil's, feeling a stab of hope. "Really?
"Why do you think I haven't stopped you from seeing him, even when I felt it wasn't good for you?"
A faint blush touched Bright's cheeks and he looked down, unable to keep holding eye contact. "You told me to let it go," he muttered, then winced as he sounded more like a rebellious teenager than the full-grown adult he was.
"Bright, you're lucky you weren't arrested," Gil said, folding his arms across his chest. "I told you to let it go because I knew something like this would happen."
"That I'd get drugged and the Surgeon would drag me off with him when he escaped?"
"That you'd get pulled into his scheme." Gil sighed and took a step closer to the bed, sitting down next to Bright. "I was trying to protect you, Malcolm."
Bright flinched at the words. He knew that he couldn't claim Gil was lying. The man had protected him and stuck his neck out for him on multiple occasions. He wanted to tell the older man he didn't need protecting anymore, as he wasn't the lonely, traumatised child Gil had taken under his wing after arresting the Surgeon.
But the words stuck in his throat. They would be cruel to put voice to, and Bright didn't want to hurt Gil. Even when he didn't agree with the older man, he still had a lot of respect for Gil. So instead of saying what he could have said, instead of hurting his father-figure in that way, he muttered, "I just wanted him to be my father. Not...the serial killer. Not the Surgeon. Just my dad. I knew it wouldn't last, but...I figured once we'd solved those murders, he'd be content enough to be brought in without lethal force being used." He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. "You're right," he muttered. "It was stupid to feel that way. I knew better. I knew better."
Gil was quiet for a few moments. He finally placed a hand on Bright's shoulder, squeezing lightly, and spoke in a low voice. "I know I don't understand what it was like to grow up with a serial killer as a father, Malcolm, but I've seen what it did to you. I don't blame you for wanting to spend that time with Martin Whitly, to solve a case with him. But you have to know that you went about this entirely the wrong way," he said seriously. "You should have called me, if no one else, instead of trying to solve murder cases with a serial killer."
"I know." Bright stared at his hands for a moment, then looked up into Gil's face. "Are you going to fire me?" he asked, in a small voice.
"I probably should. At the very least, you should be suspended...pending an investigation." Gil sighed and shook his head. "Fortunately, for you, I was able to step in and convince my superiors that you were acting on my orders. The fact that you and Whitly were responsible for uncovering the identity of The Woodsman, as well as saving his most recent victim." He paused, then spoke in a more serious voice. "I don't suppose you know anything about the injuries the suspect received? I'm not a doctor, but they looked like they were done with almost...surgical precision."
Bright bit his lip and glanced away. He could easily tell Gil that Martin Whitly had acted of his own accord; that he'd made the decision to torture the other serial killer for the victim's location on his own. And maybe Gil would even believe him.
"I told him to get the victim's location out of The Woodsman," Bright admitted quietly. "I needed to get to her before she died. I had to save her." His eyes darted to Gil's face and he swallowed. "Gil, you know me. You know that the victims are my first priority. I understand you think I went about it the wrong way, but...look at the way things ended. The Woodsman has been arrested. His victim was saved. And the Surgeon is back in custody."
"Bright, any lawyer worth their salt will be able to get Don a plea deal. He's not going to stay a prisoner for long."
"Don won't say anything," Bright said with certainty. "He'd be too afraid of the Surgeon breaking out of Claremont and coming to finish the job."
"I hope you're right, because if you're not, then your actions in letting the Surgeon loose on a suspect, even if he is a serial killer, could get him back out onto the streets again." Gil shook his head. "You handled this entire case wrong, Malcolm. Even though things worked out in the end, that doesn't mean what you did was right." He reached out and closed his fingers around Bright's wrist, then tugged him across his lap in one swift movement.
Bright let out a tiny gasp as he was positioned across Gil's lap. He couldn't honestly say that he was surprised to be in this position, though he'd been hoping that Gil would wait until they were at his loft...or at least in the older man's car. "Gil, not here!" he whined, beginning to squirm. "What if someone comes in?!"
"Right now, kid, I don't care who sees this. You're lucky you're not getting it worse." Gil lifted his hand and brought it down in an extra-hard smack.
Bright let out a yelp, his legs kicking out. Even through his pants, the swat hurt. Clearly, Gil wasn't messing around. "Gil, please! At least wait until we're out of the hospital!"
Instead of responding with words, Gil continued to deliver firm, hard smacks to Bright's bottom, working over every inch from the crest down to mid-thigh, before he started over from the top.
As Gil began to smack skin that had already received attention, Bright's struggles increased. "I'm sorry!" he burst out.
"I don't believe you are, Malcolm. I think you still feel like you did the right thing, because it all worked out...but there was one person who died who didn't have to. Wasn't there?" Gil asked sternly.
Bright winced at the words, feeling a stab of guilt. Truthfully, he'd forgotten about Crutchfield in the success of solving the case and finding The Woodsman. Swallowing hard, he whispered, "I didn't intend to get anyone killed. I just wanted to do the right thing."
"I know, Malcolm. But that's exactly why you shouldn't have stayed with Martin Whitly after he took you. You should have called me as soon as you had the chance. If you'd done that, you wouldn't have been a fugitive on the run. And, more importantly, no one would have had to die." As he spoke, Gil paused in the spanking and began to tug Bright's pants down.
Almost immediately, despite knowing he deserved this punishment...likely deserved worse...Bright threw his hand back in a futile attempt to stop the descent of his clothing. "Please," he begged.
Ignoring the protest, Gil tugged Bright's pants down, then followed them with his underwear. "This behaviour needs to stop," he scolded. "I can't keep sticking my neck out for you, Bright. Most of my superiors see you as a loose cannon...and going by your most recent behaviour, I can't honestly say that they're wrong."
Bright swallowed, feeling tears prick at his eyes at Gil's words. He knew that the older man spoke up for him; that Gil knew how important these cases were to him, so made sure he could actually be involved. Shame and guilt pricked at him as he thought about how he'd treated the older man...how he must have made Gil look to his superiors with the actions he'd taken. "I'm sorry," he whispered, a couple of tears escaping and sliding down his cheeks.
Gil's sigh was heavy. "Maybe you're finally starting to understand the impact your actions can have on other people," he muttered, before raising his hand once more.
Despite trying to brace himself, Bright couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips when Gil resumed spanking, this time on bare, vulnerable skin that was already warm and stinging. For a few desperate seconds, Bright's squirming increased...though it was now a response to the stinging burn from the smacks, rather than in an attempt to get away. Then, finally, his body slumped over Gil's lap as his breath hitched in a sob.
Gil paused, but the hand he rested on Bright's back, holding him down, indicated that the punishment wasn't over.
Bright's breath caught in his throat as he heard the unmistakeable sound of Gil's belt being pulled through its loops. He'd only felt the sting of an implement on a handful of occasions before; most of the time, Gil seemed to believe that his hand was sufficient enough.
That he was choosing to use his belt served to drive home the point that he took Bright's actions very seriously.
When the first burning stripe of leather landed across the fullest part of his backside, it wrenched a cry from Bright's throat, and he pressed his mouth against his arm to muffle his subsequent cries as Gil continued to bring the belt down.
The punishment was painful, but Bright was aware enough to know that Gil was holding back, even through his tears and muffled yelps. Each stroke left a stripe of fire in its wake, burning every inch of Bright's bottom from the crest down to mid-thigh. He couldn't kick, couldn't squirm, couldn't plead...all he could do was lay there and take it, sobbing until he could barely see through his tears.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, Gil stopped the strapping. By that point, Bright was crying without pause, not even trying to muffle his sobs.
Gil carefully pulled his clothing back into place, ignoring the way Bright's sobs increased slightly. Then, he helped him to stand up and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.
Trying to swallow back his tears, Bright wrapped his arms around Gil and held on tight, trying to gulp back his tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered, when he felt able to speak without breaking out into fresh sobs.
Gil's sigh was almost inaudible. "I'd prefer it if you changed your behaviour, rather than do what you know I'll disapprove of, and could get you killed, and be sorry after the fact."
Bright winced at the slight scolding note in Gil's voice and buried his face into the older man's shoulder, clinging to Gil a bit tighter. He wanted so desperately to tell Gil that he would change his behaviour; that he would stop putting himself in danger and wouldn't worry Gil anymore.
The problem was, Bright knew himself. That was the biggest issue in being a profiler; he couldn't switch it off, even when it came to his own behaviour. And where Martin Whitly was concerned...and victims were in danger, more importantly...he knew that he'd just go ahead and do his own thing anyway. As soon as the sting from the punishment faded, he would immediately 'forget' the consequences and just do the same thing again.
He was reasonably certain Gil wouldn't be surprised if he told the older man that...but even if that might not come as a surprise to his father-figure, and talking to Gil might allow him to get more help in curbing his more reckless behaviour, he didn't want to bring it up now. Not when his bottom was throbbing from what he had to admit was a deserved spanking...and Gil was holding him.
It was the first time the older man had held him like this since the Surgeon had escaped Claremont...and he realised now how much he needed that comfort.
He was going to take advantage of it for as long as it was offered.
The End