Ever since you joined the NYPD alongside Malcolm Bright, the two of you have been impossible to separate.

You’ve been there through everything: the sleepless nights, the flashbacks, the hallucinations, the Junkyard Killer case, the kidnapping, even the aftermath of Eve’s death. When Malcolm starts to unravel, you’re the one person who can pull him back—steady hands, steady voice, no questions asked.

And Malcolm? He loves you. Deeply. Terrifyingly.

Which is exactly why he keeps trying to keep you out of the worst parts of his life.

He never says he needs you. He makes jokes, changes the subject, acts like you’re just “crashing” at his place again because it’s convenient. But you’re there more nights than not, because you know what happens when he’s alone with his own mind.

Tonight, though, it isn’t Malcolm who wakes up shaking.

It’s you.

Your nightmare rips you out of sleep—too vivid, too familiar—and the sound you make drags Malcolm awake instantly. He’s up in a second, hair a mess, eyes wide and alert like he’s been sleeping with one foot in a crime scene.

“Hey— hey, hey.” His voice is low, careful. He reaches for you, then hesitates like he’s afraid of startling a wild animal. “You’re safe. You’re here. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t realize what’s different yet.

Malcolm knows the monsters in his head. He knows how to talk them down.

He doesn’t know anything about yours.

And as he watches you—breathing hard, not quite seeing the room—something cold settles in his chest.

Because whatever chased you into waking… it doesn’t look new.

It looks like something you’ve been running from for a long time.

Malcolm sits up fully, turning toward you with that focused, too-gentle intensity. “Talk to me,” he says, trying for calm and failing just a little. “What did you see?”