Chapter Text
Working cases in the middle of winter definitely wasn’t Malcolm’s favorite thing. In fact, he hated the cold weather, and he wasn’t the only one. As he followed Gil to the scene, boots crunching the light layer of snow beneath them, he could hear JT grumble about the cold. Dani Powell voiced her agreement, hastily stomping her feet as she walked. Malcolm smiled at their banter, almost waiting for Gil to turn around and tell his kids to quit bickering. He didn’t, though, and instead looked ahead as he approached the crime scene. Between the team and Edrisa, they determined the cause of death. Malcolm followed it up with a profile, leading to he and the others talking about possible suspects. They talked as they left the crime scene, and one deep breath meant to be a sigh got caught in the profiler’s throat, leading him to cough for a moment. He brushed it off as nothing but the crisp air.
It was not just the air. He could feel the cough in his throat the rest of the day, but not wanting to continue coughing as to annoy the others. He even spotted Dani looking over her shoulder to shoot him a look at one point. He made sure at that point to stop coughing and keep it in, not wanting to risk annoying her, JT, or Gil. It was making him slightly anxious and uncomfortable to keep coughing at bay, but he managed. The minute that they were done for the day, though, Malcolm was the first out of the room, already beginning to cough into his sleeve. He tried to keep it down as to not worry the others in the precinct, and get out of there as fast as he could. He made it to the steps outside before the coughing became hacking. He could feel it begin to rub his throat raw, and he absentmindedly rubbed at it with a hand before he was on his way home.
---
Falling asleep was harder than usual. He was coughing to the point where he could no longer keep his mouthguard in. He could still shackle himself, but the mouthguard simply wasn’t working. Not when he was coughing every few seconds. He’d be better by morning, he was sure. He tried to relax, but was too nervous to do so. It even affected Sunshine, who chirped anxiously from her cage. Malcolm tried to calm her down with soothing, gentle words, but stopped when he broke off into another cough. It left him breathing a little faster now, and he closed his eyes in the hopes that he would fall asleep faster.
Malcolm wasn’t sure when sleep came and went. What he was aware of, however, was how much his throat ached. He remembered the nightmare, and woke screaming. But the inside of his neck was raw from it plus the coughing he’d gone to bed with to the point that it hurt to swallow. He raised a hand to massage it, unaware he was still in his cuffs. He slowly unbuckled his wrists, first scrubbing his face to wake him up a bit before he moved them to his neck. He groaned as he stood, and even felt a little uneasy when he did so. In fact, even a little unsteady. He planted his feet firmly on the ground to prevent falling. He wrapped his arms around himself, inexplicably cold. Yet, when he’d taken his hands down from his face, they were slick with sweat from the nightmare. The goosebumps on his arms made no sense. He started to rub at his biceps to warm himself up as he stepped across the room and towards the kitchen.
Grabbing a glass of water added no comfort. He had his eyes open to barely slits as he stood by the fridge. As he drank, he found himself leaning more and more against the fridge until he had to push himself off it. He glanced to the time displayed on a clock, yawning and wondering why he was awake. Through his bleary and blurred gaze, he could tell it was three something in the morning. He wanted to go back to bed but wasn’t sure if he could. The nightmares would plague him again and he wasn’t sure his throat could take any more of it. He gave an indecisive sigh, and set his glass down on the counter. He’d get it in the morning.
Malcolm figured he would at least try to get back to bed. He had work in the morning. He didn’t really want to, and it was the furthest thing in his mind right now. He had half a mind to call out, but he didn’t want to spring that on Gil. Even if Gil would probably allow it. Malcolm tried not to think too hard on this, and instead trekked to the bathroom, grabbing the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet. Maybe he was getting sick. That would explain the coughing, the weariness, and the overall feeling of not good. He carried it with him to the living room, holding it under his tongue while he approached Sunshine’s cage. He stood there to admire her a few moments until the small machine in his mouth beeped. He looked at the numbers incredulously. It had to be wrong. 99.8 didn’t seem right. That was too high. Clearly it must be defective.
---
In the back of his mind, going into the precinct seemed like a bad idea. Waking up and getting ready was a grueling process. Once his eyes were open, after he’d taken himself out of his restraints, he sat up. Planting his feet on the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed, Malcolm placed a hand to his chest. He breathed in, feeling a vibration resonating deep in his chest. The sound and feeling of fluid buildup in the lungs. On top of that, he could practically hear his own heartbeat. It was ringing loudly in his temples, forcing a brewing headache behind his eyes. He absently moved his hand along his pectorals, trying to ease the pain there. Pain from coughing, screaming in his sleep, and from the strain of being sick. He could feel his tachycardic heartbeat, slightly worried at it’s fast speed. It almost matched when he woke from a nightmare, pulse galloping and wild as if he’d just run a marathon.
One sigh was enough to orient him a little bit, and steel him to get up for the day. When he rose to his feet, his vision started to fade in and out for a few seconds before black dots swam before his eyes. His heart was beating fast enough without having stood up too swiftly. He instantly regretted it, sitting down to catch his breath. He put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Except on the first one, the breath caught in his throat, throwing him into a coughing fit. By the time he could breathe normally again, there were tears in his eyes. He was nearly panting, having been unable to inhale mere moments ago.
Once his composure was regained, Malcolm stood. Slowly, this time. He made his way to the kitchen to begin his daily routine. When he got to the counter, he rested his arms on it, and his head on top of that. He could barely keep his eyes open. It took him a few moments to open them again to prepare some water to take his medicine with. He did that in his habit, following it with one of the uplifting cards. It did not seem particularly uplifting today. He barely looked at it, and didn’t repeat the words printed on it. Mainly out of fear that if he talked, he’d launch himself into more coughing.
He dressed sluggishly, eyes half lidded through the process. He was exhausted, despite the fact that he’d just woken up. It was too late to call out of work and request to stay home, even though becoming a no call no show sounded quite tempting. But he couldn’t do that to the team, so to work he went. He didn’t even listen to the radio on the way there, most of his focus was on staying awake and trying not to breathe too loudly. He liked to think he was doing quite well, but even on the steps leading to the precinct, he was aware of some odd looks. He gave himself a once over, ensuring that he was at least matching and not dirty. Seeing that he was, he had to assume that he simply looked tired. He felt ragged on the inside, and already found himself stifling a cough before he entered the doors.
He made his way to the others, already discussing a case in their usual conference room. Malcolm joined them, but furrowed his brows at their stares. He looked between them, trying to gauge what was wrong.
“You okay, Bright?”
The profiler turned to his left, unaware that Dani had been there. How’d she get over here so quick? “I’m f-”
“Don’t pull that on me. I haven’t known you long, but I know you well enough.”
Without warning, Dani extended her hand. Malcolm barely had time to recoil before the back of her copper hand was pressed to his forehead. She made a face before retracting her hand. “Malcolm, you’re burning up.”
He gave a nervous smile and a shake of his head. He closed his eyes against the feeling of vertigo building up. “I feel fine, don’t worry.” When he noticed Gil moving from across the table, he looked up. He even tried to back up, ready to insist again that he was fine. He didn’t need Gil sending him home. Not when there were cases to help with. But Dani was smarter. She’d moved again, quick as a viper, and was now closer to the door, effectively blocking it. Gil approached malcolm, feeling the younger male’s forehead for himself. “What are you doing coming in here like this?” he questioned, shooting him a glance when Malcolm opened his mouth to answer. “Dani, take him home.”