Malcolm should've listened to Gil when he said not to go in without calling for backup and waiting for the rest of the team to get to the location. He shouldn't have gone in at all. Especially when no one knew the extent of how unstable everything in the old rundown cabin was.
Maybe he had thought that the floorboards would be able to hold his weight, that they'd be strong enough to hold him just long enough to reach the killer's latest victim and get her out before it collapses on them, crushing and killing them both.
Clearly he was stupid to think that, and now he's hurt. He's hurt bad.
He can't feel his legs, and there's a heavy wooden post crushing his torso as he's pinned to the ground under the cabin. Not to mention the throbbing pain in his head.
There's no way he's getting out of this mess himself, and he has no idea how far away Gil, Dani, and JT are from the cabin.
If the girl he ran in to rescue is still alive, or if she got injured too when the floor collapsed under him, Malcolm isn't sure. He hopes she's still okay and that she didn't fall through the floor. Although it did look like the section she was chained to was a little more stable than what he walked across and ultimately fell through, so maybe she's still okay?
"Well you've certainly gone and gotten yourself into some serious trouble, now haven't you?"
Malcolm groans as he hears the voice, and looks up to find his father standing at the edge of the hole in the floor peering down at him. This is just what he needs right now. A damn stress induced hallucination of his father. As if his day couldn't get any worse.
"Unless you have some way of helping me, fuck off." He says through gritted teeth.
"Well for one, you could attempt to remove all the wood off yourself." Martin says, frowning. "Although, I think we both know that you won't be able to get up on your own."
His father is right. There's no way he'll be able to get up on his own. Especially when he can't feel his legs. In fact, he's having trouble feeling anything past where the wooden post is crushing his torso and pinning him to the ground.
"I... I can't feel my legs." He says, as he watches as his father walks around the edge of the hole.
"And I think we both have a pretty good idea of why that is." Martin says. "Have you called Gil? You should really start learning how to call for backup, my boy."
Malcolm screws his eyes shut, willing the hallucination of his father away. He doesn't need him taunting him with things he already knows. And he'd rather not think about the possibility of why he can't feel his legs. He has a very bad idea of why he can't feel them, but he just doesn't want to think of that. The less he thinks of it, the better.
And he doesn't need his father telling him that he should start learning how to call for backup instead of running straight onto a potential crime scene. Even if it is true. He's already expecting to get yelled at by Gil for not calling for backup before going in, but he doesn't tend to think about his own safety when it comes to the safety of others while on a case. He doesn't care if he himself gets hurt in the crossfire. Although for once he is absolutely regretting not calling for backup, or at the very least waiting for Gil and the rest of the team to get here before running in.
At least he did text Gil his location before going in, telling him that he thinks he's found the girl, so hopefully Gil, Dani, and JT are on the way, and hopefully they're bringing backup and an ambulance. When and if they'll get here though, he has no clue. He hasn't looked at his phone since sending the text to Gil. He'd check it right now if he could reach it, but he can't. And even if he could reach it in his pocket, there's a high chance that it was smashed in the fall.
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Prodigal Son || One-Shots
Fanfiction"I used to think I was nothing like my father, but that's not entirely true. Truth is my father is a part of me. I can't deny it. That's why I understand killers. I'm like you." A collection of one-shots for Prodigal Son.
