Hold, hold on, hold onto me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady

It was a long day behind his back and just hauling his ass home at the dead of the night felt like a bit overboard. Not that he didn't want to be home.

He wanted and longed for that ever since the case went south with al his good intentions and whatnot.

Gil certainly didn't buy his confidence in being 'okay' but who he was to resist offer of driving him home just looking at his rapidly tiring look.

The case itself wasn't one he wanted to think of for a long time. A body of a young girl washed up on the riverbend that was found by a lone fisherman. But what actually creeped him out the most was that there wasn't an obvious cause of death. She just like died on spot before falling into water and floating up to that old man.

And then they had hard time identifying her or anything. Edrisa did her best to seek her COD but it was pretty futile. Also what confused Malcolm was the fact she looked as she hadn't been dead for a really long time but also no chemicals popped up on tox screen and there they just straight up hit the wall and led to Malcolm 'accidentally' get drunk and tumble down his stairs the night before. He usually didn't just got drunk for the sake of it unless he felt like making a mess.

But he did. And then he woke up on the floor at the very bottom of the staircase with a very sore wrist and bruised back and headache from hell that he blamed on the actual drink instead of the unfortunate clumsy tumble, which, in hindsight, was his first dire mistake.

Maybe because after his stiff morning rituals and two failed meditation attempts and one completely ditched workout he still felt like dying street animal. Even double dose of coffee and extra special pain killers from the hidden cupboard he could mildly feel all the wrongdoings to his body the night before.

Weirdly he didn't feel nauseous just right off the bat but if that happened later in the day he wouldn't be surprised. His appetite was even less than usual but then he couldn't actually do much about it on the best days. Also his wrist, the very same once he crushed his thumb on to get free of the shackles in the basement of his family house, was in gradually worsening pain.

And by the time he was about to leave for precinct nobody expected him to show up after the mild argument about his stubbornness and defying direct orders he begun do rethink his first aid kit.

While his pride may feel slightly buzzed and scraped he was glad the whole building was at his own expense so no other set of eyes had to see his humiliating existence.

However it was no time for such things at this time. He had to locate his kit and wrap that wrist in vain attempt to hinder any worry from Gil and the team.

Which will be there for sure and for the duration of however long the day will drag on so he better get his story right the first time. And hopefully his mother wouldn't hear of this misstep.

He wasn't usually this clumsy but obviously not this time around.

Eventually he did locate those wrapy things and made the best effort to wrap his wrist to at least somewhat make it better for all of them.

He knew if the next turn of events, if it takes him to a swim or something and have to change, they will all be on him. And that was something he didn't wanna go through. The bruises will speak and they will listen. And he will be taken to a hospital and there he had zero leverage..

Hold, hold on, hold onto me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady

So he sucked up his blatant tries of escaping the doom and started to rummage though that closet and this drawer in the bathroom until he found the kit. It was lacking on the best days, today he had no idea if was one of those, probably depends on which pov he relied on.

From his pov it was medicore at best but also one of the worst if regarding the case.

It was late evening and he made sure not to keep on all the lights so his possibly snooping mother or overly excited sister wouldn't come to see him like this.

It took him several less graceful moments to master the wrap but eventually, as the night snuck upon the city in it's blazing glory, he finished the job.

However the memories of that dead girl's body just like that flooded his conscience like a dreary fall day and misty air quality dragging anything out of him. He tried to put on some music, but what was there on his music station only brought more sadness and all of a sudden he started crying.

The unwanted tears kept flooding like the melting ice waters of a wild river stream and absolutely unconsciously his hands sneaked their way to the lone bottle on his kitchen island and less than minutes later he was buzzing from whatever liquor was in there.

The tears kept streaming and he was seeing the girl's body floating the stream with her dead eyes open and staring through his soul. And then she started to scream like the banshee he didn't expect and all he could see was white..

But suddenly al that was plunged into a black darkness and a loud crash with the tingle of a glass reverberated through the entire loft leaving Malcolm confused and wide eyed…

He didn't feel anything as numbness was overwhelming and drowning at the same time..

And he looked down..

The shiny surface of the island was covered in equally shiny shards of a tinted glass and he realized it's been his own previously injured hand causing all that mess..

And then his eye was caught by something dark and liquid slowly oozing across the shards.

A huge pieces of that bottle was sticking out of his hand, through some of the wrap and embedded in his palm…

With a flash of a blazing second he was seeing red. And from some far away corner of his eye he saw that same figure he had seen before…

A nerve grazing laughter echoing through the quiet of the loft and all he could do was rage…

Hold, hold on, hold onto me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

The morning sun glinted mercilessly at his face as his eyes slowly slid open. His parakeet was screeching in a blaze of glory and obvious anger. She was being fierce and worried and those two emotions for the little bird were rather familiar.

He took a moment to resurface and observe.

It was bad…

He'd done some damage and felt deeply ashamed for that. Malcolm slowly lifted his head up from the floor where he could guess he hit the ground at some point. There was glass from a bottle scattered everywhere..

And what scared him the most…


He cautiously lifted his hand and realized it was throbbing vengefully at him back as if cursing his existence. And he didn't blame his body for hating him..

Suddenly aware of the daylight and the hour of the morning Malcolm panicked before jumping on his feet.. .only to fall back on the floor in crashing pain…

Everything hurt like hell and he realized he'd spent the whole night on the cold, hard floor.

Nothing unusual..

He's been through worse. That's what he told himself anyway..

But now he had more mess to clean up before somebody came looking for him and knowing his luck that could happen any time soon.

Too soon..

So he started to move but less hurriedly.

It took some time to clean up the mess and then some more to make sense of his injured limb. Not his first rodeo either. He even managed some stitches and new wrap to make sure it was all okay. Questions will come either way now that he mangled himself more than the night before.

And he could feel the pain crushing his skull so there was that.

But maybe deep down he enjoyed the pain… maybe he liked to walk across the open space and reach for another set of pill bottles… maybe he was considering calling in sick and then flee the place… maybe… just maybe…

On his way to another drawer far back he apologized Sunshine for all that scare and got her food and water. Some gentle coos and she was okay again..

And then he walked over to another room and rummaged through some drawers..

He will reprimand himself later along with the rest of people that will come down on him hard..

Until then he will let the darkness wash over and take him elsewhere…

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady…