Misc.

prodigal son 3

Teddy's shift didn't end until 10 that night, but the boy had drifted off in a chair in an office room earlier that evening. He'd been reviewing the case on his own, and nodded off after a bit. The room was just...so quiet, and the city lights were like nightlights twinkling in the distance. Most people had gone home and the lights were turned off, including the ones in the office Teddy was in, the only light being the yellow streetlights filtering in through the open blinds. 

He dreamt.

He dreamt of being a kid again. At home. 

His father sat across from him at the dinner table. 

"What was that?" he sneered. Anxiety filled the boy's chest and he swallowed.

"Nothing, I'm sorry."

"No no, repeat what you said."

"I said I didn't like dinner." Teddy said, very softly, regret coursing through his body. His father mused for a moment before nodding.

"You know the Bible claims selfishness as a sin, right son? And, since you're so smart and selfish, remind me again what happens to sinners?"

"Dad...I'm sorry." the boy whined, shame replacing regret. Abruptly, his father slammed his hand against the table, and began shouting.

"I put food on the table and you fucking don't like it? What the fuck is wrong with you? You know what-"  

He grabbed his son's shoulder, hauling him up from wherever he was sitting, and Teddy scrambled to get out of the hold.

"Please." Teddy mumbled in his sleep.

He heard a cabinet door open and fear flooded his senses, fighting the hand that gripped his arm so tightly. He begged, struggling. 

"I'm sorry." he said louder, catching Malcolm's attention. Bright called out for the other detective down the hall.

"I'm sorry! Please don't, I'm sorry." the boy cried, resisting and trying to free himself at all costs. He got loose, falling onto the floor. 

"I'm sorry!" 

In a blind rage, his father grabbed the first thing and threw it at his son, a glass narrowly missing his forehead. Teddy got up, terrified and started running. 

"Leave me alone!"

The boy ran down the street, panicking to get away from the horror of whatever his father was trying to do to him.

Teddy screamed and flew out of the chair and down the hall colliding with Malcolm through the doorway. They fell to the floor, alerting several officers around, and Malcolm tried to wake the young man up. Somewhere deep in his mind Teddy was convinced it was his father and started flailing, panicked and scared. 

"Teddy, hey, hey, hey, calm down-" Malcolm said, immediately recognizing the behaviors. 

"No, please, no, I'm sorry-" he cried, alarmed, trying to get out of the grip.

"Hey wake up, you're asleep, stop," Malcolm called, concerned, not letting go. 

The commotion of the fall, along with Malcolm calling his name, and the sheer desire to escape the pure fear he was experiencing finally woke the young man. He thrashed and hyperventilated, realizing he was at the police station. 

"Teddy, hey, stop, I've got you," Malcolm said, and Teddy stopped beating him away when he recognized that it was Bright holding him down and not his father. He pushed himself up, heart racing, trying to get as far away from the nightmare as possible, still crying and panicking. Instinctively, he pulled himself close to Malcolm, only able to think about how Malcolm wasn't dangerous, and Malcolm wasn't his father, and Malcolm would never hurt him. 

"Hey, calm down, it's just a dream," Bright iterated, holding the boy close. Teddy clung to the detective, like he was scared that if he let go he might go back to the hellish experience he'd just come out of. "It was just a bad dream, okay? You're okay."

"I'm sorry." Teddy sniffed, still gripping the back of Malcolm's suit, tears filling his eyes. 

"No no no, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong."

People began going back to their own business, leaving the two on the floor. Teddy hung on for a minute before tentatively pulling back and looking up at Malcolm who still had both hands on the boy's shoulders. 

"Let's go for a walk." he sighed. 

~~~

The stairwell had always been a good place for breakdowns. The fear from the dream had worn off for the most part. His hands still shook slightly and everything was a blur in his head that just kept repeating itself. Malcolm joined him on the step, handing him a cup of water.

He seemed to notice.

"Are you ok? You hit your head pretty hard when you fell."

"No I'm fine," Teddy mumbled quietly, sipping at the cup. "I'm sorry for smacking into you."

"Hey don't apologize, I've dealt with worse." 

It was silent for a bit as the other detective caught his breath more. It was Malcolm that broke the quiet.

"What was the dream about?"

Teddy shrugged.

"My dad."

"Funny. My dreams are about my dad too. Mostly."

"Daddy issues. Fun." Teddy said, taking another drink of water. 

"The best." Malcolm sighed. A minute later he spoke again. 

"You uh, you can't let them get the best of you though. That part of your life is in the past now. It can't hurt you anymore. Understand?" he held out a hand.

"Mhm." Teddy nodded, taking it carefully. He understood.