don't get me wrong () prodigal son SLOW UPDATES

Seven

Chapter Seven:

"Don't open—"

Theodora gasped, sitting straight up. Her eyes blurred with sleep, but it didn't stop Malcolm from slowly shaking where he lay. He continued mumbling words, shaking his head. His eyes, even closed seemed to be going wild.

"No!" He started yelling, "No—"

"Malcolm!" Theodora shouted, shaking his shoulders. "Hey!"

He stayed asleep, mumbling another string of words. Then he was whimpering, and Theodora frowned. This was so unlike him, "Mal!"

His hand began twitching, and she crawled over top of him to pin his hands down. Still yelling for him to wake up, "It's ok! C'mon, it's just a dream."

"Please—"

"Malcolm!" She grabbed his face, just when his eyes flew up and he sat up straight.

"I-I—"

"It's ok." She told him again, signing with relief. "You're fine."

"I— I felt trapped."

"You're here now. It's okay. Deep breaths."

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, then slumped against her in a hug. Theodora held him tightly, "You're lucky I don't have a life."

He snorted, already tuning out the vivid nightmare. "Thanks."

Theodora chuckled, shoving away from him. She slipped off the bed and placed her hands on her hips, "Now. Look it, you got—" she stared at the clock, it was only 4 am. "Around 6 hours of sleep."

"My normal."

"But you didn't start the nightmare thing 'til around now because you were still for the rest of it."

He blinked slowly, then his head flew up, something clicking together. He hopped of the bed, rushing down and into his office.

"I saw something at the killers place. Pages ripped from a book, about anatomy. I looked familiar— I saw it in my nightmare."

He shuffled through sheets, then found two pages and picked them up. "I had taken them, from Nico's. I thought they connected to something and I was right. These are from one of my father's books, ones that only he has."

Her brows furrowed, "So you're saying whoever the killer is, has been getting help from your dad? Is that why he chose to copy him, and choose the Quartet?"

"I'll go and ask him."

Malcolm walked back out, pages gripped in his hands as he rushed back into his room. A suit was laid on on a chair, and he picked it up, already shedding his shirt.

"You are not going to see your father!" Theodora charged in after him, ignoring as he changed quickly. "Are you insane?"

"Perhaps. But what if he knows something, Theo? What if he can help? I can't sit around while a killer is copying him and he could know. Women are dying, and that's not right."

She pursed her lips, "I can't let you go alone."

"And I can't let go you with me." He looked at her, no playfulness in his eyes. He was dead serious. "If he sees you again he'll find a way to use you. If he knows you mean something to me, and he needs me for something... I don't know—"

"The man is behind bars. Locked in an actual cage, Malcolm. He can't do anything to you or me, not physically at least."

"Theo—"