You were going to have to talk to Malcolm again. Although you weren't there to see it, apparently Spencer had been agitated after your first round with him. It honestly hadn't even been that bad. But next time, you knew it was going to have to be a prolonged session, and once again you were going to have to do it alone.
You made sure that Spencer was on Emily duty the next day. There was something in his eyes, something buried under the surface that you couldn't quite make out, that made you worried for him. It was this cold demeanor, bordering on anger. You only caught it in the small moments where he thought you weren't looking, but it scared you. Yet he had been as tender as ever, stroking your hair gently as you fell asleep that night, kissing you softly yet passionately.
The next morning, you made sure to pick out clothes that were a little more modest than normal, something that covered more skin. You remembered Spencer saying once that people tend to think of women as more trustworthy or faithful if they wore less provocative clothing. You needed Malcolm to open up to you, and you were going to do whatever it took to get there. Apparently, that was the wrong move. Even though he grinned when you entered the room, the first comment he made was about your clothing.
"What's with the clothes? Are you scared of me, baby?"
"I'm not your baby."
"A little touchy today, aren't we?"
"Nope."
You knew your team was on the other side of the glass behind you, knew they would step in or stop something bad from happening, but you still felt alone.
"Aren't you going to ask me how I'm doing today?"
You looked up at him from the file you were leafing through.
"No."
"How's your hand? Healing nicely? When do you get to take the cast off?"
"Piss off."
He laughed then, throwing his head back as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
"You've really got a mouth on you, huh?"
You didn't reply, opting to ignore him just because you could at this point.
"I bet you need a strong man to keep you in line."
You continued to ignore him, but he kept coming at you.
"Does that boyfriend of yours keep you in line? He looks like he could barely lift a finger, much less handle a woman like you."
"What's with the old vandalism charges, Malcolm? Spray-painting walls? What was that for?"
"I bet I could handle you."
"College dropout. What was your major, again?"
"Tie you up all nice and pretty again and show you who's boss."
"This isn't a fucking game, Malcolm," you said, slamming your papers down on the table.
"What a dirty little mouth," he replied with a smile. "I'd love to see what else it can do."
You needed to calm down. You were already starting to get aggravated, and you had only been in the room for a handful of minutes. You hated being in the same room as him. Even though he was the one in chains, he still technically had all the power. You suppressed a sigh, pulling yourself back together.
"Why did you leave college?"
"Why don't you leave your boyfriend?"
You knew he was talking about Spencer, even if he wasn't officially your boyfriend. You didn't feel like making the clarification.
"Stop deflecting."
"You first."
He was so fucking annoying.
"What do you want, Malcolm? Really. What are you hoping to gain from this? If you're going to die anyways, don't you want to get back at the people who are going to kill you?"
He shrugged.
"It was part of the job description. I can't really be mad about it."
"Then why would you put yourself in that situation? You knew we would be there, you knew there was a chance we could recognize you. So why did you do it?"
"If you want answers from me, then you have to answer my questions. It's only fair, you know."
You stared at him with a deadpan expression on your face. Was he fucking serious?
"Cut me a little slack!" he laughed. "It's my dying wish, after all."
The two of you sat in silence while you thought about it. In truth, how much could it hurt? You could always lie. But so could he.
"Fine," you finally relented. He resituated himself in his seat so he could lean closer to you.
"What's your favorite color?" he asked.
Strange. Okay. You answered and then turned back to your notes.
"Why were you at the hospital if you knew you could get caught?"
"I was waiting for you."
You paused.
"What does that mean?"
"It's my turn. You can ask in a second. Where did you go for a week?"
"I was in Arizona. What do you mean when you say you were waiting for me?"
"We all get our own little agent. You're mine. I knew you skipped town, and I knew you were friends with Emily. It was only a matter of time before you came back."
You suppressed the chills you got from the tone of his voice. How many of them were there? Almost a dozen at least. Maybe-
"What were you doing in Arizona?"
You looked back up at him.
"Clearing my head. When you said you all have your own agent, does that mean that there are individual people assigned to every person on my unit? And that I'm your specific assignment?"
"Yes, and yes. Who was that pretty girl from a few weeks ago?"
Audrey. You forced yourself to relax despite your panic, focusing on the good. He didn't actually know who she was. If he hadn't known where you had gone last week, there was no way that he would know where she went.
"A friend. How many people are on your team?"
"There were ten, including myself and the bosses. The doctor's guard is gone, so nine. Is she just a friend, though? I saw the way she touched you."
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you. You knew your team was watching, and even though it wasn't something you hid from anyone, you were hesitant to speak about things like this when you knew they would deconstruct it later.
"We were more than friends at one time. What is the ultimate goal of your group? What are you trying to accomplish?"
"I don't fully know. What does the doctor think about her?"
"What do you mean you don't know? You're laying down your life for a cause that you can't name?"
You were shocked. Malcolm stayed silent, and you realized he was waiting on your answer first.
"He's fine with her."
"I'm more of a... contract work kind of man. They set out rules and I do my job and then I get paid. Is he a jealous man?"
"Sometimes," you rushed. You didn't want to dwell too much on that thought; you couldn't help but think about your coworkers on the other side of the glass, what they would think about Spencer if you spoke too much about it. "Who contracted you to do this work?"
"A friend got me into the gig. I didn't even see the boss's faces, don't know their names. Just know the info they give me during phone calls. Is he jealous that you're here with me right now?"
"He doesn't know I'm here. How long have you been watching us?"
"Three months. And lying to your man, just so you can spend time with me? I'm flattered. Do you think he would be jealous if he knew?"
Three months? That took dedication, time, lots of forethought.
"No. Why did they kill that member of your team?"
"He couldn't deliver what he promised," he shrugged. "We were told to get information, but apparently he just wasn't good at it. Have you ever killed a man?"
You paused. You hadn't expected that to come up at all. Even if you wanted to, you could never forget Daniel. He had made sure of that.
"Yes," you said finally. "Have you?"
"Yes. How did it feel, when you killed him?"
You were thrown off track, just like that. You looked down at your files, trying to regain your train of thought.
"I- I don't remember. Uh... Who on our team is the main target?"
"Don't lie to me."
You looked back up at him, at his deadpan expression.
"How did it feel?" he repeated.
"Relieved," you blurted.
"Hotchner is the main target. Why did it feel so good to kill him?"
You took a deep breath. This was getting to be too much. But leaving the room now would be a sign of weakness. You had to push through it.
"Because he stabbed me," you replied. "Do you know what Aaron Hotchner did to provoke your bosses?"
"No. Did he leave a scar?"
"Yes, he did. Do you know the names of any of your associates?"
"Yes and no. Can I see it?"
"No, you can't. Could you give me some names?"
"I have to get something in return for that information."
He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. You shot him a frustrated look and he laughed.
"What? I already know what I did to you, I just want to see somebody else's work for once. Please?"
You clenched your fists, debating on what to do. Giving him what he wanted put you at a disadvantage because it set a precedent; he knew you would give him almost anything if he asked. That being said, he had important information you needed. With an annoyed sigh, you stood up abruptly and pulled the side of your shirt up quickly so he could see the two little lines close to your belly button. After a few seconds, you pulled your shirt back down and plopped back into your chair.
"Could you give me some names?" you repeated, trying to keep a cool tone.
"You are such a work of art," Malcolm mused, looking at you dreamily.
He was talking about you as if you were a canvas, an object, as if your value derived from the scars he and other men had left on your skin. You rarely showed off your body to anyone, much less a killer. You felt violated, allowing him to see you like that. Worse, you felt guilty that you allowed somebody other than Spencer to look at you. Although what you had just done was not sexual in any way, you knew Malcolm was getting off to it, which made it an inherently sexual act.
"Names?"
"Fine, fine. Josiah Crenshaw. That's the only one I know. Probably an alias. Did the man hurt you as much as I did?"
"No."
You suppressed a shiver thinking about that week that you had been tied to a chair. That reminded you of something.
"Why wasn't I taken with Spencer two months ago? You killed someone like me; he thought it was me. But it wasn't. Why not?"
"We still needed you as ammunition. We decided a replacement would work fine for the time being. Does the doctor hurt you?"
"He has a name," you replied pointedly. Malcolm shook his head at you, an incredulous smile on his face.
"Dodging the question, huh? He has a heavy hand, doesn't he?"
"He doesn't hurt me," you answered, trying to keep your patience. "Why did you take him first? Why not Emily?"
"You're lying through your teeth right now."
"I don't have to prove my honesty to you. Why not Emily first?"
"Does he pull your hair as hard as I did? Or harder?"
"Answer the question."
"Can he make you scream as loud as I can?"
"I'm not playing these games with you."
This was starting to take a turn for the worse, and you could feel a slow blush creeping onto your face. You hadn't taken into account how embarrassing it would be to have your coworkers watch someone else grill you on your sex life with Spencer. It was an invasion of privacy and a disgusting this to discuss with someone as repulsive as Malcolm.
"Do you and the doctor like to play games?"
"Stay focused, Malcolm."
"Does he spank you when you're a bad girl?"
"Stop messing around and answer me."
"I bet you like it when he puts his hands around your neck. I would give anything to choke you agai-"
"Enough."
You stood up, grabbing your files.
"We can continue this conversation when you're ready to behave yourself."
"Aw, sweetheart, don't be like that!" he protested.
"Don't fucking call me that."
You slammed the door behind you on your way out.