AN: This is my shortest tag so far, but I really love how it turned out. Once again I've named it after song lyrics (the Kutless song of the same name, specifically) because that's just how it works at 2am. But anyway, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

"It was what had to be done."

That didn't really give Gil the answer he was looking for, but the kid's unwillingness to speak more on what actually occurred told him enough. He couldn't know for sure, but Gil would bet that it was Malcolm who had stabbed Dr. Whitly, and not Jessica. Gil wasn't sure which was worse. He cared about the both of them so much. Malcolm was a son to him, and Jessica... He would always care about her, but Gil would've been lying if he said he wouldn't put Malcolm first if it came down to it. He would put Malcolm before anything.

And now, the kid was falling apart. Gil wouldn't force him to talk about what had happened, but he couldn't stand idly by while the kid was in agony. Something else was wrong. Gil shook his head. That was just what the kid needed. Life was never fair to the boy, and Gil hated that there was so rarely something he could do about it.

"Hey," Gil gently called out, once again getting Malcolm's attention. The kid looked up at him, his eyes full of anguish. It broke Gil's heart. "No matter what happens, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna figure this out, and your dad... I'm gonna be here, and I'm gonna get you through this, no matter which way this goes."

"I don't even know what to think," Malcolm admitted. He smiled and shook his head, despite the tears filling his eyes. "You know what he told me?" Gil waited patiently, knowing that Malcolm would continue. "He was going to kill me. My father was going to kill me up at the cabin."

Gil's heart fell to his stomach. He knew that Dr. Whitly had done such terrible things, and continued to put his son through hell every time he saw him, but Gil hadn't been expecting that. More gaslighting, cruel words, something like that had been what Gil had expected. Not that the psychopath had almost murdered the boy that Gil had grown to love as his own child.

"He admitted it," Malcolm continued with a shrug. "He told me that the chloroform wasn't working as well anymore, and that he had to kill me. He had brought me to the cabin to get rid of me. He said he's still paying for not killing me, still paying for his mistake." The first tear fell as Malcolm closed his eyes against them, turning away from Gil.

Gil was still in shock. He'd known about the drugging, but every time he was reminded of it, his rage returned. Who could do that to a child? Dr. Whitly had been drugging Malcolm in order to keep him controlled. Then, when that started to not work as well, he and his serial killer friend Watkins brought the kid up to a cabin with the intention of murdering him. And to top it all off, Dr. Whitly put it all back on Malcolm's shoulders, essentially telling him that he'd made a mistake in letting Malcolm live, in not murdering him and tossing his body out in the woods to be devoured by nature.

"Oh, kid," Gil finally said. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. Somehow, Dr. Whitly was even more evil than he'd thought. Malcolm looked back at him, fear mixing with the anguish in his eyes. What could Gil say to him that would even remotely make it better? He couldn't say that it was okay, because it was the furthest thing from okay. He couldn't say that his father would be alright, because there was a good chance that he was going to die. There wasn't anything he could say that could help ease the pain in Malcolm's mind, and Gil hated it. All he wanted to do was help his kid, and there wasn't anything he could do.

But he couldn't just stand there either. He closed the distance between the two of them in one step.

"Come here," he muttered, opening his arms and gently wrapping them around his trembling kid. Malcolm melted in his arms, his hands coming around Gil's jacket to grip the back of it like a lifeline. The kid's head was pressed tight against Gil's shoulder, his face buried in the junction of Gil's neck, shoulder, and chest. Malcolm had his whole body pressed tight against him, as though if a single part of Malcolm wasn't in contact with Gil, then the man would disappear entirely. "I've got you," Gil muttered as he began to gently card his fingers through the kid's hair.

"My dad was gonna kill me," Malcolm muttered, barely loud enough to be heard since he didn't turn his face away from Gil at all. "And he wishes he did." He gripped Gil impossibly harder, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as he fought to keep his composure. "Watkins told me when he had me, and I knew he didn't have any reason to lie, but actually hearing it from- actually knowing-." He broke off with another shuddering breath.

"I'm right here," was all Gil could think to say in reply. He didn't know how to make this better. Of course the kid knew that his dad was a predatory psychopath who could and would never love him like a father should love his son. Of course the kid knew that his dad had been mentally and emotionally abusing him since he was ten years old. Malcolm knew those things better than anyone else possibly could, but knowing that didn't make hearing that his own father had been planning on killing him any less difficult.

The only thing Gil knew he could do to help was simply to hold the kid for as long as he needed. So that's exactly what he did. He kept holding him, kept running his fingers through Malcolm's hair and murmuring "it's gonna be okay" again and again and again. Gil would do nothing but that until the end of time if that's what the kid needed.

If he were being honest, Gil would have greatly preferred it if Dr. Whitly didn't make it through surgery. He wanted Malcolm to be rid of that truly evil man. Without Dr. Whitly, Malcolm wouldn't constantly have to deal with the gaslighting and manipulation and all of the other disgusting things that the man did to him. He wouldn't have to be treated in a way that no human being deserved to be treated. As a Catholic, Gil knew he shouldn't ever wish for the death of someone, especially someone who definitely wouldn't be going anywhere good after death, but for Dr. Whitly, he would make an exception.

The problem was that Malcolm didn't necessarily see it that way when it came to his father's death, which meant that Gil couldn't wish for it entirely. If Dr. Whitly died, especially at Malcolm's hand, the kid would be crushed. Their relationship was weird and twisted and messed up and the furthest thing from healthy that there was, but thanks to Dr. Whitly's expert manipulation, Malcolm did, on some level, love him. It wasn't a healthy love. It was much more akin to some sort of long term Stockholm Syndrome than anything close to a real love that a father and son should share - to the real love that Gil and Malcolm shared. But no matter what it truly was, it was there, and that meant that Dr. Whitly's death would bring about a very real grief. Gil knew that, and Malcolm did too. What made it all even worse was that Malcolm understood all of the psychology of it just as well as Gil did, probably even better, and yet he still could not escape what he felt. Just because he understood the disease didn't mean that he was immune to it.

Either way, Gil was going to be there. He was never going to leave his kid to face it alone.

"I've got you," Gil repeated. Malcolm had quieted a bit, and his grip had loosened ever so slightly. Gil bent his head slightly and placed a single kiss on the boy's forehead. "I've always got you, kid. I promise."

And no matter which sins of his father the world tried to force Malcolm to pay for, that was never going to change.