AN: If you like Eve, you might wanna skip this one. It's not very Eve-positive. However, it's written from the POV of someone who is hurting a lot, and I think it's written realistically. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

As the door closed behind her, and Malcolm stared after, a void began to grow in the pit of his stomach. The void twisted and turned and left him nauseous. Malcolm felt like he was about to throw up. He reached out a hand onto the kitchen island counter to steady himself. He gripped it and focused on breathing. Slowly, the nausea subsided, leaving only a pit of despair in its wake.

Eve had broken his heart for the third time. He thought they had a good thing going, that they could survive what they'd been through, that Eve had moved past being scared of him because of his night terrors and he had moved beyond her lying to him. But it didn't seem to matter. She still left, going to chase after her sister on her own. How could Eve think that this wasn't his fight too? Malcolm had only been seeking the truth for the past twenty years. Sophie being alive didn't change any of that. He still needed to find out what happened to her, and why exactly his father had let her go. Malcolm still had so many questions that hadn't yet been answered. His search for the truth was so far from over. How could Eve tell him that it wasn't his fight anymore?

Malcolm let himself fall into the bar stool before he could fall to the floor. He put his head in his hands and did everything he could not to fall apart. He had already shed so many tears over her. He didn't want to shed any more.

Should he call Gil? Gil would want him to call, but Malcolm didn't wanted to burden the man with his problems anymore. Gil didn't deserve to be forced to deal with him. Malcolm took a deep breath in, and let it out just as slowly. He was an adult, he could deal with heartbreak on his own just fine. Plenty of adults did that successfully all the time.

But somehow, like he always did, Gil just knew that something was wrong. There wasn't anyone on earth who knew Malcolm as well as Gil did, except for maybe Dr. Whitly, but even that was different, and Malcolm knew it. His father knew how to get under his skin and manipulate him, seeing into every part of him in a way that was that was invasive and exposing. Gil saw him for who he was. Gil saw him through a lens of love and respect, having learned everything about him through time and care and paying attention. It was a far cry from the way that Dr. Whitly had stuck him in slowly boiling water, Malcolm only realizing that he was being used and manipulated once it was too late to do anything to stop it. Malcolm knew that he would never be his own person without Dr. Whitly. Everything he ever thought or did, for the rest of his life, would be colored by years of being broken down by the Surgeon, bit by bit, until all that was left was a trembling boy who lived in constant fear. That's all that Malcolm was, and that's all he would ever be. It ruined his relationships with everyone, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it destroyed his relationships with his team too. No one ever stayed with him through it all, as Eve had just proved once again.

No one except for Gil, who was calling him. Gil, who had some sixth sense about Malcolm, always knowing when something was wrong and doing everything in his power to fix it. Gil, who would one day leave him too. One day, Malcolm was going to screw up so badly that Gil lost his patience and gave up. It was only a matter of time.

With a sigh, Malcolm answered his ringing phone. The day would certainly come when Gil left him too, but not yet.

"Hey, Gil," he greeted. Malcolm knew he sounded defeated. That was how he felt, and he wasn't in the mood to try to hide it. Gil always saw through him anyway.

"Hey, kid," Gil replied. "I just wanted to check up on you. I could tell that something was off today." Of course he had. Gil always knew when something was wrong, like a real dad did.

"I'm fine, everything's fine," he lied. He said that lie so often that it slid past his lips without a thought. Maybe, if he said that lie enough, it would turn into the truth.

"Alright then, I'll be over a ten minutes," Gil said without missing a beat.

"What?"

"Kid, I know when you're not fine, and right now, you're not fine, so I'm coming over," Gil said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, like the sky being blue or the grass being green.

Malcolm sighed. He wasn't getting out of it, and if he were being honest with himself, he didn't want to. He wanted Gil to be there. He longed for the man to hold him close and tell him that there was nothing wrong with him, that everything was going to be okay. He longed for that much more than he was willing to admit. Maybe he should see Gabrielle again soon. He was too old to be longing for a dad like that, right? Just another way that he was messed up.

"Alright," he replied, giving in. "I'll have a glass of your favorite whiskey ready for you." He hated for Gil to be there just to comfort him. At least he could at least put up the appearance of doing something for the man in return.

Gil chuckled. "You always do. See you soon, kid."

Even after Gil hung up, Malcolm didn't move. He set his phone down on the granite countertop, then rest his head on his arms. Part of him longed for the oblivion of sleep, but he could never be so lucky. On the rare occurrences that he actually managed sleep, it was almost always plagued by terror. Malcolm didn't want to feel anything. He was tired of heartache and fear and anxiety. If that was all he was ever going to feel, then Malcolm didn't want to feel anything at all.

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut the moment he felt tears collecting behind his eyes. He was so tired of feeling so broken.

Malcolm didn't know how long he sat there with his head down, crying onto the granite counter, but the next thing he knew, he heard the door opening behind him. He immediately shot up and wiped his eyes. He didn't want Gil to know that he had been crying.

"Hey," he greeted with a fake smile as he spun around to see Gil closing the door behind him. Based on the man's sad smile, he could tell by Malcolm's scratchy voice and red eyes that he'd been crying. He was a police lieutenant, after all. Not much got past him, especially concerning Malcolm.

"Hey, kid," Gil greeted, that sad smile still on his face.

"I didn't get to the whiskey, I'm sorry," Malcolm said, realizing that he hadn't moved to pour the whiskey once he hung up. He couldn't even do that right.

"It's okay," Gil said, his smile turning genuine. "I don't need any whiskey." He took a few steps forward to stand right next to Malcolm, at the counter. "I just need to know that you're okay. What's going on, kiddo?"

Malcolm sighed and shook his head. He wiped at his eyes one more time, hoping to get rid of all traces of his tears, even though Gil clearly already knew about them.

"Eve left again," he muttered, not making eye contact. "We found out that my father didn't actually kill her sister, he let her go because of some information she had, so Eve left to go find her and find out what happened. She took all her things out of the loft and said she didn't want me going with her, that it was over for me." He took a breath and shook his head. "I said I could still help her, that I wanted to help her, and she just left anyway." Malcolm finally looked up at Gil as tears formed in his eyes once more. "She said it wasn't my fight anymore, but how could she think that? I've been trying to figure this out for the past twenty years and now that I'm so close she just shut me out and told me to stop. How can I?" He closed his eyes and tried to hold himself high to dissuade the tears from falling.

"Oh, kid," Gil muttered. He put his arm around Malcolm's shoulder and held him a little bit closer. "I'm so sorry."

"This is the third time she left," Malcolm continued. He spoke slowly, doing everything he could to keep his voice from breaking. "The first time, it hurt, but I understood. I'd almost killed her in my sleep. The second time, I still understood. She knew that I knew she'd been lying, and it hurt so much, but I still wanted her to stay. I convinced her to stay. But this time, I just don't get it, Gil, I don't. I can still help her. This is still my fight. How could she leave?" he asked as another tear fell. He looked up into Gil's brown eyes, silently pleading for an answer that would make it all hurt a little less. But Gil just looked down at him, with nothing but love in his eyes. He didn't have the answer. No one had the answer, maybe not even Eve herself. There was no answer. Maybe Malcolm just needed to stop letting people in, stop giving them the ability to hurt him by caring about them.

"I'm so sorry," Gil repeated. He moved closer and pulled Malcolm close to him, cradling Malcolm's head to his chest and wrapping his arms around him, mirroring an embrace that they'd shared dozens of times in the past. Malcolm brought his own arms up to Gil, clutching the soft fabric of the man's turtleneck and letting himself be held. Gil didn't say anything else, just held him tight. One of Gil's hands eventually found it's way into Malcolm's hair, gently carding through in calming motions. Sunshine began to sing, her beautiful voice providing more comfort and safety. "It's gonna be okay," Gil finally continued. Malcolm could feel the rumble in the man's chest as he spoke. It was oddly soothing. "I will help you find out what happened to her, I promise. If you need to speak to your father, I'll go with you. If you need to find Eve, I'll help you track her down. If you need to travel across the country or even across the world, I will go with you. You don't have to do this alone." He said it with such conviction and love that Malcolm wondered if he was wrong. Maybe Gil wasn't going to leave like everyone else. It was dangerous to think that, but Malcolm couldn't help it. Gil had been his dad for twenty years. Maybe, just maybe, if Gil were going to leave, he would have already. Still, Malcolm held onto him just a little bit tighter, as if he could physically keep the man from leaving him like everyone else did, like Eve did.

"Did you know?" he asked into Gil's sweater.

Gil froze for just a moment before asking in reply, "Did I know what, kiddo?" He continued holding Malcolm and running his fingers through his hair.

"Did you know Eve was going to leave? Was it obvious to everyone else that she was lying to me?" he asked. He couldn't help it. Had he been so blinded by the affection that she would give him that he didn't think that something was off until it was too late?

"No," Gil admitted with a sigh. "I'm always worried about you, and I don't always give anyone you're with the benefit of the doubt, but I didn't know that she was lying to you. I never even met her, remember?"

Gil was right. Malcolm had never introduced the two. Maybe he had known all along, and that's why he hadn't introduced his girlfriend to the most important person in his life. Malcolm did have a history of not being in touch with his subconscious. Maybe he'd known deep down that something was wrong, and it wasn't worth it to introduce them. He would never know.

"Okay," he muttered, and just continued holding on to Gil. With Gil, everything hurt just a little bit less. His heart didn't hurt quite as much, and he breathed a little bit easier.

"You're gonna be alright," Gil said. "It's all gonna be okay, I promise. I know this is hard, and breakups don't make it any easier, but you're gonna be okay."

Malcolm wasn't even sure if it was a breakup. He'd never been in a real relationship before, so he didn't know what an actual breakup was like. He'd had a lot of almost-relationships, women that he'd pursued and been with and tried to make things work with, but they always left him once they saw how damaged he was, and that always happened before things got serious enough to consider it a real relationship. Eve had been the first one to stay, at least for a little while. But now she was gone again, and his heart was left broken, again. Why did he keep letting people back in?

"Why does it have to hurt so much?" he muttered, knowing that Gil didn't have an answer. He wasn't expecting one, either. He just wanted to stop hurting.

"I know, kid. I know," Gil muttered back. He continued to hold him, far longer than most people would've been comfortable with. Maybe he really did need to talk with Gabrielle about these other ways that he was messed up, but in the moment, he wouldn't worry about it. He would focus on how much better everything felt when he was safe in Gil's arms.

The two of them stayed right there, safe and sound, until Malcolm felt exhaustion beginning to overtake him. His grip on Gil's sweater loosened as sleep threatened to come for him. That would normally be a good thing, since the amount of sleep he got was truly abysmal, but it wasn't great for him to fall asleep in Gil's arms by the kitchen counter.

"Alright, kid, let's get you to bed," Gil said, finally releasing Malcolm from his grasp.

"Will you stay?" Malcolm asked, looking up at Gil. He'd already let the man hold him for however long, so clearly he didn't have any dignity left on that front.

"Of course, kid," Gil replied. "I'll be here when you wake up."

A few minutes later, Malcolm was once again restrained in his bed. He was expecting some pretty horrific night terrors, but maybe it was worth it for a few hours of sleep.

Just as he'd promised, Gil was there through each one, helping to calm him back down and ease him back into sleep. Maybe Malcolm was wrong. Every day he thought Gil was going to leave, he never did. Gil kept proving him wrong, and Malcolm was never happier to be wrong.