Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Under the Basement

Nicholas Endicott’s eyes traveled over Jessica Whitly’s body as he admired the women’s graceful posture, slender form, and overall beauty. Jessica Whitly may no longer be in her prime, but she was just as stunning as the first time he had laid eyes on her thirty-five years ago.

How she came to marry Whitly and not him, was something Nicholas never understood. Surely Martin Whitly had his charm and good wits, but he was poor and nowhere near the Miltons social standing. This was probably why Nicholas underestimated him and why he lost Jessica then.

Nicholas smiled inwardly because he was finally having his chance, and no one was going to stop him. He was a patient man, and even though Jessica was distraught and not in the right mindset now, he knew she would eventually give in and invite him into her life.

“Any news of Malcolm?” He asked as he offered her a glass of his finest wine.

Jessica accepted it gracefully, but it was obvious that his question upset her. “No,” she deflated. “The FBI has launched a full manhunt but they haven’t found him yet. I’m so worried about him.”

Malcolm Bright was a fugitive. He had run away three months ago to avoid being charged with that man’s murder. Eddie Thorn. No one has seen or heard from him since.

Nicholas had invited the grieving mother over for dinner and offered her help. “You know all my resources are at your disposal. Anything you need, just ask me. I am sure we will find him.” He offered her a supporting hand, and she squeezed it once before getting back to her drink.

When she downed the full glass, he noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. They looked even more breathtaking. “Thank you, Nicholas,” she said. “I just wish we knew where he was. And I wish he never ran away. He’s innocent, I am sure of it. But he knew the press would eat him. He knew no one would believe him. Even his team had doubts…”

A few moments of silence passed between them. Jessica looked at her hands and whispered again. “But I never did. Malcolm’s nothing like his father.”

Nicholas offered her a warm smile. “I’m sure Malcolm knows that.”

“I just wish I told him before he left,” she sighed then checked her watch. “I think it’s time for me to go. Thank you for all your help and support, Nicholas. Without you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

He stood just as she did and offered her his hand as he led her out of the mansion. “Don’t mention it. And as I said, if you need anything, just call me.”

When their eyes met, there was something there that irked him. It was a brief look that she quickly hid but it sent his mind racing. Up until now, he had thought she was oblivious to his involvement in her life. But now he suddenly grew suspicious as to how much Jessica Whitly knew.

She gave him a grateful smile. “I will,” Jessica promised then looked outside. “Ah! Adolpho is here.”

Nicholas watched as Jessica Whitly left his mansion, taking firm yet sad steps down to the waiting car. As he watched her get in and drive away, he couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips.

He turned around and quietly made his way to the basement. He needed to check on his guest. Needed to make sure he heard their entire conversation.

—#—#—#—

Nicholas Endicott's basement served as the mansion's wine cellar. He walked around, surveying his oldest and most expensive collection, as he made his way towards the end of the room. In a dark corner, where the light doesn’t reach and the darkness cascades hiding the subtle changes in the stone structure, was a door. It was so carefully designed to stay hidden.

The door was made of reinforced steel, designed to keep things in. To open, it required a keycode that only he knew, as well as his palm scan. The door buzzed and opened to reveal a set of stairs that led to a lower basement no one knew about. Apart from one or two of his very trusted men.

Closing the door behind him, Nicholas descended the stairs. The musty smell of the place increased the further down he traveled, and by the time he reached the door to his guest’s room, the air was stifling. It was a good thing that he didn’t spend much time down there, or he would get sick from lack of ventilation and the ever-growing mold.

The end of the stairs led to one last door. That third door was only locked with a key. Nicholas wasn’t worried that his guest would escape, and even if he did the other door would never allow him to leave.

The door squeaked as it opened, and he walked inside while a sadistic smile hovered over his lips.

The room was nothing but a small cell. Concrete walls, stone floor, and a very dim light coming from two lamps mounted on the wall. The lights had their controls outside the cell. He could choose to switch them on or off as he wished. The person inside had no choice in the matter. There was a sound insulation layer on the outside of the room, so the sound wouldn’t carry to the basement above.

On one side of the room, there was a metal chair bolted to the floor and no table. There was no bed, but a pillow and a blanket were thrown in the left corner of the room. Several hooks were drilled into the wall and floor. Some hooks were mounted in the ceiling as well.

The only thing that seemed to stand out, was the set of speakers Nicholas had installed this morning. He had wanted his guest to listen in to the conversation between him and Jessica Whitly. He wanted him to hear every word. So he wore a wire that broadcasted the entire night through the speakers. It was devious.

His guest was in the middle of the room shaking violently. Nicholas admired the creative way in which he had him tied this morning. He must be in so much pain by now. Nicholas shrugged indifferently. His prisoner really brought it all on himself.

After three months of imprisonment, Nicholas had hoped that he was beginning to cave in, to accept his situation. But when Nicholas walked in last night and told him about Jessica’s visit, he had pounced on him like a wild animal. Nicholas was lucky that the head wound he got was well hidden under his hairline. He didn’t need people asking questions.

After a brief scuffle, Nicholas came on top: after all, he was stronger and not weakened by lack of food, water, and proper sleep.

Angry at his captive, he had held him down and tied his hands behind his back, then tied his ankles together. When he still wouldn’t stop talking, Nicholas had gagged him for good measure and then left him like that all night.

This morning when he came to install the speakers, the man was just as angry. So Nicholas needed to teach him a lesson. He used the rope he got and one hook in the ceiling to create a pulley. Then pulling his prisoner to his knees, he looped one end of the rope between his bound wrists—still tied behind his back—and started pulling on the other end. To relieve the pressure on his shoulders and arms, he had to bend down until his forehead touched the ground. If he moved an inch, his shoulders would get dislocated, his arms could break.

Nicholas had pulled up his bound wrists just enough to keep him in an agonizing stress position but not too much to dislocate his shoulders. His body was already trembling when Nicholas was done.

Nicholas had left him like that all day. Gagged, bound, arms pulled way up behind him and forehead resting on the ground to elevate the pressure on his shoulders. He was sure that would teach him a lesson.

It was almost midnight now.

As Nicholas walked into the room, the violent shaking calmed a bit. And despite the excruciating position that Nicholas left him in, the stubborn man still found the strength to raise his head and look him in the eye, the anger he was feeling was so clear in them. It was the same look he had this morning.

It made Nicholas laugh.

“Hello, Malcolm, did you enjoy listening to your mother and I’s conversation while having dinner?”

The look turned into a glower, and Nicholas thought if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead at this moment.

Nicholas held his gaze, enjoying the pain etched into them. No matter how much Malcolm wanted to hide the pain, he couldn’t. Not after staying like this for over twelve hours. His arms must be on fire, his knees must be in agony.

After a minute or two, he gave up. No doubt the pain was too much for him to keep his head up, and he let his head drop to the floor again. His body kept shaking.

Nicholas took sure and slow steps, taking too much pleasure in the view before him. He reached Malcolm and bent down beside him. Then he touched his shoulder. Malcolm flinched.

The muffled groan of pain was everything Nicholas wanted to hear.

“Does it hurt?” He taunted as he dug his fingers in. Malcolm trembled harder yet didn’t make a sound. Nicholas admired his strength. “I didn’t want to do this to you, Malcolm. I told you before. The faster you accept this reality, the better it will be for you.” He grabbed his other shoulder. “You keep fighting me and making your life miserable. There is no need for that.” Putting pressure on both his shoulders, Nicholas massaged them, not kindly.

Malcolm’s pained moan escaped before he could stop it. It made Nicholas smile. He traced his finger up Malcolm’s suspended arm slowly, enjoying the violent tremor wracking his body, and the pain he knew must be firing down his nerves. He stopped when he reached his wrists.

His wrists looked like a mess. His hands were red and swollen as the rope restricted the blood flow to his fingers. Nicholas had done a good job of tying them; it made him proud. Dried blood covered the rope, no doubt from Malcolm’s initial struggles last night. The lack of fresh blood indicated that Malcolm was smart enough not to struggle this time. He knew the dangers of making a wrong move while tied up like that. If he struggled to free himself, he risked losing his balance and falling down. If he did, he would definitely wrench his shoulders from their sockets and possibly break his arms as well.

“Dinner was lovely,” Nicholas continued. “Jessica loved it. I’m sure you heard. She misses you by the way.”

That seemed to get a response from him. Malcolm growled something but Nicholas had wrapped that gag so tightly that nothing he said made any sense. Nevertheless, he knew what Malcolm had wanted to say. As a punishment, Nicholas grasped his hands and squeezed them tightly.

Numb from being tied behind him for over a day, and suspended in this position for over twelve hours, Nicholas knew exactly the sort of pain such a move would cause. Malcolm cried out in pain but didn’t scream.

Nicholas shook his head in disbelief. Malcolm was still so stubborn but he would get the scream he wanted to hear. Still holding his hands, Nicholas pulled them up even more, and since Malcolm was already at his limit, he had no way to elevate the pressure. The pain was so sudden and intense, and so Malcolm let out a muffled and broken scream.

It was all that Nicholas wanted… so he lowered Malcolm’s hands back to their original position and then let go of his wrists. Nicholas didn’t want to break his arms… just wanted to show him who was in control.

Walking back in front of Malcolm, he listened to his ragged and shallow breaths as he tried to regain his composure. Not wanting to give him the chance to compose himself, though, he fisted his hands in Malcolm’s hair and pulled his head up roughly. Malcolm was forced to look into his eyes once more.

The agony there was so raw, so intense it was impossible to hide. Every man had his limits, and Nicholas knew his prisoner was pretty much at his. Now that he’s close, Nicholas can see the track of dried tears on his face. He wondered if they were because of the pain he felt, or as a result of hearing his mother’s sentiments towards him. Sadly, there was no way to know.

“I promised her I’ll do everything I can to help her find you. Aren’t I the best?” He smiled, enjoying the looks of fear and anger racing side by side over Malcolm’s face.

After a few moments, he let go and Malcolm’s head almost slammed back to the ground.

Nicholas stood up and brushed the dust from his suit.

He considered untying him. Malcolm had been sitting like that since the early morning, and if Nicholas didn’t let him down soon, he risked causing permanent damage. Plus, it had been more than a day since he gave him water. Two days since he had any food.

“I’m sure you learned your lesson today,” he started, and as soon as he did, Malcolm pushed up to look at him. His eyes were full of desperation. All his aggression was gone, and the bound man was silently begging for relief.

It awakened something in Nicholas. A deep sense of satisfaction. And suddenly he wanted to break that hope. He wanted to increase that feeling of desperation. He was so close.

“But I think a few more hours wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he shrugged nonchalantly before snickering. The look of heartbreaking despair was like a dose of serotonin. The smell of misery and desperation filled the room. It was delicious. Malcolm’s breath hitched, and he dropped his head back to the floor, his body quaking even more violently than it did before.

Nicholas wanted to stay and watch, but he knew that leaving would hurt him even more. So he sauntered out of the room. Before he closed the door, he had one more look at his prisoner.

Yes, he needed to wait a bit more. A few hours more would break him. It was a risk, but the reward was so worth it.

Nicholas flicked the light switch, plunging Malcolm’s cell into total darkness, and then made his way up to his mansion.

Chapter Text

Jessica poured herself another drink and downed it all in one go. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and despite all attempts to calm down, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Tonight could be the night they find Malcolm. Her son could be in her arms in a few hours if her hunch was anything to go by. The thought of seeing him again was so physically painful that she let out a whimpering gasp.

Malcolm had disappeared three months ago. He was out on bail after being arrested for that man’s murder, so the most logical conclusion at the time was that he escaped. Jessica herself thought so at first.

But as time passed, she became certain that her son would not just leave like that. Her Malcolm was a fighter. More than anything, he was innocent. Gil was the only one who believed her and stuck by her side. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that his two detectives joined.

Malcolm’s mysterious disappearance was made more suspicious when several spotting reports were made to keep the police looking. They were always so conveniently placed whenever his trail had gone cold. It was as if someone wanted the police to believe Malcolm was on the run.

Someone had to benefit from this, and Jessica had a feeling that Nicholas Endicott was somehow involved.

Malcolm blamed him and his shady company for Eve’s death. He didn’t bother to listen to Martin’s threats and went sniffing around Endicott’s business.

And when Malcolm showed no signs of backing off, he was framed for that terrible hitman’s murder. Coupled with Martin’s unexplained stint in solitary — with no one allowed to speak or see him — and Endicott’s goons’ multiple visits to Rikers, Detectives Dani and JT confirmed her theory that something seemed off.

It was then that the full team started to investigate the possibility of Malcolm never leaving on his own accord.

To Jessica’s delight — as she did not want to be kept in the dark — she was their best bet to finding out what happened to Malcolm.

After Malcolm’s initial disappearance, Endicott still made attempts to connect with her. But Jessica was so distraught by her son’s sudden departure that she couldn’t give him any attention.

It wasn’t until Gil suggested she rekindle the relationship that she started speaking to the man again. Gil and his team were equally suspicious of Endicott.

Jessica was their only in. So she swallowed the lump in her throat and dined with him last week. He was a good actor, she gave him that. But even the most seasoned actor couldn’t hide the sadistic gleam that brightened his face when he spoke about Malcolm.

His words were empty and disingenuous. Mocking. She left his house that night, fully convinced that this monster knew exactly where her son was.

She had cried in Gil’s arms for what seemed like hours that night. After she calmed down, he made her a promise. They will find Malcolm: no matter what it took.

Over the next few days, the team tried to monitor Endicott’s movements without raising suspicions. His movement from his mansion to work and back every day meant one thing. If he had Malcolm imprisoned somewhere, then he was most likely in the house.

That was the reason Jessica was nervous tonight. She had invited Nicholas over for dinner at her home. Luring him away just for a few hours so Dani and JT could sneak in and gather some intel. Maybe even find her son.

All she had to do was play the part. The grieving mother who needed help. She had no trouble with the first part… But she would have to really push herself to tolerate this man's presence and pretend to need his help and support.

She poured herself another glass and downed it immediately, feeling a bit stronger for it. Determination was enough to get her through this. She would play the part. Jessica would do anything to get her son back.

—#—#—#—

Less than a week after Jessica Whitly dined with Nicholas Endicott at his home, she had extended the same invitation to him. It was an interesting invite, and if Nicholas had to guess, had an ulterior motive behind it.

When Nicholas got home that night, he went straight to his office and accessed the recorded feed from the hidden cameras he had installed at the entrance point of his house and in the wine cellar.

He preferred to have quiet nights uninterrupted by his bodyguards, but he wasn’t a fool to leave himself and his house completely unprotected. More importantly, he had another guest downstairs. The cameras were a precaution that made Nicholas feel safe.

A smile hovered over his lips as he recognized Detectives Tarmel and Powell trespassing. He was correct to assume Jessica Whitly’s invitation tonight was not purely social. Well, he hoped tonight’s escapades would lay to rest her suspicions.

Nicholas watched as the detectives broke in and searched the house down to the cellar. He amusedly watched their defeated expressions as they searched everywhere and couldn’t find their profiler stashed there.

Nicholas could end their career with this tape. But he wouldn’t. Mainly because it was so amusing, but also because it was a card he could use if he ever needed any of their services.

With the iPad tucked under his arm, Nicholas decided to pay his guest a visit.

The door that led under the basement was well hidden. The detectives had been in this very room, roaming about not two hours ago, and they could not see it. Nicholas smiled; it was money well spent.

Nicholas braced himself for an attack as he pushed open the last door. In all the visits he had paid Malcolm, Nicholas could never predict which version of Malcolm Whitly was he going to find.

Taking the “no immediate attack” as a sign, he pushed the door all the way and went in. The room — which was once more livable than this and became this bare because of its occupant’s actions — was just as empty as he was last in. Apart from the bolted chair, and the waste bucket, there was a blanket thrown at one corner.

In the middle, Malcolm was sitting with his eyes closed… in a yoga pose. Nicholas raised an eyebrow, and an amused smile rose to his lips.

Nicholas liked the many moods of Malcolm Whitly. He enjoyed the argumentative bright profiler who challenged him with every word and threatened to peel his layers as one would peel an onion. He often argued back and enjoyed the mental match.

He liked the angry, irrational feral animal — more Martin Whitly than he would ever like to admit — who attacked Nicholas time after time, screaming and yelling about his freedom. Nicholas enjoyed taming that wild beast, punishing him in ways that were filmed to ensure Martin Whitly saw them and kept his mouth shut.

Nicholas also liked this version of Malcolm. The quiet, unresponsive version. The one where he would have a dignified, silent look in his eyes. It meant he wasn’t in the spirits to speak. To challenge Nicholas mentally or physically. That was when the battle of wills began.

Tonight, as Nicholas recognized Malcolm's quiet demeanor, he knew exactly what he wanted out of this exchange. Breaking the profiler completely so that there was no coming back.

His prisoner spared him a brief look, quickly surveying him before going back to his weird animal poses, completely ignoring his presence. Nicholas found the notion funny.

Yoga.

As if those mundane meditative techniques could help him.

The last time Nicholas had been here was when he let Malcolm down from the stress pose. Incidentally, that was the last time he brought food and water. He supposed Malcolm was looking at him to see if he was getting any food today. Nicholas knew that the man in front of him was starving. A glance to the side showed two empty water bottles, and the third was halfway through.

“Forgive me for not checking in on you sooner,” he said sarcastically. “I forgot you were down here.”

Malcolm opened one eye and stared at Nicholas, all while continuing to contort his body in weird ways.

“But you’ll be pleased to hear that your mother is doing better today,” Nicholas continued. “She invited me out for dinner. It was a lovely evening. How was yours?”

Again silence.

“Not so chatty are we today? You don’t want to pounce and attack me like last time?” Nicholas laughed, noting how tense Malcolm’s body had gotten after he mentioned Jessica.

He shrugged and continued, enjoying the one-sided conversation.

“I actually came to show you something. It was quite amusing, and I thought you would like to see it,” Nicholas walked closer to Malcolm and produced the iPad. As he pressed in his passcode and opened the recordings captured two hours ago, he continued. “As it turns out, your mother suspects I have something to do with your… uh… disappearance. She believes I am involved, and she got to your friends as well. So tonight as I was whisked away on a lovely dinner, your friends thought it’s appropriate to break into my home and search for you.”

That made Malcolm stop what he was doing. Nicholas turned the iPad to his prisoner and showed him the video of his friend’s trespassing attempts to search for him. “I got it all on camera.” He chuckled.

Malcolm said nothing, but Nicholas could see how his hand — treacherous as always — started shaking.

“Look! This part is my favorite.” Nicholas motioned to Detective Tarmel and Powell in the wine cellar. “So close to you. Yet so far. If only they found the hidden door. They risked so much to find you. Their career. Their freedom. And for what?” Nicholas snorted and closed the iPad when the two detectives turned around and made their way out. “Absolutely nothing. Not a whiff of your presence. I told you this before Malcolm, but I enjoy saying it. Right here, no one will ever find you.”

Malcolm sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw. He was completely still now, apart from the tremor in his hand which now seemed to take hold of his entire body.

After a long stretch of silence, Nicholas turned to leave. Malcolm could pretend to be as stoic as he liked, but Nicholas saw Malcolm’s heartbreak when he watched his team so close, and yet so far. He could see the look of utter devastation in his prisoner’s eyes when the truth about Nicholas’s threats became real. In this secure hellhole, no one can ever find him.

“See you later, Malcolm!” He called out. “Maybe next time I’ll remember to bring in some food and water.”

“Why are you doing this?” Malcolm’s defeated whisper was music to his ears. Turns out, his guest was in the mood for a chat after all.

“I assure you, Malcolm, I am not intentionally doing it,” Nicholas faced him and shrugged. “As you know, I am a very busy man, and I forget to bring you food. You don’t expect that I have the time to wait on you like some lowly servant?”

“No.” Malcolm shook his head and looked him straight in the eye. “This! Keeping me here. Why? What do you gain by keeping me here?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Nicholas smiled. “I thought it was obvious by now.”

“Well, excuse my slow and starved brain,” Malcolm spit vehemently. “Could you please dumb it down for me?”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Malcolm made to move, but Nicholas shook his head. “I’d think twice before doing anything stupid, if I were you. We don’t want that tape to get to the police now, do we? Think of your friends’ jobs. Their lives. All lost because of you.” Malcolm bit his lip and glowered at him. Nicholas could see him clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Do you really want to ruin their lives?” He asked and looked expectantly at Malcolm. The silence stretched, but he kept waiting for that response he knew he’d get.

“No,” Malcolm finally whispered, and he deflated, his tense shoulders sagging.

“Good…” Nicholas smiled mockingly. “Think about that until our next conversation. I know you need a few days before new information actually sinks in. Good night Malcolm!”

With one last laugh, Nicholas left the basement and didn't look back.