Once Upon A Time In A Multiversal Nightmare Far Far Away.... (Village Wrap-up Post)

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A collection of tags and threads that participants wanted to play out, after I pulled Neal from The Village!

Idk I'll think of something more descriptive.

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Day 78

[conning]

Parker Apologizes For Things Outside of Her Control

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Continued from here.

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Neal pushes himself a little more upright, wincing slightly, focused on catching her eye. "Parker, no. It's okay. Mathias took it away. You didn't lose it. Mathias stole it."

[sharker]

It doesn't help. He may not blame her, but that's not about to stop her from blaming herself. She shakes her head violently, her ponytail flying.

"I promised!"

He'd trusted her. And she'd failed him.

"I should have seen the fire sooner. I should have found a way to put it out."

Fire In A Crowded Theater w/ Raylan

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Continued from here.

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Neal stumbles slightly, but finds his footing, looking toward the lighthouse as though he can see it through the wall.

Fire. Fire.

"I've been dreaming about fire," he whispers, horrified. He moves when Raylan does, though not as fast as he wants to. Probably not as fast as Raylan wants him to, either.

Raylan + Malcolm Left Their Kid at Dead Walmart

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Neal isn't sure at this point if he's hallucinating or not. He's pretty sure he lost consciousness in there somewhere, whether from impact, pain, or adrenaline crash, he has no idea. He can feel the heat of the fire, hear the hunger in it, though it seems to have stopped advancing. He shifts slowly to his feet, blood sticking his shirt to his side a little too thoroughly to be comforting.

"Raylan," he says, groggy, the grogginess quickly evaporating as he turns and sees the eastern half of the town in flames. His first thought is of his people--1306, are they okay? Klaus? The others on Phillips?

His next thought, somewhat more numb than the first, is that he never got to show Parker the house on King Lane that he'd started painting. He didn't get to tell Ellie about it, about the fact that he was finally going to make Rey and all the others a real memorial. Neal wipes his face with the back of his arm, which does absolutely nothing but spread soot and dirt over his cheeks and forehead.

"Raylan," he says again, like he's reminding himself of a task he was in the middle of. He turns away from the fire, and starts making his way very slowly toward the woods where he saw Raylan vanish.

Malcolm - Wait I Said What Now

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It's a relief to be on a cot in the schoolhouse, piled under blankets. He knows the cold is from blood loss, not weather, but at least he can pretend he's warm this way.

He can't sleep, though. He's terrified to close his eyes. It's been that way for several days, yes, but in the wake of the fire it's so much worse. What if he dreams some other disaster? His people got out okay this time, but what if next time they don't?

He works one hand free from the blankets and pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking several times to fend off the nigh-unbearable need to close his eyes.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm brings him a cup of tea.

“Here,” he says softly. “You need the warmth and the fluids.”

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Neal smiles tiredly at Malcolm, feeling another deep tide of relief at knowing he's present and okay. It feels somehow like every time someone walks out of the room it's going to be the last time he sees them.

He sits up a little more, accepting the tea with real gratitude. "Thanks. Who knew blood loss made you this thirsty."

[abrightboy]

“Medical science,” Malcolm offers. He sits down next to Neal’s makeshift bed. “Can… can I ask you something?”

[conning]

He sips the tea, testing the heat of it before taking a deeper drink. It's off-brand Lipton's, but at the moment it tastes like heaven.

"Anything. Always."

[abrightboy]

“When… when I stabbed you… you were kind of out of it. You… you told me that you loved me. Not. Not the usual way we say it. Is… was that true?” he asks cautiously.

[conning]

Neal gives him a long, blank look. He feels like his insides have locked up. He feels like he might be sick, or like he might try to yank his stitches out so Malcolm has a crisis to solve and can't wait for the answer to that question.

"I..." When did he say that? Why did he say it? What was he thinking? Was he thinking? Apparently not because he has no memory of that giant mistake whatsoever. "That's."

[abrightboy]

“That’s the reason you were mad at me for staying with Raylan. That’s the reason you were so mad at Raylan that you hit him in the face.”

It slots everything together. It’s the only answer that makes sense.

[conning]

Shame washes through him. He can't meet Malcolm's eyes. Thirsty as he is, he can't even seem to bring the cup to his mouth. He wants Malcolm to leave, get this over with and walk out, so he can curl up under the blankets and hope they'll smother him before someone comes along to see how he's feeling.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm makes no move to leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me that? When did things change?”

[conning]

"I did," he says quietly. "I tried. But you thought I meant... the first way, and I didn't want..."

He didn't want to upset things. He didn't want to make things complicated. So much for that. "I don't know when it changed. I didn't... really realize it until the fight with Raylan."

[abrightboy]

I tried.

“You… you did,” he realizes. “Try. And you made that pie. Waiting for me after Raylan confessed.” He frowns faintly. “Why couldn’t I see it? Does… does Raylan know?”

[conning]

Neal nods miserably, still staring at the tea, the idea of which now makes him faintly queasy. "He's--"

He almost, almost glances up at Malcolm's face, but he aborts the action half-way through. "When we were fighting, he... I didn't know, not really. But he pointed it out. He realized it was why I was so mad."

[abrightboy]

“He’s better at assessing people than he’s given credit for, though I think he likes it that way. Being underestimated.”

Malcolm reaches out and strokes his fingertips through Neal’s hair.

“Are you still mad at me?”

[conning]

He closes his eyes at the touch, whispering, "No," instead of shaking his head.

"I can't stay mad a you," he says, even quieter. "I just. Want you to be happy."

[abrightboy]

“Is that why you felt like coming home with me made you some sort of consolation prize? I don’t want to make you do something that makes you feel like you don’t matter. You matter. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to think that you’re some sort of… second fiddle. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. That’s everything. That means everything to me.”

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"I shouldn't have said that." His voice is still very, very quiet. "I didn't mean it, not really. I know you'd never..."

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter against tears. For a second he feels dizzy with sleeplessness, but that isn't what's important right now. "I still want to go with you. I don't want you to think... I wouldn't be happy if I did. I would."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watches his face for a moment, then crawls closer and carefully wraps his arms around Neal's shoulders, hugging him tightly, burying his face in the artist's hair.