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Malcolm’s brow creases.
“What ‘water cooler talk’?” he asks suspiciously.
“What ‘water cooler talk’?” he asks suspiciously.
“I don’t know what people talk about,” Malcolm points out. “They don’t talk to me. But, if you want to know what happened, I went down to the FBI office and handed Kramer his ass in front of all of his subordinates. I’m not sure ‘scuffle’ is the word I would use,” he explains almost haughtily.
The way Malcolm declares his isolation like it’s obvious makes Neal want to put bees in every desk in Major Crimes. Gil doesn’t seem to notice. He chuckles.
“I wish I could have seen that. I wonder if the CCTV has sound.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Neal says.
“I wish I could have seen that. I wonder if the CCTV has sound.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Neal says.
Gil’s amusement makes Malcolm crack a smile.
“You might be able to see the look on his face,” he suggests.
“You might be able to see the look on his face,” he suggests.
"I could see if Mozzie can get his hands on it," Neal says, only half joking.
He heads straight for the terrible coffee when they reach the precinct, mixing in his chosen additions and then staring at it for a moment as powdered creamer drifts under the surface. He can't get that image of Raylan out of his head now, walking toward him, face either half gone or half covered by darkness. Neal shakes his head, taking a deep breath and straightening up.
He heads straight for the terrible coffee when they reach the precinct, mixing in his chosen additions and then staring at it for a moment as powdered creamer drifts under the surface. He can't get that image of Raylan out of his head now, walking toward him, face either half gone or half covered by darkness. Neal shakes his head, taking a deep breath and straightening up.
Malcolm comes to stand beside him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “Is it… what I said about being a father?”
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “Is it… what I said about being a father?”
That's a relief. He was worried his hesitance would be a deal breaker. Neal's a natural with them.
"What was it about?" he asks gently.
"What was it about?" he asks gently.
He turns his attention back to the coffee, just to have something to look at. Somewhere to rest his eyes while he remembers. "Mathias. It was sunny, warm, almost like summer, but it was empty. Even more empty."
His grip on Malcolm's hand tightens a little. "I can't explain why it was wrong. It was always quiet there, always had that... vacancy, but it was like..."
It was worse. Somehow it was worse. He draws in a breath. "I saw Raylan walking toward me, and he was shedding shadows. I only saw him for a second before you woke me up, but I can't stop thinking about it."
His grip on Malcolm's hand tightens a little. "I can't explain why it was wrong. It was always quiet there, always had that... vacancy, but it was like..."
It was worse. Somehow it was worse. He draws in a breath. "I saw Raylan walking toward me, and he was shedding shadows. I only saw him for a second before you woke me up, but I can't stop thinking about it."
“Is it because we were talking about Raylan? If he comes across as a sinister figure in your dream, is it because you feel threatened by him somehow?” Malcolm asks.
"Minor psychoses are common side effects of unprocessed or protracted trauma," Malcolm assures him sympathetically. "Do you want me to set you up with my therapist?"
"Well, when it happens... you can talk to me," Malcolm offers.
Neal manages a tiny smile in Malcolm’s direction, but JT draws his attention as he, Dani, and Gil all converge on the coffee station.
“You’re going to love this,” JT says. “Our vic withdrew a hefty stack of cash from the bank about a week and a half ago.”
“You’re going to love this,” JT says. “Our vic withdrew a hefty stack of cash from the bank about a week and a half ago.”
Malcolm raises his eyebrows. “Blackmail?” He gestures for Neal to join him in heading towards the door. “I need to talk to Alessa,” he tells them.
“Now? It’s almost ten o’clock,” Dani protests.
Malcolm pauses at the door and half turns to answer. “Her baby feeds every two hours and her husband was just murdered. She’s up.”
“Now? It’s almost ten o’clock,” Dani protests.
Malcolm pauses at the door and half turns to answer. “Her baby feeds every two hours and her husband was just murdered. She’s up.”
Neal goes with him, of course. Gil sends Dani along with them, but the interview is interrupted by the near-theft of Nina.
When they see the au pair on the camera, starting to pick up Nina, Neal’s heart hits his throat.
He’s running for the stairs as Alessa says, “She’s stealing my baby!”
When they see the au pair on the camera, starting to pick up Nina, Neal’s heart hits his throat.
He’s running for the stairs as Alessa says, “She’s stealing my baby!”
Neal’s legs are longer, but Malcolm sprints into the room not far behind him. The window is open. No. No.
Then there’s a noise. The quiet, unmistakable babble of a baby from the bassinet beside the window.
Then there’s a noise. The quiet, unmistakable babble of a baby from the bassinet beside the window.
Neal darts over, scooping Nina up very gently and holding her close, like somehow that will make the attempted theft less horrifying. He backs away from the window, looking at Malcolm.
“Why would she do that?” It’s quietly horrified. “Why would she try to do that?”
Alessa sweeps into the room, and Neal gently hands Nina over.
“Why would she do that?” It’s quietly horrified. “Why would she try to do that?”
Alessa sweeps into the room, and Neal gently hands Nina over.
“Maybe she got into nannying in the first place to steal a baby,” Malcolm suggests. “We’ll dig into her tomorrow. I need to know more.”
“Yeah,” Malcolm agrees. “It’s time to go home.”
He tells Dani they’ll see her tomorrow, then hails a cab, giving them Neal’s address.
“We don’t need to start super early tomorrow,” he explains as they climb the stairs. “We have to wait for the background check anyway.”
He tells Dani they’ll see her tomorrow, then hails a cab, giving them Neal’s address.
“We don’t need to start super early tomorrow,” he explains as they climb the stairs. “We have to wait for the background check anyway.”
Neal nods, relieved, hoping for a slow morning of curling around each other in bed until the bathroom or breakfast calls too strongly to ignore. He locks and chains the door as soon as they’re inside, coming over to Malcolm again and wrapping him up in a hug that’s almost like a kid snuggling a teddy bear.
“We’re okay, right?” It’s murmured against Malcolm’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”
He shivers. “I feel like something horrible is going to happen and I don’t know what.”
“We’re okay, right?” It’s murmured against Malcolm’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”
He shivers. “I feel like something horrible is going to happen and I don’t know what.”
“We’re okay. I mean. I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking,” Malcolm tells him, hands grasping Neal’s shirt at his ribs. “That feeling of foreboding is common after trauma, too. You should talk to someone, but I’m not going to make you. It won’t help if you’re not ready to try to process it.”
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