TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

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[conning]

She shakes her head. “No. Not him. I reached out to another old colleague, a man named Sam Phelps. And I looked into a couple of local politicians who were cops in DC when I was active.”

“Ellen, why on earth—”

“You wanted to know about your father, Neal. You’ve never asked me about him, not since you were eighteen.”

[abrightboy]

“Politicians?” Malcolm questions. “Which ones? How high up?”

[conning]

"A few," she says, folding her hands around her mug. "A state court judge, a liquor lobbyist, and a senator."

The names she ads aren't ones Neal knows, really, except the senator. Terrence Pratt. Even then he knows the name in the way that most people would be aware of a publicity-focused politician they didn't vote for. He sips his tea, frowning, then winces as he burns himself.

"Why Pratt?"

"He and your father were huge rivals in their day, and..." She trails off, frowning. "I heard some things when I was investigating your father's arrest."

[abrightboy]

"Things that could compromise him?" Malcolm asks bluntly.

[conning]

"Significantly," she says. "There were rumors that he was--how much do you know about Neal's father?"

Neal blinks, realizing all at once that he hasn't said that much, beyond confessing that his dad was a crooked cop and a killed his superior officer.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shrugs expansively.

"Neal said he was a dirty cop."

[conning]

Ellen nods, studying the table with a distant expression in her eyes for a moment. Then she reaches out and takes Neal's hand. "He was. I think he was. But I also think it was more complicated than that."

Neal's throat feels like it's closing up. Like he's walking into the cave at the base of the cliffs and bracing himself to drown. He reaches for Malcolm with his other hand. "You never told me."

"You never wanted to know, honey." Ellen still sounds a little apologetic as she says it. "I figured... you were lied to for the first eighteen years of your life. When you wanted to know more, you'd ask. And you have."

[abrightboy]

"Complicated how?" Malcolm asks, squeezing Neal's hand. "Do you think he was somehow coerced into it?"

[conning]

"I don't know." There's frustration and heartbreak in that. "He said he was. He told me he was innocent, that he'd been framed, and I believed him. I started looking into the guy he was supposed to have killed, turning over rocks. I was starting to make real progress when he confessed to shooting his superior officer. Said he lured the man there and killed him. But I'd turned up enough to know something more had to be going on. We were all taken into protective custody."

She looks at Neal. "Me, you, and your mother were all sent to St. Louis. Your dad... I don't know where he went. Not to prison. But your mom had divorced him by then, and she didn't want him anywhere near you."

Neal stares at her, shock rolling through him in waves. "I didn't know."

Ellen lifts her other hand to his cheek. "She didn't want you to."

[abrightboy]

"You turned up enough to know something more had to be going on. And then - conveniently for whoever was involved - you went into protective custody. Do you think it was a coincidence?" Malcolm asks.

[conning]

"Not for a minute." Ellen smirks wryly, drawing away from Neal so she can sip her tea.

He's shellshocked enough for everyone present, and he mimics her, drinking without thinking about it. It's cooler now at least.

"I think someone threatened him, or promised him something, and he took the fall to keep me away from whatever I was about to find. The government confiscated pretty much everything."

She looks off toward the front doors. "Almost everything. Sam, Sam Phelps, was an undercover helping me investigate before Neal and I went into WITSEC. He kept digging. He has copies of all of my notes, all the files I managed to sneak out of the precinct. He hid them for me when he retired."

[abrightboy]

“What did he say when you spoke to him?” Malcolm asks, leaning forward slightly.

[conning]

"Nothing yet. There's a PO Box he left me where I can send him messages, but he's... well, he was an undercover for a long time. He stays as far off the grid as is possible."

Neal bites his lip. "How do you know he even checks it any more?"

She smiles sadly. "I don't. I'm just hoping he does."

[abrightboy]

“Where’s the PO Box located?” Malcolm asks curiously.

[conning]

“Georgia, near the border with Florida and Alabama.”

“Which means he’s probably living in one of the latter states.” Neal’s observation is distracted.

[abrightboy]

“Should we look for him?” Malcolm asks. “Will having the evidence make you safer?”

[conning]

“No,” Neal and Ellen say almost at the same time. She gives him an amused look.

“Not yet.” Ellen is the one who speaks first. “I don’t want to risk scaring him into deep hiding by putting pressure on him. If we don’t hear anything, then we can look for him.”

Neal nods, agreeing silently. He’d run, if he were Sam and someone started looking for him right now. Right after being contacted by an old friend.

“It won’t make me safer in the short term,” Ellen adds, “but in the long run? Yes.”

[abrightboy]

“Do you need somewhere to stay?” Malcolm asks. “In the meantime? If there is someone in a position to know where your assigned location is in the government… until we figure this out, it’s not safe for you to stay where they put you.”

[conning]

Ellen goes quiet, and Neal realizes for the first time that she’s scared. Which, for him, is terrifying. Even as a 35 year old trauma survivor, Ellen is still his measure of calm. The child in him still uses her moods as a marker of stability.

It’s a little harder to breathe than it was a minute ago.

“Stay with us,” he says, quietly pleading. “Or if not… with us, then somewhere Mozzie or Malcolm can set up. It’s going to be more secure than staying here.”

[abrightboy]

"We'll take you to my apartment," Malcolm tells her immediately. "We can protect you."

[conning]

“I don’t think the marshals would appreciate my disappearing.” She’s hesitant though. Undecided.

Neal shifts urgently in his chair so he’s facing her and reaches out to take one of her hands in both of his. “You said I never ask for things. I’m asking you to come with us to where it’s safe.”

It doesn’t occur to him that he’s manipulating her. It’s not like that’s his actual intent.

[abrightboy]

“They might not like it,” Malcolm allows, “but they don’t know they’re compromised. They can’t keep you safe. Not now. Not until the person at the top is taken down.”

[conning]

Ellen nods slowly, then more decisively. “All right.”

She squeezes Neal’s hand. “Though I have to tell you, it’s going to be… unnerving, not having a couple of suits close by.”

A tiny smile. “Federal suits.”

[abrightboy]

“I was a federal suit,” Malcolm tells her helpfully. “For a while.”

[conning]

“He still wore better cuts,” Neal says confidentially. “Much better.”

Ellen laughs—but the noise is aborted, cut off by the soft zipping sound of a silenced handgun firing two bullets into the front door lock and splintering the surrounding wood. Neal bolts to his feet in surprise. There’s no mistaking that sound, not when you’ve heard it and the bullets were aimed at you.