TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

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[abrightboy]

“Go with her,” Malcolm tells him again. “Make sure her phone is off and don’t let her call anyone yet. We don’t know who’s tracking her. The only people we can trust with her right now is us. So take her to my apartment. On foot. And I’ll meet you there. Go. Go now.” He gives Neal a gentle kiss. “There’s no time to argue. Go.”

[conning]

Neal’s eyes burn, blur, and start to overflow at the kiss. It’s what decides him, though.

He goes, catching up to Ellen with ease and putting a gentle hand on her arm after he signals her with a soft whistle. “Phone. We need to dump it, preferably on someone going the opposite direction from us.”

He’s not taking chances.

He’s barely gone, though, when the front door finally busts inward and the attacker shoves his way inside, firing two bullets blindly in front of him. Big, blonde, sharp-eyed in the way that says killing is a business transaction and a strategic one at that.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm clamours out of the dining room, intentionally making noise as he goes, like a person in a panic. He goes into the back bedroom, slams the door shut and pulls a chest of drawers in front of the door.

[conning]

The man on the other side puts a bullet through the door and chest of drawers, a close enough shot to leave a hole through the loose cloth of one of Malcolm’s sleeves.

Without a word, whoever it is throws himself against the door, pushing hard, trying to force his way in.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm isn’t fazed by the bullet; he rarely is when he’s high on a mission and a plan.

He licks his lips, watching the dresser just start to budge, then he turns and opens the window, vaulting himself out of it and running further into the yard, not in the direction Neal would have led Ellen. He pushes open a gate and runs into the road and heads down the street. He leaves the gate swinging open behind him: another clue in the wrong direction.

[conning]

The man doesn't see him, or rather doesn't catch up.

Malcolm will probably hear him swearing.

Neal paces Malcolm's apartment with a half-finished drink, staring into the middle distance. Ellen is sitting on the couch watching him, worry on her face. Whether it's for him or for Malcolm, he's not sure, and he doesn't want to ask.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm bursts into the apartment shortly after, face flush with exertion and adrenaline. He grins at Neal.

“I think he was disappointed.”

He’s already forgotten about the bullet hole in his jacket sleeve.

[conning]

Neal drops his glass. He means to put it on the counter as he passes, but he misses and doesn't stop. Just bundles Malcolm up in a hug of desperate relief.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm startles a little when the glass breaks, but then Neal is holding him so, so tight.

Malcolm’s fingers press into the backs of Neal’s shoulders as he clutches him back, but he sounds almost bewildered when he points out “I told you it was okay.”

[conning]

“I know,” he says softly. He kisses Malcolm’s neck, then draws back enough to kiss his face and mouth. “I know you did, I knew it would be, I believed you, I…”

He can’t breathe and he can’t figure out why.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm returns the kiss, but otherwise watches his face carefully.

“…Are you okay?” he asks softly.

[conning]

His instinct, as ever, is to say yes.

Instead he shakes his head. “No. I—”

That’s when he spots the hole in Malcolm’s sleeve. He lifts Malcolm’s arm enough to show it clearly, looking from the damage to Malcolm’s face without knowing quite what to say. “They got this close?”

[abrightboy]

“Not. Like. Physically,” Malcolm says. He frowns faintly. “You know this is what I do,” he points out.

[conning]

Neal tries to get himself to relax, tries every trick he knows, but it isn’t until he imagines Malcolm holding his hand in the precinct bathroom while they breathe together that it starts to work. That image, that memory, that helps.

He doesn’t realize it’s the first time he’s thought of this Malcolm first, for comfort. “I do know. It’s what I do too.”

More or less. Tangentially. Another deep breath. Neal strokes his cheek. “It’s not the risk, it’s that I wasn’t there to take it with you.”

[abrightboy]

“You did take it with me,” Malcolm tells him earnestly. “By trusting me. Like I trusted you. Now we’re all safe. Ellen, too.”

[conning]

It's true. That's true. Malcolm is right. Neal nods slowly, and then remembers that he dropped his glass. He half-turns to look at the mess, but Ellen is midway through cleaning it up.

"No, Ellen, you don't have to--"

"Nonsense," she says comfortably. "You were busy."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks over at her.

“…How did you find my dustpan? I don’t know where it’s kept,” he exclaims.

Rich boys.

[conning]

Ellen laughs at that, though it turns into a slight groan as she straightens up. “I know where Neal would put his.”

[abrightboy]

He supposes it makes sense that Louisa would put it somewhere… sensible.

“My mom’s housekeeper comes in twice a week,” he explains awkwardly. “I tried to stop it, but. That doesn’t work. You’ll get it when you meet my mother.”

When. He doesn’t even hear himself. It just seems right.

[conning]

Ellen chuckles, shuffling over to the garbage to dump the broken glass. Neal beats her to the kitchen area for a damp rag to wipe up what’s left of the alcohol and catch any last shards. She lets him win, holding the now-empty dustpan up in surrender.

“She seems like quite a character, from what little I know.”

Neal smiles a little, thinking of his last conversation with Jessica Whitly. “She probably hasn’t forgiven me for hanging up on her the last time we talked.”

Ellen tsks without real disapproval as she puts the cleaning implements away. She flashes Malcolm a smile. “You’re perfect for this one, you know. For a lot of reasons, from what I can tell, but he likes a clean space. He was fastidious even as a little boy.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles at the floor.

“When you can’t control a lot of things, it’s normal to want to control what you can,” the psychologist in him points out.

They both had so much they couldn’t control pushing down on them.

[conning]

Neal blinks, surprised. It makes sense, of course, but he’d never thought about it in those terms.

For a second Ellen’s expression goes sad, and he hates that, so he goes over to her and kisses her cheek before shaking the rag out into the trash. “I learned good habits, that’s all.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s medication sits in its tidy row on the island next to his affirmation cards. His suits are in the closet, arranged by colour. His bed is neatly made, restraints sitting on top of the blankets. He knows what he can and can’t control.

He watches Neal and Ellen for a moment. There’s a second when he thinks maybe he said something wrong, but then realizes that’s not it.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks them.

[conning]

“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful,” Ellen says. Neal is about to note that he’s not really hungry when his phone starts to buzz. He pulls it out and answers with a slight frown.

“Peter? What—” His eyes widen. “Oh. Uh. No, I’m. I’m fine.”

He glances at Ellen and goes with the truth. “She hasn’t called me, no. Could you come by Malcolm’s place? I don’t want to hear this over the phone. Yeah. Thanks.”

He hangs up.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s brow creases faintly.

“Are you sure about this? What if he feels duty-bound to report her whereabouts to the Marshals?”