TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

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[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?”

[conning]

Neal gives Malcolm a bleak look. "They're dead. The marshals."

Ellen gasps, hand going to her mouth. Neal pockets his phone slowly.

[abrightboy]

“Not all the Marshals. Who do they suspect? Did they see that her door was forced? That the inside of the house was shot up? We don’t know who’s involved. They’ll probably suspect a gang. God. Why do they always go with the easy but stupid answer at the FBI?” Malcolm rambles.

[conning]

'Not all of them,' Malcolm says, and Neal has a moment of mental dissonance where he can't figure out why that distinction matters. Ellen stares at Malcolm, clearly also bothered, but she's more clear about why:

"Two good men are still dead," she says, shocked.

"He knows that," Neal answers, immediately coming to Malcolm's defense. He steps over to slide an arm around Malcolm's waist. "He's just concerned about your safety."

[abrightboy]

“The fact that they’re dead is what’s currently vouching for the fact that they weren’t involved in the plot to kill you,” Malcolm explains matter-of-factly. “We can’t save them now. We can save you.”

[conning]

Ellen's expression hardens a little at that, and she nods, and for a second Neal can see the cop she must have been when he was too young to remember. She looks at Neal. "You don't think telling Peter is a risk?"

"I'm willing to take it," Neal says quietly. "He'll see that whoever did this has to be part of the service somehow."

[abrightboy]

“I hope you’re right.”

If he thought about it, he’d have to see something wild in an ex-thief trusting the FBI more than an ex-FBI agent. Well. Trusting one FBI, anyway.

“Maybe we should have asked to meet him somewhere more… neutral.”

[conning]

"I can meet him outside. Take him somewhere else, have you meet us there?" He looks at Ellen, then at Malcolm. "You being... you."

He gestures at Malcolm specifically. Ellen makes a wry noise.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watches his face for a long moment.

"Do you trust him? With her life?"

[conning]

"I do," Neal says, and he's relieved to note that he doesn't feel a moment's hesitation in doing it. He kisses Malcolm gently. "But it's not just about me."

[abrightboy]

"I trust you," Malcolm points out. "Bring him in here."

He squeezes Neal's arm, then moves around the island to put the kettle on and rummage in the fridge for anything that might still be good from before their trip that he won't have to do too much to assemble. He pulls out a piece of cheese and considers it. Does that go with tea? Probably, right?

[conning]

Neal loves that he can see the internal dialogue play out on Malcolm’s face. He loves that he knows where it comes from, loves the feeling of warmth and affection it spurs.

He comes up to Malcolm from behind and slips an arm around his waist. “We could grab some groceries from that little place down the street, or order from a cafe.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at the cheese, then looks at Neal over his shoulder.

“We can’t make anything with this, huh?” He looks over at Ellen apologetically. “We were on vacation. Normally there’s food.” Only because of Neal, but that counts. He looks at Neal again. “What do you want to have?” Because Malcolm never really wants anything.

[conning]

"We could, potentially, but not with only that." Neal kisses his temple, grinning a little. The amusement is welcome, if brief.

Food. What does he want to eat? He's not sure. Something would be a good idea, though.

This shouldn't be such a hard question to answer.

"Something light?"

Ellen comes to their rescue. "There's a place I know of around here that has very good soups and salads."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm takes his phone out. "I think I know the place."

He confirms with Ellen when he pulls up the website, then takes their orders as he punches it in.

"Do you think Peter will want anything?"

[conning]

"Probably not," Neal says absently. He's standing at the half-circle window, staring out at the street. It occurs to him in a vague way that he shouldn't be making himself a target like this, and he turns back toward the apartment.

Ellen watches him with quiet concern. "What is it?"

[abrightboy]

"He's used to not knowing who to trust. To not trusting," Malcolm says, watching him, like he's narrating something that only he can see. "But it's different now because the cost is higher. The cost is more than his own life or freedom if he's wrong."

[conning]

Neal stares at Malcolm for a moment in shock. That’s it. That’s what it is, the unsettled terror gnawing at the pit of his stomach, the idea that he might make a wrong choice and get someone killed. He didn’t even realize it himself.

“Oh, Neal,” Ellen murmurs, and walks over to hug him. He stiffens against it for a moment, instinct more than anything, but she doesn’t let go. Slowly Neal relaxes again, hugging her back. He missed being able to do this.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he mumbles. He looks up from her shoulder, finding Malcolm with his eyes. “I just got you back.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods. That’s correct. More than that, it’s right.

“You know… if we make the right choices,” Malcolm muses, “then we deal with whoever is after her once and for all and win her freedom forever. She can be in your life without hiding. She can be part of your family properly, for real.”

[conning]

Ellen makes a soft little noise of disbelief. “I don’t even know what that would be like.”

She draws back enough to cup Neal’s cheeks between her hands. “I’d like to find out, though.”

Neal manages a tearful smile.

[abrightboy]

“We need to know everything you know about the original case that landed you here and a out whoever might want you dead now and the ways they’re connected, starting with this high ranking official,” Malcolm tells her. “Everything.”