THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[abrightboy]

“I didn’t know there was a larger investigation, but we’re a package deal. I don’t trust the FBI and I don’t know you, so even if you don’t want anything else from me, I’ll be the one watching Neal’s back. If it’s all the same to you. Or if it’s not.” He gestures towards the files. “Psychological profile, page one: trust issues comma profound.”

[conning]

Murdoch watches him with a fascination that’s only partially academic. “You’re very straightforward. Do you not find that tiring or risky?”

[abrightboy]

“It’s not more tiring than insomnia or more risky than jumping on a landmine. All things are relative. So are we doing this or what?” Malcolm replies in almost one run-on sentence.

[conning]

Murdoch stares for a moment, a man clearly trying to figure out if what was just said was literal or figurative. He takes a breath to ask, then shakes his head and decides there are more important things to focus on.

“I would be delighted to work with you. Rachel Turner isn’t a serial killer, but she otherwise fits your oeuvre rather well. She once executed a target by smearing part of the mouthpiece of their inhaler with peanut oil. As you might have guessed, the owner was allergic. Of course there was no substantive way to prove her involvement. A favorite tactic of hers seems to be unconventional poisons or substances with poisonous effect, but she will resort to perfunctory methods such as shooting and stabbing if that kind of drama is situationally inadvisable. She is a practical sadist.”

[abrightboy]

“She enjoys the suffering,” Malcolm clarifies, reaching for the file again. “If Neal gets close to her, he’s going to need me in his ear,” he informs Murdoch by way of equipment requisition requirements. “He’s seen sadism, but he doesn’t understand it,” he explains absently, flipping pages.

[conning]

Murdoch nods at the clarification, then pauses at Malcolm’s request. “How would that help him?”

It’s a genuine question.

The file itself is detailed and unflattering.

Former MI5 agent under the orders of Special MI5 Agent Dax Hammon. Her father was a colonel in the US army and her mother was a British civilian. Traveling around the world, she worked for the MI5 under the alias of Bonnie Tolliver, Margaret Stephan or Dyla Fleece. She used her contacts in the terrorist cells to sell British secret information and MI5 discharged her for treason. As a freelance mercenary, she left Great Britain for the United States.

Numerous assassinations, torturous interrogations, arms deals, and prison breaks are listed as likely crimes.

[abrightboy]

“It will help him with what to say in order to get what we need from her. We want her to play into our hands, not us to play into hers by giving her Neal,” Malcolm explains, still perusing the file.

[conning]

Murdoch makes a noise of understanding. “You’ll be a better counselor in that area than I am.”

Him, people… not always a winning combination.

Malcolm’s phone starts to ring. It’s Neal.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles and picks it up.

“Hey! Are you home?”

[conning]

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m home.”

Neal does not sound happy. I’m fact he sounds tense and upset.

Murdoch perks up. “Is that Mr Caffrey?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn't answer him.

"How was the meeting? Is everything okay?"

[conning]

“That went fine. It’s the after that… didn’t as much.”

Neal paces the apartment, realizing absently that that’s probably the worst thing for him to do at the moment and unable to stop himself. “She wanted to make sure I had incentive to keep helping her. She tried to inject Mozzie with something.”

He hesitates to say the next part, because… well. It’s bad. “I got in the way.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm takes the phone away from his ear and looks at Murdoch.

“I have to go. I’ll discuss your case with Neal and then we’ll call you. Don’t leave town,” he says calmly, but then bolts out of the cafe and down the street towards Neal’s apartment. With the phone back at his ear, he breathlessly asks “How long since the injection?”

[conning]

“Thirty minutes or so. She said I wouldn’t start feeling it for about eight to twelve hours, and she gave me a pair of adrenaline shots to use when I did. She said she could keep it from becoming debilitating for about twenty-four hours.”

He’s trying to sound calmer than he feels.

[abrightboy]

“And then what did she suggest you’re supposed to do?” Malcolm asks, bursting through June’s front door and running up the stairs. He tosses his phone on the table before Neal can answer. “Adrenaline suggests she gave you some sort of nervous system depressant. Eight to twelve hours? Okay. We have to get the anklet back on you. Sit down.”

He’s already pulling his bag out of the closet.

[conning]

Neal doesn’t sit down. Instead he goes to Malcolm, pulling him into a hug that’s as much for his own comfort as anything else. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to let her stab me, I just couldn’t let her get to Mozzie.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm holds him for a moment, one handed because of the tools in his off hand, but tightly. Then he pulls away so he can see Neal’s face.

“I’m not mad, but we have to do something about this. Now. There’s no time.”

He crouches, working on getting the anklet off his own leg.

“Did she tell you something she wants you to do with your forty-eight hours? Has she given you a job?”

[conning]

"The window is a decoder. Kind of. One of the panes, when you hold it up to the pages of the original codex, it reveals shapes. She's got Mozzie copying them over. I have to figure out what it's pointing to. Where it is."

He keeps a hand in Malcolm's hair as he works.

[abrightboy]

“Okay. We have two things we have to do. We have to get you medical treatment without giving away why you need it and then we have to dovetail this into Murdoch’s interpol investigation.”

He takes the anklet off his own leg and carefully snaps it onto Neal’s.

“You were at the coffee shop and then you suddenly ran home. You’re going to call Peter now and tell him someone randomly attacked you with a needle outside the coffee shop and we need a blood workup to determine what you were injected with and how to treat it. Discreetly, because we don’t know who targeted you or why. Then we contact Murdoch, who is willing to request your transfer to interpol for this investigation. We tell him Rachel Turner contacted you after the needle attack and that she wants you to decode this window thing she has and that she doesn’t know we halted the progression of the poison her stooge gave you, which means we’re on a short deadline with her. Got it?” he asks.

[conning]

Neal nods, though it takes him a moment to actually process what Malcolm just said. He takes a deep breath, pulling himself into the present by sheer force of will.

“All right. Okay. Wait— Murdoch wants me for Interpol?”

[abrightboy]

“He wants to catch Rachel Turner. I convinced him you’re a potential asset to the investigation and not already neck deep. That she was courting you as Rebecca, but not that we have yet found out any more than that. And I talked him into ruling out FBI involvement.” He stands up. “That all of this will culminate in an Interpol arrest that you assisted undercover and not something you did rogue to save Peter will help your position in gaining your freedom instead of hurting it.”

[conning]

He hears Malcolm and half-absorbs what's said, noting the things he needs more context for as he pulls out his phone. "I'm going to call Peter and then I need you to catch me up on exactly what you and Detective Murdoch talked about."

Neal hits Peter's number, pauses, and kisses Malcolm like he might not have that many more chances. It’s impulsive and scared and desperate—of course it is—but it also sends a rush of lust and giddiness through him that feels entirely inappropriate to the situation.

He’s a little flushed when he draws back.

Okay, a lot flushed, and his skin is abnormally warm, and his pupils are a little dilated, but he’s not really cognizant of any of the above.

From his phone, Peter’s voice says, “Hello? Neal?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm gasps faintly at the intensity of the kiss, and it takes him a moment to catch the voice through the line, then he points at it almost frantically.

Answer him.

[conning]

Right.

Right.

Neal lifts the phone to his ear, an odd tingling starting through his fingertips. Every active point of contact. It’s small, but distracting. “Hey, Peter, I…”

The tingle is almost like a reverberation against itself. Neal takes in a deep breath to focus but even the slide of air into his lungs feels…

“Wow,” he mumbles absently. “—What? No, I’m fine. I mean no, I’m not fine, I’m… I got ambushed coming out of my coffee shop, injected with something.”

He feels like he’s breathing faster. But also like the world is slowing down. Neal locks onto Malcolm, the now-all-over tingling distracting him. “It was Rebecca. No, it does make sense, I promise.”

He would like to kiss Malcolm again though, so he’s gonna try and do that.

[abrightboy]

He wasn’t supposed to say it was Rebecca. Crap. It’s not the end of the world, but…

Neal leans in to kiss him; he looks confused and points at the phone.