THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[conning]

“Who’re you? The new nurse? I didn’t know you could be a nurse if you’re a guy.” Nonetheless, he shifts around so he can rest his head on Malcolm’s thigh. He shivers. “She might not come. It’s not her fault, she works a lot.”

[abrightboy]

"A guy can be a nurse if that's what he wants to be. Anyone can do anything if they work for it," Malcolm tells him. "Anyway, I have lots of time to wait for her. Just get comfortable. Close your eyes. I'll wake you when she gets here."

[conning]

Neal gives a convulsive little shudder, gags again, the pain made all the more confusing by his current state of mind. “Am I dying?”

“No,” Peter says quickly. He moves the garbage aside so the smell is out of the way before he crouches down. He pitches his voice soft and reassuring. “No, you’re not.”

For a second he pauses, but the curiosity is too much. “Can you tell me where you are right now?”

Neal gives him a confused look. “…School…?”

[abrightboy]

"Good job!" Malcolm says quickly. "You passed the cognitive test." He gives Peter a dirty look before turning his attention back to Neal. "You'll be okay. I know you don't feel well, but it will pass."

[conning]

“What’s happening to me?” The question is only half directed at Malcolm. It’s also spoken in simple delirium.

Edrisa inches over, watching him with anxiety. “He really does need diagnostics done to see what kind of damage that stuff did before we got him turned around.”

[abrightboy]

“He’ll get them,” Malcolm tells her. “Not today. And maybe not in New York,” he adds, looking at Peter, the man who has to make that happen.

[conning]

Peter growls in frustration. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Neal drags in a breath, trying uselessly to sit up. His voice is hoarse, but forceful. “Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything. He’s never done anything.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm steadies Neal, urging him to stay on the couch.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. He looks at Peter. “I told you already: we don’t know who did this or how they admire their handiwork, but whoever did it will want to and keeping tabs on hospitals is the most likely way.”

[conning]

There’s something in Peter’s face that says he wants to say more, that he knows more, but he glances at Neal and stops himself. “I can make it happen.”

Neal shudders, little involuntary tremors rolling through him, breathing picking up to an irregularly quick rhythm as he watches something move across the ceiling.

Peter grits his teeth. “Why not today? I want to at least get that EMT back, get him set up with… with fluids or…” He trails off helplessly.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm gets up, but lingers within Neal’s reach.

“Then get the EMT back,” he says heatedly. “Get anyone you know you can trust without reservation, but I told you why not. We don’t know this killer. We don’t know if this was random or if Neal was targeted. We do know it’s the work of a sadist and other people’s pain is what gives them pleasure. We don’t know how they intended to watch that play out. We take no chances. We admit nobody that at least one of us doesn’t know and trust beyond reproach. We stay careful until they dare to test whether he’s alive or assume he’s dead.”

[conning]

"He has been pretty clear," Edrisa says helpfully. Peter glares at her and she deflates, but only a little, and only for a moment. "Well, he has."

Peter turns away and pulls out his own phone to make another call.

"It's okay," Neal murmurs, still in that little-kid cadence. He's so tired. His muscles twinge and he grimaces, shifting on the couch. That makes him wince again. "I'm okay. You don't have to be mad."

[abrightboy]

“I’m not mad at you,” Malcolm says almost automatically, but not without sincerity. “Rest. You’re through the worst of it. Get some rest,” he urges, feeling Neal’s forehead again.

[conning]

Neal watches him with glassy eyes for a moment before speaking. His tone is distinctly suspicious. "You're not mad?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks down at him, then returns to his chair and sits.

“Not at you. Want me to read to you?”

[conning]

He perks up at the prospect of being read to, but there are are other priorities afoot as well. In a whisper that isn't really a whisper, Neal says, "Why are you mad at the other guy?"

Edrisa, mercifully, has gone back to the wine.

[abrightboy]

“Because he knows everything,” Malcolm whispers back just as indiscreetly. “And people who know everything don’t listen.” Then in his normal voice, he says “What book do you want me to read?”

[conning]

Neal grins, then coughs, which sets off another wave of coughing, which in turn makes his muscles ache. He closes his eyes against involuntary tears, wheezing a little. "I didn't think he hit me that hard. I guess I underestimated him this time."

Right. Reading. What does he want to read? He blinks Malcolm into focus. "...You won't laugh at me?"

[abrightboy]

“If you pick a comedy, I might laugh with you, but no. Otherwise, I find it exceedingly unlikely,” Malcolm assures him.

[conning]

Neal looks vaguely guilty when he says, "My mom reads me poetry."

[abrightboy]

“Which poet do you want to hear?” Malcolm asks him.

[conning]

“I like Derek Walcott and Maya Angelou and Wordsworth and Blake and Keats and Henry David Thoreau…” He trails off, the brief surge of enthusiasm tempered again by embarrassment. “They’re okay.”

[abrightboy]

“Blake. I think I remember one of his.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

…Right?” he confirms.

[conning]

“Auguries of Innocence,” Neal murmurs, then squints at Malcolm in confusion at his own knowledge. He starts to ask how he knows that, then tries to lift his hand toward the other man limply. “Malcolm,” he says quietly, relief coloring the words, his tone dropping a few soft octaves. “I thought I dreamed you. Did I dream you? Rebecca told me I could see what she’d do to you when it happened to Mozzie.”

A pause, then, “…Did that happen?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks, then honestly answers “I don’t know,” because he doesn’t. But he does believe it, though he’s very aware of Peter’s presence and how much it needs to look to him like he’s humouring poor, confused Neal. “Maybe.” He pauses. “I like this poem by e. e. cummings, do you know it?

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

I fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you”

He watches Neal’s face.

“here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”

[conning]

When Neal recognizes the poem, there’s no denying the infatuation in his expression, feverish or not. He starts reciting softly along with Malcolm, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes drifting shut near the end and his voice getting quieter.

When Malcolm stops, Neal gives an appreciative little hum of a sound, and seems to finally fall asleep.

After a moment of silence—Peter is done on his call—Edrisa says, “You two are… annoyingly good together.”