THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[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.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shrugs.

“It just worked out that way. Which didn’t at all seem a given the day we met and I had him picking up his friend’s fingers off the floor.”

There’s a knock.

“Is that the sushi?” Malcolm says. “I’ll get it.”

Though he takes one more look at the finally peaceful repose on Neal’s face before heading there.

[conning]

It is the sushi.

It is the sushi being borne by William Murdoch. “I ran into the delivery person on my way to the front door.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm gives him a look at walks out into the hall rather than inviting Murdoch in, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I have something for you, but not now and not here. The FBI is inside,” he whispers.

[conning]

Murdoch looks at the door, then at Malcolm. “Is there some reason they can’t know why I’m here?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s expression darkens.

“In the coffeeshop you agreed to my terms: no FBI involvement.”

[conning]

He holds out the sushi. “I did, and stand by that agreement. I’m simply curious as to why my very involvement needs to be concealed.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What are you going to say you’re here for?” he asks pointedly.

[conning]

Murdoch stares at him blankly. “An investigation I’m interested in collaborating with Mr Caffrey on.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at him. “You can’t go to his handler. You have to go to someone above him! He’s personally involved! He’ll want to be part of it; are you crazy?”

[conning]

“I wasn’t going to ask for his handler’s permission or participation,” Murdoch says, more baffled now, still holding out the sushi.

A pause, then, “You’re trying to protect Mr Caffrey. I understand that. But what trouble is he already in that you’re trying to keep from his handler? That is the bottom line issue, I assume?”

[abrightboy]

“Showing up here like this isn’t trusting me; why should I trust you?” Malcolm counters.

[conning]

Murdoch frowns. “You left quickly enough that I was somewhat alarmed, and when I called Mr Caffrey subsequently, I couldn’t reach him. I was concerned for you both, given the content of our conversation. Will you please take your food?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm snatches the bag out of his hand, glances at the closed door over his shoulder, then leans towards Murdoch.

“Tomorrow… or maybe the next day… Neal will be able to get close to Rachel Turner, but his handler can’t know that you’re involved yet. Call the FBI in the morning, tell them about your investigation in broad terms and request the asset then for his knowledge of art and forgery. If you want Rachel Turner, leave now and follow my instructions to the letter. If they turn him over to you tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.”

[conning]

Murdoch studies Malcolm for a moment, then nods slowly, letting his hands fall to his sides in a way that seems somehow awkward even though he doesn’t have anything else to do with them now. “Very well. Please give Mr Caffrey my best.”

For a moment he seems about to say something else, but then turns to go. Stops, turns back, pauses again. “If she’s forced him to take actions he otherwise wouldn’t, and those actions haven’t caused significant harm to others or benefit to himself, I don’t view him as being at fault and would testify to that effect. If that’s a concern.”

Another (awkward) pause, and he nods in farewell and descends the stairs.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself to answer. But he lingers in the hall and when the door closes behind Murdoch, he pulls out Neal’s phone and dials Mozzie.