THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[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.

[conning]

There’s a pause before a beleaguered voice snaps. “What? This better be important. I’m busy.”

He doesn’t seem to realize who’s calling.

[abrightboy]

“This is Malcolm Bright,” Malcolm tells him softly. Soberly.

[conning]

Mozzie sucks in a breath, then manages, “Is. How is… Is Neal…”

[abrightboy]

“He’ll be okay. He’s out of the woods now. But don’t tell her that. I want you to disappear. I think you know how to do that. We’ll take care of the rest and then we’ll tell you everything. Just make sure she can’t find you,” Malcolm explains. “Will you do that for Neal?”

[conning]

Mozzie lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I can do that. Should I take my notes with me? Not that I’ve gotten a lot worked through.”

[abrightboy]

"Yeah," Malcolm tells him. "Take everything. Leave her project at Neal's mercy. Don't worry that he might have to much. I'll be there to make sure he doesn't give her any," he adds darkly.

[conning]

"You're improving on me, Bespoke Badge." There's a gratitude in the words that undercuts the sarcasm. Mozzie hangs up without saying anything else.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm pockets the phone and lets himself back into the apartment, taking the takeout bag over to Edrisa at the table. He plucks the small tray of cucumber rolls out of it and brings them with him to sit next to Neal again. He doesn’t open the container. No point to eat them when Neal is asleep.

[conning]

"Um... Are you not... hungry...?" Edrisa drifts back over to him, slightly flushed, wine bottle in hand. She's got some of her food plated in her other hand, and sits down opposite Malcolm and Neal and the couch in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. Peter paces quietly in the background.

Neal, for his part, sleeps, more exhausted than in pain at this point. Every so often he gives a small shiver, or his muscles will twitch involuntarily, but he's not stirring. Not yet.

Edrisa glances at Peter, then leans forward a little so she's talking more to Malcolm. "Who's the other guy?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glances at his food at the first question, then gives her a small smile.

“Soon,” he promises.

At the second question, he glances at Peter, then looks at Edrisa.

“That’s Neal’s handler from the FBI. His name’s Peter,” he explains.

[conning]

She eyes Peter with distaste. “Explains more than it doesn’t.”

[abrightboy]

“I know,” Malcolm assures her. “But they’re friends.”

Sort of.

He leans back in his chair and looks over at Peter. “You don’t have to stay if you want to get home. I’ll let you know how he does. He’ll probably sleep most of the night now.”

[conning]

She nods, folding in on herself a little bit as she starts on her dinner. After a moment, though, she says, “Did you mean it? That I’m the smartest person you know?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at her like it’s obvious.

“Of course I did,” he tells her matter of factly. “Who else would I call with his life on the line?”

[conning]

She goes a little more pink, and not from the wine. “Well, I mean. …I guess I did do a pretty good job.”

She studies Neal with the kind of interest that she usually reserves for crime scenes. “He must have really pissed someone off. That mix—I want to get the samples back to the lab so I can get a more precise breakdown. It’s genius, really. …In a. Y’know, evil way. You knows what’s fascinating about strychnine as a poison? The asphyxiation isn’t the greatest risk. I mean, there’s a lot of risks, but one of the hardest symptoms to combat is the involuntary muscle spasms.”

She points to Neal as one arm twitches. “Even if you can prevent asphyxiation and organ failure, victims have been known to die from actual exhaustion because of the persistence and intensity of muscle contractions.”

“…You two must be best friends,” Peter mutters, catching the tail end of Edrisa’s enthusiasm.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks up at him.

“Who else would I call with his life on the line?” he asks, his voice a little crisper and frostier this time.

He looks at Edrisa. “I’m not sure it wasn’t a random attack, actually. He was injected walking out of the coffee shop down the street. If you get a profile on the drug cocktail, keep it to hand, in case any more potential victims come in.”

[conning]

She nods eagerly, buoyed again by Malcolm's response to Peter. To put it mildly. Edrisa pops the last of her sushi into her mouth and gets to her feet. "I'll drop it by the lab on my way home. Get it started."

A pause, and she hugs Malcolm tightly. The angle is a little awkward, but it doesn't stop her.

Peter waits until she's gone before taking the spot she'd occupied. He eyes the remains of the wine, then decides against it. Goes back to watching Neal with tired, worried eyes.

"How delirious do you think he was?"

[abrightboy]

"Right out of it," Malcolm replies wearily. "He didn't know up from down. Sometimes he knew me and sometimes he didn't. It's hard to assess any given moment. Why?"