THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[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?"

[conning]

Peter grunts. Stays quiet for a moment. "He said some things that... I hope weren't true."

[abrightboy]

"I don't believe it was you, if that's what you're worried about," Malcolm tells him dryly.

[conning]

Peter gives him a blank look, then registers what Malcolm means and snorts. "Oh good. I was starting to wonder."

Another moment of silence. Peter starts to say something else, but there's a knock on the door and he gets up. It's the EMT, Diana still at her side. She comes in, eying Malcolm and Neal with an uncertainty that might be a little impressed. "Burke said he could use some more fluids."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods. "Just don't wake him up," he cautions. "He needs rest more than anything."

[conning]

"You got it," she says, significantly more respectful now than she was the first time she was here.

Peter hovers as she replaces the IV and adds a second bag, before Diana finally makes him sit down again. "Have you heard of anyone else showing up at the ER with his symptoms?"

"Emergency Department now," she says dryly. "They've gotten testy about being called a room. But no, I haven't."

[abrightboy]

"This formulation of drugs indicates a... calculated precision. This killer won't attack a swathe of people in one day. They'll wait," Malcolm tells them. "They may even tweak the formula in the meantime."

[conning]

Diana looks at Peter. "I'll put out feelers. See if there have been any recent deaths with similar symptoms, that kind of thing."

"Thanks, Diana," Peter murmurs.

The EMT straightens up. "I can stop by after my shift in the morning and see how he's doing, if you want."

Peter watches Neal sleeping for a moment then rubs his face. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great. I'm... going to ask June if I can take a guest room for the night."

[abrightboy]

“You don’t have to do that,” Malcolm tells him. “I’ll call you if anything changes.” He tilts his head to look over and up at the EMT. “But if you could stop in the morning to check in and replenish his fluids, that’d be great.”

Nobody had made Malcolm Neal’s caregiver, but Malcolm took on the role anyway.

[conning]

"I know I don't have to," Peter snaps, then immediately looks sheepish. "I just. Want to be close by if anything does."

For once, it's clear that his motivation is pure worry.

The EMT eyes Peter with raised eyebrows, then shrugs, nodding to Malcolm. "I'll bring some extras, show you how to change things out. Diana told me you don't want him in a hospital for a few days, but he's gonna need hydration."

She doesn't hang around to see how the conversation between Malcolm and Peter progresses. Diana doesn't follow immediately. "You good, boss?"

Peter nods. She comes over to give his shoulder a little squeeze before she leaves.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm thanks her as she leaves, then leans over to set his sushi on the side table by the couch before settling back in his chair to watch Neal sleep. Part of him wants to go pour a scotch, but it feels like showing Peter weakness.