"Rebecca Lowe being Rachel turn is news to me," Neal says, slightly dazed, but not from the poison this time. Or not totally from the poison. "I knew she wasn't who she said she was but... who's Rachel Turner?"
At Malcolm's order, he nods slowly, though there's clear reluctance in it. He's not sure why.
“Because that’s what spies do. They become someone else just long enough to get what they need.” Malcolm is quiet for a moment. “Peter thinks that’s why you fell for me, too. He thinks I’ve manipulated you into it,” he realizes.
Malcolm looks at him, a smile slowly curving his mouth.
“I know.” He pushes Neal’s hair - matted with sweat and then dried as he slept - back from his face. He picks up the tray of cucumber rolls and offers them to Neal. “Do you want these?”
“He’ll deal,” Neal says, and then tries to get his fingers to cooperate with opening the container. His hands are tingly, clumsy, numb, and after a moment he growls in frustration.
"Thanks," Neal says softly. Eating is easier. He doesn't even ask for chopsticks. He can't imagine that would end well. After wolfing a few of the little rolls, he stops himself and offers the box to Malcolm. "You should probably eat something too. It's not licorice, but it's better than nothing."
Malcolm picks one up and pops it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“So I’ve basically told Murdoch that Rachel targeted you, but we don’t know what she wants. Mozzie has disappeared with all his attempts at deciphering the window. Once we get the word that you’re working for interpol, we’ll call her. When I say ‘we’, I mean ‘me’. I don’t want her to know right away that you’re still alive.”
Neal starts to brush a hand through Malcolm’s hair and noticed a bit of cream cheese on his finger. He swipes it across the other man’s lower lip gently. “You’re really good at this.”
"No." He winces a little, forcing himself to sit up enough that he can give Malcolm a proper kiss. "Crisis management. Adapting to the needs and circumstances of the con."
“Well…” he laughs lightly. “When you put it that way… I am almost constantly in crisis, so I must be well practised in dealing with them by now,” he allows. He pushes the container towards Neal. “Eat some more.”
"Okay," Malcolm concedes, putting them on the table. "Just don't save them for me." He studies Neal's face for a moment. "We'll have to get some tests at a hospital but Peter said he'd facilitate doing it outside of New York. I think that would be safest."
"Keep control of the situation. She needs you. Whatever the window leads to, she probably already has a buyer. She has deadlines. She can't decode it. Mozzie is gone." He shrugs. "She needs you. You and only you. And she made the mistake that may have made that impossible. And I stopped taking her calls."
“It really is,” he says. “If I wasn’t recently poisoned and didn’t have cream cheese breath I would definitely be trying to make out with you right now.”
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At Malcolm's order, he nods slowly, though there's clear reluctance in it. He's not sure why.
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He stares at his now-empty glass, a confused revulsion twisting his stomach.
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“I know.” He pushes Neal’s hair - matted with sweat and then dried as he slept - back from his face. He picks up the tray of cucumber rolls and offers them to Neal. “Do you want these?”
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"One is plenty for me," he finally says.
He sits back... slumps back, really.
"I locked the door. Peter might not like that in this time of emergency."
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“I didn’t want him to come in unannounced. I’ve been doing a lot of scheming and I wanted to rest.”
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“So I’ve basically told Murdoch that Rachel targeted you, but we don’t know what she wants. Mozzie has disappeared with all his attempts at deciphering the window. Once we get the word that you’re working for interpol, we’ll call her. When I say ‘we’, I mean ‘me’. I don’t want her to know right away that you’re still alive.”
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"At destroying someone when I decide to? Thank you. Let's not think too hard about where I get the instinct. She's earned it."
She can't unearn it now, not when she made a good man suffer just for fun.
He looks at Neal. "I'm not going to be a good person this week."
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That last bit gets a crooked smile.
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Of course he doesn’t realize that, but it’s still true.
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"Is it? I'm just trying to get you out of your FBI contract and out from under her thumb."
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