THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[conning]

“You don’t care about money. He’s not around to enjoy it. I can’t give you twenty percent of nothing.”

A pause, the next words poisonous. “You want me to kill someone for you? Or give you evidence on people I’ve worked with? That I can do.”

[abrightboy]

“I don’t need you to kill people for me,” Malcolm scoffs like he’s insulted. “I know how to kill people. Your late colleague was blackmailing him. I want the so-called evidence. And I want fifty percent of the take.”

He doesn’t care about money, but he did mention wanting her to suffer.

[conning]

“Blackmail and thirty percent,” she snaps. “Or I can send the footage along to Burke and wash my hands of this whole thing. I can disappear just as well as Caffrey.”

[abrightboy]

“We’ll take the deal,” Malcolm tells her. “Call me tomorrow to see if he’s still alive. If he makes it until then, he’ll be far enough out of the woods to solve your little puzzle. We want the blackmail stuff upfront, like a deposit. Our thirty percent to follow.”

[conning]

She calls him something very rude and hangs up.

After a moment, Neal says, “She went straight to thirty and the evidence from twenty? She wants whatever this is, badly. Enough to make her careless.”

[abrightboy]

“She’s always been pressing the urgency of it,” Malcolm says. “She was quietly pushing the clock even when she was pretending to be innocent Rebecca. She’s promised it to someone already. Someone she needs something from desperately or someone she’s afraid of.”

Malcolm leans over to kiss his temple.

“Rest up. I’ll call Murdoch.”

He arranged the meeting for the next day on purpose; he saw Neal trying to walk around.

[conning]

It doesn't occur to Neal that the delay is for his sake. For the sake of planning and coordination, sure. For him? Not so much. Neal closes his eyes, basking in the kiss.

"We're going to do this. It's going to work."

[abrightboy]

“Correct,” Malcolm declares. He takes out his own phone and dials Murdoch. “We’re meeting her tomorrow.”

[conning]

Murdoch, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve secured permission to work with Mr Caffrey outside of the purview of the FBI. What scenario are we running?”

[abrightboy]

“The kind where we’ll tell you where and when you can have her,” Malcolm replies.

[conning]

There’s a pause.

“Mr Bright… if you had been in pursuit of a violent, sociopathic criminal for some time with minimal support and significant obstacles, and had come close several times to securing that person only for superiors or technicalities to allow their escape, would you be satisfied with being told—unique opportunity notwithstanding—that you would be given a place and time and that you were expected to wait on the sidelines until your job had been done for you by a third party?”

[abrightboy]

“You know very well I wouldn’t like it and you’re welcome to stay in touch very far behind the scenes, but the fact is, you know how slippery she is and I have to throw her way off balance just to get her to agree to exactly what she wanted anyway, just so she doesn’t smell the law on him. She kind of has an idea what I am… at least, she does now. You, sir, smell of the law,” Malcolm points out. “Normally we find that pretty attractive around here,” he says, winking at Neal, “but on this case it’s a liability.”

[conning]

Neal grins at Malcolm's wink, his heart giving a little jump of warmth and giddiness.

Murdoch sighs. "Very well. I'll be waiting. Please keep me informed. I won't infringe on your activities, but I will need enough information to write a thorough report."

[abrightboy]

“Come to my apartment tomorrow evening, but not until I tell you to,” Malcolm suggests. “I’ll text you the address.”

[conning]

"All right." Still reluctant, but mollified. "I look forward to speaking to you both in person."

Neal waits until Malcolm signs off before raising his eyebrows. "He's really just... letting us do this?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at him.

"What choice does he have?"

[conning]

Neal pauses to consider. The only other option is tanking the whole thing, really, and he's not sure how he feels about the realization that Peter might go that far. That he's not sure, could see the possibility of Peter destroying his own life and Elizabeth's in pursuit of the law instead of justice.

"None, I guess."

[abrightboy]

“He can get what he wants or he can be petty, but not both. He’s smart enough to know that and he wants it bad enough not to risk it,” Malcolm explains. “Today, though, you’re going to drink tea and eat soup and get your strength back. You’re going to need it. You’re the only one that can do this, but I’ll be with you, okay?”

method rp

[conning]

Neal reaches out with both hands, muscles aching, feeling the effort of holding up his own weight. He cups Malcolm’s cheeks in his palms. “Thank you. For everything. I’m never going to be able to say it enough.”

That scares him, that fact. That owing. It would scare him more with anyone else.

[abrightboy]

“You don’t have to thank me,” Malcolm tells him matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t owe Malcolm anything, either. He’s doing this because seeing Neal free is the right thing. He’s been wronged. Badly. Malcolm wants to help.

[conning]

“I know,” Neal murmurs. “I’ve never had to not thank someone before.”

He squints at his own words. “Did that make sense?”

He can’t tell.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm huffs a laugh.

“Yes. It does. Do you want to rest on the couch or the bed?” he asks.

[conning]

The rest isn’t totally restful. At least not mentally, even though he does have Malcolm close at hand or snuggled up against him for most of it. When he’s awake he’s worrying, trying to eat in small mouthfuls, trying to get more fluids to stay down. Neal sleeps fitfully, painfully, muscles still spasming on occasion and his whole body aching between occasional disorienting swathes of dream. At some point the next morning he wakes up and stays conscious long enough to realize that’s what he is, staring at the freshly refilled IV bags on the stand next to the bed. He lifts a hand to wipe his forehead and his fingers graze over a thick dusting of stubble on the way there. He hasn’t shaved for what, three days now? Ugh.

“Malcolm?” Neal grimaces at the chalky taste and sound of his own voice.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm isn’t far. He’s on the couch, his feet pulled up under him, but he practically leaps off of it when Neal calls for him, perching on the edge of the bed, picking up the water from his nightstand to hold it out to him.

“How are you feeling?”

[conning]

"I'll keep." He eases upright, taking the water with slightly numb fingers, holding on a little too tight to make sure he doesn't drop the glass while he drinks from it. He at least drinks slowly, feeling less dried out, if no less thirsty. It's weird. "I'll be fine."

He lifts his free hand to trace his fingers over Malcolm's skin, worry squeezing at his gut. "My fingers are a little numb."