“It’s enough for him. But being accepted by Lark doesn’t make me part of the pack in anyone else’s eyes until I’m… part of it.” Malcolm watches his face for a moment. “He said I could track murderers from their scent. Just. Being sensitive to that at a crime scene and then picking it up when I’m around a suspect. Can you imagine that?”
“If it’s enough for the guy who’s supposed to be their leader, it should be enough for them. But what do they matter anyway, here? They’re not the ones you’d be changing for, you don’t even know them. Not including Iris.”
Neal fiddles with the cloth napkin next to his tea, wishing it was paper he could shred. He does smile a little more when Malcolm mentions the practicalities relating to his job. His calling, really. “See, that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. Why you want it. What makes the choice hard for you. I don’t care about Lark’s feelings one way or the other. What matters to me is that you’re doing this because there’s something you truly want from it other than approval from strangers.”
“He listed a bunch of ways it would help with my work, but… I don’t know. I guess I feel like people don’t really care that much about my job back home. The other thing felt… like it would be relatable,” Malcolm admits.
The way Malcolm relaxes cues Neal’s own slow release of the lion’s share of his anxiety. He gives Malcolm’s wrist a little squeeze. “Same here. It’s part of the reason I decided to stay.”
“I want that too. I don’t feel right leaving with the job not even half-done when I was so angry about being on the other side of it.” He shrugs. “But if I didn’t care about the people I want to change things for, there would be no point to staying.”
Neal’s eyes drop, and there’s a twitch in his hand that might be the start of a motion to pull away, but he doesn’t. “Lestat isn’t exactly talking to me the way he did when we were both inmates.”
“Remember that ‘people leaving you’ thing that you and I are both terrified of?”
Neal lifts his shoulders in a prolonged shrug, though he’s not dismissing anything with it. “And that time I said I wanted to hurt you so I would know why you left? I think there might be a little of that in there too.”
“I’m not leaving. And I’m still going to talk to him, and… do whatever I can to prove I’m still me. It just hurts when a wall goes up that you had no reason to expect or plan for.”
"It does, yeah." He pauses. "That's... " He takes a bracing breath. "That was how I felt when you came back. Not about my screw up over you living more life and me not realizing what was happening. Just. The whole thing with Will and then with therapy. I know I wasn't innocent. I know I really, really wasn't. It just... took me by surprise. When you stopped talking to me. When you stopped coming to our sessions. So all I can recommend is... don't do what I did. Do what you would have wanted me to do."
Oh. Neal has no idea what to say to that. It feels like a compliment, in a strange way, but he isn’t sure why. Like an apology too.
There’s a part of him that wants to ride out this wave of honesty, tell Malcolm that it’s still hard to look at him with Will and not be jealous or resentful. It’s hard not be afraid that things he tells Malcolm will find their way to a man he doesn’t trust.
“I meant it when I said you were a better Warden than me when you were an Inmate. Now you’re in your own class,” Malcolm tells him. “And you’ve already graduated an Inmate, so you’re ahead.”
“I’m not better than you,” he says, just as soft. “I think you’re exactly the kind of warden Kikimora needs, which means you’re exactly the kind of warden someone will need after her, if you choose to stay that long. You keeping your promise about the file—I don’t think I would have ended up anywhere close to graduating if you hadn’t done that, even when I didn’t want you to.”
He draws in a slow, deep breath, then exhales hard. “Don’t go praising me yet when I haven’t even gotten an assignment.”
“I hope so.” He looks past Malcolm at the painted city, worry pinching the expression between his eyebrows. “I hope I don’t… end up with someone violent enough that they’re hard to handle.”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. That isn’t why they’re here. It’s not why Malcolm is here anyway. “What… advice do you want about this? Pros and cons, ‘if it was me,’ something else?”
That startles a small noise of amusement out of him. Not that he’s trying to make fun of Malcolm—it’s just… a sweet answer. Not one he expected.
“I don’t hate dogs. I love dogs.”
Apparently sensing a disturbance in the force, George starts scratching at the closed veranda door. Neal grins over at the cat before getting up to let him out and pick him up.
“I just happened to end up with a cat-shaped one.”
“What if you hate me being one? You don’t like my boyfriend and now you don’t trust Lark and I don’t want to just… get further away from you. I… want to still…” He gestures between them. “This.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
Neal fiddles with the cloth napkin next to his tea, wishing it was paper he could shred. He does smile a little more when Malcolm mentions the practicalities relating to his job. His calling, really. “See, that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. Why you want it. What makes the choice hard for you. I don’t care about Lark’s feelings one way or the other. What matters to me is that you’re doing this because there’s something you truly want from it other than approval from strangers.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
“I’ve never had better friends than I have here. That’s the truth. I don‘t know how to explain what that means.”
no subject
no subject
"It is? I thought... you just wanted to finish your work."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Neal lifts his shoulders in a prolonged shrug, though he’s not dismissing anything with it. “And that time I said I wanted to hurt you so I would know why you left? I think there might be a little of that in there too.”
no subject
no subject
“I’m saying he’s scared of the same thing, and has some of the same defensive habits I do.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
"It does, yeah." He pauses. "That's... " He takes a bracing breath. "That was how I felt when you came back. Not about my screw up over you living more life and me not realizing what was happening. Just. The whole thing with Will and then with therapy. I know I wasn't innocent. I know I really, really wasn't. It just... took me by surprise. When you stopped talking to me. When you stopped coming to our sessions. So all I can recommend is... don't do what I did. Do what you would have wanted me to do."
no subject
There’s a part of him that wants to ride out this wave of honesty, tell Malcolm that it’s still hard to look at him with Will and not be jealous or resentful. It’s hard not be afraid that things he tells Malcolm will find their way to a man he doesn’t trust.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
no subject
no subject
He draws in a slow, deep breath, then exhales hard. “Don’t go praising me yet when I haven’t even gotten an assignment.”
no subject
no subject
He clears his throat and shakes his head. That isn’t why they’re here. It’s not why Malcolm is here anyway. “What… advice do you want about this? Pros and cons, ‘if it was me,’ something else?”
no subject
no subject
“I don’t hate dogs. I love dogs.”
Apparently sensing a disturbance in the force, George starts scratching at the closed veranda door. Neal grins over at the cat before getting up to let him out and pick him up.
“I just happened to end up with a cat-shaped one.”
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)