“Oh. I don’t know. I’m supposed to train some more with Lark on it.” He smiles hopefully at the question about Will. Like maybe Neal is coming around to him. “Oh, yeah. He came with me.”
Malcolm’s expression falls a little. Neal didn’t like that and he’s not sure if it’s just because it’s Will, even though he brought him up.
“They don’t normally allow it, but I guess Lark knows about Will and dogs. He made him promise not to speak or interfere, though. No matter how much he wanted to.”
But he was there. He was there, Malcolm wanted him there, enough that Lark made an exception to a rule that was already stupid if none of this was really about isolating Malcolm.
Neal nods and drinks too much of his still too hot tea to give himself an excuse for silence.
“No, it’s nothing, it’s just—” He fiddles with his mug, not looking up enough to notice Malcolm doing the same thing. “It would have been nice, to be there.”
"I wish it was the sort of thing I could have had all my closest friends at. Like you would at a wedding or... or a birthday. I would have liked that. If you were there. And Raylan. And Francis. It would have been less scary. Lark says if your loved ones come, someone always wants to stop it when the pain starts."
His temper flares, though mercifully it’s not toward Malcolm. “Lark isn’t the captain of this ship or the only one this impacts. Lark doesn’t get to dictate that kind of thing when he doesn’t have the right to piss on every door and call it his.”
Neal takes a breath and looks away. “I’m not mad at you.”
"Lark didn't.... it wasn't about excluding people. He was trying to make it as safe as possible, that's all. But. I called you as soon as I was feeling better. I wanted to share it with you. I want you to know that," Malcolm tells him. "I do. That matters, right?"
"Yes it was," Neal says, tone sharper than he wants it to be. "It's always been about excluding people or he wouldn't be so selective about who gets the offer. It's always been about separation or he wouldn't be so determined to make sure people know they're not a part of his pack."
He forces himself to take another breath. "It does matter. It does."
Malcolm flinches slightly at the first sharp retort, but then his expression softens.
"You're still part of me. Part of my life. I'd never let anyone change that. The only one that can do that is you. And. It would take some effort." As he hopes he's demonstrated. "You're my family by choice. It's the most important kind."
Neal wants to believe him. He really, really wants to believe him. He can't manage to get himself around the mental roadblock of not being one of the ones who was present, one of the ones Malcolm picked when he couldn't have everyone. He can't stop wondering what he might have done to increase his relative value enough to have passed that threshold. How much it's going to take for him to fall lower in the ranks of consideration. He needs to say something before Malcolm figures out exactly how weak he is.
"I know." It's too quiet. He clears his throat. "It's fine, I'll be fine."
When he first got to the Barge, Neal would have noticed that moment and let it go. Saved himself from whatever Malcolm was about to say, duck, run, hide.
Now he picks up an apple slice and a bit of brie and clears his throat quietly. "What?"
"It's just... it's not fine. I can see that. I just don't know how to fix it. I guess I don't... really know which part is the problem or.... I think you don't believe me. You don't believe me about you," Malcolm says. "Or about Lark."
"I don't know why I can't." He sets his mug down, bracing his hands against the island counter and staring at nothing in particular on its surface. "It's not just you. I look at Norton and I wonder when he's going to get bored, I look at Eiffel and I wonder when he'll realize how much of a pain in the ass I can be, I look at Shaw and I wonder when she'll figure out that no matter how much she drills me and how good I get at shooting life-like targets I still don't know if I can pull the trigger on another person, a real person, when they're in front of me. When she'll get tired of trying to help me be less..."
A short, aborted gesture. He glances at Malcolm sideways and then looks down again. "Lestat I'm already scared I've lost, Reid won't be interested when Lestat isn't any more, Kiryu will lose patience when he realizes I'm not half as smart as he seems to think. Not in the ways he seems to think."
The only person Neal isn't afraid of losing, he realizes, is Raylan, and that's because they've defined themselves to each other in such clear terms. Two people with commitments they can't leave behind, sharing a space that lets them both be really honest. "I look at you and I just... I'm waiting for you to have to choose between me and Will and knowing already which way those chips will fall, and it makes me want to run."
He doesn't look at Malcolm, doesn't want to give any of the tells that a direct look at his expression might offer. He gathers a breath to say that it feels like Malcolm already has, like he has at least twice, and then lets it out in a rush and rubs his face with both hands.
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There’s a hitch of a moment where he almost doesn’t say the next part, but he manages. “I assume Will knows.”
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“They don’t normally allow it, but I guess Lark knows about Will and dogs. He made him promise not to speak or interfere, though. No matter how much he wanted to.”
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Neal nods and drinks too much of his still too hot tea to give himself an excuse for silence.
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He looks down.
"Are you mad?"
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Neal takes a breath and looks away. “I’m not mad at you.”
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"You wouldn't want to stop it when I was in pain?" he asks.
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He forces himself to take another breath. "It does matter. It does."
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"You're still part of me. Part of my life. I'd never let anyone change that. The only one that can do that is you. And. It would take some effort." As he hopes he's demonstrated. "You're my family by choice. It's the most important kind."
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"I know." It's too quiet. He clears his throat. "It's fine, I'll be fine."
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He looks like he's going to say something and then doesn't. He pushes the cheese tray towards him.
"The brie is really nice with apples," he offers.
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Now he picks up an apple slice and a bit of brie and clears his throat quietly. "What?"
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“I want to believe you.” That does neither one, really. “I don’t know why I can’t. I know it hurts you.”
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A short, aborted gesture. He glances at Malcolm sideways and then looks down again. "Lestat I'm already scared I've lost, Reid won't be interested when Lestat isn't any more, Kiryu will lose patience when he realizes I'm not half as smart as he seems to think. Not in the ways he seems to think."
The only person Neal isn't afraid of losing, he realizes, is Raylan, and that's because they've defined themselves to each other in such clear terms. Two people with commitments they can't leave behind, sharing a space that lets them both be really honest. "I look at you and I just... I'm waiting for you to have to choose between me and Will and knowing already which way those chips will fall, and it makes me want to run."
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"Why would I have to choose between you and Will?"
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"I don't know. I know it's stupid."
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