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.
"I know I was flood uninhibited and I'm not supposed to be counseling you, but it's something to bring up with Kiryu. I think... if you get some help processing all that, then it will help with... " he makes a circular gesture to encompass the Barge vaguely and, thus, all his interpersonal interactions. "All this."
"Yeah." Probably. Except he still hasn't really talked to Kiryu on a personal-professional level since that first trip to the bar. Not about Neal's own issues, anyway. Part of it is how swept away by everything he's felt. Part of it is pure and simple fear.
He keeps his eyes fixed on his tea. "If Will hadn't shown up. If he wasn't in the picture, and you hadn't been my warden. Do you think I would have had a chance?"
“…A chance……… what, with me?” Does Neal think about this? God, he hopes the man knows how much greener grass looks from the other side of the fence. “I mean… I wouldn’t have turned you away. For. However long it lasted. You’re just…… you could have anyone, Neal. Do you think you’d really want me like that when the universe is your oyster? I’d have been very lucky, in that version of reality, if you did. So lucky. I hope the person you end up with understands how lucky they are. If they don’t, please bring them by so I can tell them.”
"'For however long it lasted'?" He smiles a little, but it's not really amused. Strike -- three? four? five? to Caffrey. "Do you really think I would have asked if I didn't want you? In another world. Another life."
It's brutally ironic, the choice of words, the way it's just like what he and Sarah said to each other. "I know what happens when you're asleep, how loud and how frightening it can be. I know how hard you work to stay balanced every single day."
He rubs his eyes and straightens up. "I know how hard you try with everyone you meet, no matter how many times you get mistreated for the effort. I know how much you love people and how much you want to protect them. How much you care about helping them. How much you hate predators, how little mercy you have for abuse. How beautiful your smile is and the way your face lights up when you get to talk about something that interests you and nobody interrupts."
A little snort of a laugh, and he shakes his head. "Do you really think I would have exposed myself enough to ask if I didn't really want to know?"
He comes around the island to Malcolm's side, putting an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close to kiss his temple. "Anyway, congratulations, Bright. I'm glad it worked the way you hoped it would. And remember, no matter what they're used to, it's your life, your mind. You don't have to hunt if you don't want to hunt. You don't have to hurt anything just because it's what they're comfortable doing."
Malcolm watches his face. He never takes his eyes from his face, until he’s too close to see it.
Because he really has thought about it and that’s never happened before. And he wants to say something about it, but in the same breath, Neal’s back to… at first he thinks he means Will, but he means Wolf Things.
And Neal calls him ‘Bright’ and it’s weird because when Gil calls him that it feels warm. Accepting. When Neal calls him that, it feels like a wall. Like intentional distance. Like a farewell to something.
“I don’t have to remember if you’re there to remind me. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
It’s shakier than he ideally would like. Maybe it’s too hard to be here after what Malcolm said, which seems woefully inadequate in the face of what Neal followed it with before closing the book, and he wants to add an addendum, but he’s not sure how to peek under the cover now, when Neal’s already set it back on the shelf.
"Already?" Oh. That sure slipped out of his mouth. "Yes. Of course. Duty calls. Your first one. Big day. Are you excited?" he asks, very casually clenching his hand and slipping it into his pocket.
Neal notices. He notices, and his stomach sinks into a small dip of guilt, but he can't make himself stay. He can at least kiss Malcolm's temple again.
"Nervous, mostly. Call Will? Have him come over?"
Neal doesn't want to leave Malcolm alone to ruminate. Not with their conversation ending this way.
“I… have to call Raylan first. …Do you think he likes cheese?” he asks, looking at the plate. He looks at Neal. “I could… call him later this afternoon, right? Or… or even tomorrow…”
God, he feels guilty. But he can't make himself stay. "Call him as soon as you're able to handle the conversation. I know it will matter to him, to find out from you."
He presses his palm to Malcolm's cheek for a moment, wanting to tell Malcolm that Neal loves him, not wanting to stick that knife into himself so close to the truth. "But please call Will?"
“You’d have more than a chance, you know,” he blurts out. “If things were… fair. Or. If things had gone differently. You’d have had way more than a ‘chance’.”
He presses his lips together.
“If we were from the same New York, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to leave it.”
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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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He keeps his eyes fixed on his tea. "If Will hadn't shown up. If he wasn't in the picture, and you hadn't been my warden. Do you think I would have had a chance?"
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It's brutally ironic, the choice of words, the way it's just like what he and Sarah said to each other. "I know what happens when you're asleep, how loud and how frightening it can be. I know how hard you work to stay balanced every single day."
He rubs his eyes and straightens up. "I know how hard you try with everyone you meet, no matter how many times you get mistreated for the effort. I know how much you love people and how much you want to protect them. How much you care about helping them. How much you hate predators, how little mercy you have for abuse. How beautiful your smile is and the way your face lights up when you get to talk about something that interests you and nobody interrupts."
A little snort of a laugh, and he shakes his head. "Do you really think I would have exposed myself enough to ask if I didn't really want to know?"
He comes around the island to Malcolm's side, putting an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close to kiss his temple. "Anyway, congratulations, Bright. I'm glad it worked the way you hoped it would. And remember, no matter what they're used to, it's your life, your mind. You don't have to hunt if you don't want to hunt. You don't have to hurt anything just because it's what they're comfortable doing."
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Because he really has thought about it and that’s never happened before. And he wants to say something about it, but in the same breath, Neal’s back to… at first he thinks he means Will, but he means Wolf Things.
And Neal calls him ‘Bright’ and it’s weird because when Gil calls him that it feels warm. Accepting. When Neal calls him that, it feels like a wall. Like intentional distance. Like a farewell to something.
“I don’t have to remember if you’re there to remind me. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
It’s shakier than he ideally would like. Maybe it’s too hard to be here after what Malcolm said, which seems woefully inadequate in the face of what Neal followed it with before closing the book, and he wants to add an addendum, but he’s not sure how to peek under the cover now, when Neal’s already set it back on the shelf.
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"Nervous, mostly. Call Will? Have him come over?"
Neal doesn't want to leave Malcolm alone to ruminate. Not with their conversation ending this way.
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He presses his palm to Malcolm's cheek for a moment, wanting to tell Malcolm that Neal loves him, not wanting to stick that knife into himself so close to the truth. "But please call Will?"
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“You’d have more than a chance, you know,” he blurts out. “If things were… fair. Or. If things had gone differently. You’d have had way more than a ‘chance’.”
He presses his lips together.
“If we were from the same New York, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to leave it.”
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"Another time, another place," he says softly. "Another us."
That's the way it always goes, isn't it.
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