I am inviting you to my cabin, Malcolm. [Gentle and without the teasing he might otherwise include.] Maybe I'll make us something harder than tea, if you're this upset. Whatever it is, I promise you, it's going to be okay. And if it's not, we will still be okay.
Be right there. [But he already feels a little less... manic.
He arrives quickly. He's been gone for a couple of days Barge time. He wanted his first conversation with Neal when he got back to be about his trip, but he can't even think about that right now.
He knocks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously.]
Neal opens the door and starts by giving Malcolm a small hug. "Come on, inside. Leave the barge out there, come have some tea and whiskey on the patio."
Malcolm clings to him for that moment, then nods at the instruction, even if it's a little unsteady. He steps inside and heads for the patio, as instructed.
"Is... How did everything go while I was gone?" he asks because... it seems like a sensible thing to ask.
"As fine as things ever go around here. Apparently Sebastian got stabbed in the kitchen again, which I'm not surprised to hear is an again, but also trying not to judge."
He guides Malcolm through the house and onto the patio, which is similar to the one in his old cabin in the way it seems to extend 'outdoors' into a space that looks like it's a short walk to the beachfront.
“Um. Well. You know how Sheehan left counselling after Kiryu left? And he said it wasn’t me? Well, I noticed he was the one that announced Arthur’s disappearance - at like 6am - and then he quit counselling when Arthur got back and now it turns out that Arthur came back an inmate? I asked him about those coincidences because I thought he quit over his dumb rule and I thought I could help him about that and to make a long story short, he said I am the reason he left and to never talk to him again and we’d just made up, like, last month but I guess… not really. Anyway, that’s why we don’t have anyone that can prescribe meds for people,” Malcolm tells him in what seems like one breath.
Neal blinks. Then blinks again as he discards the second and third things he might happily say about Lester Sheehan right now. It's for Arthur's sake that he doesn't, not the doctor's.
What he lands on still isn't precisely kind.
"That prick complains about not being in the loop on office politics and then loses his mind at you for putting one and one together."
“I… had a feeling that it was… that he left because Kiryu leaving saddled him with me. I knew that was the problem. …That I was the problem,” Malcolm confesses.
"Hey." Neal leans across the table and flicks Malcolm's forehead gently. "No you weren't. I spoke with him privately on that announcement, he gave me a little insight into his reasoning, and there's a lot more he's working through than distaste for a coworker. He said that to hurt you. That was the point. He was upset, and he probably knew that it would. Even if it's true that he doesn't want to work with you? Using that fact in a moment of temper to score a low blow is immature at best, whatever else he's dealing with."
Neal's lips pinch into a tight frown for a moment. "I don't know how you put it to him, but however you did, I'm guessing--guessing--he thought you could be coming to gloat or provoke and tried to beat you to the corps-à-corps."
Malcolm takes that in looking tentatively hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the last private audio conversation for Neal to listen to, handing it to him.
He can't help it: he starts laughing in quiet sympathy.
"Malcolm, I love you, I love you so much, but that is the worst possible way you could have introduced that topic in the moment."
He reaches across the table again to give Malcolm's hand another squeeze to hopefully ease the sting. "I get where you were coming from--the revelation about Arthur puts a decided spin on the surface view reasons he might have left counseling, based on his... opinions around the relationships of his colleagues. I get that you can't imagine walking away from something you're good at and love because of a rule that arbitrary and unevenly enforced. But..."
He sighs quietly, searching for an illustration. "It was in the opener. The... satisfaction you had with things seeming to make sense and the fact that it tied back to something you already took issue with kind of overrode the point I think you were trying to make."
Malcolm nods seriously, like it’s an opinion on a scientific paper.
“He lied about it. He lied about everything right to my face and then suddenly everything made complete sense.” He looks at Neal. “He might have been lying to you, too, about all the things he was working through. He was working through this dumb personal code thing and calling it other things so you wouldn’t know.”
"Maybe," Neal says, hand still over Malcolm's, voice going softer. "Or the man he cares about, maybe even loves, just slid onto the side of the barge that has no guarantees but death if they disappear. The security he had around the idea of Arthur's safety is gone. Not only that, but Arthur's own feelings about the situation cannot possibly be positive. It might be too much to handle right now, trying to help other people through their problems and psychological hangups when he's being confronted with something that's so wrenching on so many fronts. Maybe he wasn't lying on purpose, maybe he was telling the story he was comfortable with people knowing."
“Maybe, but who could have guessed that? They were hiding their relationship. I can’t imagine feeling that much and even wanting to hide it, much less being able to.”
He talks about Will all the time. Saying his name - having the right to - when he’s not even there brings the same rush of warmth that his presence does. Who would just… not?
“We mended things last month. Me and Sheehan. Guess that’s over.”
Malcolm’s expression brightens; he doesn’t consider the nature of the distraction. “That’s a good family; I’m so happy for you. You should go see his new baby if you get a chance,” he enthuses.
"I did. ...I will? I do?" He shakes his head and waves off the temporal grammar. "But I didn't tell anyone about what we decided. Anyone, not right after we talked about it. Not for months. It wasn't because I didn't have feelings about it, it wasn't because it didn't mean anything to me. It meant... everything."
Neal finally picks up his tea, taking a sip and raising his eyebrows. "Do you see where I might be going with this?"
"Stop that. It was his version of normal, that doesn't mean there was nothing to read into or misinterpret. You came on strong. You came across as a jerk, maybe, at the time, in the moment, but that's an issue of approach, not an issue of intent."
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Tea?
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...Okay. Where do you want me to meet you?
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He arrives quickly. He's been gone for a couple of days Barge time. He wanted his first conversation with Neal when he got back to be about his trip, but he can't even think about that right now.
He knocks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously.]
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"Is... How did everything go while I was gone?" he asks because... it seems like a sensible thing to ask.
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He guides Malcolm through the house and onto the patio, which is similar to the one in his old cabin in the way it seems to extend 'outdoors' into a space that looks like it's a short walk to the beachfront.
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“I hung up my painting before I left. You should come see it.”
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What he lands on still isn't precisely kind.
"That prick complains about not being in the loop on office politics and then loses his mind at you for putting one and one together."
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Neal's lips pinch into a tight frown for a moment. "I don't know how you put it to him, but however you did, I'm guessing--guessing--he thought you could be coming to gloat or provoke and tried to beat you to the corps-à-corps."
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And almost immediately hits pause again.
He can't help it: he starts laughing in quiet sympathy.
"Malcolm, I love you, I love you so much, but that is the worst possible way you could have introduced that topic in the moment."
He reaches across the table again to give Malcolm's hand another squeeze to hopefully ease the sting. "I get where you were coming from--the revelation about Arthur puts a decided spin on the surface view reasons he might have left counseling, based on his... opinions around the relationships of his colleagues. I get that you can't imagine walking away from something you're good at and love because of a rule that arbitrary and unevenly enforced. But..."
He sighs quietly, searching for an illustration. "It was in the opener. The... satisfaction you had with things seeming to make sense and the fact that it tied back to something you already took issue with kind of overrode the point I think you were trying to make."
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“He lied about it. He lied about everything right to my face and then suddenly everything made complete sense.” He looks at Neal. “He might have been lying to you, too, about all the things he was working through. He was working through this dumb personal code thing and calling it other things so you wouldn’t know.”
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He talks about Will all the time. Saying his name - having the right to - when he’s not even there brings the same rush of warmth that his presence does. Who would just… not?
“We mended things last month. Me and Sheehan. Guess that’s over.”
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"Kiryu adopted me after the carnival breach."
It ties in, he promises.
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Neal finally picks up his tea, taking a sip and raising his eyebrows. "Do you see where I might be going with this?"
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"Stop that. It was his version of normal, that doesn't mean there was nothing to read into or misinterpret. You came on strong. You came across as a jerk, maybe, at the time, in the moment, but that's an issue of approach, not an issue of intent."
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