[…That’s an awesome start. He’s still got the lingering hangover of his death toll, but worse than that, Neal hasn’t had a chance to freak out over being paired at Norton or Malcolm or Raylan or Eiffel or Shaw or Reid—
[ Kendall doesn’t even do him the courtesy of responding. He’s in a rush, already scrambling to get to Neal’s cabin, worrying that in the interim Neal has already blabbed to everyone. He even nonsensically brings up the network on his phone as he’s going, refreshing it over and over like he’s waiting to do damage control. He thumps his fist a few times on the door of Neal’s cabin, the picture of intense, nervous desperation. ]
[Neal has wine on the table and glasses set out, and he's debating a cheese plate from some things he liberated out of the kitchen with the justification that most of the Barge wouldn't appreciate them. Before he can decide on that, though, there's the knock, and Neal comes in from the veranda and goes over and opens his door--
And blinks in surprise at Kendall's frantic look. His own surprise twists into something hard and cold. He's not looking awesome, even if he is back on his feet. Pale from blood loss still, easily fatigued. Even scruffier than his Paris persona would usually be allowed.]
Did someone come after you? Are you okay? [He steps back to let Kendall in to his cabin. The backdrop of the veranda today has the cityscape looking like a Van Gogh.
Kendall's file is on the kitchen table, closed.] Are you hurt? Did someone use their powers on you?
[ Kendall spares a glance around Neal’s cabin, just one, but he notices the file, which can only be his file. He stops right in the middle of the space, staring at it like it’s a corpse. ]
I need to. Um. Explain. The situation. And you need to not judge me for it. Like – please. I need you to not...
[ A thought strikes him, almost delusional. He looks at the file again, and then at Neal, whose first instinct when he saw him had just been to ask if he was okay, if he was safe. And of course it’s right now that he remembers what Neal promised when they were first paired on temporary terms, that he wouldn’t actually open the fucking file until Kendall said it was okay. Kendall deflates a little. He’s thinking very fast. ]
[Neal relaxes a little when Kendall says he's okay, exhaling under his breath. That was going to be a hell of a start, if he had to come down on some other inmate and get in touch with their warden for reparations in the first thirty minutes.
He goes and picks up the file, offering it to Kendall. His hand practically itches with the desire to open it and flip through, just take a peek, get a glance. He's making his own job so much harder. But Malcolm did it for him, and it was the thing that opened him up enough of a crack for them to start actually talking.]
I told you I wouldn't. I don't lie when I don't have to.
[ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He has to stop doing this, acting without thinking. Or maybe the problem is that he thought too much, but not about the right things, and now he’s gonna have to think even more to wriggle his way out of this without Neal wanting to know exactly what the fuck he’s so panicky about.
Kendall’s hands pull into fists and then spring out again. He repeats the motion a few times, lips pressed flat. There has to be something else he can say. Anything else, besides the thing he’s hiding. You can’t be CEO, because you killed someone. ]
I...
[ He has to make this sound real, at least halfway convincing, which means that it absolutely can’t sound like he wants to say it. Kendall bites his tongue, and heads over to Neal’s couch to drop himself into it, sagging into a miserable heap, hunched forward with his knees on his thighs and his head in his hands. ]
[Neal is Concerned. He leaves the file on the kitchen table again and joins Kendall on the couch, putting a cautious hand on the man's shoulder to test how welcome the contact is. He'll rub Kendall's back if the man doesn't seem opposed to it, try to help physically ground him, but he'll also remove his hand at the first sign of discomfort.]
Look, whatever it is, I can't promise I won't have a bad reaction. I can promise it's no one else's business unless it poses them a direct risk of some kind. I can promise that even if I react badly, that's mine to deal with, and I'm going to help you no matter what.
[ Kendall tenses up sharply enough that it's kind of a flinch, but he'd have done the same if it was anyone else. Roman, Rava, Stewy – hell, even his own fucking kid. He's not good at being touched. The thing is, he does actually believe Neal. Maybe that's stupid of him, maybe he's the world's biggest sucker, but Neal sounds like he means it. Maybe it's just that Kendall wants to believe him. ]
There was this waiter at my sister's wedding. Uh – he was just a kid, and my dad kinda got in his face about something, I don't even remember what it was, but he yelled at him in front of everyone, and we ended up having to pay the kid off to keep it quiet. You know, uh, tantrums don't really... play well. Um, anyway, we... I was looking for... [ Kendall flexes his fingers a few times, presses out a breath. ] I asked him if he knew where I could get a fix. Because he was smoking weed outside, so I figured... And he did, he did know. So – but he couldn't drive, because he'd just, y'know... snorted ketamine. So I drove. And it was a manual, and I was driving on the wrong side of the road, and he saw something in the road and he tried to turn the wheel and we...
[ The last time he told the story, he'd been – well, he'd been fucked up. He's fucked up now, but it's different. He doesn't feel like crying right now; what he feels like doing is tearing something apart, breaking something expensive into a million pieces. He can still remember how pathetically he'd stumbled through the story with his siblings. Right now, his voice is clearer, but flatter. ]
We went into a lake. I swam out. I tried to go back down for him, but – it's... it's a lot harder than you think it's gonna be. And it was so dark, I could barely even see my own hands in front of me. So I just – I just swam out, and I went back to the wedding.
[Neal withdraws his hand at the flinch, resting it close-but-not-touching on the edge of the couch. He listens as Kendall talks, listens to the way he talks, every dip and pause and change in cadence. Where Kendall looks when he's saying things, how he holds his body, his hands, what moments elicit a shift in him physically or tonally.
Kendall is telling the truth, that much is obvious. A story he's told before, one with details that--intentionally or not--he's practiced through repetition. It clearly doesn't make them easier to say. Neal's stomach knots with a mix of horror for the kid in the car and sympathy for Kendall's own shell shock. He takes a deep, quiet breath and nods. The words are frank, without accusation. Seeking facts without judgement.]
[ Kendall pushes a breath out through his nose. Now Neal's brought it up, it feels less like an excuse to talk about this part. ]
Someone saw me. My dad's wife's son. And the key card for my room was in the car, so I had to break a window to get inside. And then in the morning, my dad... He called me in, and he said that Amir saw me, and... So, I'd... I was doing this thing, I teamed up with some private equity guys, and we made a bid for Waystar. Like, a bear hug. [ Neal probably knows what that is, so he's not gonna waste time explaining it. ] It was gonna work. But then my dad said he'd help. With the boy. Make it go away.
[Neal's eyes narrow as soon as Kendall says his dad knew. The muscles in Neal's jaw tighten perceptibly as the other man goes on.]
Son of a bitch. [Neal's voice stays soft, quiet, almost gentle. There's a coldness underneath that makes the words into the threat of cracked ice under snow.
Bad enough that he'd use his son's desperation against Kendall. That he'd do it to hide someone else's murder, that he'd devalue another life that way, makes Neal want to ruin a man he can't touch from here anyway.]
[ Yeah. Yeah, actually. Son of a fucking bitch. Kendall isn't sure what he expected from Neal, but it's a relief to hear that, to know that from an outside perspective, someone else can see the situation and think that it's fucked up, that it's wrong. He feels firmly settled in the conversation now; the panic about everything else has dissipated. That's not to say he's comfortable; he just feels like he can talk through this without worrying about how convincing he is. ]
He sent me to rehab. Like, this fancy fuckin'... recovery centre in Iceland. But I was only actually there for like two days before he called me back to do damage control. And – I mean, I know it's not... [ An excuse, he means to say, but what he manages is a vague gesture. ] But, it just... I had to be back there and fighting the private equity bid, and then my sister was pushing her way in, and then there was the stuff about cruises coming out, and I just felt like I couldn't... Like there wasn't any time for me to get clean. And you have no idea how – how fucking hard it was to push through all that, and at the back of my head this whole fucking time, I'm just thinking about what he said. About how it could be the defining moment of my whole life if I didn't let him help me.
[At the description of rehab--at the senior Roy pulling Kendall out of it that way--Neal makes a noise that sounds like nothing so much as puh, a sharp, hard exhalation of disgust.]
Yeah, he pulled you out of it to keep you overwhelmed. To keep you from thinking. Make sure you didn't have quiet or space to breathe or people to help you do it. He let you see what could be a safe space to recover and then forced you straight into chaos, to make sure that even the idea of recovery seemed impossible. It might not have been that actively calculated on his part, but it was instinctive if it wasn't intentional. Sure, it probably was damage control by some arbitrary grand standard, but it was also just control.
[Save Kendall from ruin, give him a taste of comparative peace, then drag him out of that and into chaos? Yeah. Neal is unimpressed. It might have been hamfisted, unsubtle, lazy control, but the end result was the same.
Neal rubs his lips with this tips of his fingers, glaring at nothing on the opposite wall. He makes private note of the mention of Kendall's sister, 'stuff about cruises,' the idea that there's ever time to get clean. He's going to need to start his own file to make sure he's keeping track of things.] If it helps at all, the thing I thought would be the defining moment of my whole life rapidly became a blip on the radar in the years following.
[It's a statement made in irony, but no less true for that.] Conviction for the forgery of 'uncrackable' bank bonds. Then I thought my defining moment would be breaking out of prison when I had three months left on my bit, then I thought it would be getting my girlfriend killed--you get the picture. There's... A lot of us on board have things we thought our lives would never recover from. But we're here. And they did.
[ It's a relief once again to know that Neal is new to this, that he was once in Kendall's shoes and in the scheme of things it wasn't even really that long ago. If he hadn't been, Kendall doesn't think he would've been half as receptive to anything Neal was saying. And all that aside, it's a relief not to have the focus of the conversation pinpointed on him anymore. ]
I don't know if I'm flattered or offended that that's the part of the trifecta that got your primary attention. [It's amused, though. And it's odd that he can be amused immediately after mentioning Kate's death, even if she's not dead any more. Even if Malcolm fixed that particular tragedy with his deal. It still doesn't feel real.] Supermax, in point of fact, yes. Walked myself out the front door, hotwired a car in the parking lot, and drove it to the airport. Where I pretended to be a valet and stole a better one. ...I needed to talk to someone and they wouldn't come visit.
[COUGH COUGH. He hoists himself to his feet.] Whiskey? Friend of mine has a bottomless bottle that I bum a decanter from every once in a while. It's good.
Forgery of one of the highest-security savings bonds in existence at the time, and the assumption--rightly enough--that I was a substantial flight risk.
[He pours a pair of glasses, a reasonable amount for both of them, and offers one to Kendall on his return to the couch.]
Which didn't help when I actually decided to break out, but the effort was flattering.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Right, cool calm confident he can do this.]
All right. My cabin?
no subject
no subject
And blinks in surprise at Kendall's frantic look. His own surprise twists into something hard and cold. He's not looking awesome, even if he is back on his feet. Pale from blood loss still, easily fatigued. Even scruffier than his Paris persona would usually be allowed.]
Did someone come after you? Are you okay? [He steps back to let Kendall in to his cabin. The backdrop of the veranda today has the cityscape looking like a Van Gogh.
Kendall's file is on the kitchen table, closed.] Are you hurt? Did someone use their powers on you?
no subject
[ Kendall spares a glance around Neal’s cabin, just one, but he notices the file, which can only be his file. He stops right in the middle of the space, staring at it like it’s a corpse. ]
I need to. Um. Explain. The situation. And you need to not judge me for it. Like – please. I need you to not...
[ A thought strikes him, almost delusional. He looks at the file again, and then at Neal, whose first instinct when he saw him had just been to ask if he was okay, if he was safe. And of course it’s right now that he remembers what Neal promised when they were first paired on temporary terms, that he wouldn’t actually open the fucking file until Kendall said it was okay. Kendall deflates a little. He’s thinking very fast. ]
You haven’t even opened it, have you?
no subject
He goes and picks up the file, offering it to Kendall. His hand practically itches with the desire to open it and flip through, just take a peek, get a glance. He's making his own job so much harder. But Malcolm did it for him, and it was the thing that opened him up enough of a crack for them to start actually talking.]
I told you I wouldn't. I don't lie when I don't have to.
no subject
Kendall’s hands pull into fists and then spring out again. He repeats the motion a few times, lips pressed flat. There has to be something else he can say. Anything else, besides the thing he’s hiding. You can’t be CEO, because you killed someone. ]
I...
[ He has to make this sound real, at least halfway convincing, which means that it absolutely can’t sound like he wants to say it. Kendall bites his tongue, and heads over to Neal’s couch to drop himself into it, sagging into a miserable heap, hunched forward with his knees on his thighs and his head in his hands. ]
no subject
Look, whatever it is, I can't promise I won't have a bad reaction. I can promise it's no one else's business unless it poses them a direct risk of some kind. I can promise that even if I react badly, that's mine to deal with, and I'm going to help you no matter what.
no subject
There was this waiter at my sister's wedding. Uh – he was just a kid, and my dad kinda got in his face about something, I don't even remember what it was, but he yelled at him in front of everyone, and we ended up having to pay the kid off to keep it quiet. You know, uh, tantrums don't really... play well. Um, anyway, we... I was looking for... [ Kendall flexes his fingers a few times, presses out a breath. ] I asked him if he knew where I could get a fix. Because he was smoking weed outside, so I figured... And he did, he did know. So – but he couldn't drive, because he'd just, y'know... snorted ketamine. So I drove. And it was a manual, and I was driving on the wrong side of the road, and he saw something in the road and he tried to turn the wheel and we...
[ The last time he told the story, he'd been – well, he'd been fucked up. He's fucked up now, but it's different. He doesn't feel like crying right now; what he feels like doing is tearing something apart, breaking something expensive into a million pieces. He can still remember how pathetically he'd stumbled through the story with his siblings. Right now, his voice is clearer, but flatter. ]
We went into a lake. I swam out. I tried to go back down for him, but – it's... it's a lot harder than you think it's gonna be. And it was so dark, I could barely even see my own hands in front of me. So I just – I just swam out, and I went back to the wedding.
no subject
Kendall is telling the truth, that much is obvious. A story he's told before, one with details that--intentionally or not--he's practiced through repetition. It clearly doesn't make them easier to say. Neal's stomach knots with a mix of horror for the kid in the car and sympathy for Kendall's own shell shock. He takes a deep, quiet breath and nods. The words are frank, without accusation. Seeking facts without judgement.]
No one else knew you were in the car, did they.
no subject
Someone saw me. My dad's wife's son. And the key card for my room was in the car, so I had to break a window to get inside. And then in the morning, my dad... He called me in, and he said that Amir saw me, and... So, I'd... I was doing this thing, I teamed up with some private equity guys, and we made a bid for Waystar. Like, a bear hug. [ Neal probably knows what that is, so he's not gonna waste time explaining it. ] It was gonna work. But then my dad said he'd help. With the boy. Make it go away.
no subject
Son of a bitch. [Neal's voice stays soft, quiet, almost gentle. There's a coldness underneath that makes the words into the threat of cracked ice under snow.
Bad enough that he'd use his son's desperation against Kendall. That he'd do it to hide someone else's murder, that he'd devalue another life that way, makes Neal want to ruin a man he can't touch from here anyway.]
no subject
[ Yeah. Yeah, actually. Son of a fucking bitch. Kendall isn't sure what he expected from Neal, but it's a relief to hear that, to know that from an outside perspective, someone else can see the situation and think that it's fucked up, that it's wrong. He feels firmly settled in the conversation now; the panic about everything else has dissipated. That's not to say he's comfortable; he just feels like he can talk through this without worrying about how convincing he is. ]
He sent me to rehab. Like, this fancy fuckin'... recovery centre in Iceland. But I was only actually there for like two days before he called me back to do damage control. And – I mean, I know it's not... [ An excuse, he means to say, but what he manages is a vague gesture. ] But, it just... I had to be back there and fighting the private equity bid, and then my sister was pushing her way in, and then there was the stuff about cruises coming out, and I just felt like I couldn't... Like there wasn't any time for me to get clean. And you have no idea how – how fucking hard it was to push through all that, and at the back of my head this whole fucking time, I'm just thinking about what he said. About how it could be the defining moment of my whole life if I didn't let him help me.
no subject
Yeah, he pulled you out of it to keep you overwhelmed. To keep you from thinking. Make sure you didn't have quiet or space to breathe or people to help you do it. He let you see what could be a safe space to recover and then forced you straight into chaos, to make sure that even the idea of recovery seemed impossible. It might not have been that actively calculated on his part, but it was instinctive if it wasn't intentional. Sure, it probably was damage control by some arbitrary grand standard, but it was also just control.
[Save Kendall from ruin, give him a taste of comparative peace, then drag him out of that and into chaos? Yeah. Neal is unimpressed. It might have been hamfisted, unsubtle, lazy control, but the end result was the same.
Neal rubs his lips with this tips of his fingers, glaring at nothing on the opposite wall. He makes private note of the mention of Kendall's sister, 'stuff about cruises,' the idea that there's ever time to get clean. He's going to need to start his own file to make sure he's keeping track of things.] If it helps at all, the thing I thought would be the defining moment of my whole life rapidly became a blip on the radar in the years following.
[It's a statement made in irony, but no less true for that.] Conviction for the forgery of 'uncrackable' bank bonds. Then I thought my defining moment would be breaking out of prison when I had three months left on my bit, then I thought it would be getting my girlfriend killed--you get the picture. There's... A lot of us on board have things we thought our lives would never recover from. But we're here. And they did.
no subject
You broke out of prison?
no subject
[COUGH COUGH. He hoists himself to his feet.] Whiskey? Friend of mine has a bottomless bottle that I bum a decanter from every once in a while. It's good.
no subject
[ Kendall drags a hand over his face, and when he emerges from behind his palm he's looking at Neal with a new pair of eyes. ]
Sorry. I mean, you can say no, you don't have to answer. But what the fuck did you do to get in supermax? Was it the bonds thing, or...?
no subject
[He pours a pair of glasses, a reasonable amount for both of them, and offers one to Kendall on his return to the couch.]
Which didn't help when I actually decided to break out, but the effort was flattering.