"Yeah." He glances back toward the precinct, then focuses on Malcolm again. He knows the other man isn't happy--about the situation with Ainsley, about the case, any of it.
Which is naturally more important than Gil's instructions.
"Want to go back to the etiquette school for round two?"
As Neal moves to hail the cab, Malcolm smiles softly at the ground.
When they get to the etiquette school, he knocks. Miss Windsor answers, but refuses to let him in, moving to shut the door in his face. He stops her. With etiquette. By the time he realizes what’s really happening, he hopes it isn’t too late, racing inside and into the dining room. Tea on the table. No Ainsley. He runs upstairs, hoping Neal is still somewhere in tow.
Neal is right behind him, putting a pin in the thought of how hot Malcolm backing Miss Windsor into a corner with her own rules is. That's something that can be shared later, if things are all okay.
They're going to be. They have to be.
When Malcolm falters in the hunt for Rachel and Ainsley, they catch the sound of voices at almost the same time. Neal finds the latch to open the wall in a breath, falling in behind Malcolm and holding his breath as they descend quietly into the hidden area of the house.
He can see through the slats. Ainsley, unconscious, draped across the bed. Rachel looming over her. But it’s dusty inside the wall. He coughs. It gives them away.
Rachel pulls a gun on them. Malcolm keeps himself between the gun and Neal as he steps into the room, talking to Rachel about Miss Windsor, about her childhood. But Ainsley gets off the bed and Malcolm suddenly is looking past Rachel, past her shoulder at Ainsley, though ostensibly still talking to her. His tone has changed. He’s pleading.
“Don’t do this. Please. There has to be another way.”
Malcolm’s tone makes Neal’s hair stand on end. What does he think Ainsley is going to do? Does he think she’ll hurt Rachel bare-handed?
But then Rachel realizes Ainsley is there, spins, the gun goes off, and while Malcolm makes sure Rachel fires wild, Neal tries to get to Ainsley. He’s helping her up as Malcolm checks the unconscious Rachel’s pulse.
His ears are still ringing from the gunshot. “Is she…?”
Neal meets Malcolm’s eyes, his own huge. “We need to get out of here, now. That’s propane.”
He starts forward to get Rachel, but Malcolm has already scooped her up—again, hot, but a poor time to say so. They hit the main floor and the smell is all but overpowering. Neal feels sick.
“We have to find Miss Windsor,” he says, logic lagging behind panic and concern. “You get Rachel and Ainsley out. I’ll join you.”
Neal staggers, hanging on to Ainsley and keeping her upright at the same time.
He turns around as soon as she's stable, taking a couple of quick steps back toward the burning building, numb with shock. There's something else under the numbness, a terror he knows is tied to Mathias. His breathing comes quicker, and he forces himself to turn back to the others.
Neal focuses on Rachel instead of answering right away, shedding his jacket and tucking it in around her on the damp grass. He checks her pulse, like he'll be able to tell anything from it beyond "she's alive," and for a moment he gets stuck with his fingertips against her skin. He stares at her without really seeing her.
"She blew herself up." His voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere a few steps to the left of himself.
"She was losing everything and she couldn't face it," Malcolm tells him. "She wanted to die with her school rather than live without it, without its principles, without the comfort of its walls."
“A daughter she had out of wedlock, against all the principles she preaches, that she hid in the attic like a dirty secret. A secret daughter the world was about to find out about because she murdered five former students. It’s worse than her worst nightmare. But do you understand why you couldn’t save her? If she couldn’t live for her child, why would she listen to you?” Malcolm points out gently, if bluntly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abrightboy) wrote2022-02-28 07:17 pm
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He's not sure Malcolm realizes it yet. "I don't know if she knows she remembers me, but. She does."
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"What do you mean?" he asks.
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He pauses. "It's possible she went and did some research, I guess."
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Which is naturally more important than Gil's instructions.
"Want to go back to the etiquette school for round two?"
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“We might be able to get her to admit to it.”
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When they get to the etiquette school, he knocks. Miss Windsor answers, but refuses to let him in, moving to shut the door in his face. He stops her. With etiquette. By the time he realizes what’s really happening, he hopes it isn’t too late, racing inside and into the dining room. Tea on the table. No Ainsley. He runs upstairs, hoping Neal is still somewhere in tow.
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They're going to be. They have to be.
When Malcolm falters in the hunt for Rachel and Ainsley, they catch the sound of voices at almost the same time. Neal finds the latch to open the wall in a breath, falling in behind Malcolm and holding his breath as they descend quietly into the hidden area of the house.
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Rachel pulls a gun on them. Malcolm keeps himself between the gun and Neal as he steps into the room, talking to Rachel about Miss Windsor, about her childhood. But Ainsley gets off the bed and Malcolm suddenly is looking past Rachel, past her shoulder at Ainsley, though ostensibly still talking to her. His tone has changed. He’s pleading.
“Don’t do this. Please. There has to be another way.”
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But then Rachel realizes Ainsley is there, spins, the gun goes off, and while Malcolm makes sure Rachel fires wild, Neal tries to get to Ainsley. He’s helping her up as Malcolm checks the unconscious Rachel’s pulse.
His ears are still ringing from the gunshot. “Is she…?”
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“…Do you smell gas?”
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He starts forward to get Rachel, but Malcolm has already scooped her up—again, hot, but a poor time to say so. They hit the main floor and the smell is all but overpowering. Neal feels sick.
“We have to find Miss Windsor,” he says, logic lagging behind panic and concern. “You get Rachel and Ainsley out. I’ll join you.”
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“Neal, no!” he all but screams. “There’s no time; you’ll be killed! Who do you think opened the gas?!”
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“Come on,” Ainsley gasps, grabbing Neal’s arm and practically dragging him along. She’s stronger than she looks, but then, so is Malcolm.
“We have to stop her.” It’s a feeble protest, and he doesn’t pull away from Ainsley’s grip.
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The explosion almost knocks them off their feet and he stumbles to hold on to Rachel without falling.
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He turns around as soon as she's stable, taking a couple of quick steps back toward the burning building, numb with shock. There's something else under the numbness, a terror he knows is tied to Mathias. His breathing comes quicker, and he forces himself to turn back to the others.
"Are. Is. Are you two okay?"
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"We're okay." He looks at Ainsley. "Call 911."
She takes her phone out and starts dialing.
He looks at Neal as he sets Rachel down gently. "Are you okay?"
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"She blew herself up." His voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere a few steps to the left of himself.
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"I don't understand it. She has a daughter. She has a daughter."
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"There's always a way. There's always, always another way."
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“Cops and EMS on the way.” She looks Neal over. “You don’t look so good.”
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