Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

From here

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[abrightboy]

"I have to get out of here or I'm going to die," he says earnestly, grasping the front of Neal's shirt before his features crumple into confusion and he looks around.

He blinks against the morning light, he looks at the dog, he looks at Neal, at his face, then slowly releases his grip.

"I... I don't know..." he admits.

[conning]

“It was a dream.” Neal kisses him, one part comfort and one part anxiety. “You’re okay, I promise you. You’re safe.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him for a moment, then looks around, then looks at Neal again.

"I love you," he says with wonder, because he knows it's true. He knows that's true. So why does everything else still feel wrong?

[conning]

“And I love you,” Neal says. “So much. So, so much.”

He kisses Malcolm again. “Why don’t you call in sick? Are you allowed to call in sick?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considers that, then his eyes widen.

"I have to go to Claremont," he says, throwing the blankets off with sudden urgency and going to the dresser to find clothes.

[conning]

Neal scrambles out of bed after him, trying to get his attention away from the dresser and back to Neal himself. "Why? Who's at Claremont? What answers do they have?"

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know,” Malcolm admits. “I just know it’s important and I have to go. My life may depend on it!”

[conning]

“Okay. Okay. All right.” Neal doesn’t let go of Malcolm, instead drawing him into a close, firm hug. “If it’s that important than we’ll both go, okay?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considers that, face pressed against Neal’s shoulder for a moment before he nods.

“Okay.”

A beat and he looks at the clothes clutched in one of his hands.

“Can you find me a shirt?”

[conning]

“Yes.”

Neal kisses him, strokes Malcolm’s hair back from his face, kisses him again. “What about that blue one that I love?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods, clutching his pants, socks and underwear in a bundle to his chest.

As soon as they were dressed, Malcolm hurries them out the door and into a cab. Walking into Claremont, he takes a breath as they're led into a maximum security cell.

A wild looking man turns around and smiles unsettlingly.

"Little Malcolm Whitly, all grown up. Son of the Surgeon."

Malcolm looks at him oddly.

"My father's a Surgeon, not the Surgeon."

"Then why did you call the police when you were a little boy and say 'my daddy is a killer'?" he mocks.

Malcolm frowns, backing up a step. "That didn't happen." But he doesn't sound certain.

[conning]

Neal slips an arm around Malcolm’s waist, staring at the wild-looking man.

“The Surgeon… the serial killer from the 90s?”

[abrightboy]

"This kid calls. I go to this house on the Upper West Side. This nice doctor opens the door, doesn't know anything about it. Gives me a cup of tea. I drink it and wake up the next day, stark raving mad!" the man tells them.

The cell door opens and Martin walks in.

"Oh, I recognize you. You're that policeman that came by the house back in the day."

Malcolm stumbles backwards in Neal's grasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, then looks around wildly.

"I'm still in there..." he murmurs.

[conning]

Neal looks at the stranger, at Martin, at Malcolm, a confused specter of concern caught in the middle of Malcolm's subconscious tug-of-war. He goes to the latter, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're still where, honey?"

[abrightboy]

“I’m still in the elevator shaft,” Malcolm tells him, eyes wide with fear, clutching Neal’s sleeve. “This is all in my head.”

Martin gives him a look. “It’s not in your head; it’s the jamais vu part of your concussion,” he reminds him.

Malcolm shakes his head. “I have to wake up. I have to get out of here or I’m going to die.”

[conning]

Neal breathes out a half-laugh, trying for humor. "That's not really the kind of thing to say in a place like this."

Still, the worry in his expression doesn't fade. "Let's go to the hospital, okay? Get them to take another look at you? I'll call the adoption agent on the way and tell them we need to reschedule."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s brow creases as he looks at him.

“You don’t believe me,” he realizes, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. It’s Neal. But it’s not, is it? It’s a subconscious manifestation of warmth and safety and this is how he can be sure.

Neal would believe him.

Martin claps Neal on the shoulder. “It’s not about believing you, son. Your husband is trying to look after you. You should let him,” he advises kindly.

Malcolm looks less certain and looks at Neal again, his expression questioning.

[conning]

"Please," Neal says quietly, reaching up to stroke the uninjured side of Malcolm's face. "Let's get you checked over one more time, just to make sure you're okay, and if you still think you have to get out of wherever you are, I'll try to help you figure out how, okay?"

In the waking world, Neal-of-reality is about to lose his own goddamn mind. He had to harass Dani into even giving up the fact that Malcolm had called her, and it took spamming JT's phone with calls and texts to find out that Malcolm called from the Canmere and that someone had been there with him. Someone unknown.

Of course, Neal doesn't wait for them to deny him permission before he's on his way to the hotel himself, too.

[abrightboy]

“There’s no time,” Malcolm pleads. “We need to go to the Canmere now. That’s where it happened. Please,” he begs.

[conning]

Neal gives Martin a helpless look, clearly wanting to give Malcolm what he wants and knowing it’s not the supposedly smart thing to do.

[abrightboy]

Martin lifts his hands and lets them drop.

“I’ll come with you. Keep a medical eye on him. Just in case,” Martin offers.

[conning]

Relief. Neal nods, then looks at Malcolm again. “Is that okay?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods and hurries out of the cell, hailing them a cab to the hotel and hurrying to the third floor. He heads to the elevator and presses the button, looking at the doors restlessly.

“I have to figure out how to make myself wake up.”

“Have you tried pinching yourself?” Martin asks.

Malcolm looks at him.

He puts his hands up. “Just kidding; you’re not asleep!”

[conning]

Neal give Martin an aggravated look and takes Malcolm’s hand. “Why here? What’s going to wake you up in this place?”

There’s worry in his tone, even though he’s clearly trying to keep it even.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks around helplessly, then it hits him and he looks up at Neal.

“My case! I have to solve my case!”

He grasps Neal’s hand and tugs him along, running up to the artist’s loft.