Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[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.

[conning]

Neal doesn't resist, though he's clearly not reassured. The artist in him though clearly gets distracted as soon as they enter the loft, his attention caught by the art pieces to such a degree that he doesn't notice the body on the floor.

"I like that one," he says, gesturing toward the swan-like construction that is Malcolm's dream-version of The Vagina. Yes, even typing that was amusingly ironic.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glances around, spotting Wendel on the floor, pressing his lips together.

"I had questions for him." He sighs and glances around. He frowns as he notices the boot prints. "I've... seen these before. But... if this is a dream...."

"Then you could rely on symbolism," Martin supplies.

"Books symbolize secret knowledge in dreams," Malcolm muses.

[conning]

"Questions...?" Neal notices, then, the body on the floor, and recoils slightly, taking an abrupt step back. When he speaks it's almost trancelike, clearly a quote. "Man is a genius when he is dreaming."

[abrightboy]

"Someone was wearing boots..." His voice trails off. "The lady in the elevator. Greta... Gretaaaaa..." He frowns at himself and stands, looking around. The sculpture. "Swan! My subconscious has been shouting it at me. The drinking pitcher, the sculpture, the painting..."

[conning]

Neal grips Malcolm’s elbows lightly, trying to force the man’s attention back to him. “I’m not following.”

[abrightboy]

"Greta Swan was wearing work boots in the elevator. Before I fell down the elevator shaft, I saw boot prints in some paint. Boot prints like that," he says, pointing to the bloody footprints on Wendel's notes. "When we were here before, Wendel was telling me about the Bowry Ripper. The Bowry Ripper was known for using whatever was handy as a weapon. Like the architect's compass. Like the typewriter... Like the elevator shaft..." He pauses. "But Greta is too young to..." His eyes go wide. "Her dad!"

[conning]

"Okay. Her dad." Neal is clearly not following, but he doesn't try to make Malcolm slow down. "Now what?"

[abrightboy]

“We have to go talk to him,” he explains, striding towards the elevator. “He’s…”

As Neal stops with Malcolm at the elevators, the elder Swan steps out of the shadows, putting a knife to Neal’s throat. Malcolm sees him a fraction too late.

“No!”

[conning]

Neal freezes, automatically putting his hands up a little. As though that will make a difference in this situation.

“Mr Swan, I presume,” he says, quippy but clearly afraid.

[abrightboy]

“The Bowry Ripper,” Malcolm says. “They never found him. Until now.”

“Sorry, Detective, but I can’t let my daughter find out what I am,” he says.

“Detective. I am a detective. And I carry a gun….” He pulls it out and aims past Neal’s head at Swan’s, but it’s Neal’s eyes his own find.

[conning]

Neal's expression is openly terrified. Terrified for himself, sure, but there's also a clear desire on his face for this not to end violently. He blinks quickly, forcing back tears, then manages to mumble, "How will this keep her from finding out?"

[abrightboy]

"When everybody who knows it was me is dead?" Swan points out. "Sorry, kid." He angles the knife to start to cut when Malcolm raises the gun and shoots him in the head over Neal's shoulder, causing him to tumble down the elevator shaft. He rushes over and looks down, then looks at Neal.

"I solved the case. Why am I still here?"

[conning]

Neal stares at Malcolm, wide-eyed and shellshocked, clearly mystified by the question. "What?"

He looks down the elevator shaft, then quickly back at Malcolm, too quickly for him to have seen anything at the bottom. "Did... is he..."

[abrightboy]

"He was going to kill you," Malcolm says.

Martin comes up behind him, clapping Malcolm on the shoulder.

"Well done! That's my boy!" he chortles.

[conning]

"Yes, but..."

Neal looks at Martin, then at Malcolm, then at the elevator shaft, then steps forward to pull Malcolm into his arms. Hugging to comfort himself. He presses his face against Malcolm's shoulder.

"Thanks," he whispers.

[abrightboy]

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” Malcolm whispers and, dream or not, he knows that to be true.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Lights. The groan of metal cables. He jolts, clutching Neal’s jacket as his eyes snap open.

He lifts his head and looks at Neal.

“But I have to wake up or I’m going to die.”

“Son, I think your head injury is worse than they thought. Maybe we should take you to th…”

“I don’t need the hospital!” Malcolm snaps loudly.

Martin puts up his hands amicably. “Well, then. Little family celebration at our house. Neal, you’ll come, I hope…”

[conning]

“Malcolm,” Neal starts, pleading, then his eyes widen. “The interview. It’s in a half an hour.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at a loss for a moment.

“What… what interview?”

[conning]

If it was Neal—the real Neal, the Neal racing toward the Canmere in June’s borrowed car—he would have kissed Malcolm into distraction and murmured that he didn’t need to worry about it. He would take Malcolm to the hospital without promising they were going somewhere else, and then convinced him to get looked at when they got there.

But it’s not.

He strokes Malcolm’s cheeks with his thumbs. “The adoption interview. You solved your case just in time.”

[abrightboy]

Martin smiles broadly. "Good, good. Then you two come by afterwards; let us know how it went," he purrs.

Malcolm nods numbly at him, then looks at Neal.

"Solved it just in time," he echoes.

[conning]

“You always do.”

Neal kisses him again, and then they’re walking through the Whitlys’ front door and letting Sunshine off his leash to rush over to Jessica, barking enthusiastically, as Neal holds up a sheaf of documents. He wraps an arm around Malcolm’s waist, glowing with the kind of happiness that doesn’t happen often in a lifetime.

“You’re going to have to to make a Christmas list for an actual human child next year, Jess.”

[abrightboy]

Jessica clasps her hands together in delight. “You did it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around them both.

“We did it,” Malcolm murmurs dully into her hair.

He should be happy, like everyone else. This should bring him joy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the basement door swing slowly open. Nobody else seems to notice. He glances around at the party dishes and grabs one.

“Time for a refill,” he explains with a forced smile. He makes his way downstairs.

The box is looming there. He walks hesitantly towards it.