He doesn't like this. It's all over his face that he doesn't like this. He doesn't want to do it, no, but Malcolm telling him he doesn't have to also doesn't ease the guilt of letting someone else step into harm's way for him. "Just... don't do it when that woman is there. She might shoot you just out of spite."
It's a joke. It's also not.
Their phones ring. Both phones, at almost the same time. Neal answers his—it’s Peter. Malcolm’s display shows Ainsley calling.
“Peter?”
“Kramer and Collette are working together.” No preamble, just urgency. “He’s got her convinced it had to be you. That you visiting Ellen before the commutation was part of some plan to drive her into the open. He’s coming back to New York.”
Neal’s stomach feels like a little black hole has opened up somewhere in its pit. “You’re kidding. Please say you’re kidding.”
Malcolm is only half listening to Ainsley on the other end of his phone when he hears Neal say 'Please say you're kidding'. He covers the phone with his hand and looks at him. "About what? What's going on?" he asks.
Neal looks at him, anxiety in every line of his face and body.
"It's complicated," he says softly, before addressing Peter again. "When is he getting in?"
"Don't know. Diana's the one who told me about it, and she had it from someone else. Kramer's shutting me out. He knows whose side I'm on."
"Fuck," Neal murmurs, and the word is so unlike him that Peter pauses a moment before saying anything else.
"I'm with you on this, Neal. Me, Diana, Elizabeth, even Jones, though I won't be sharing everything with him. I won't be sharing anything that could get them in trouble if they're asked about it."
"I understand." Neal closes his eyes, tongue dabbing nervously against his lower lip. "Thanks for the warning, Peter. Do you think they'll try to bring me in to answer questions?"
Halfway through Neal's call, Malcolm snaps into his call "I said wait a second, Ainsley!" before trying to guess Peter's side of the conversation from Neal's.
"What? What is it?" he asks as soon as Neal stops talking.
Neal takes a deep breath. "Remember how I mentioned that the FBI tried to sink my commutation and force me to work for them in DC forever?"
Peter starts to say something, but Neal cuts him off with, "One second Peter." The surprise of that seems to shut the other man up temporarily.
Neal gestures vaguely toward the window. "Apparently the guy responsible for that initiative is on his way back to New York to help Collette investigate Ellen's murder."
“I don’t know.” The admission makes Neal’s stomach turn over with nerves. He should know. “I made him look pretty stupid, more than once. I’m sure he’d love to return the favor.”
Peter says something, and Neal doesn’t really catch what. It’s starting to hit him, what this all means, what Kramer coming back means, on top of a rising tide of grief threatening to crush his lungs of every molecule of air. “I’ve gotta go Peter, I’ll call you later.”
He hopes he doesn’t sound as robotic as he feels. Either way, he hangs up before Peter can answer.
"I can't talk right now," he tells Ainsley, and disconnects the call. He looks at Neal. "We have to find out what he's up to. Do you know any good hackers?"
He blinks. "Yes, actually. Mozzie does. They're kind of--dating? They were. I have no idea what they're doing, honestly. She calls herself the Vulture."
He drags a hand through his hair, staring at his phone. "Even if he doesn't think it's me, he's going to try and prove it was."
Ainsley leans forward, her voice a little desperate. "Please, Malcolm, I need to talk to you. You, by yourself."
Her eyes are huge, not quite panicked. She opens the top of her coat. Not much. Not enough for Neal to see from where he is in the kitchen. But definitely enough for Malcolm to see the blood-soaked clothes underneath.
Ainsley drops her voice until she's very, very quiet, barely audible even with Malcolm so close. "I don't know. I was leaving work, but. I blacked out again. I... When I came around I..."
She pulls the coat tight around herself to hide the stains again. "I don't know what happened."
Neal tunes in at once to the change in Malcolm's demeanor, stilling from his self-assigned chore of cleaning the kitchen. "Malcolm?"
Malcolm is white as a sheet, and he stumbles back a couple of steps.
"Okay." He runs his hands through his hair. "Okay. You have to... get changed." He goes to his own dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants and a hoodie and bringing them over and bundling them into her arms. He goes around the kitchen island to get a plastic bag and gives that to her, too. "Put your clothes in here."
Neal immediately abandons his cleaning, red flags going up all over. He goes to Malcolm, touching his face gently to get his attention. “What’s going on? What do you need?”
Ainsley laughs, the sound a little cold, in spite of the tears on her face. “Oh yeah, what does he need.”
“I… need to get the blood evidence analyzed,” Malcolm says, sounding a little stunned. “Can you stay here with my sister tomorrow? Keep an eye on her?”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abrightboy) wrote2022-02-28 07:17 pm
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It's a joke. It's also not.
Their phones ring. Both phones, at almost the same time. Neal answers his—it’s Peter. Malcolm’s display shows Ainsley calling.
“Peter?”
“Kramer and Collette are working together.” No preamble, just urgency. “He’s got her convinced it had to be you. That you visiting Ellen before the commutation was part of some plan to drive her into the open. He’s coming back to New York.”
Neal’s stomach feels like a little black hole has opened up somewhere in its pit. “You’re kidding. Please say you’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I wish I was.”
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"It's complicated," he says softly, before addressing Peter again. "When is he getting in?"
"Don't know. Diana's the one who told me about it, and she had it from someone else. Kramer's shutting me out. He knows whose side I'm on."
"Fuck," Neal murmurs, and the word is so unlike him that Peter pauses a moment before saying anything else.
"I'm with you on this, Neal. Me, Diana, Elizabeth, even Jones, though I won't be sharing everything with him. I won't be sharing anything that could get them in trouble if they're asked about it."
"I understand." Neal closes his eyes, tongue dabbing nervously against his lower lip. "Thanks for the warning, Peter. Do you think they'll try to bring me in to answer questions?"
"Absolutely. Probably soon."
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"What? What is it?" he asks as soon as Neal stops talking.
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Peter starts to say something, but Neal cuts him off with, "One second Peter." The surprise of that seems to shut the other man up temporarily.
Neal gestures vaguely toward the window. "Apparently the guy responsible for that initiative is on his way back to New York to help Collette investigate Ellen's murder."
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Peter says something, and Neal doesn’t really catch what. It’s starting to hit him, what this all means, what Kramer coming back means, on top of a rising tide of grief threatening to crush his lungs of every molecule of air. “I’ve gotta go Peter, I’ll call you later.”
He hopes he doesn’t sound as robotic as he feels. Either way, he hangs up before Peter can answer.
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He drags a hand through his hair, staring at his phone. "Even if he doesn't think it's me, he's going to try and prove it was."
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And then someone pounds on the front door and Neal about jumps out of his skin.
Ainsley’s voice comes from the other side of the door, plaintive and small. “Malcolm, I really need to talk to you.”
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He frowns faintly in concern.
"What's going on?"
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Neal sees her face over Malcolm's shoulder, his own concern overriding the anxiety. "Ainsley? Of course."
He looks at Malcolm for confirmation, even as Ainsley gives Neal a slightly baffled look.
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"What's going on, Ainsley? Did something happen?"
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He heads for the kitchen, starts to clatter things quietly around. Ainsley leads Malcolm to the couch and sits down.
"Look, I know you're busy, I know you have that hotel case, I just... I didn't know where else to go. I don't have anyone else I can talk to."
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"I can leave," Neal says softly.
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Her eyes are huge, not quite panicked. She opens the top of her coat. Not much. Not enough for Neal to see from where he is in the kitchen. But definitely enough for Malcolm to see the blood-soaked clothes underneath.
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“What is this?”
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She pulls the coat tight around herself to hide the stains again. "I don't know what happened."
Neal tunes in at once to the change in Malcolm's demeanor, stilling from his self-assigned chore of cleaning the kitchen. "Malcolm?"
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"Okay." He runs his hands through his hair. "Okay. You have to... get changed." He goes to his own dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants and a hoodie and bringing them over and bundling them into her arms. He goes around the kitchen island to get a plastic bag and gives that to her, too. "Put your clothes in here."
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Ainsley laughs, the sound a little cold, in spite of the tears on her face. “Oh yeah, what does he need.”
She gets up, shuffling to the bathroom.
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“What blood evidence? What’s going on?”
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