“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?”
Neal has some rapidly-forming suspicions that make his stomach churn, but he still smooths his hands back through Malcolm’s hair. Stays gentle. Takes it slow and calm and tries to bring Malcolm there with him, even if he’s faking it himself.
“She doesn’t know,” he whispers. He glances past Neal’s shoulder at the bathroom door, then looks up at Neal’s face. “She was starting to remember, so… the other night I told her the truth. I apologized; I promised I’d be here for her and…. Now something’s happened and I d…” He trails off with a helpless gesture.
Neal draws Malcolm into his arms, running a hand up and down his back to try and sooth him some. His eyebrows knit as Malcolm talks. Something pings him as off, but he's not sure what. "That's... convenient timing."
He doesn't mean to say it, really. He's just not used to even trying to keep his inner voice inside around Malcolm.
Malcolm shakes his head. “I knew there was a risk if she remembered. That’s why I worked so hard to stop it, but… I should have helped her through it instead. She was bound to remember eventually….”
"Malcolm." He catches the other man's chin lightly, turning his face up so their eyes meet. "You made the decision you thought was best in the moment. You did what you thought was right. Whatever's happened, it's not your fault, do you understand me? How would you have stopped this if she did know? Kept her locked up so she didn't interact with anyone who might prompt an attack? Surveil her twenty-four hours a day? We can deal with what's in front of us. We can't change what's already been done."
He kisses Malcolm gently, just in time for Ainsley to reenter the room holding a trash bag full of her clothes. She makes a sound that Neal isn't sure how to interpret.
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abrightboy) wrote2022-02-28 07:17 pm
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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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“What’s happening? What did Ainsley do?”
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He doesn't mean to say it, really. He's just not used to even trying to keep his inner voice inside around Malcolm.
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He kisses Malcolm gently, just in time for Ainsley to reenter the room holding a trash bag full of her clothes. She makes a sound that Neal isn't sure how to interpret.
"Really? You're making out right now?"
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