Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

“The one in charge rarely does his own dirty work anymore, so what could he want with you that’s worth the risk of dirtying his own hands?” Malcolm asks. “He has people for that. He could have sent one of them if he just wanted you dead.”

[conning]

“That’s true when a family has power,” James grunts, wiping a fresh but of blood from his mouth. “Not when the youngest son of the dead patriarch is trying to establish significance and clout again. He’s got people. He also wants to make it clear that he’s not afraid of blood.”

“Why Ellen?” Neal’s tone is hard, or he tries to make it hard, but it comes out fractured.

James eyes Neal, a tinge of guilt on his face now. “Me and Ellen were the ones that got his dad arrested. It didn’t stick, but it was the beginning of the end for the Flynn’s reputation.”

Neal shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

[abrightboy]

“You’re saying that now, after all this time, he killed her for that? How did he find out her current location and identity?” Malcolm asks.

[conning]

“That was his excuse,” Neal murmurs. Something is clicking. He doesn’t like it. “That was his excuse. You said the Flynns didn’t own the police, that it was the other way around.”

He gives James a sharp look. “Someone still owns them. Someone Ellen knew about, hid evidence about. That has to be it. Someone owns Flynn and sent him after Ellen because he had a reason, albeit a flimsy one, to want revenge. But whoever it was had access to federal witness protection records.”

Neal can’t breathe. “Someone on our side sold her out.”

It doesn’t occur to him that he just said said our side.

It very clearly caught James’ attention. He scowls.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at Neal, ignoring James’ expression without failing to notice it.

“Someone high up. Those records aren’t accessible by just anyone. And it has to be someone who worked in law enforcement when they did. Someone who was compromised by their work. But not only that: why now? There was a trigger. If we find out what, it might lead us to who.”

[conning]

“We have to tell Peter,” Neal says. He tightens his grip on Malcolm’s hand a little, studying James. “You need to talk to him. Meet him. Tell him what you know.”

“No way,” James snaps. “I’m not sticking my head in the lion’s mouth before we know who’s holding the leash.”

[abrightboy]

“You don’t trust Neal’s judgement?” Malcolm asks. “That doesn’t seem right, when you’re the one that made him the kind of person who always looks over his shoulder.”

[conning]

James growls under his breath, rubbing his lips with his fingertips. Neal's grip on Malcolm's hand tightens a little when Malcolm gives voice to something that Neal had been thinking without intent to say it.

James studies Neal, and something about the look on Neal's face apparently decides him. "...Fine," he murmurs. "All right, fine."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at Neal.

“Where do you want to meet him?”

[conning]

"My apartment," Neal says softly. "It's as close to neutral territory as we're going to get."

And he's not taking James anywhere near Elizabeth.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods.

"We should get out of here, then."

Malcolm is careful to keep James between them, without seeming like he's trying to keep James between them. He wants one of them to have an eye on him all the time.

Not that he doesn't trust him.

He brings up the rear as they head up the stairs to Neal's place.

[conning]

Neal called Peter on their way. He's waiting in the apartment already, facing the veranda, hands on his hips. He turns around as the door opens, scrutinizing James with suspicion.

It's weirdly reassuring, the expression on Peter's face, and the fact that it's not directed toward Neal himself.

"This him?"

Neal shuts the door behind Malcolm, taking a deep breath. "James Bennett, Peter Burke. Peter, this... is James."

He can't bring himself to say my father.

[abrightboy]

"He was assauled by the Irish mob," Malcolm fills in helpfully. "Is that still a thing around here?"

[conning]

"Not really," Peter says, frowning. "I don't think so, but I don't have the latest, either. Organized Crime isn't my biggest fan."

"Or mine," Neal adds helpfully.

That prompts a genuine-sounding laugh from James, which gets Neal's startled attention. He tries, he really tries not to be too pleased with himself.

Peter notices then that James isn't the only one beat up. "What happened? You both got attacked?"

He sees Malcolm's bruised head. "All of you? How many were there?"

[abrightboy]

“Just the one ambush,” Malcolm says looking pointedly at James. “Mr Decades On The Run let a mobster wannabe follow him to a secret meeting, apparently,” he adds with a snort, always keeping half an eye on James to gauge his reaction and whether it’s the one he was hoping to elicit.

[conning]

Neal feels a strange impulse to defend James, but he doesn't. Malcolm isn't wrong, and the flash of anger that comes and goes in James' eyes makes Neal uneasy.

He goes to the fridge, pulling out two beers--one for Peter, one for James--and then retrieving a bottle of wine and two glasses for Malcolm and himself. "Malcolm got hurt on a case, before this."

Glances Malcolm's way, concern briefly clear before he turns back to the wine. James tracks Neal's look, expression dark.

Peter clearly hasn't decided yet how to read the room.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs lightly. "Oh yeah." He looks at Peter. "A suspect pushed me down an elevator shaft, but here's a secret: you shouldn't push the police into an elevator shaft you've disposed of victims in before." He taps his nose. "If they don't die, you have twice as many problems."

[conning]

Peter makes a startled, amused noise. Apparently Malcolm's alliance against James is enough at the moment to make him a friendlier presence in the man's eyes. Neal's anxiety unknots a little at that.

He brings Malcolm the wine, then hesitates with a frown. "Should you drink this, actually?"

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know,” he concedes. “Did I take the pain killers?” A beat. “Well, I mean, strictly speaking, I should never have that,” he admits. He looks at Peter. “I’ve always taken the benzos; anxiety is a bitch.”

[conning]

“You didn’t,” Neal says, with a tinge of exasperation. “You never do.”

He kisses Malcolm’s forehead gently, but James frowns.

“Benzos? For anxiety?”

Neal puts an arm around Malcolm as soon as he has a free hand to do it. “That’s not your concern.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs again. It’s possible he’s exerted himself a little too much on his very recent serious head injury.

“Right? But. You know, there’s anxiety… and there’s anxiety,” he clarifies. “Like. You know. There’s feeling nervous and on edge and there’s feeling like a million bees are screaming inside of your head non-stop. Plus, I just. Need the downer, or I crawl up the walls,” he explains, mimicking rock climbing. “Like in the Exorcist.” He looks at Neal. “That was the Exorcist, right?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, did I tell you I investigated the murder of an exorcist a little while ago and the killer was an artist with lead poisoning? He was doing restoration. I bet you’d be great at restoration, but just don’t get lead poisoning. That guy went cuckoo. I had to call a mission oriented serial killer to find out how to do an exorcism to calm him down. It was a whole big thing.”

He looks at James. “Friend of my dad’s in prison. Runs the inmate bible study.”

[conning]

Neal doesn't have a chance to answer the question before Malcolm is off and talking again, and he's weirdly charmed in the midst of his worry. He's had limited exposure to this kind of tame mania from Malcolm, and it's a bit like watching someone get very excited about a familiar movie.

Peter and James, meanwhile, now have somewhat similar expressions on their faces.

"I'd love to do restorations," Neal admits, and almost at the same time, Peter says, "No one would let him anywhere near a restoration room."

James eyes Malcolm. "You called a friend. A friend of your dad's in prison. To help you with a case."

Neal's defensiveness snaps back into place. "He uses a criminal consultant. That's what I am."

"Were," Peter says.

"That's different," James mutters.

[abrightboy]

“Not really,” Malcolm points out to James. “You use a forger to catch forgers and an art thief to catch art thieves and a monk that tortured everyone in his monastery to death to catch extremely religious spree killers. Like. What? You’re going to call a pickpocket to catch someone who pickles his victims’ faces as souvenirs?” He snorts. “Good luck with that. I’ll tell you how you catch that guy,” he explains, waggling a finger in James direction. “You find out what makes him feel safe.” He looks at Peter. “It was cicadas. And meat hooks.” He glances around. “Can I make anyone a cup of tea?” He’s already moving into the kitchen and he starts riffling in a cupboard.

[conning]

"You, tell Peter what happened," Neal says coldly. The tone of his voice takes Peter by surprise, but Neal is more concerned about Malcolm right now.

He follows the other man into the kitchen area, trying to get a look at his eyes. "Maybe you should sit down. They have beer. They're fine. Or I can make tea."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm stops rummaging like a squirrel on caffeine to look at Neal, grounded by his voice.

His eyes stay on Neal's face.

"You're worried about me. Because I hit my head?" A beat. He looks over his shoulder at where James is talking to Peter and they're both keeping half a wary eye on him. He looks at Neal. "It's too much? I'm too much right now. Dial it back, right? Just. Dial it down." He takes a breath.