"Oh." ...Well, then, he was right and he didn't really have anything to do with it. "Why was it?" He's still very curious. He also agrees with Neal's theories about the annoying people, but he distracted him with something infinitely more interesting to him.
"I believed you. I believed you really wanted to help me, even though we fought, even though we hurt each other. You didn't punish me for being hurt. You let me have the feelings."
Neal studies his tea with a faint frown. "It wasn't just that I thought I could trust you with the details of a life I never share with anyone if I can avoid it. It's that you convinced me, finally really convinced me, that your goal wasn't to use me. It was to help, because you thought I was worth helping."
"I do want that," he concedes. "I still want to help, any time you need it." He studies Neal's face for a second. "You're worth... well, more than that, honestly. But it's all I have to offer. I really do think that you're the one that's going to usher in real, positive change in this place."
"It's not, though. You have passion for justice and fairness and compassion for people. And people like you. Even if you were just telling them off for being jerks. People I tell off for being jerks hate me forever. You're likeable. Don't underrate that quality. It gets stuff done," Malcolm tells him.
Neal's internal monologue, much like Willa's was when she was included with the Adult Wardens, is currently somewhere along the lines of AAAAAAAAAA.
"Thank you. I... Thank you." He's not sure what to do with all that praise oh god. Neal clears his throat. "I still think it might be overstating a little, but... thanks. Uh. I actually... the other reason I wanted to talk to you, is more around... the why of my graduation. Things I started to accept that I still very much need to practice."
"I believed you wanted to help me. I didn't believe... almost anyone else."
His tone is wry and dry. "And I took--take, really--almost any question or comment as some kind of criticism in disguise, waiting for me to figure out whatever verbal trap they're laying before they can spring it."
Neal breathes out an ironic laugh, looking down at his tea again.
"What I'm saying is I didn't... I didn't approach the other wardens on board with the idea that they were here to help anyone. I didn't have it in me to believe it, I wasn't able to hear any negative word about an inmate's situation without going on the attack because I'd spent so long living in the middle of a bunch of 'wardens' who never let me forget what I used to be in the eyes of the law. To hear what felt like the same thing in a place explicitly meant for redemption... set me off."
"Not everyone agrees what this place is for and nobody agrees how to accomplish it. But you've just... you've made amazing strides in your time here. I told you that you didn't need me for that. You're inherently good and compassionate and noble. You just needed a place that could be safe enough to work out how to be that outloud. I meant it when I said you were a better Warden than I am when you were still an Inmate. I mean it when I say you're just... a better person than I am in general," Malcolm tells him. "I'm so glad I had the opportunity to help you."
"Why do you say that?" It's a sincere question and and a protest at the same time. "Why do you always say I'm a better person than you? I'm not, Malcolm."
Malcolm blinks at him like he just asked why Malcolm always says water's wet.
"Because you... are. I'm... I have this... darkness in me. It peeks out when I'm angry or upset. People see it. People saw it last night when the Kikimora thing blew up. You've seen it before. It's... I can usually contain it but... I can't get rid of it."
"I remember what happened. But there's a difference between... between having an argument and... and having a seed of evil in you that flavours it." Malcolm presses his lips together. "I didn't want to hurt you. But I did."
"...I did want to hurt you, so how is that better? Malcolm." His name is both lightly amused and gently chiding. A pause, and Neal purses his lips briefly. "Tell me what you remember. About what happened."
He frowns faintly. "Um. ...You were mad when you found out I was dating an inmate after I wouldn't go out with you. So then you ignored us in art class and after that you stopped coming to counseling for a bit so I went looking for you and... you didn't want to talk, so I was... I said uncalled for harsh things to get your attention and goad you into arguing with me, because it was... talking to me, unlike ignoring me and avoiding me and... I didn't want you to get a different Warden. But then you came and I got caught up in arguing the argument."
Malcolm looks up at him. "I knew you were hurting. You apologized for what you said. But... I did permanent damage," he says. "There are still things where.... I can tell. That you're keeping a wall between us. Because I broke something that I can't fix."
...Okay, Malcolm remembers more than Neal thought. Still. Neal grimaces a little, testing a sip of tea for heat before he takes a proper drink.
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't wholly your fault, the barrier." He's working on bringing that down, too, since he saw the ring that Will gave Malcolm and heard the reasons for it. Neal's eyebrows knit as he tries to piece it together, tries to find the thread of logic that will let him explain what happened. Why he recoiled so hard for so long.
"I..." He can't. He's not sure. He doesn't know, and it's frustrating. A little bit of that frustration bleeds into his voice, but it's clearly not aimed at Malcolm. "We'd never had a fight like that before. You'd never said anything like that to me before, and I think--I don't know, but I think it was that I couldn't find any new factors other than Will. I was hurt, and jealous, and he was still there. As long as he was there, the potential for you to find reasons to hurt me was there, too. I know that doesn't really make sense. It doesn't."
"Sure it does," Malcolm answers simply. "People you respect or trust always betray you. Of course it felt the same." He pauses. "I didn't... say what I said because it was Will. I said what I said because I thought I was losing you and I just... flailed for purchase in anything I could reach. And it blew up in my face, because provoking you enough to make you speak to me just... made you hate me and that was even worse. I didn't think something could be worse, but then I did it and it was worse."
"I mean, that might be... overstating a little, as well. The always part." He shifts a little on his stool, uncomfortable less because of what Malcolm said than because he can think of instances in which almost everyone but Sara and June did. Peter, El, Mozzie, Jones--not Diana. She hid things from him, certainly, but she never betrayed him.
He looks up, blue eyes worried. "It was impermanent. That feeling. The reason I said it. I was angry, furious, at the things you said, yeah, but... I also was so angry at you for not existing before then, for being so kind until that point, and caring so much when no one else did. For doing all that and then finding Will and turning into someone I couldn't keep."
"I know. I want to. It just... It's hard for me to care about someone as much as I care about you without weighing how likely it is you'll pick me if it came down to that kind of choice. In my life..." A soft, mirthless noise. "In my life, it always has. And I'm never the one that gets chosen."
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Neal studies his tea with a faint frown. "It wasn't just that I thought I could trust you with the details of a life I never share with anyone if I can avoid it. It's that you convinced me, finally really convinced me, that your goal wasn't to use me. It was to help, because you thought I was worth helping."
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"I do want that," he concedes. "I still want to help, any time you need it." He studies Neal's face for a second. "You're worth... well, more than that, honestly. But it's all I have to offer. I really do think that you're the one that's going to usher in real, positive change in this place."
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"I think that may be overstating."
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"Thank you. I... Thank you." He's not sure what to do with all that praise oh god. Neal clears his throat. "I still think it might be overstating a little, but... thanks. Uh. I actually... the other reason I wanted to talk to you, is more around... the why of my graduation. Things I started to accept that I still very much need to practice."
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His tone is wry and dry. "And I took--take, really--almost any question or comment as some kind of criticism in disguise, waiting for me to figure out whatever verbal trap they're laying before they can spring it."
It's all very healthy really.
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"What I'm saying is I didn't... I didn't approach the other wardens on board with the idea that they were here to help anyone. I didn't have it in me to believe it, I wasn't able to hear any negative word about an inmate's situation without going on the attack because I'd spent so long living in the middle of a bunch of 'wardens' who never let me forget what I used to be in the eyes of the law. To hear what felt like the same thing in a place explicitly meant for redemption... set me off."
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"Because you... are. I'm... I have this... darkness in me. It peeks out when I'm angry or upset. People see it. People saw it last night when the Kikimora thing blew up. You've seen it before. It's... I can usually contain it but... I can't get rid of it."
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Malcolm looks up at him. "I knew you were hurting. You apologized for what you said. But... I did permanent damage," he says. "There are still things where.... I can tell. That you're keeping a wall between us. Because I broke something that I can't fix."
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"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't wholly your fault, the barrier." He's working on bringing that down, too, since he saw the ring that Will gave Malcolm and heard the reasons for it. Neal's eyebrows knit as he tries to piece it together, tries to find the thread of logic that will let him explain what happened. Why he recoiled so hard for so long.
"I..." He can't. He's not sure. He doesn't know, and it's frustrating. A little bit of that frustration bleeds into his voice, but it's clearly not aimed at Malcolm. "We'd never had a fight like that before. You'd never said anything like that to me before, and I think--I don't know, but I think it was that I couldn't find any new factors other than Will. I was hurt, and jealous, and he was still there. As long as he was there, the potential for you to find reasons to hurt me was there, too. I know that doesn't really make sense. It doesn't."
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He looks up, blue eyes worried. "It was impermanent. That feeling. The reason I said it. I was angry, furious, at the things you said, yeah, but... I also was so angry at you for not existing before then, for being so kind until that point, and caring so much when no one else did. For doing all that and then finding Will and turning into someone I couldn't keep."
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"I know. I want to. It just... It's hard for me to care about someone as much as I care about you without weighing how likely it is you'll pick me if it came down to that kind of choice. In my life..." A soft, mirthless noise. "In my life, it always has. And I'm never the one that gets chosen."
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