LOG - July Catch-All/TDM Prompts (OPEN)

[conning]

Who: Neal and VARIOUS PEOPLE, POSSIBLY INCLUDING YOU?
When: Throughout July
Where: All around Gloucester
Summary: TDM prompts, as well as some other stuff, will get more specific as I write them.
Warnings: Nothing big at the moment tho lord knows that's bound to change. Scopophobia, paranoia, the issues mentioned in the TDM prompts.

Comments

[conning]

“Yes,” Neal says tiredly. “I’ve always wanted that. Even thought I could have it, for a while.”

[abrightboy]

“What changed your mind?” Malcolm asks.

[conning]

“It wasn’t just one thing.”

He stops, instinct to keep the details private kicking in again. He could laugh at himself if he wasn’t so tired. What does it matter at this point? Everyone in the office knows about his father, about Rachel, about how he grew up. Specifics, no, but generalities? There’s no mystery left in Neal Caffrey’s background.

“…What do you want to know? Ask me whatever you want.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considers that a moment - really considers it - before he speaks.

“What happened before you came here that made you so afraid to go out with me?”

CW mentions of gaslighting and suicide

[conning]

That was not on the list of things Neal was braced for. He falters, the reasons overwhelming, for a second at a loss with where to start.

“I liked you. Good things don’t happen to people I like.” That’s not an answer. Not enough of one. “…The first woman I was ever really serious about died in an explosion that was meant for me. Another one ended up in a Greek prison because of something I did and I didn’t even know it until later. I didn’t even think to look for her.”

Never mind that he and Alex had always drifted in and out of each others’ lives like that.

“Sara… Sara got away clean.” He makes an ironic little noise. “We almost got married. I proposed, even, sort of, but we both knew it would never work.”

A long pause. “Then came Rebecca. I told you a little about her. I fell hard. She was smart, and funny, and in love with art. I thought she was anyway. Turns out ‘Rebecca’ was an identity built by a former MI5 freelancer who scoped me out for a job. She blackmailed me into it using an old enemy, and faked Rebecca so she could get close to me and make sure I was doing what she wanted. I loved her.”

The last statement is a little strangled. He clears his throat. “…She ended up loving me, too, but not the parts of me I wanted her to. I helped apprehend her. She killed herself.”

[abrightboy]

“Explain how the second one ended up in a Greek prison? How was that your fault?” Malcolm asks.

[conning]

“That’s a long story,” Neal says. “Short version, the three of us—me, my friend Mozzie, and Alex—found a cache of stolen art that would have been enough to buy a decent-sized island to retire to with what was left, and Mozzie and I ended up cutting her out. We lost the whole thing, eventually, but her part in finding it made her all but unemployable. The work she was able to get landed her there.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm frowns. “So her ending up there didn’t actually have anything to do with you. She wasn’t arrested for that crime; you weren’t involved in the crime she was arrested for…”

[conning]

“Sure,” Neal says tiredly. He’s not up for an argument about responsibility right now.

[abrightboy]

He could ask for more details about the explosion, but he doesn’t think he has to. The woman who manipulated him and then killed herself speaks for all of them, except for the one that got away.

“So… you think you don’t deserve to be with anyone, because you feel like you couldn’t make people around you in the past make better choices with… all your skills of con?”

[conning]

Neal stares at Malcolm. "No."

That's not it at all. He's not sure how Malcolm can be so far off the mark, but Neal realizes after a moment he's not even sure what the mark is. Between the accusations of wanting to be better than Malcolm and then this, he's starting to feel completely at sea. "I..."

[abrightboy]

"I'm not sure why you think you're responsible for their choices if you don't think it was your responsibility to make them choose something safer," Malcolm says, still gripping his hand. "You didn't make any of them do anything."

[conning]

“I just…” He closes his eyes, the pressure of tears on this throat nearly strangling. “I couldn’t protect them. And now— How am I supposed to help you if I’m trying to manage something I didn’t even know was there? What if it’s not ADHD, what if it’s something actually significant? Or…”

[abrightboy]

"What if it's nothing? You won't know unless you get the assessment." He smiles a little, nudging Neal's knee with his knee. "And who punched the giant in the throat in Wolf Pen?" he teases.

[conning]

Neal snorts. "I could have punched him in the throat. You just beat me to it."

He's more joking than not. Neal squeezes Malcolm's hand. "I don't know why it bothers me. It shouldn't. It doesn't change anything."

The dismissal in his tone is entirely false bravado.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is not convinced that Neal - sweet, sweet Neal - has ever punched anyone in the throat in his life and his face says so.

"It changes everything," Malcolm counters. "It changes everything, but in a good way."

[conning]

Neal has punched people maybe four times in his life. Possibly six? Depends on what you'd count.

Anyway, he chooses to ignore the look on Malcolm's face in favor of addressing the latter part of what he says. With the hesitation of someone who's sure they're about to say the wrong thing, he asks, "How?"

Admitting ignorance has never been his strong suit. All he can see in diagnosis is the potential for imposed limitations.

[abrightboy]

“If you learn how it affects you, especially in ways you’re not really aware of, you can learn how to work with it or around it to be more effective,” Malcolm informs him gently.

[conning]

That appeals to him. He shifts a little in his seat, posture straightening.

After a moment he says, "I wasn't trying to... say something about you. That I don't think you're good enough, that I think I'm better than you, anything like that. I think you're amazing. I really do."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods.

“I know you said that stuff because you don’t really see my disability,” Malcolm acknowledges, “but part of the reason is because I educated myself on it and I work with it so I can… live my best life. If you have it, then you can live better, too, if you figure out how to deal.”

[conning]

"Do you want me to? See it?" It's clear he's not entirely sure what he's asking. Neal furrows his brow. "I mean, not in a bad way..."

[abrightboy]

“That’s… not what this is about. It’s about understanding yourself and accepting everything that makes you who you are. It’s about you,” Malcolm tells him. “It’s not about me.”

[conning]

Neal pauses. "I'm very confused."

He is, on a number of levels, but one of those levels is safer than the others. ...Possibly. "I thought you were angry that... I'm not sure why you were angry, but I thought you were."

[abrightboy]

“I was hurt more than angry,” Malcolm says quietly. “But I’m not now.”

[conning]

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere, if still a little confused. He rests his forehead against Malcolm’s temple. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. And the kindest. The most honest.”