Neal Caffrey || Log || September/October Catch-All

[conning]

Who: Neal and OTA/some for existing CR
When: September/October Catch-All (with one backdated August thing)
Where: ALL OVER ZE PLACE
Summary: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER CATCH-ALL. Neal being bovvered by the sleep stuff and rescuing people/needing rescue, Evil Twin TDM prompts, sleepwalking after his murdered adoptive aunt, painting at Bonnie's, a couple of SOL prompts, DEATH BREAAAD both lead-up and hypersensitivity, some talk about mental health.
Warnings: HORROR STUFF.... Awful deaths, possibly drowning, murder of loved ones, gun violence, suicidal ideation, some ableism might crop up in the mental health threads. Toplevels will be labeled with likely subjects.

Prompts TBA below as they're finished! Feel free to PM me or message me at researchboner on plurk for specific prompts or with questions.

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[abrightboy]

“…What?” He looks up, then has to blink against it. “…We have to… we have to get to the surface.” He tries to get to his feet but another impact knocks him into Neal. “You’ll drown… we can’t stay here; you’ll drown.” He starts looking around frantically.

[conning]

Neal wraps his arms around Malcolm to steady them both at the next impact and to keep Malcolm close. “We will,” he says, goosebumps crawling over him. “We will, not just me. We have to get to the surface for both of us.”

[abrightboy]

“Is there a way to surface the sub or do we have to swim for it?” Malcolm asks.

[conning]

Neal holds on a little tighter for a moment from pure fear. “Swim for it? Do you think we can make it?”

He is a swimmer, that’s true, he’s got that going for him, but he remembers the feeling of drowning, he remembers. It was a nightmare, yeah, but it also wasn’t. The water he threw up into that waste basket was real.

The sub starts to list to one side as something else springs a leak.

[abrightboy]

“There’s more of a chance out there than if we stay in here while it fills up,” Malcolm points out. “We have to push clear, then kick hard for the surface.”

[conning]

“What if we lose each other? What if we don’t both make it?”

Even as he says it, though, he’s pulling off his shoes and shedding his jacket, looking for the hatch that will let the ocean in.

“Will we even be able to open the hatch with the water pressure?”

[abrightboy]

“If it’s an emergency hatch, it should open inwards and break away,” Malcolm says. “Let the water rush in, then kick out hard,” he advises. He meets Neal’s gaze. “I’m not going without you, so kick hard.”

[conning]

Neal grabs his hand briefly. “I love you.”

This doesn’t make sense, he knows it doesn’t, there’s blood pouring into the sub, but… the adrenaline is real. The fear is real.

It is an emergency hatch.

It won’t open.

[abrightboy]

“I love you, too.”

Malcolm watches him try to open the hatch, preparing to hold his breath, but Neal can’t budge it.

Something in him snaps. He shoulders the pilot’s chair off of whatever is holding it on the floor and he starts swinging it wildly into the front window.

[conning]

Neal flinches back from the violence of it, briefly shocked. Cracks thread through the window as Malcolm hits it, some of them oozing more blood into the space.

Neal almost gets hit moving in to wrap his arms around Malcolm. “Stop! Malcolm, stop, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

There’s panic in the words.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s panicked attack on the window is successfully stilled by Neal’s touch. The chair falls out of his hands and he turns to cling to Neal.

“How? We have to get out of this thing or we’ll die in here,” he says shakily. “You can’t die. You can’t die.”

[conning]

Neal holds on tighter. “Why do you keep saying that? Neither one of us can die, all right? It’s not an option.”

He turns Malcolm gently so they’re facing each other. “Which is why we need to stay focused and keep our heads clear. It’s working—smashing the window. It’s working. But if you do it in a panic you’re not going to be braced for when it breaks.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm squeezes his eyes closed.

“I can’t stay in here,” he confesses tightly.

[conning]

“We’re not. We’re getting out.”

Even if they don’t make it to the surface, he thinks a little madly, they’ll wake up. It’ll be fine.

But there’s something else. “…What is it? There’s something bothering you that has nothing to do with this place—”

Another slam against the sub, hard enough to tip them sideways. Neal falls hard, striking his head again, hard enough to stun. Something ruptures, really breaks, and blood starts pouring in.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm peels himself off Neal and the floor, fishes the chair out of what is now several inches of water and resumes his panicked assault on the front window. There is, indeed, something else behind it.

[conning]

The glass finally shatters, Neal still on his side, dizzy in the rising blood oozing into the sub.

But the glass shatters, and a red rush of gore crushes its way into the tiny space, throws Neal against the console hard enough that he feels something in his back snap. Just before the darkness hits, he sees what’s in the blood sea beyond the window, the twisted serpent, a staring eye.

Then he’s screaming awake in their bed, next to Malcolm.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is in a ball, shaking, staring at the wall. He’s half in shut down and half reeling.

[conning]

As soon as Neal orients on where he is, as soon as he sees the state Malcolm is in, he wraps him up in a tight hug.

“We’re okay. We’re okay, we’re awake, we’re out.”

His forehead still aches and he feels numb below the waist, but he can see his toes move under the covers.

[abrightboy]

“I think I killed you,” Malcolm whispers. “I was scared and I did the wrong thing and I hurt you.”

[conning]

“What?” Neal shakes his head, presses his lips against the back of Malcolm’s neck. “No. You didn’t, I’m fine. We’re fine, we’re both okay, Malcolm.”

[abrightboy]

“We didn’t know it wasn’t real,” Malcolm protests. “I’m usually… but… my claustrophobia and the water… I panicked. I saw you fall. I killed you.”

[conning]

Neal shakes his head, too relieved at being back in their living room. It’s still morning, it’s still—hopefully the same day. He’ll figure that out in a minute. Doesn’t matter. He rubs the other man’s arms like he can warm him up.

“You didn’t kill me, Malcolm, I’m right here.” He presses his forehead against Malcolm's. "We didn't know, maybe, but it wasn't real. We're both okay."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm lingers there for a moment, where he can feel Neal’s breath.

“…You’re not mad at me?” he finally asks very, very quietly.

[conning]

"No." He smooths his thumbs over Malcolm's cheekbones. "No, of course not. No."

[abrightboy]

“You told me to stop,” Malcolm whispers.