Cooper looked around him and realized Eli was splayed on his side, taking up the entire the couch, head partially obscured by the pillows. He looked like nothing more than a pitch-black mass of fur and legs and didn’t move as they entered the room.

“What else would he be?” Cooper said.

Neil shrugged, acknowledging that, and took the armchair opposite Eli. “He’s fucking huge. What kind? Some type of working breed?”

“I’ve never seen him do any work,” Cooper said, sitting on the edge of the couch between the two of them, blocking most of Eli from view, feeling the warm press of his body at his back. It wasn’t ideally comfortable, but for some reason Cooper disliked the idea of Neil being able to look freely at Eli like this. “What do you want?”

Neil rhythmically tapped his knee with his fingers, looking around the room with open curiosity. “I visited you, you know,” he said nonsensically.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you were in the hospital a few years ago. I heard down the grapevine you’d been attacked in pursuit of a suspect and were in the ICU. No visitors, but flash a badge and they’ll bring you a chair. You were being kept under at the time. Belly was still all open. Managing the sepsis, apparently. I took a look at your chart. Four deep lacerations. Just like James Finnigan.”

Cooper didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.

The thought of Neil being allowed right there into the room with him at one of the most vulnerable points of his life, without the permission he never would have given, during a medically induced unconsciousness, flesh literally flayed and his insides exposed, made Cooper’s whole body feel impossibly tight. Not uncomfortable, but...angry. Like every single muscle fiber had coiled up with a fury so sudden and intense it was like it was happening right now. So consuming that there wasn’t even room for surprise.

Hell, what was surprising about it? Of course Neil wouldn’t think twice about inviting himself into Cooper’s trauma. He’d never hesitated to invite himself into any other corner of his being, his mind, his body. He’d probably been thrilled to hover over Cooper, brought low enough for him to look down on, split open wide enough to look inside. When every word and every touch had been a criticism of his defensiveness, he’d probably choked on satisfaction to see Cooper so utterly, brutally defenseless.

The vicious thought caught Cooper off guard, even in his rage, the way only the most simple and obvious realizations can. Of course he hadn’t turned Neil bitter and cruel with his icy untouchability. Neil had never wanted him warm in the first place. He’d wanted him obedient. And in lieu of obedience, he’d take impotence. Defeat.