abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

It made Raylan happy to see such immediate effects of his reassurance, there was no ignoring the way Malcolm brightened up as they dried off and got dressed. Raylan had no choice but to opt for what he'd came in, but it worked - Gil knew what a working Raylan looked like, hat and all.

Raylan bobbed the brim of his hat in return greeting as he stepped in the rest of the way, smirking at Gil's question.

"'Fraid not. He's too antsy to be at home, apparently, and this is a better option than the hospital." The fact that he wasn't staying hadn't swayed Malcolm, but Raylan didn't want it to. He understood how maddening sitting still in times like these was.

Edited 2020-06-12 14:44 (UTC)

Gil sort of half-shrugged concession with his head.

"I'm standing right here," Malcolm reminded them.

Gil sighed the put-upon sigh of dealing with Malcolm Bright and said "All right, kid. JT's just about to leave for a crime scene Edrisa called in. She's pretty sure it's actually murder and a really weird one, at that. Sounds right up your street. If you go now, you can catch a ride with him."

Malcolm's face lit up and he glanced at Raylan, but demonstrative in the precinct was not something he would spring on the Marshal, so he just looked at him a second and then nodded and then left.

Gil set his mug down and looked at Raylan. "Want to get some lunch? There's a great deli down the street. I guarantee it's the best pastrami on rye you'll ever have."

Raylan looked over at Malcolm with a faint lift of his eyebrows, a facial 'hmm?' that threatened a smile at the edges. They knew. They also knew that Malcolm knew how stubborn and unmoveable he could be.

The way that Malcolm lit up and glanced at him made Raylan's resolve against his smile break. It really was like letting a kid go off into a party or something with Daddy Gil's blessing. Raylan's eyes squinted warmly at Malcolm before he left, since there would be no stolen touches here. Everyone had far too many eyes.

Raylan adjusted his hat before looking over at Gil. "I wouldn't say no. Malcolm's a good host but he's bad at breakfast. If you've got somethin' to do though, I'm sure I can handle huntin' down something. I don't wanna get in the way of anything here."

He was sure Gil was a busy man.. But he also wanted to question him about the Whitly case.

Gil shook his head, getting up.

"I still eat lunch most of the time," he said, grabbing his jacket off the hook. He let Raylan head out the door ahead of him and pulled it shut, then took over leading the way through the precinct. "Unlike one mutual acquaintance of ours."

Raylan headed out before falling in line beside Gil, letting him lead the way. "I'm surprised he's as healthy as he is with how little he eats, but I guess it's workin' for him. Does cut me out of the deli scene and I haven't had a good cuban since Miami." So he could happily inhale a pastrami sandwich - he liked Delis.

"You're not going out to the scene on this one then?"

"I'll see what they find first," he said. "I like to give them a little space to work now and then."

He glanced at Raylan as they stepped into the street. "Mind if we walk? It's only a couple of blocks and my car..." He took a deep breath. That car was his baby. Destroyed, granted, by his other baby. "Well, let's just say it didn't survive one of our cases."

It showed trust; that was good. It wasn't like Raylan was looking for things to disapprove of but he'd seen a lot of PD outfits and sadly, most of them didn't run very well. Gil and his team continued to make themselves out as an exception.

"Sure," he said, gesturing out for Gil to continue leading the way. "It get hit or something?" That's what he was used to. Getting hit in intersections in a pursuit or, you know, it getting blown up. But somehow Raylan assumed it was the former and not the latter. Everyone always wanted to talk about cars blowing up, when it happened.

"No, no. That would be a normal sort of policing thing to happen to it, wouldn't it? No. Malcolm Bright happened to it." He looked at Raylan. "Some nutjob left a landmine under a body and he spotted it, so he jumped on it and stabilized it with his own hand while we got everyone to safety. Suddenly there's a crash and I look up and he's shot the window out of the room - with the antique pistol murder weapon, no less - and jumped from the third storey. The mine exploded behind him and he landed on the roof of my car. Totaled it." He looked at Raylan again. "Want to know the best part? He was supposed to be on vacation when that happened. So of course he's jumping on landmines instead. See these grey hairs?" he said, pointing at his own salt and pepper. "All Malcolm Bright."

Raylan couldn't help but huff out a little laugh at 'Malcolm Bright happened to it' and was glad that Gil seemed happy enough to elaborate. The further he got, the higher Raylan's eyebrows got until he broke into a grin. Of course Malcolm had 'been on vacation'.

"You've been watchin' over him for a long time, I can believe he's the cause of it. Might have inflicted a few onto my own boss; ain't herding people like us delightful?"

No, they were delightful pains in the asses.

Gil took a deep, weary breath but glanced at Raylan sidelong and said "It honestly has been a delight. I wish I could report otherwise. I'd probably live longer. Though, in fairness, if not for him I'd have been dead twenty years ago. How much has he told you about the night his dad was arrested?"

The Marshal's smile warmed as he glanced over. Gil might live longer but he'd be poorer for it. Raylan knows he would, and he'd only known Malcolm coming on eight or so months. Malcolm kept the math better than he did.

But his smile faded as Gil came around to his question and Raylan nodded. "What I am guessing are the basics. I know about the cabin trip, the chloroform, the girl in the basement. He called the cops, you're the one that responded. Jessica threw a vase.." Raylan looked over. "How'd Martin take the arrest? I've had the misfortune of meeting him; I know what particular flavor of asshole he is."

"Well, dispatch thought it might be a crank call. Some kid telling them that his dad kills people and has a girl in a box in the basement? So I show up at the house in this posh as hell upscale neighbourhood and this nice doctor answers the door and he doesn't know who could have made the call, but invites me in for tea."

Gil pulled open the door of the deli, holding it for Raylan.

"So I'm standing there in the entrance hall while this pleasant man is making tea in fancy china cups and a little boy comes up to me. He says 'You should take out your gun. My father is going to kill you.'"

He stepped up to the counter and ordered, moving to the side so Raylan could do the same.

Raylan 'ah'd with a quiet little sound before order a pastrami on rye.

"He told me about Martin's proclivity for poisons in tea. It's sadly not the first time I've seen somethin' like that." He wasn't going to praise it, but it was the cleverest way he'd seen so far to get innocent people to willing pour anything down their throat.

"Very brave for a kid that age to call, sharper for him to know. Guess neither of those things he ever grew out of." Which was, inarguably, a good thing.

"He saved my life," Gil said plainly as they moved to a booth to sit down. "From his own father, because it was the right thing to do. There are a lot of things he's never grown out of."

And might explain why Gil took on a consultant that, on paper, looked like a problematic FBI reject.

"Well. You've worked with him. You've seen him when his brain gets going. Some people can't deal with it, but he gets the job done."

"Kids have a way of being brutally honest," Raylan said as he sat down across from Gil, taking off his hat to habitually run his fingers lightly pinched across the brim before setting it beside him. Having it off meant more of his age showed, but it didn't bother him as much with Gil who sported his own dapper accents.

"That first case he came down on, it was like a bloodhound on the scent. Of course, he's proven himself over and over again as undeteriable. He's a real asset for your office." Raylan straightened his tie as his off hand found a place on the table. "What's going on with Jessica Whitly?"

Why wait?

Gil looked at him, his gaze assessing.

"Do you mean legally or is she giving you a hard time about Malcolm?" he asked with a look that suggested it really could be either.

"Legally," Raylan assured with a look to back it up, as though there was no hard time to be given about Malcolm. He knew Gil knew, it was stupid to think otherwise, but he couldn't help it. "Malcolm is worried about her and I assume you're not tellin' her everything, as you're technically in the middle of an investigations. With the duress they were under and the killer in - You guys have him in custody, right?"

"We have him in custody," Gil allowed. "And he's not talking. We caught him at the hospital. We all heard him tell Malcolm he did him a favour because his dad was dead. It's circumstantial. But as it stands... if she has a good lawyer, I'm sure they can get her off the charges. But she has to take it seriously."

Gil raised an eyebrow at him.

"She's not giving you a hard time about Malcolm? She called me checking up on you."

No point pretending otherwise.

"Or are we still pretending you're just a friend from out of town? That flies here in the middle of the night when he's in trouble?"

Raylan looked down, jaw flexing slightly. Damnit. He was hoping that Gil was Jessica's flavor of not asking questions, but the cop in him clearly overroad that. It was a good thing, over all, but not the most comfortable thing for Raylan Givens.

Hazel eyes came back up to meet Gil's, unwilling to take such a cowardly, unbelievable lie as his excuse. No, they weren't pretending that.

"You've got his manipulation on record and a body in the morgue already; what more do you need to establish an M.O?" Raylan lifted his fingers, index and thumb finding each other as his palm turned half to the side. He was demanding nothing, commanding nothing, just an easy guy having a conversation.

"Jessica and I came to an understandin' this morning after I drew down on her." Just in case Gil wanted to go and check up on that himself, later. "I'm here to help protect him. From himself and the things around him, best I can."

"I haven't told Malcolm or Jessica this, but the DA is suggesting that Jessica may have used the very public spectacle of the blackmailer to carry out a grudge against her ex without consequences. Nobody witnessed his last set of instructions. Not even Malcolm." Gil leaned back and paused as the waitress set their food in front of them. "Of course, there's another theory floating that maybe Jessica couldn't do it and maybe it was Malcolm that put the ice pick in Martin's heart," Gil said, his eyes on Raylan's face. "But I'm not willing to entertain that sort of speculation with a confession on the table."

"You shouldn't, they'd both lie for each other and fight over it," Raylan said, face betraying nothing aside from a soft gratefulness as he thanked the waitress for their food. "But you know them both better than I do."

He wasn't going to get pinned down in some emotional corner. "But considering what you do know, it means what they say isn't reliable. They're both compromised, like any other suspect. Hell, if you didn't tell me that someone saw it, who's to say Martin Whitly didn't stab himself to spare his family from having to? He's certainly capable of it.

"He loves himself too much," Gil said, picking up his sandwich. "And Jessica would lie to protect Malcolm, but not Martin. So either Jessica really did do it, or Malcolm did. So far nobody is disputing that it was Jessica, but Malcolm did call for backup in the middle of the night," he pointed out, taking a bite.

"Knowing that someone might die because of it at the time? Changing statements makes her less reliable to a jury and Malcolm is emotional fragile - him reaching out to a trusted LEO came only be in his favor. Who stabs their father and then calls the Marshal Services?"

Raylan picked up half of his sandwich and took a bite, as carefree as ever. He knew that was what sold things and he'd stick with it.

"I've already told him that Jessica and her money will have good lawyers. I don't think he believes me."

"I don't doubt for a second that he believes you," Gil told him. "You have to understand something about Malcolm: he doesn't let people in. That he even called you tells me a lot and, frankly, I don't want to know what he told you. Of course he wants to take the blame; he'll never let anyone suffer a burden he can take from them. He feels like he failed all the people his father killed before he called the police, instead of recognizing that he saved all the people he would have killed after. He wants to save everyone. He'll never feel like he's protected enough lives to be free of the Surgeon's sins and the only person that can free Malcolm Bright's conscience is Malcolm Bright. But he literally cannot stop. Jessica will be fine if she stops pretending this is nothing and gets a highpowered rich person lawyer. Malcolm, on the other hand, needs to just stay out of the way. A case is the best place for him right now."

Raylan eyed Gil. Some of this he knew, some of it he didn't. But Gil himself was basking in a clearer definition - he was one of the good ones you didn't clue into what the hell was going on because then he'd have to report it, whereas Raylan was willing to overlook his oaths if he had to. The world needed cops like Gil. They also needed assholes like Raylan and he knew it.

"And no one here is arguing that." Just to underline it with a reassuring lift of his eyebrows. Everyone here really did move a mile a minute. "What are you lookin' for here Gil? Is this a.. briefing on him?" Because if Gil was offering pointers, Raylan would take every single one.

"I'm concerned about both of them too." So he understood the impulse to protect them both as best Gil could.

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RAYLAN WILL ALSO GUSH OVER GIL'S CAR

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