abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

"When he lived in DC, he used to call me when he didn't have a case to work on. He wanted to know what I was working on. He wanted to know what was going on in New York." Gil smiled faintly. "My wife always called him on holidays because she was worried about him being alone and she wouldn't let us talk shop."

The chuckle spread to a half pulled grin, tempered only by what Raylan was picking up on and slipping down into something more respectful as his brow furrowed a little.

"Is that something you think's likely to continue?" There was never any good way to ask if your wife had passed on, no polite southern way to approach that subject, but that's what he was sensing. He'd noted the wedding ring and assumed that he knew what that meant. Maybe he was wrong.

Gil shook his head. "She passed away three years ago," he explained. He smiled faintly. "She used to pick him up from school so he didn't have to walk past the reporters waiting outside their house. She'd bring him to our place and help him with his homework. I'm not sure he actually needed it, but he'd always give her his full attention."

Gil looked from his cup to Raylan. "He jumps into everything like it's a landmine under a corpse. Don't let him get himself killed. It's a tall order. He will not call for backup ninety percent of the time."

He nodded. Having gone through a couple of funerals, he had always hated hearing 'Sorry for your loss' as well meaning as it was. It tore open wounds that were already cracking from telling at all. Instead, he let his face convey that as he listened.

Another nod was given, just to show that he understood.

"Would you be against me callin' you for advice on him if I get stuck? I can chase him down, wherever he runs off into." Marshal's Service and all. "But chasin' down and handlin' are two different things. I could use the expertise."

Gil looked at him a moment like he was checking whether he was making a joke.

He wasn't.

Gil smiled a little. "If you think it'll help, sure. Though based on how he's been since you started coming around, you're doing fine."

He wasn't at all.

Raylan couldn't help the little scoff and self-deprecating tone as he replied. "Yeah well, My luck the way it is, who knows when that'll change. I appreciate the back-up, regardless. Will you let me pay for lunch?"

"It's always good to have backup. Now, if you can get Bright to live by that motto..."

He glanced at his empty plate and nearly empty cup. "Sure." He guessed that was something Bright didn't let him get away with much, either. "Do you want to wait for him at the office or are you going to see some sights or something?"

He huffed another breath. "That might take a few years of work." If he was even successful at all.

Gil would be guessing right and Raylan looked almost grateful as he nodded his head in acknowledgement before shaking it.

"No, I think I'm going to wait back at his place. Only downside of all this is that I'm strapped into the same sleep schedule, and after some 24 hours of being up, three and a half hours ain't gonna cut it." Frankly, he needed a nap. "I'm gonna have to catch my Z's where I can get 'em."

Reaching into his pocket, Raylan pulled out his card and handed it to Gil. "Just in case something happens to him or his phone."

Gil accepted it, reaching into his own jacket to hand his card to Raylan.

"Same," he said, holding it out. "It was nice... meeting you properly."

Raylan took Gil's card in return and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket before he grabbed his hat and slid it on, nodding a little at Gil with it, face curling back into his normal affability.

"You mean not on a case? I'd say this was a rare chance, but I have a feelin' we'll be seein' more of each other. Nice to meet you too, properly." He slid out of his seat and started towards the counter but stopped, one finger lazily hanging at his hip as he pointed at Gil.

"When you come down to Florida, you'll have to let me know if you like poker." Clapping him lightly on the shoulder, Raylan made his way to the counter and got their check, paying and tipping before he and his hat hit the door.

Twenty minutes later, Raylan was letting himself into Malcolm's apartment and collapsing on Malcolm's bed after hanging his hat and jacket. Yeah, definitely time for a nap. Lunch helped.

Malcolm had returned to the precinct with the team, plan in place to visit the funeral directors' conference the next day. In the meantime, there were still a couple of hours before Raylan had said he had to leave. He'd glanced around at the precinct, though he didn't ask, until Gil stepped past him, quietly pointing out "Givens went back to your place," and clapping him on the shoulder.

He headed home.

He let himself in the door, looking around, anxiety fluttering slightly just under the surface until he spotted him, because there was always a chance, if he couldn't see him, that he'd missed him somehow and he was gone.

Now that he wasn't dead tired, Raylan was much more clearly able to hear the door open and shut, and still it took him several seconds to stir with a deep breath. Pushing up a little, Raylan looked over his shoulder, registered Malcolm and grunted as he rolled himself over, boots hanging unevenly off the bed.

"You're back," he observed, one hand lazily lifting to gesture him over. "C'mere."

Malcolm couldn't help the visible relief that ebbed tension out of him as he saw Raylan there, as Raylan registered him there, as he beckoned Malcolm over.

Malcolm went more than willingly, kicking off his shoes before stepping up onto the platform and crawling onto the bed next to Raylan. Malcolm put an arm around him, just to feel his solidity and tipped his face closed to Raylan's face just to feel his breath.

"You're still here," he finally replied.

Raylan kept his hand up, only moving it so Malcolm could crawl up onto him before wrapping his arms around his shoulders, holding him silently as his lips turned to rest on Malcolm's forehead.

"Told ya I wasn't leavin' without sayin' goodbye," he murmured, hand rubbing gently over Malcolm's shoulder. "Missed ya. How'd the case go?"

He leaned into Raylan's touch everywhere it lit on him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"I know. I was just... worried I'd be late or something would happen and you'd have to go..."

The hand moving over his shoulder did a lot to dispel lingering tension and his voice trailed off. He smiled at the question, his eyes opening, practically sparkling with morbid delight. "The killer is a necrophiliac trained in professional embalming. The victim was embalmed. He'd been dead for three days and he looked so lifelike sitting on his couch that JT thought the homeowner was intruding on the crime scene. But he was the crime scene!" he rambled. "And there's a major convention here in New York tomorrow for funeral directors so we're going to go and see if we can figure out whose passion for making dead people look lifelike is a little too much."

"I'd have waited," Raylan promised softly. If it was anyone else, Raylan might choose differently but he didn't want Malcolm coming home to an empty and dark apartment when he was promised otherwise. Raylan would have rescheduled his fight or just bought another ticket - something. Malcolm was an exception to the rules.

The telling got raised eyebrows, and an impressed hum. "That's some extraordinary work, if he looked that good. Are you excited because it's a funeral directors convention or that you get to go?"

Malcolm laughed lightly and largely at himself.

"I'm excited because this scenario never occurred to me. Someone got into a career in embalming because they really love giving dead people some semblance of life, because they find it easier to be close to dead people than living people. And have gotten to the point of killing to achieve it." His eyes widened again as he realized something. "Oh! I bet they can't work in the field for some reason. Maybe they lost their licence for, um, lavishing a corpse with too much attention. And now they can only be near dead bodies if they make them."

He paused, his eyes finding Raylan's face. "Wow, you probably don't want to talk about weird murderers right now, right?"

Right now when he had to leave so soon. Too soon. But Raylan had been right before; they had to do the work. He couldn't stay.

Malcolm's hand slid back from around Raylan's ribs to slide up and then down his chest, straightening the line of his buttons with a little tug, his expression sobering.

"My father is still alive. The longer he survives, the better chance that he'll survive... He hasn't regained consciousness, though."

He could only laugh at the rambling stories that Malcolm pulled out, weaving around the possibilities. Raylan was still grinning as he looked down to meet Malcolm's gaze. "I can't seem to find the wherewithal to mind, the way you talk about it."

But his face sombered along with Malcolm's and he nodded softly at the end. "If he's made it this long, I think he's a tough son-of-a-bitch to stubborn to die." His hand paused to squeeze on Malcolm's shoulder. "My bets are on his wakin' up but if he doesn't... All you've gotta do is give me a call. I'll find a way to come up here.. Be with you as much as I can..

Either way darlin', you're not in this alone. Whatever happens, okay?"

Malcolm pressed a kiss to his mouth and then another and then one more before curling closer to him, his hand grasping Raylan's shirt tightly.

"I'll come down when this is over. I think I'll need to just... get out for a little while, either way."

Raylan met each one, smile inching up incrementally. He loved the hand in his shirt and how endlessly happy Malcolm seemed to just see him and have him there.

"Good. Do it. I know you're in a spot right now, but I am selfish lookin' forward to havin' you more easily in my arms. I know it hasn't been two months but absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder, it just hurts." It hurt to have to go back to the way he was before, to not have any arms he trusted to fall into, to not have anyone he could show his heart to.

"An apartment for two or three months is better than me livin' above a bar and I need a place to be with you." To be with him, no masks, no worries, no stringent rules only he followed.

Malcolm didn't think anything could beat Raylan telling him that he loved him, but that blunt confession went straight to his heart.

He slid his arm around Raylan's neck, kissing him a lot more intently. Like he got life from it. When it broke, he stayed close, lingering there in his space.

"In psychology they talk about the unique adaptability that humans have," he explained softly. "They say we can adapt to anything. But it doesn't get easier being away from you. It gets harder and harder."

His voice broke a little on the last word. Everything going on was Too Much. He took a deep, steadying breath.

The sudden kiss had Raylan pushing and pulling Malcolm's weight on top of him because one arm and a kiss, however intense, wasn't enough, even as he met the kiss with equal fervor. God he hated that he had to leave; that he couldn't have this every night. He was already missing Malcolm in advance and that realization was a towering one.

Raylan was prepping for the dry spell coming.

"It's all these stupid brilliant promises we've been talking about," Raylan whispered, hand coming up to slide up and around Malcolm's jaw. "We just gotta make it til then. Temper in the fire or some shit."

That's how he normally took it; nothing was going to kill him that wasn't going to Kill him like the job risked his life, but Malcolm Bright had demanded and gotten some secret part of Raylan Givens. He'd hurt a lot over his life; this was the first time he'd admitted it out loud since he was small.

As Malcolm found himself on top of Raylan, his pinned arm freed, he slid it up to grasp Raylan's shoulder.

"It's not like we can't talk," Malcolm conceded, kissing Raylan's cheekbone and the corner of his mouth and his jaw. "We can make it."

He lifted his head to look into Raylan's face. "I wanted to come to the airport with you, but I don't know if it's a good idea," he confessed. "Everything has just..." He made a helpless gesture with one hand before grasping Raylan's shoulder again. "So much right now. ...And I think I might be too emotional. I don't... I'll embarrass you," he admitted uncomfortably.

He could only hum short sounds at each of Malcolm's kiss, hands slipping around and up Malcolm's back while the other secured him against Raylan at the waist. Yeah, they'd make it, but it would suck.

Hazel eyes focused on Malcolm's face as he pulled back and the further he got, the stronger the urge to shake his head that Raylan caved too before Malcolm got too far into it.

"No. It's probably better if you don't. I came to help, not add more crap to your plate." He wanted to end this on the highest note that he could and one hand came back up to grip Malcolm's neck gently. "If you slept like anyone else, I'd slip out then, but that escape route isn't a viable option," he murmured before pulling Malcolm down into a kiss. "I've still got an hour, but not much else and I plan on taking advantage of it," he said, kissing Malcolm again more deeply than before as his off hand fisted into the back of Malcolm's otherwise pressed shirt.

Malcolm put his whole heart in that kiss, humming against Raylan's mouth before it broke.

"You always help," he gasped breathlessly, shifting his weight to start unbuttoning Raylan's shirt with needful, fumbling fingers. "Being near you is the cure for everything bad."

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