The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[tinstar]

"I am, but I thought I'd stop by the house, set it right before heading back up. Make the trip down here a little more useful, not that saving two lives ain't enough. You're welcome to hang around with me til I go, if you want."

Raylan just figured Malcolm would be happily eager to get his stuff together and go back home to brief poor Lt. Arroyo on why he had gone down South to begin with.

[abrightboy]

"I'll come give you a hand!" he said enthusiastically, heading for Raylan's car, which still had his bag where he'd tossed it in the back seat. He looked over his shoulder at the marshal. "And we saved three lives," he corrected, emphasizing the point by pointing a finger in Raylan's direction.

[tinstar]

There was the slightest release of tension and Raylan found himself smirking with a wholly amused look at the sudden injection of raw enthusiasm. He looked at Rachel, finding her to have the same kind of expression before she nodded at him and turned away.

"You betta bring him back, Raylan," she warned, earning a sheepishly amused look at her as he adjusted his hat and headed towards the car. Malcolm was looked at from under the wrinkles of his forehead as he opened the door to the car.

"I think that third one is all yours to claim," he said before sliding into his seat and closing the door, starting the car and waiting for Malcolm to finish getting in before he started turning and driving them out, leaving the crime scene for the local PD to take care of.

It was the good part about his job; all he had was paperwork once the bad guy was caught.

[abrightboy]

"I saw it as more of a team effort," Malcolm said, settling into his seat and looking out the window. Then he relented and looked at Raylan. "Gil gets mad when I do it without adequate backup," he admitted.

[tinstar]

"Only because we had the cuffs and you stopped us from talking it down and possibly shooting him ourselves," he pointed out as they moved back towards the main road, close behind Tim's car. Tim, Rachel and the suspect turned right; Raylan turned them left and back up onto the blacktop.

"He's right to. We're not in a particularly safe line of work, and that guy coulda just as easy put two in your chest. I get wanting to get your guy-" If anyone did, it was Raylan Givens. "- but nothing gets achieved if we're losing good people. You can protect and save people without putting yourself in the way of the bullets."

[abrightboy]

"Most killers feel pushed to murder. It's a small percentage of them that get off on it. Hurt people hurt people, Raylan. Saving his targets from becoming his victims was the priority - it's always the priority - but someone like him needs help. He wasn't born this way. Something made him like this," Malcolm insisted. "Stepping in front of him was a gesture of trust that he wasn't used to and it made him hesitate. I knew it would. He didn't go around shooting people. He would only do it if he couldn't see any other way." He looked at the marshal. "I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're worried about."

[tinstar]

"I don't know, you haven't met the level of stupid and greedy people can get down here." He hadn't heard Malcolm mention the third kind of killer - the ones who caged it as business and truly felt no remorse, no trauma - just money. Maybe they'd fall under the 'feel pushed to'.

There was a reason Raylan was not in the psychology field.

"How are you so sure you're right?" If Malcolm really didn't have a death wish, which Raylan wasn't completely sure he believed in totality, confidence seemed the only other option.

[abrightboy]

"I could see it on his face," Malcolm told him. He looked over again. "I'm kind of good at this," he said matter-of-factly.

[tinstar]

"Until the day you're wrong," Raylan debated, fighting the slight curl of amusement at the way Malcolm had stated himself.

"And the US Marshal's service might not be as well dressed but we are trained, ya know. We don't shoot people on sight... Most of the time." The concession was given with a faint wince of acknowledgement.

[abrightboy]

"Giving someone a chance to drop their weapon isn't the same as what I do. And if I'm wrong... then that's on me, in the end. But he was never going to put that gun down because someone shouted at him that he had to or he'd be killed. He was in crisis. He wasn't thinking with his brain. He needed his emotions to tell him that it was okay to put down the gun."

Strictly speaking, what Malcolm did could be considered manipulation. He looked at the person in front of him and judged what buttons had to be pressed to make him comply. And Malcolm was good at it. It was just lucky for everyone that he came at it from a place of compassion.

"He couldn't do that if he felt threatened. He could only do it if he felt safe."

[tinstar]

"We do more than that, if the situation allows." It was just that, a lot of the time, it didn't. "But you're right, it still ain't on the level of what you do."

He wasn't here to undercut results, just question how Malcolm got there.

"'Course, he didn't much care about the suffering, trauma or pain of the woman he killed. Real kind of you to afford him the consideration." And that was the part that Raylan didn't get, but he was a Punisher type. It was to be expected.

[abrightboy]

"No, he didn't. But I'm not the same as him."

And not being the same as a killer was very important to Malcolm. Very important.

He took a breath like he was going to add something, then didn't and looked out the window.

[tinstar]

Raylan wasn't young enough, dumb enough, thin-skinned enough or insecure enough to ever think he was anywhere in the same ballpark as the guy they'd just picked up.

"There is a middle ground, ya know. Several shades of it," he said, glancing at Malcolm briefly, since it was never smart to take your eyes off the road for too long. "Because I'm sure as shit not the same as him either. He might not have gotten off on it, but he used a life for his own purpose and interior design. That's not just being emotional. He didn't have to do that - he coulda just gotten his girl, but he wanted to be cruel."

[abrightboy]

"I'm not disputing any of those things," Malcolm clarified. "I'm just trying to explain how and why I do what I do. I know it's not... standard operating procedure. The sheriff was the last straw that got me fired from the FBI, not the first. They liked the solve rates I got them. They did not like my methods or my opinions on theirs."

[tinstar]

Raylan grunted a note with a barely there bob of his head. So long as the facts weren't being disputed, Malcolm was free to have whatever opinion he'd like.

"They're more widely seen, more scrutinized. Also rule hard-ons. Only some of which are applicable everywhere. There's a reason that no department ever wants to work with them."

Raylan glanced at him again, wondering what the other trouble he caused the FBI might have been if a punch was the last straw.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughed lightly.

"Yeah. I know. I was the one they didn't want to work with a lot of times. Of course, a hard on for rules was not their issue with me. Me telling them in front of everyone that they didn't know what they were talking about did it sometimes."

[tinstar]

"That'll do it." Raylan wasn't good at filling silence and so he didn't bother to try.

[abrightboy]

"I did try to be a better guest this time," he admitted, glancing over at him. "Screaming in the middle of the night notwithstanding."

[tinstar]

"I'll be sure to write a glowing letter of review for Gil," Raylan chuckled with another look over at him. "Really, it's not a big deal. We've all got shit. Yours is just a little more.. forward," he admitted with a bob of his head. "You're fine. Certainly nothing worse than what coulda come up. I've woken up to gunshots in that house more than I have screams."

It'd only take them some 15 minutes to get to Arlo's anyway.

"Can I ask you something? Why'd you decide to come out with me instead of grabbin' your little overnight bag and getting outta dodge?" He was sure Malcolm had better things to do than strip barely slept in sheets for a guy he barely knew. Talents notwithstanding.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glanced down with a little laugh at the comment about sending Gil a good review, but at his question he looked over at him, then looked out the window, then looked over at Raylan again. He gestured towards the window.

"I don't... know them."

[tinstar]

"You suffered a car ride with me without knowin' me," Raylan continued, head bobbing again in consideration. "That's a step, right? They're good folks. Tim is an Army sniper that was stationed in Afghanistan. Solid Marshal, damaged relationship with his drunken father. Rachel is solid too. She comes from Tennessee which isn't far off from here. Country, in its own right. She's gonna run the department sooner or later, I'd bet money on it."

[abrightboy]

Oh.

He looked over at Raylan as something occurred to him for the first time.

"Did you want to do this by yourself?"

[tinstar]

Raylan looked back at him, half cocked smirk on his face. "I coulda done, but I don't mind the company. It's your time, not mine. And it's not like you haven't seen the inside of Arlo's house or me off duty, to a limited degree." Why would he have a problem with Malcolm riding along?

He shrugged. Raylan wasn't the type to admit it but he found that he enjoyed the unique and quirky oddities about Malcolm that might otherwise put other people off. It didn't occur to him to question why.

Anyway, soon enough, Malcolm would be gone back up to New York anyway. Raylan wasn't the type to drag out goodbyes.

[abrightboy]

"Thanks. I'm told I tend to invite myself places," he admitted. "Crime scenes, mostly. But not exclusively."

[tinstar]

"Clearly," he said with half a chuckle behind the word. "It ain't always a bad thing. Especially with your results. Crime scene or otherwise. Plus, I get all your beer."