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

[abrightboy]

Oh. Okay.

That question went horribly wrong. Was he mistaken in thinking they were at some stage of sharing things? Had he already way overshared? Were all the questions Raylan asked a business thing? Obviously, right?

He set the sheets in Raylan's hands without saying anything.

[tinstar]

Unlike Malcolm, Raylan had to be on the left side of drunk to talk about stuff like that. The fact of the matter was, New York was no place to have an anger episode without too much whiskey and some roads to tear across.

"Thanks." But for all his tension, his half smile to Malcolm was awkwardly warm, one hand briefly clasping on his shoulder as he headed over to the couch to start setting it up.

Yeah, he knew that clamming up after all that Malcolm had shared was.. unfair. But what he suffered as a kid wasn't as easily given as what others had suffered as a kid. Angry on someone else's behalf was easier than dealing with being angry on your own behalf.

[abrightboy]

That was even more confusing. He'd have to ponder on that and try to resolve the conflicting social cues. He did offer a guarded smile back and gestured to the second door past the kitchen. "The bathroom's just in there," he offered. "Towels are in this closet," he added, gesturing to the first door. "And. Um. Don't do anything that lets me hurt you when I'm sleeping," he reminded him, holding up a finger before heading over to his bedroom to riffle through a dresser drawer.

[tinstar]

Leaning on the couches edge, Raylan pulled off his boots, setting them neatly together as he glanced towards the bathroom. "Should probably go take a look before it gets dark and I end up breakin' a toe."

He looked back over as he started unbuttoning his shirt under his already tugged open tie and smirked at Malcolm.

"You can patch me up if I do, how 'bout that. Ya know, I gotta admit, I'm very curious how you get yourself into bed. Restraints and all."

[abrightboy]

He looked over his shoulder at the bed, a t-shirt in his hands, then looked over at Raylan.

"It's probably much easier than you're imagining it," he said with a grin.

[tinstar]

"I got all but the last wrist figured out," he said, finger gesturing in a lazy circle before he pulled the tie over his head and pulled off the shirt, leaving him in just his jeans and a familiar ribbed a-line undershirt.

[abrightboy]

"Oh. They reach, if I put them on in the middle of the bed. They only have to keep me from falling out or bolting; they don't have to be... taut." He tossed his t-shirt on top of the still open drawer and stepped over to the bed, sliding onto it and sitting cross-legged in the middle, grabbing the far one and slipping it on, holding that wrist up for Raylan to see, then leaning over and grabbing the other one, holding it with his restrained hand to slide his other one in. Then he held them both up. "See?"

[tinstar]

This, he had to see, and ambled barefoot over to get a better look. "And that's bolted in where, back wall? I did expect tighter restraints." Malcolm was right - it was easier than Raylan had imagined it.

[abrightboy]

He released himself from the far one so he could twist around and lean over the edge of the bed, lifting the edge of the blankets.

"To the wall, yeah. With heavy duty hardware now, since the window thing I told you about. Had to beef that up." He yanked on it. "Not going anywhere. Hopefully."

[tinstar]

Unable to stop himself, Raylan dropped down onto his hands via one knee to peer under the bed before huffing a solitary 'huh' and pushing himself back to his feet to glance at the window. "Scary way to wake up. We'll make sure that doesn't happen tonight at least. I ain't afraid to tackle you again," he playfully threatened with a finger at Malcolm before heading back towards the couch.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm huffed a laugh as he slid his hand out of the restraint, heading back to the dresser to dig out a pair of sweatpants, then he headed into the bathroom with them and the t-shirt to shower and change. When he returned, he glanced over to make sure Raylan was okay, then he turned off the lights before heading back over to the bed. The loft was far from pitch black. Ambient light crept in from the bank of windows along the wall opposite the kitchen and from the big half circle window on the other side of Malcolm's bed. He murmured to the parakeet as he passed her cage. She flapped her wings and chirped. Then he headed back to the bed and pulled the blankets back before getting in, then slipped into the restraints as he'd just demonstrated.

"If you need anything, like... water or... some more scotch? Just help yourself," he called over as he settled into his pillows.

[tinstar]

By the time Malcolm came out of the shower, Raylan was already stretched out on his couch, only visible by the hand cast over the arm, but he'd been keeping an ear on the noises the man made through his shower and bedtime habits and mentally followed him through the apartment to the bed beyond.

"You know me and my 3 am scotches," he drawled roughly with a smirk. "G'night Malcolm."

He had internal bets as to how many hours of sleep he'd get tonight with full intentions of moving to Malcolm's bed floorside if he had to.

[abrightboy]

The faint clinking of Malcolm's restraints alternately pulling taut and the rustling of his blankets as he began to toss started just before 4am. He started muttering shortly after that.

"I'm trying..." he murmured. "Trying."

Suddenly he jerked, yanking at the restraints as he thrashed towards the edge of the bed. He would certainly have gone over the edge if he hadn't been restrained, doing a header onto the floor like he had at Arlo's. The hardware held. He jerked in the other direction.

"I CAN'T REMEMBER!" he screamed. "STOP! STOP!"

[tinstar]

Raylan was a deep enough sleeper that the rustling and starting murmurs weren't quite enough to break him from the depth of his slumber, but the sudden jerk of restraints was the tipping sound and by the time Malcolm started screaming, Raylan had jerked up from his makeshift bed, hair and eyes wild.

"Shit." This time though, he had a plan.. Well, half a plan. A quarter of a plan, if he was being generous.

"Hey hey," he started as he scrambled from his bed, pillow in hand, knowing full well that wasn't going to wake Malcolm alone and opted to start by.. shaking Malcolm's foot. Quickly, Malcolm was kind enough to shoot that idea down like a 50 millimeter gun and before Raylan decided to go to any real extremes, he pitched his pillow hard at Malcolm's face with a very loud, very commanding, "HEY."

It was worth a shot.

[abrightboy]

In his dream, John Watkins stepped out of the shadows behind the girl and hit Malcolm hard in the face with his elbow. Malcolm reeled, but he didn't wake. He took shaky breaths, trying to scramble backwards, away from the killer. Away from the knife in his hand.

"No. Don't. DON'T! STAY BACK!"

[tinstar]

Double shit. Raylan didn't wanna slap Malcolm. He took a half step back, watching a guy he'd slowly become friends with over some weird and gruesome murders, sure, but he didn't deserve to suffer all this.

"Aw hell," he swore for a third time before coming around to the side and sliding a hand up Malcolm's chest to hold him down, off hand coming to cup the man's face and slap him lightly. Raylan was cognizant of the danger Malcolm and his blind terror could cause and kept himself leaned back, weight mostly on Malcolm's chest but just enough to keep the man from sitting back up and thrashing towards the side.

[abrightboy]

He jerked wildly, thrashing violently for a moment at the weight on his chest, but he thrashed out of it, and a moment later he was blinking groggily at Raylan's face, a little confused for a moment.

He frowned, still a little breathless from the exertion.

"I woke you up."

[tinstar]

Raylan kept his hands where they were, slowly hesitant to release the preassure on Malcolm's chest and withdraw his hand from his face with a lighter, fonder pat as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Nah, I just love coming to bother you in bed," he said sardonically with a smirk barely visible in the faint light. "We both knew it was gonna happen. Don't worry about it," he said with a following pat on Malcolm's chest before tugging his pillow off the bed and tossing it on the floor.

[abrightboy]

Slightly tousled, Malcolm looked at the pillow like it was a foreign object and then propped himself up on one elbow to follow its trajectory onto the floor. He looked up at Raylan.

"Do you need a new one?" he asked in all sincerity.

[tinstar]

"What?" Raylan followed Malcolm's glance to the floor and laughed softly. "No. That's where I'm going to be relocating to for the night," he replied, pushing up to pad over to the couch, still fully in his jeans, to grab his blanket and head back towards Malcolm.

"Go back to sleep, if you can," he said with a dad grunt as he worked himself down onto the floor, blanket getting swished to cover everything smoothly. "Only a few more hours til sunup."

[abrightboy]

His brow creased slightly.

"...Y-you're going to sleep on the floor?"

[tinstar]

"All the better to reach you," Raylan said from below, echoing the Big Bad Wolf in tone. "Saves me the effort of sprinting across your apartment; trust me. It's a time saver." He sighed deeply. "Ain't the first floor I slept on, ain't gonna be the last."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looked a little dubious, but he didn't know how to begin to phrase any question in his mind, so he just opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, shut it again, opened it again, then gave up and shut it again.

"Oh."

He shifted his blankets around so they weren't all askew from his kicking them, his restraints clinking faintly at the exertion, then settled back again, his hands resting just below his ribcage.

"Thanks," he said after a long moment. "He was going to stab me." He glanced over towards the edge of the bed. He couldn't see Raylan, but could feel the warmth of his presence there. "When you woke me up."

[tinstar]

It almost felt like a sleep over. Like kids laying apart, whispering things too late in the night for their own amusement and discovery. Raylan murmured something that sounded like 'You're welcome' before falling silent and letting a beat pass before he continued.

"Who?" He had a feeling it was Martin Whitley, on gut alone. "Your dad?"

[abrightboy]

"No. Not this time. A friend of his. A murder friend of his. Quarles is far from his first protege. He took me on a camping trip shortly before he got arrested. With this friend. I think the girl from the box was in the trunk of the car." A brief pause. "He was a big fan of knives, this friend of my father's."