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]

Raylan's mouth tightened a little around the edges at the paper's opinion on the Whitly children, but he busied it with finishing the rest of his plate and taking a single bite of toast before dropping it on the plate to wash it down with the rest of his coffee.

"I bet that paper regretted it's editor." He glanced at the phone at the next question. "Seems to be only a block or two from here. Walking might be faster, considering your traffic. Your shoes ready for that? Got scuff insurance?"

Now he was just teasing.

[abrightboy]

"That paper regretted many things," Malcolm agreed, getting some money out of his wallet and throwing it on the table before standing up.

At the remark about his shoes he looked down at them and then paused and then grinned.

"I walk a lot, actually. I live in New York." He moved to where Raylan was, leaning in to look at his phone. "Can I see the address?"

[tinstar]

Raylan was sure it did, if the way Jessica swept into the room that morning had been any indication. Jessica didn't seem one to mess with, if you wanted to retain all your fingers and money.

"Next meal, I'm buyin'," Raylan warned, handing over his phone as he drained his coffee cup, fished into his wallet to pull out an extra 10 to throw on the table, and gesture for Malcolm to back-up a fraction so he could get out comfortably.

"Do you know where that is?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nodded as he stepped back, holding out Raylan's phone to him.

"Yeah. I know where it is." He pointed to the table. "And I owed you this one. For parental aggravation."

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and fished it out as they walked out of the restaurant. He looked at Raylan. "Apparently my sister is going to be at the gala tomorrow. She's asking if I'm going." A beat. "Actually, she's telling me that I better be going, because if she has to get strong-armed into it then so do I." He tucked his phone away without answering the text.

[tinstar]

Great - Malcolm could lead the way. Raylan took his phone back with a smirk and a pat on Malcolm's shoulder. "All parents are aggravating."

Malcolm was worth it. Raylan was glad to know the man and his family, as messed up as it was. It wasn't Raylan's experience of messed up, but it was a similar flavor and he couldn't help but get slightly emotionally attached. Not after all he's already seen.

"You sure you don't have any Grandparents or cousins I have to meet?" he joked as he followed Malcolm out. "Are you not going to text her back?"

[abrightboy]

"None of them have spoken to us since my father was arrested," Malcolm told him matter-of-factly. "So you're safe there."

At the question about the text, he winced slightly.

"Let's see if we catch this guy first."

[tinstar]

"Even if I wasn't, I feel like its all been a very tempering experience." They were all their own level of fire to forge.

Raylan nodded to the last as they moved down the street, his eyes moving over the cars and traffic. "Art and them should be here already but I don't see 'em." He peered up at the buildings, eyeing the addresses. "Two more buildings down."

[abrightboy]

A tempering experience. Maybe for Malcolm, too. Hadn't it made him stronger? Well, it had also made him alternately a quivering mess, so maybe not.

He glanced at Raylan.

"They'd call you if their plans changed or they got.... lost or something, wouldn't they?"

[tinstar]

Raylan nodded, frowning slightly. "If not Art, then Rachel. Maybe they just got caught at a light." He scratched his forehead thoughtfully, something that would have pushed his cowboy hat back if he had it. "I'm sure they'll catch up.."

But he was still eyeing the building door. What if they just... went and had a little look in the front door? They could stop there, right? The gears in his head were almost audible, and anyone who knew him well enough to read his eyes would find it hard to miss.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm could see the wheels of consideration turning. He was about to comment when movement caught his eye and something in the man's gait said 'sneaking around'. He grabbed Raylan's arm and yanked him into the cramped space of a nearby doorway to observe unseen.

"Look," he whispered as a figure approached their target.

[tinstar]

It was a good thing that Raylan wasn't the kind of guy to dig in his heels when he was tugged, a fact that had literally saved his life more than once or twice, and he moved where pulled, bumping into and against Malcolm as they tucked into the doorway.

"That's Quarles," Raylan said, tone already a fraction darker. Suddenly, there was no waiting. Raylan's hand was already unfastening the button that kept it secure in its holster and as soon as the door closed behind Quarles, he looked down at Malcolm.

"Stay here," he said as he stepped out, knowing full well Malcolm wouldn't and jogging to get up to the door. He paused there, giving Quarles a fraction of a second more to get comfortable before Raylan Givens came in and royally fucked his day.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm not only didn't stay there, he couldn't help a bark of laughter at the order, considering the source, and he was right at Raylan's heels as the Marshal approached the door. To his credit, he did stay behind Raylan. For the moment.

[tinstar]

They could talk about that opinion later. Raylan pulled the door open as quietly as he could without taking forever and slipped in, keeping one hand back and around to subconsciously keep Malcolm behind him. The place looked like it had once been a communal space with some offices - Raylan would bet money there was a food kitchen in the back, doors to the outside and they could hear Quarles shuffling around in the back before a heavy door was thrown open.

Raylan glanced behind him, fingers cautionary as they crept forwards before he pointed downstairs. There was a basement here, he was sure of it. Wasn't there always a fucking basement.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm walked behind Raylan, letting him dictate the pace and direction, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

He spotted the basement door, putting a hand on Raylan's arm and pointing.

It was partway open.

I physically can't write out the dialogue but we'll work around that

[tinstar]

Then that was their way in. Long legs meant Raylan could step deliberately and for a man his size, he moved silently. The caution hand stayed raised as he peered in, the light catching in his gaze and the voices that floated up to them made them both widen and harden with a dangerous edge.

Quarles was speaking reassuringly, soft tones a stark contrast to the dirt and whimpers that just the sight of the man was bringing. Raylan pushed the door open a scant half inch to slip his slender frame into the opening without risking more noise than needed, gun held at the ready as he moved down the stairs.

The smell of blood and piss, fear and terror, permeated the air as the looped chains from the ceiling glinted the light around over the poor man's dentist chair where the kid was bound. Raylan got to the third to last step before the stairs creaked and Quarles turned around, but Raylan's gun was already up.

The tension between the men was immediately clear.

"Marshal," Quarles started, the effect of years of trying to look and sound better than he was making him seem like a razor toothed salesman with a blinding, too forced smile. "You're not supposed to be here yet."

"Yeah well, I always did like to crash a party," the Marshal replied, cooly, jaw flexing tightly afterwards. "It's over, Quarles. Untie the kid and you can avoid getting shot.. Again."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glanced at Raylan as he moved up beside him, though beside him - rather than in front of him - was a concession to the other man's familiarity with the suspect.

"'Again'," he echoed looking from one to the other. "Okay." He leveled his gaze at Quarles and tilted his head towards the chair. "Needed a hit or just passing the time until you can find a way into Claremont?"

[tinstar]

"Yes, our good Marshal here," though the title was pushed out of Quarles's teeth, "Thought it prudent to fuck up my business."

"Yeah well, fuck the Dixie Mafia too - Untie the kid."

Quarles spread his hands out, bloodied knife in one, putting on an innocent face. "I'm only trying to save him, Marshal. Don't you know what this world does to children? Or what they do to it?" Crystal blue eyes turned to Malcolm, as though he had an ally. "It will eat him if he's not made to be used to it." Then back to Raylan as though they were talking about grass seed. "Like skinning your knee!"

[abrightboy]

"Interesting that you didn't answer my question or follow his instructions. That's called 'deflection'," he said loftily. "We know what sort of sick things you're into. We seized your letters to Dr Whitly. The walls of the box are closing in, huh? You might want to reconsider the Marshal's offer."

[tinstar]

The mention of Dr Whitly specifically seemed to take some of the wind out of the man's sails, like Malcolm had come across a personal treasure that he was threatening to steal. "That man is a gift and I, for one," he continued, breathing in deeply. "Am honored that he accepts the reality of the world as it is."

Raylan started to move, one foot at a time, trying to force Quarles to move with them.

"Don't matter what you think the world is, you're not going to be seeing him anytime soon."

Quarles laughed. "Where do you think they'll put me, Raylan?"

Hazel eyes darted to Malcolm. Is this normal?

"Right next to what, your new step daddy? Got the adoption papers filled out yet? I know some folks who might object."

[abrightboy]

"Actually? Funny story," Malcolm related, also moving into the room. "Dr Whitly avoided the federal death penalty because he had a LOT of money and also he never killed kids. I'm reasonably sure you don't meet either of those criteria. But 'he was a gift'? I can see why he gave you the time of day. He does love being worshipped."

[tinstar]

Quarles's glanced at both men as they moved, more worried about the Marshal and his gun than Malcolm and his barbs by the way his eyes returned and lingered on Raylan before taking back to shifting between them, his knife trading hands so that when he spun back around to better keep both the men in his sight, the blade was still pointing towards Malcolm.

"People only looked at the fact that he murdered, not why. Not for what. Not for the art of it." Quarles's eyes lit up, like he had an idea. "You two get to be my lucky audience!"

Raylan was more focused on the kid than the monologuing. He couldn't have been more than 8 or 9, and his sandy hair was a mess with sweat, dirt, and blood. Raylan wouldn't be surprised if a homicide of his parents were later reported.

"You know how I hate to miss a show but if you think we're doing anything other than you putting that knife down, you're sadly mistaken," he replied cooly.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considered him for a moment.

"You want to talk about his art? Sure. Nobody knows more about it than I do. Let's talk about it. Which one was your favourite?"

Quarles side-eyed him a moment. "My favourite?"

"You're into his 'art', you must have a favourite. Some of them were just straight up experiments on how adaptable the human body is, but some of them were all about the aesthetic. Like the time he butterflied a man's ribcage while he was still alive to display his internal organs as they worked?"

Quarles eyes narrowed and he stepped away from the child. To surrender? It looked possible, but suddenly he grabbed Malcolm and pulled him in front of himself, as much a shield as a hostage, the blade to his throat.

"What do you think he would do to you?" Quarles growled.

"Oh, chloroform was his favourite for me," Malcolm retorted, his voice a little tight from the arm restraining him around the neck.

"What are you TALKING ABOUT?" Quarles shouted in his ear, looking up at Raylan, his eyes a little frantic. "You stay back. I'm watching you. I will cut his throat. DON'T FUCKING TEST ME!"

[tinstar]

"QUARLES," Raylan cautioned loudly as Malcolm was snatched into Quarles's grip, a half step scuffed forward.

"You got any idea who you're holding there? Hmm?" Raylan asked, eyebrows hiking up. "I doubt your little acceptance fantasy gets very far after the good Doc learns you threatened to kill his son. You got one chance to end this the easy way."

Quarles glanced over at what he could see of Malcolm's face, arm tightening around him. "I'll finish what he-" The blade had begun to just barely skate over Malcolm's throat before Quarel's eye was replaced with a bloody hole. The kid screamed behind his gag and upstairs, the doors opened loudly with Art, Rachel and Tim arriving with a 'RAYLAN!'

Downstairs, Raylan watched the now crumpled body bleed out, eyes lit like fires as his gun lowered. There was a hardness about it that kept the cowboy in something of a trance before the whimper of the kid snapped him out of it. Hazel eyes came back to Malcolm's as Raylan holstered his gun and started untying the kid.

"You okay?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm flinched a little at the sound of the shot, much louder in the confines of the basement. He felt Quarles' body peel away from him as it fell and turned around to look at it. He didn't notice the spatter on his temple and forehead or the small cut on his neck where Quarles had only just started to move the blade. He looked at the body for a moment, then turned when Raylan asked if he was okay. He nodded, running his hands down the front of his suit.

"Yeah," he said, straightening his tie. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked over at the other hostage and went to untie him. "You're safe now," he told the boy firmly. "You're safe."

[tinstar]

Raylan's expression seemed to question that, but getting the kid ungagged and untied was the priority. The kid was more than happy to be let go, quietly sobbing with a panic that finally got to have a release as Raylan got to the last leg anchor.

"DOWN HERE," he yelled up at his team, bringing the three of them down, all with their guns drawn. "It's okay," Raylan echoed Malcolm to the kid. "We're the good guys. We're gonna get you taken care of." As soon as Rachel was on the landing, Raylan was lifting his chin expectantly as she stepped over Quarles's body with a questioing look.

"Just couldn't wait, could you," she said, giving him a look before giving a sympathetic smile towards the boy. "Hey honey," she said, squatting down. "My name is US Marshal Rachel Brooks but you can call me Rachel.."

With the kid taken care of, Raylan stepped around them and over to Malcolm, tilting his head a little to see the cut before nodding and putting his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get upstairs and call Gil."

"Goddamnit Raylan," Art protested. "You weren't supposed to kill him." Raylan shrugged a little. "Whoops."