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]

He grunted, huffing a smile with the sound as he pushed to his feet. Malcolm's morning person personality should have been tedious but Raylan still found it endearing, despite his disagreement with the sentiment in general.

"Mm good," he said, ambling to meet Malcolm halfway and taking his phone to key in his password and stop the alarm. With that done, his off hand reached for Malcolm and pulled him in with a smile. "Shower first, then I'll be ready."

He pressed a kiss to Malcolm's lip before stepping forward, letting his fingers drag across Malcolm's side for a second over his shirt before walking away. Ten minutes later, Raylan came back, less dressed than he had the morning before, with his jeans clinging around his hips and his hair wild and damp.

"Can't seem to get used to taking shit in with me," he admitted with a self deprecating huff as he fished out clean jeans and a pair of black underwear, grey trim, changing in them right there in Malcolm's living room.

What was the point of going back into the bathroom? What they'd done hadn't changed everything, but it had changed that.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiled into that kiss, leaning into his body before it trailed away from him into the shower.

While Raylan was changing, Malcolm took a plate down from the cupboard and a set of utensils, neatly wrapped in a linen napkin and gold napkin ring from the drawer, and set them on the island, then pressed the plunger down on the french press.

"Coffee?" he offered, glancing over as Raylan tugged his underwear up over his ass.

[tinstar]

"Please," he replied, stepping into his jeans and pulling them up before following with a clean undershirt that he seemed to wear under everything. Overshirt, socks and shoes could wait until after coffee. As he came over to the island, he lifted his eyebrows at the layout of fancy napkin, notedly the gold ring.

"Feel like I'm at a Four Seasons or something." It was strange but he didn't mind. "What's for breakfast?" His phone chipped with a text and he picked it up, smirking.

"Art assumes that I have been 'Eaten alive by the elite' but that if I haven't, I'd better not be late or they're leaving me here. The ride back is gonna be fun," he said, the last with a bit of sarcasm.

[abrightboy]

"That isn't quite what happened last night," Malcolm quipped with a tilt of his head before turning to the oven and taking the aluminum tray of pancakes and sausages out, setting it on the counter in front of Raylan's plate. "Have as much as you want," he assured the Marshal. "I won't have any."

He poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of Raylan.

"The only text I got this morning was from my sister. She said 'if you're not up to what mom thinks you're up to, you should be: he's hot.'"

He took a sip of coffee, watching Raylan over the top of his cup.

[tinstar]

Raylan looked at Malcolm from under his eyebrows, face curled and lined in amusement. Not quite, indeed. He hummed a note, finding himself growing more comfortable with his eating without Malcolm eating too, enough so that he had no problem helping himself to what Malcolm had definitely ordered.

The recount of Ainsley's text made Raylan crook a grin. "Well I'm glad to have her approval I suppose," he said with a half laugh in his words as he cut into his food, off hand pulling the coffee closer. "I suppose it's none of my business what you tell them but.." The glance he gave Malcolm had hope of Malcolm's modesty in it.

"I think they can be spared the details, hmm?" He knew Malcolm wasn't the type to give sordid details and smirked at him over a bite.

[abrightboy]

"As far as anyone's concerned, we're colleagues and we finished a case," Malcolm assured him.

Apart from not wanting to put Raylan in a difficult situation, he also didn't want to hear the questions from everyone about how he was doing and if he'd heard from Raylan and condolences about the distance and did he think they were going to see each other again. He wanted to savour the night for what it was and not listen to the world's commentary on it.

He stepped to the fridge and glanced around inside it. "Plain yogurt," he exclaimed, taking the container out. "Why not? It feels like a bit of an occasion."

He peeled the lid off and grabbed himself a spoon.

[tinstar]

He appreciated that, silently so and with only a faint nod before he shoved another bite into his mouth. There was the passing faint look of guilt as he did so but Raylan couldn't change the knots in him as much as he could stop his divorce.

"What a bright Tuesday morning," he quipped, secretly hoping he was the cause for the feeling of occasion.

"I get the feeling that your family isn't just 'anyone'." Which was to say, maybe he didn't mind so much if Malcolm was honest with his family, but he could understand the many reasons why Malcolm wouldn't. "Just 'cause I can't be..." His jaw worked, eyes making their way back down to his plate, some harsh internal accusations getting flung at himself as he struggled to push through. "Doesn't mean you can't be."

With the last, Raylan's eyes came back up to Malcolm's. "We're realists, you and I. Can you really lie to your mother like that?" And it wasn't to speak to Malcolm's defection skills but more to Jessica's intuition.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm ate a small bite of yogurt and looked up at Raylan.

"I don't lie to my mother," he said glibly. "I just don't answer her at all."

After another bite, he stuck his spoon in the yogurt and looked at Raylan again. "I don't want everyone to ruin it with their hamfisted attempts at trying to force me into what they think will make me happy. I don't want to see their pity-eyes when they ask if I've heard from you because they're assuming I haven't. I don't want to answer their questions about where I see this going because they think if I don't get somewhere with this, I won't get anywhere." He leaned forward. "I'm happy with things just being what they are. Telling people about it is just inviting pressure that I do not need and I don't think you need it either."

He picked up his spoon and poked at the yogurt thoughtfully and then looked at Raylan with a soft smile.

"It was a great night. Thank you."

[tinstar]

Same thing, different wrapper, and not answering invited it's own assumptions.

Once Malcolm was done, Raylan nodded mutely. He felt rebuked somehow, and felt it best to busy himself with the breakfast, unable to come up with anything other than quiet acceptance. The polite 'Thank you' at the end, despite the soft smile, felt like a stern steel cap on things, and Raylan could manage an expression of 'Your welcome, but the words wouldn't ever pass his lips.

"The food is good; where'd you order it from?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watched his face change. All the easy openness closed off, door by door.

"I said something wrong," he observed, rather than answering the question. He put his spoon down. "What did I say?"

[tinstar]

"You didn't," he assured, with a wholly true and convincing lift of eyebrows and directness of his gaze once it lifted up from his plate. "Only that I know how sharp your family is, and I've heard about siblings and Ainsley," so otherwise indicated by the gesture of his fork, "Is intuitive enough to circumvent your best attempts. Your mother anticipated last night before it happened, and your sister was easily on board. But I understand why you're going to attempt what you're going to."

Malcolm had a freedom that Raylan didn't, was all, and he was trying to be an unintrusive gentleman about it.

"I can't say anything to how you handle them. It's safer to ask about the food."

[abrightboy]

"You can, actually, say whatever's on your mind. I'd prefer it. You have a different perspective than I do. Maybe you'll see something I don't."

And Malcolm liked him probably an ill-advised amount. More than was probably safe for his heart. Raylan was grounded and practical and smart. His thoughts could only be helpful.

[tinstar]

Raylan was a Marshal, nearly 20 years at this point and despite the upset of sharp elitism teeth on his mannerisms, he'd learned to read people and situations rather well. The Whitly's in whole were no exception.

"They're gonna find out," he reasoned. "And I'm not saying roll out with banners and post it in the New York Times, but your mother and sister are going to assume the lewdest. It's better to give them a breadcrumb and the truth of whiskey, the idea of spontaneous ideas, than let them let them run wild with their assumptions, considering their interest and loving harassment of you." Raylan fixed him with a serious gaze.

"They want you happy; there's nothing wrong with that and if what I've seen is any indication, you're better off giving them a slightly satisfactory grain of truth rather than denying it completely and letting them pick you apart."

"But that's just my view from over here."

[abrightboy]

Interesting. Malcolm gave that serious consideration, his spoon dangling from his fingers like a pendulum.

"That's probably the best approach," he conceded.

He looked over at Raylan again with a chipper "Thanks!" and took a bite of yogurt.

He saw Raylan's cup getting low and leaned over to top it up.

[tinstar]

"You'll choose what's best," Raylan continued with his stubborn surety and distance from the issue with a soft thank you as Malcolm topped off his coffee, equally dark eyes watching Malcolm's face as he did so.

He didn't trust the chipper, despite Malcolm's enthusiasm. Raylan kept his eyes on Malcolm as he took another bite and processed it.

"You can call me, if you want. And the food is good."

[abrightboy]

Raylan's instincts were good, but Malcolm had known what the situation was before things went anywhere the night before and he was determined to be as okay with it as he'd promised to be. He did not want Raylan leaving with any guilt or regrets. He didn't want guilt or regret to be the emotion that rushed to the surface if Malcolm texted him.

"It's from a ma and pop place just down the street," he said. "People rave about it." He took a bite of yogurt before his eyes found Raylan's face again. "And I'd like that," he said, his expression completely devoid of any pretence designed to shield either of them. He was open now. Vulnerable. "To talk to you sometimes."

[tinstar]

He cut another bite and ate it with a faint nod of his head, eyes coming back to Malcolm's in the lull between comments and when Raylan curled his soft smile again, there was no tense opinion in it.

"You've already got my number saved, clearly, so we're ahead, aren't we." It would be okay.

Raylan cleared the rest of his plate and leaned back a little as he pulled his cup close again. "I will miss good breakfasts, I can say that." Well, he'd miss more than that, but he couldn't say that. "Do you have a time you have to be in the office?"

[abrightboy]

He huffed a laugh at the note that he'd saved Raylan's number. He'd been pleased to hear from him the other day. Very pleased.

At the question, he shook his head. "We finished your case. Gil hasn't given me another one. I'm basically on call and... he hasn't called."

Which meant he'd have to find something to occupy his thoughts once Raylan left. Maybe he'd go see Gabrielle.

"Do you have to pick the others up from their hotel?"

[tinstar]

It had been a chance, reaching out at all. Raylan hadn't expected Malcolm to keep his number, to say the least. But he was glad he had.

Nodding, Raylan slid off the stool and finished his coffee. "Yeah. But I figure if I leave at 9:15, I can get to their hotel by ten." He fiddled with his cup, lingering a little before he decided to deal with his socks and boots. "Gives me enough time to let breakfast settle."

And gave him enough time to say goodbye even if it felt like they were trying to stall that clock.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watched him move from the stool, watching the play of muscle under his undershirt, watching his face, watching his fingers fidget the coffee cup.

He gestured to the french press.

"Do you want me to make some more coffee?" he offered, pushing his yogurt away.

[tinstar]

Raylan gave him a passing smile of graciousness that played on his lips as he continued. "I'm good, but thanks. If I ever have a permanent place to stay again, I might have to get one." Standing, Raylan pulled out an over shirt and slung it on before buttoning it most of the way up and tucking it in before he was looking over at Malcolm again with the last adjustments.  

"Might have to talk you into delivering your favorite kind." His smile threatened to broaden a little as he came to collect his holstered gun off the counter-top. "What do you do here alone, when you're not working?"

He wasn't leaving immediately, and he still had to collect the tux that they'd stripped off last night, and decide if he was taking it with him or not.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm pushed his own french press across the counter. "Why don't you take this one," he said. "I can literally pick up another one this afternoon. It'll give me something to do. Mostly I try to distract myself when I'm here alone. Listen to music. Yoga. Read. Walk around the neighbourhood."

Look at the phone. Hope Gil calls with a case. Go to the station and beg Gil for a case. But he didn't want to look too hopeless.

"Sometimes I stop by to see my therapist."

He gestured to the french press. "Let me get you the coffee grounds that go with it," he said, getting up to go to one of the cupboards.

[tinstar]

At the push, Raylan was already shaking his head but he let Malcolm finish as he slipped his hat on and ambled over to Malcolm's side of the island. When Malcolm went to get up, Raylan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him with a fond curl of his smile.

"This all implies I have anything more than a bathroom sink." He was basically living out a gym bag. "It's getting better use here, trust me," he continued with a pat on Malcolm's shoulder as he eyed his tux jacket from last night and went to fetch it. "I think I ought to leave the tux here. The garment bag doesn't fit in mine and Tim will have a hayday with it."

Raylan ambled back towards Malcolm's side. "If the tailor won't take it back, maybe you can mail it to me?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm glanced over. The hand on his shoulder did ground him and dial back the manic that was just bubbling up. He followed Raylan with his gaze to the tux jacket and tie draped over his stairs as the other man picked them up.

He was unexpectedly a little sad that Raylan wasn't going to take anything with him, but he did seem like the sort of man to travel light.

"It's custom," he said. No returns. "I'll mail it."

[tinstar]

He nodded, draping it over the counter. There was a little of his own disappointment, but it might have been for the better. Sentimentality got Raylan into trouble. Just ask Gary, the realtor that Winona left Raylan for. Raylan was hard to get rid of completely.

There was a tension left in him as he looked over Malcolm's face as he wrestled with himself internally and he nodded again, stepping over to collect his duster jacket and slip it on, taking a few extra seconds to turn his collar down. He wanted to say thank you, he wanted to kiss Malcolm goodbye, he didn't want to leave at all, but they both had things to do. Lives to live.

With resolution, Raylan walked over and picked up his bag, putting on as warm a smile as he can as he straightens and makes his way back over to Malcolm.

"You were right, earlier, about last night. It was great." His eyes said everything else that he couldn't.