Bad guy

Carson stops halfway down the hall and turns around as he hears Misty start to defend him. His eyebrow raises slightly at her words, perhaps not surprised at her emotions, but not used to this kind of display.

A strange new anger rises inside of him for the need of defending himself, let alone the need for Misty to do the same. This whole thing was just stupid. Maybe he should have just gone back to the Agency, or let Jason leave him for dead. It would have been a whole lot easier.

As Misty heads away, Carson looks after her, then back at Reese.

Reese’s face was red from stress, trying to figure out what on earth was going on, and how to react. He just needed time to think…time to sort this out, and having these two wandering around wasn’t helping any. “Carson. In your cell. Now.”

Carson can’t believe he’s being ordered around like this. He said he was going, yet Reese insisted on insulting him by telling him again. Reese had paid no heed to Misty, and apparently only wanted Carson for answers. Pushed over the edge, he scoffs. “Shove it, Reese.” He spins on his heel and stalks down the hall.

Reese groans and rubs a hand over his face. “What am I supposed to do, Hal? I can’t let this go on!”

Hal shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe Misty’s right. Maybe we need to give Carson a bigger chance than we have.”

“And then what? What if we’re wrong? What if he pulls something stupid?”

“Then I guess Misty will have been proven wrong.” Hal shrugs. “Give him enough rope and he’ll either prove himself or hang himself. At this point I think it’s a risk you’ve got to take unless you want to turn him into the authorities.”

Reese turns his head as they’re interrupted by Katie. “No, you’re fine,” he assures. “What’s up?”


Carson heads downstairs, not even sure why he’s following Misty. He was glad she’d stood up for him, and at the same time, was a little upset.

Entering the rec room, he spies her throwing darts, and just leans on the door frame for a few moments, watching her. Hearing Misty’s words between throwing, a slight grin tweaks the corner of his mouth, though he suddenly finds it hard to find much humor or enjoyment. His harsh reprimands that morning seemed to have spoiled his appetite for humor.

As Misty stands staring at the dartboard, Carson slowly comes up behind her, slipping his arms down over her shoulders in a light hold, and staring at the board over her head. “Looks like one more bloke got a slow and painful death,” he muses.

He sighs deeply and turns Misty around to face him, his eyes penetrating her own. “Forget defending me. What they say doesn’t bother me, and besides, they’re right. You’re risking an awful lot, getting involved with the likes of me.”

Carson’s hands rest on Misty’s shoulders as his fire is slowly dying. “I don’t know how to be the good guy anymore, Misty. All that’s left is the bad guy, and I don’t know that even you can shake it from me.”