Burned

Carson keeps his eyes down, unable to look up at Herb as he receives the offer. He didn't know whether he should be insulted or grateful. He felt both. First he'd been humiliated enough to have to call Nate for a ride...now to have Herb offer the back room... He didn't understand why they would do these things, and he didn't know the right way to respond.

Prepping some food, he finally glances over to Herb, the pain in his face a good reminder as to the reality he'd been getting himself into. "Thanks...Herb..."

As he busies himself around the kitchen, he can't keep his mind from wandering back over everything since he'd started getting involved with the group from the Bullseye. One game...one stupid card game and he'd been hooked. One night...one stupid night with Velvet and he'd been sucked into that life. One time...one stupid time that he'd let himself be blind to his own blunder and he'd been left in the cold.

He certainly didn't feel like the Carson Banks he used to know. Where was his confidence? Where was the determination? Misty. Where was the attitude that no one could walk on? He should be able to handle this. Why couldn't he just turn his back on the world like he'd done so many times before? Misty. Why couldn't he forget about caring about what everybody else wanted out of him, and take care of number one like he always had?

It hits him again, just as it had the other night in Vegas. He couldn't do those things because he wasn't the old Carson Banks. He wasn't the assassin Banks. He wasn't the hard core, heck-raising, free spirit. He wasn't the Agency villain. He wasn't the money hungry, woman hungry, blood thirsty Carson that made the innocent quake. He wasn't the tormentor or torturer. Not anymore.

He remembers how it felt so long ago to realize all that he'd done. So desperate and so lost between worlds, he'd tried to take his own life, showing his true cowardice. He remembers the hard journey to the right side, battling the craving for Agency action, and paying for mistakes by losing things most important to him.

And now...he'd slipped up. He'd gotten a taste of what he used to know, and the craving had started all over again. Drinking...smoking...women...lies... The list went on. He didn't even know why he'd started down that path in the first place. But because he'd done so well playing the good guy, to conform completely to the old side...to his old self...he'd have to give up on the right and wrong he'd learned...he'd have to give up on the law-abiding that he'd learned to obey. And he couldn't do it.

No longer could he be the old Carson Banks. The assassin was long gone. But no longer was he the new Carson Banks either. He was stuck at some miserable place in between, being pulled in opposite directions, without the will to bend to either side. Riding the fence was a skill...but he was starting to fall.

Carson's hand snaps back away from the stove as he burns his fingers, and a curse slips out, muttered under his breath. Sucking on the new wound, he tries to get his head back where it was supposed to be.


Kyle looks up from his writing and grins as Misty approaches. At her questions and assumptions about how he feels, he has to shrug, showing that yeah, he didn't feel the greatest.

As she reveals the ice cream, his smile widens, enjoyment sparkling in his eyes. Setting his glasses up on his head, he takes his treat and dips in the spoon. Sucking off a bite, he gives a big sigh of satisfaction and mouths the words, "Thank you" to her.

Spying the books that she has, and hearing her idea, Kyle can't help but laugh. Though silent, his shoulders shake, his smile proving that it wasn't that he thought it was silly, rather he was amused and pleased with the idea.

Setting his ice cream aside, he takes one of the books and flips through it, scanning the illustrations. Still grinning, he looks up at Misty and gives her a thumbs up. Turning back to his paper and pen, he tears out a sheet of the notepad and scribbles on it. "I know someone who knows this stuff - I've seen them do it. Why didn't I think of this? You're too smart for me."

Handing it to her, his quirky grin remains as he takes another bite of ice cream. His eyebrows suddenly raise as he thinks of something, and he goes for the book again, finding the alphabet. Pointing to himself first, he makes out his name, K-y-l-e. Next he points to Misty, and finds the right letters, M-i-s-t-y. His silliness coming through, he pounds his chest to illustrate Tarzan before rolling his eyes at himself and shutting the book so he can finish his ice cream and before he can think up anything else stupid to do.

Settling back down a little, he goes for the paper he's been writing on, and willingly shows it to Misty, even though it's incomplete. It wasn't often that he shared incomplete writings, but this time he didn't mind.

The wind, it carries me far from here,
Far to a place unknown.
Where my heart is free,
My soul complete.
Take me there, oh take me there.

The voice, it whispers in my ear,
It beckons me to come.
Where the sun is warm,
The sky's all blue.
Take me there, oh, take me there.

It's in my heart, this place undiscovered.
It's in my mind, hidden from view.
It's in my soul, where I venture together,
With hope that I might see it.

The sounds, they carry me towards the hills,
Far beyond my reach.
Where no lies are there,
Love is pure.
Take me there, oh take me there.

The breath of air, it calls to me,
Fresh on summer's end.
It...