Not getting married

Carson gives Katie a nod, but keeps his eyes out the window. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just don't have time to play these games right now."

He's quiet for a moment, but Katie always did seem to have a peaceful affect on people, and for some reason, it loosened Carson's tongue. "I guess maybe some would call me heartless for acting like I don't care about finding out I have a brother." He shrugs. "Guess maybe I just got too much else to think about now. Not to mention, while I don't know that story, it can't be good. My dad was with who knows how many women... and since the rest of us apparently didn't know about a son he'd had, I can only guess that it was known but kept under wraps."

Sighing, he rests his head against the window. "I don't have time to deal with Agency scum, blood relation or not. I don't know him from a hill of beans, so really, I don't care that much. I got enough people hating me. I don't need to dredge up any more ire towards me."

Saying that was as good as admitting that Ryder's hate bothered him. As it did. He sighs again. Rocky had reminded him that he'd done his job. He was a soldier, and needed to be a good one. Killing a man to save the lives of others hadn't been his old self coming back - it had simply been his wisdom in his job. But Ryder's hate still didn't feel good, and it still made him question himself.

Carson rolls his eyes and straightens in his seat. "If I get time, I might go see Alec and figure out that whole deal. Reese may think I'm interested, but not now... not while Alec is still uncooperative. I would probably just make things worse."

Arriving to Mom and Pop's, he ends the conversation, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Thanks for the lift, Hero. I'll see you around."

Getting out, he stands on the sidewalk until her car disappears down the street. Was what he'd said really the truth? He figured so. Yes, the thought of a brother was a bit heavy. But he was already letting logic rule with this one.


The day moves on slowly. At TJY, the uncooperative prisoner is left alone for the time being. Those in the infirmary continue to wait with hope. People run here and there, trying to get their jobs done. Two that love each other find themselves at lunch, perhaps timid, but trying to start over, nonetheless. But regardless of circumstance, the day does indeed move on.


“Mr. Banks?”

Carson looks up from the counter after drying a glass, and eyes the business woman. She looked to be in her thirties, was dressed in a pant suit and had shoulder-length dark hair. Carson did not recognize her, and was immediately on guard by the stern tone laced around her British accent. “Yes?”

She steps closer. “You’re a hard man to find.”

Leery, Carson stands a little straighter. “Good. Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” The woman pulls a filing folder from her briefcase and sets it on the counter. “My name is Heather Jones. I’m from the department of social services.”

Carson grows even more on edge, and sets the glass down, throwing the towel over his shoulder. “And?”

Heather stiffens at Carson’s tone. “I have someone who wants to see you.” She sets an open folder down on the counter. Inside were several sheets of paper and a photo of a young girl with long blond hair and bright blue eyes.

Carson cocks his head and looks at the picture. “Cute kid, but…I don’t get it.”

Heather’s face grows slightly smug. “This is Mackenzie Nelson. She’s your daughter.”

Carson’s eyes snap up, the shock written all over his face. “Excuse me?”

“Your daughter, Mr. Banks.”

“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but I don’t have a daughter.”

“Would you be willing to bet on that?”

Carson can feel the heat rising to his face. He didn’t know if he’d be willing to bet on that or not…there were too many times…too many he couldn’t necessarily have been a hundred percent on the outcome. “You got proof?”

Heather leans on the counter, growing even more perturbed. “We can do a test if you want, if photos, names, and a mother’s word aren’t satisfactory to you.”

Carson swallows hard. “Who is she?”

“Was. June died about a year ago.”

Carson wracks his brain and suddenly his face goes from red to white. “June Nelson.”

“That’s right.” Heather holds a slight grin. “Surprise.”

Irritated, Carson looks back at her, his eyes narrowing. “And you bring this here to mock me?”

Heather grows stern. “No. Mackenzie has gone through a number of foster families in just the last year, and during that time, she’s started hunting, with a passion, for her real father.”

“So? A lot of kids want to know their real parents.”

“Mackenzie isn’t just some kid, Mr. Banks. Her own record is flagged because of the trouble she’s been in foster care since she got this notion in her head to find you.”

“Trouble?”

“She’s a constant runaway. A month ago, she sneaked out a third story window and hiked ten miles to a bus depot. She got all the way to the airport before security called the police. Apparently she was heading for Australia.”

A grin forms before Caron can stop it. Not having digested everything yet, he couldn’t help the slight humor. It sounded like something he’d do.

“This is not funny, Mr. Banks,” Heather chides.

Carson’s annoyance returns. “So now what? You’re giving up? Giving in to her?”

Heather rolls her eyes. “What I want is for her to come see you and realize just what she’s been looking for. Realize the foolishness, and realize that this family that’s been taking care of her, that wants to adopt her, is where she belongs.”

Understanding sets in. “Oh. I see.” Carson nods. “You, uh, want her to see what a bad guy her father is, she’ll be repulsed… disappointed, but she’ll get over it, remembering only the repulsion, and she’ll move past this little… phase she’s in.”

Heather’s eyes narrow. “You do have a few brains.”

“What gives you the right to judge my character?”

“Mackenzie’s record isn’t the only one flagged, Mr. Banks. You have quite the record yourself.”

“And…being a social worker, you immediately saw that I was not the fatherly type.”

“I’d hardly say the carousing, drinking, murdering and law-breaking were father-like, would you?”

Carson grits his teeth. “Look. I’ll agree with you. I don’t want a kid, nor would I want to play the part of a father. But don’t go around judging me for a colorful past when you’re not perfect yourself.”

Heather bristles. “Alright, Mr. Banks. Enough small talk. My goal here is to put a stop to Mackenzie’s vivid imagination and ridiculous hope for a fairytale ending. Apparently her mother filled her mind with stories of quite the nice and caring Carson Banks. I…”

Carson cuts her off. “How did she end up in the States?”

“June moved here shortly after Mackenzie was born. They were both US citizens and Mackenzie was raised in Arizona.”

“Where is she now?”

“Still in Arizona – where my department is.”

“And you want me to…”

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Heather responds sharply. “I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you?” She pauses, seeing the mixture of emotions on Carson’s face. “No, I am prepared to bring Mackenzie here to meet you, then promptly return with a little girl ready to move on.”

“Your form of punishment?” Carson’s eyes drift downward, staring at the small photo. “She doesn’t look like she’s ten.”

“She was born prematurely, lucky to have even survived. She’s always been small for her age.”

“Oh.”

Heather slaps the filing folder shut. “Now, am I going to get your cooperation or not?”

Shutting down for the time being, Carson takes his towel and starts to wipe off the counter. “I can’t stop you from bringing her.”

“You don’t even want to meet her, do you?”

“Nope.”

Heather’s smug look returns. “Looks like I profiled you correctly. You just sit tight, Mr. Banks and don’t leave town. I’ll be in touch about setting up a day.” She places the folder back into her brief case, then slides a business card towards him. “Good day.”

Carson looks up as she turns to leave, his eyes remaining on her until she’s left the restaurant. He picks up the card and looks at it for several moments before stuffing it into his pocket.

Swallowing hard, he tries to go back to his work and ignore the strange feelings that were trying to seep into his heart. He had a daughter? That thought in itself seemed impossible, not to mention feeling just a tad bit terrified. He hadn’t been lying to Heather. He was no where near the fatherly type. Wouldn’t it just do more harm than good to bring Mackenzie here? Well, most likely Heather was right. Once Mackenzie saw who he was and talked with him, her bubble would be burst and she’d return to Arizona a little more mature.

The more Carson tried to work, the faster his mind ran. It took him back so many years before when he was still in Australia. He remembered June. It had been quite a short-lived relationship. They’d split. He’d heard nothing after that, clueless that she’d even been pregnant, let alone with his child. …His child…why that drove fear into him, he didn’t know, but he didn’t like it. This was all ridiculous. Mackenzie apparently had a good family who was trying to take care of her… there was no need to bring him into the mix. He didn’t want to meet her…he didn’t want to see her…he just wanted to forget. He was trying to move on from his past, not keep digging it up. This only added more restrictions to his life.

Unable to concentrate on anything, Carson finally tells Herb he’s taking off early, without even asking. Leaving abruptly, he speaks to no one.


Ryder lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling from the couch. He hadn't had supper. He didn't really know what to get. Laura wasn't home yet. Katie wasn't home yet. He'd bummed a ride back here with Wyatt after being at Scott's for a while. And now... it was just quiet... except for Henry's purring.

Ryder runs his fingers through the soft fur. "What's up, ay? Your mistress will be home soon. Better not let her catch you loving up to someone else. "

His eyes roam to the television. Nothing good was on tonight. He didn't know what kind of movie he was in the mood for. A walk would be nice, but he didn't know his way around. And again, a pang of loneliness hits him.


"Axel come on, you cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!" Axel laughs and moves his car forward on the Life game. "I can't help it that I landed on becoming a lawyer."

"Yeah, yeah." Liz rolls her eyes, then spins the wheel for her own number. She had convinced Axel, Jess and Nick to play with her that evening, so all four were sitting at the little table in the basement.

It only takes a few more minutes into the game for Axel's car to approach the first stop sign.

"Aww," Nick teases. "Axel's getting married." A mischievous glint comes to his eyes and he gives a quiet sing-song tone, ready to sing about being in a tree and kissing. "Axel and Jeeeoooo ow!" His eyes widen, looking at Axel across the table, having just gotten a kick to the shin. "What was that for?"

"Opening your mouth." Axel grabs a blue peg instead of a pink one, and sets them in his car as a passenger. "I'm on a camping trip.... with... Rocky."


It’s late. Too late for anyone to be out at night if good intentions were present. Carson sits in a booth at Mom and Pop’s, the restaurant quiet and empty. He was the only person there, the only sounds coming from those on the street. He'd talked with no one. He'd skunked Misty for dinner. And he felt miserable.

An empty shot glass sits on the table, twirling between Carson’s fingers. An open whiskey bottle sits several inches away, open, and waiting to be poured. It had been waiting for over an hour.

The battle within was one of the most intensive Carson had ever experienced. Any other time, he would have given in at least thirty minutes ago. But this time it was different. This time his urge to make the right choice was much stronger than it ever had been. Yet the bottle still sat. Still open. Still waiting for the moment he would falter.

Without warning, the shot glass goes flying across the room, shattering as it hits the wall, sending bits of glass scattering over the floor. Carson’s hand wraps around the bottle - his glare if made of heat would have boiled the liquid.

His other hand reaches down into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. And without allowing himself time to reconsider, he dials. “Misty?” His voice is strained. “I’m at Mom and Pops… I need you… please?”