tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Art was suspicious right off the bat when Raylan took a week off with the express note that his phone would be Out Of Order til the next Monday, but the Chief Marshal wasn't going to look gift horses in the mouth. Not when it suggested he'd have a few days of peace, until Raylan caved to turning his phone back on again. Still, he watched the younger Marshal walk out of the office and promised himself to check into the state of Harlan within 3 days to make sure that the place wasn't on fire. The smoke would reach him before he called, he was sure.

But Art didn't have much to worry about - Raylan had no plans on staying in the state for his vacation, beyond one day spent closing up Arlo's and securing it the best way he could before getting on a plane to New York City. He wanted to surprise Malcolm - it'd been near two months since they'd last seen each other and frankly, Raylan was tired of missing him. They'd called and texted, stayed in a fairly consistent, if odd houred, touch but it wasn't the same.

Once he landed, Raylan rented a car and navigated his way towards Malcolm's apartment, stopping to grab a bouquet of flowers. It was.. Extra, but Raylan didn't want to show up empty handed, just in case. Thirty minutes later, Malcolm's door buzzer was being hit, like Raylan was here to deliver something. Well, he was, but that was half the fun.

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Jeremy was lucky Raylan was in a decent mood, because he fully planned on stuffing the man back into the trunk. But maybe the threat of shooting him had garnered them enough time to get to where they were going before that had to happen.

Raylan didn't really wanna shoot people, but they made him.

"Less than, I promise ya," he said with a subtly dangerous edge to his voice.

He made it there in 15, only slowing down so that he didn't skid into the parking lot. Instead of parking underground or in the garage, Raylan chose his normal spot, next to the Marshal's entrance.

"Alright, everyone out." He'd get out and tend to Jeremy, with a tighter grip on his arm than he had before. If he was concerned about the signs of abuse on the man, he didn't show it.

He wasn't concerned.

Once in the building, Raylan was able to give Jeremy over to the booking cops who'd take the wild bastard over for them and with an adjustment of his hat, Raylan was happy to see the back of the man.

"Well, at least I didn't have to shoot him," he started as he looked at Malcolm.

"That instability is how he snapped to take a life in the first place," Malcolm noted. He glanced around. "What's next?"

Usually, after the case, Malcolm was sent home until the next one they decided they needed him for. He looked at Raylan. "I can help with the paperwork."

"Good because you gotta make a statement too, detail out how it all went, you know the drill. The rest of the team'll be back in not too long, maybe an hour. We get done right, we might be able to skip out and miss them," he said as he ambled them towards the Marshal's office that Malcolm was familiar with.

Them and the questions that they'd inevitably have.

"That's what we want to do?" he clarified. "Miss them?"

He'd have kind of liked to get to know Raylan's friends, but he was also aware of how precarious a situation they were in. "I can keep it concise," he said. "If we miss them, can we go home?"

"You like 'em, don't you?" he guessed as he opened the door into the offices and walked in, nodding in greeting at the few people that were there.

"But yeah, after the paperwork, that's where we're headed." It was already coming on three, what with all the driving they'd had to do and the chase into the hollar. Definitely a full days work.

"I don't mind missin' 'em, but if you've got questions or anything for them.." He could linger, take a little less time on the paperwork.

He did like them, insofar as they seemed interesting and competent and decent and he conceded that with a tilt of his head at the question.

"No, no," he said quickly to the offer. "I mean, my interest in them is... technically more of an interest in you, if I'm honest. I'd like to go home. We can stop and get something for the grill on the way. I'm willing to try my hand," he offered as they drew near Raylan's desk.

"A study in how Southerners mess with each other? I see what you're after," he teased as he took his hat off to set it on the printer before sitting down in his chair and pulling open his desk drawer to rifle through the small stack of papers there.

"What happened to Chinese?" He glanced at the chair at Rachel's desk. "We can sit here or in the conference room. Conference room is probably better."

"Conference room," Malcolm agreed. He could sit across from Raylan. Nobody would be walking by to overhear them talking. "And we got back here fairly early, so I thought it might be nice to have a barbeque that didn't have the pall of my family's problems hanging over it."

He'd returned to New York missing Raylan bitterly. It was different when he was prepared to leave, even though he never wanted to. Being forced to leave on such short notice had poked his anxiety. He knew they hadn't done it on purpose, but the fact that his mother didn't really approve of him seeing Raylan and that his father wouldn't if he knew, it almost felt like they had.

"I had an idea for a side dish," he said as he slid into a chair at the conference table. "I found this salad online that's basically just fresh green and yellow beans tossed in a light vinaigrette sort of dressing. It sounded...nice." And edible.

With paper and pens, Raylan let them into the conference room, making sure to gently shut the glass door behind them before setting out their paper and settling down in a chair.

"I wouldn't say no to a fresh type salad," he agreed. "Even if you don't do the grillin'. Though I can't say it wouldn't be nice to see." Just for the sake of it.

"We don't even have to bring them up." He started by writing his name. "But I wouldn't be object to hearin' how they are, overall."

"...Really?" he said dubiously. He started working on writing out the profile he had in his head for Jeremy. "Well. My mother is overprotective, my father is remorselessly manipulative and my sister is the toast of her network." He looked up at Raylan and shrugged. "So about as usual."

He curled a smile as his pen started scratching away.

"Well so long as they're not throwin' themselves off anything or nearly gettin' hauled away. I guess that's all we can ask for. What're you thinkin' to go with this salad? Chicken? All's I ask is the next chicken we have is fried. I've got a need but no real drive to do that much work."

"Actually, I was thinking we could get a small package of steaks and a small package of chicken and grill one of each and put the rest in the freezer," he said. "I bought a meat thermometer. I want to grill you a steak."

"Really?" Raylan flashed a grin up at him briefly. He couldn't remember the last time that someone wanted to cook for him. Well, he did, but that was Ava and felt like forever ago already.

"Then I guess we're stoppin'. There's a butcher shop a few blocks away we can hit too, after we get your beans and greens. Better to get it fresh when ya can, ya know... Okay, this is what I'm puttin' down..."

There was a verification of stories and the little details that Raylan already knew far too well, from when they arrived on scene all the way through to the end. The closer they got to it, the doors to the main office opened and spilling through it was Art, Rachel, Tim and the kid. Raylan's pen stopped when he noticed them.

A half second later, Raylan glanced at Malcolm. "Hold tight, I wanna see how the kids doin' and what the plan is for him."

Malcolm nodded, watching him go before rereading his statement and adding a bit more to the end.

A police officer came into the office looking grim, in the meantime, walking over to Art and the Marshals.

"Jeremy Lerner got out of the grasp of the officer putting him in his cell twenty minutes ago and he's holding a cop hostage with a pair of scissors to his neck. He wants to speak to a Malcolm Bright. Apparently he was with you guys this morning?"

Raylan caught what the officer said as he ambled out, brow furrowing heavily at the first half and manging to pinch a little further at the last.

"Jesus." It took him another second before he turned around and walked back to knock on the glass door and jerk his head towards the action. "Y'all can't hold onto one guy?"

Art watched him move. "You gonna take him?"

Raylan bobbed his head in a half nod. "Or do what? Let him cut some innocent kids throat? 'Course I am. Y'all are invited," he added on as an afterthought as he slid his hat onto his head.

They'd come but it was overkill. Supportive overkill, but overkill none the less.

"We got about 15 minutes," Raylan said to Malcolm as they hit the hall with the team in tow, "Before someone calls the SWAT team to put him down. Now I do so hate to let those assholes get their way, but don't be doin' any stupid shit where you're trading your life for the cops. We've got protocols to keep everyone safe, including you, including him."

Malcolm tugged his waistcoat straight and buttoned his jacket before taking a breath and stepping into the room.

"Hey Jeremy," he said brightly. "How's it going?"

"I promised to make you suffer," he spat.

"You did. But you have to know that they won't let that happen in the middle of a police station."

"I trade the cop for you. You take the Marshal's keys and drive his car to where I say."

"It's a reasonably plan," Malcolm said evenly. "But I can't drive." He shrugged expansively, keeping his hands visible. "But I'd be happy to take a walk with you."

Raylan followed Malcolm to the door and in, glancing at the other two cops that had their weapons trained on the guy dumb enough to get himself stuffed into a corner. Clearly, this was his first time taking someone hostage for trade. They already had more access than they normally did.

"You know doin' this only gets you more time, right? Kill him and they'll put you away for life," Raylan added, hand kept propped on his gun. He'd let Malcolm lead as he moved around for a clear line of sight, but he wasn't letting Malcolm do this alone.

"GIVE HIM YOUR KEYS!" Jeremy shouted at Raylan.

"I told you, I can't dr..."

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!"

"Jeremy, the police are going to kill you if you don't just put those scissors down and step away from your hostage. I thought you didn't want to die today."

Jeremy's eyes darted from Malcolm to Raylan and around the room.

Raylan just looked at Jeremy from under the brim of his hat. His stance gave off a general 'no' kinda vibe, of the unmoveable sort. Malcolm already knew what kind of shooting Raylan could do and Jeremy wasn't hidin' nearly enough to stop his bullet.

"You wanna throw your life away, ain't much we can do but watch, but it don't gotta be like that. Your story don't gotta stop here."

And if he was an egomaniac, maybe that would be enough.

"You won't be giving an interview in twenty years if you die here today," Malcolm pointed out in agreement.

Jeremy glared at him and dropped the scissors, putting his hands up.

The cop stumbled away from him as soon as he could and, once the path was clear, Jeremy lunged towards Malcolm.

There were enough free bodies to stop Jeremy; Raylan wasn't going to shoot him, as much as the hot stone in his stomach wanted to fulfill that particular promise. There was no value to this sack of shit.

He and the two deputies in either corner jumped in; Raylan stepping forward in front of Malcolm to punch Jeremy down as the other two grabbed him in his fall and twisted him so he landed on his belly, only to be half tackled by the men.

Raylan looked over his shoulder before walking over and picking up the scissors to hand them to Malcolm handle first.

"Go back to the office with Art and Rachel. Tim and I are gonna stay here, make sure this shitsmear gets into a cell where he belongs."

Malcolm's eyes trailed from Jeremy on the ground, to the scissors now in his hand - which he'd just accepted from Raylan on autopilot - to Raylan's face. It took him half a second to process the instructions.

Jeremy started screaming "MALCOLM BRIGHT! YOU TELL THEM!! TELL THEM WHAT I AM!" He wriggled in their grasp, trying to see the profiler. "MALCOLM BRIGHT!!!" he howled.

Malcolm's attention was pulled there for a moment and then he looked at Raylan again. "Okay," he said easily and turned to find Art and Rachel to follow them out.

His mind was still on the killer and the case and Raylan being in the room with him and he didn't consider that Art and Rachel might have... questions.

Tim stepped in to join Raylan and give Malcolm a way out and Raylan joined him in staring at the psycho on the floor as Art and Rachel escorted Malcolm back to the offices.

"So you're pretty well known up there, huh?" Art asked. "This sorta thing happen often?"

Rachel, for her part, looked subtly interested in the answer as they made their way down the hall.

--

Raylan and Tim waited until the cops had him in cuffs before taking over. If they needed to, they could drag or carry Jeremy down the halls.

"Not a lotta luck today, huh," Tim asked dryly of their still trashing prisoner that was held evenly and tightly between the two men's grasps.

Malcolm huffed a brief laugh.

"It's not a New York thing, it's a serial killer thing," he assured them. "I did most of my work with them out of the FBI's DC office, but since I was sort of the resident expert on this...niche subject, I chased them all over the country. My last case with them was Claude Springer. The Cedar City Butcher? He pickled his victims faces and kept them in jars. I wouldn't say this kind of thing happens 'often', though. I mean. Okay, John Watkins - the Junkyard Killer - shackled me in a basement and stabbed me in an attempt to turn me into a killer like him, but that was an outlier."

---

Jeremy struggled all the way to the cell, still riled up.

"You dumb hicks can't understand what I am. You can't understand what I've done. Bring Malcolm Bright down here. BRING HIM!!"

"Lucky that you came down here then aren't we?"

Rachel had lifted an eyebrow at the telling of John Watkins purposes and all it suggested, but she kept her mouth closed on that for now. Art shifted as he breathed, gut sticking out a little further as they ambled up to the office doors.

"But considerin' how often I see you around my office now, I have a feelin' that that luck might continue."

"Much more than vacations," Rachel quipped. "You must be runnin' up a hellva hotel bill."

--

Raylan smirked at the insult. "Yeah, cause no one's ever killed women before. Real genius. Tell you what's gonna happen. We're gonna put you in a cell and then let the judge throw the book at you. Maybe, if you're real lucky, you'll see him again at trial."

Tim smirked as he hit the button that released the gate to the general cells.

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