Five-card stud

"Hey, Ryan." Tal's small smile remains as he sets his sunglasses up on his head. He leans on the counter and watches her for a moment as she starts the paperwork. "Well, something's wrong with my car."

He pauses then rolls his eyes. "And as I've just demonstrated, I like to state the obvious." He grins and thumbs towards the window. "I don't know what's wrong. Had trouble starting it a few days ago, now it's backfiring and has died on me a few times. Whatever it is, it's more than I know how to fix, so here I am."

He places his keys on the counter. "If you can't get it in today, that's okay - it can stay as long as it needs. I can walk home."


"Alrighty then... your place it is." Ty stands up and gathers up his trash to throw away in the garbage and get a refill on his drink. Ambling back to the table, he checks his watch. "Well, I guess you can take me home and I can ride my bike to your place later."


"Hello, Alec. How are you feeling?"

Alec's eyes slit open groggily to see the doctor looking over his chart. "I'd feel a lot better if you could give me what I really want, and get me off this sedative," he mumbles.

JT smiles and sits down in one of the chairs. "If I did that, it wouldn't be helping you very much, now would it?"

Alec's mouth turns up at the corners. "You like to torture your patients, don't you?"

"Is it me who's doing the torture?" JT glances over the chart again. "It wasn't me who got you on drugs in the first place, nor was it me who said for you to have temper tantrums."

Alec's wrists tug weakly at the handcuffs. Not only did he hurt all over, but he wanted a fix and he wanted it bad. His head was swimming though and he wasn't sure he could get up, even if he were free to go. It didn't stop his bullheadedness though. "Go stick a sock in it."

"Mmm... I would, but I don't have a pair to spare." JT shakes his head. "Despite your bad attitude, your body is taking care of itself. You're healing quite well - better than I expected and much better than most patients would. For that, you can be grateful. If that bullet had been half an inch to the right, you'd be six feet under by now."

"I should be," Alec mutters. "But you and everybody else think you know what's best so you all just take charge of my life instead of letting me do what I want."

JT sighs. He didn't like anyone feeling that way, even if Alec did deserve to die. "We're all just doing our jobs. And whether you believe it or not, some people actually care. Maybe that's a concept you haven't quite grasped yet, but when you do, you'll understand why we saved your life."

"You only saved it so I could go to prison." Alec tugs on the handcuffs again, feeling little to no strength left. Not only was he weakened from his condition, but whatever they were giving him kept him knocked out most of the time, and barely lucid the rest of the time. "And you think that's quality of life?"

"Whether you go to prison or not isn't my job. Keeping you alive is. Take a lesson from your body that's fighting to recover. Maybe there's a reason you survived... maybe there's more here than what you're willing to see." JT stands up and pats Alec's arm. "Keep going like this, and you'll be out of here in no time. I'll be back to check on you later."

Alec grits his teeth as the doctor leaves, then glares at the ceiling. The only thing he felt right now was anger.


Reese groans as he hangs up the phone after speaking with JT. Apparently Alec was still not cooperating with anyone. Would he ever? What was really going on? Why wouldn't he talk? Why was he so angry? Didn't he want to be proven innocent?

Sighing, Reese gets up and wanders across the main floor and heads for the hallway. He had an idea. Maybe it was a lame one, but it was the only thing he had until he resorted to interrogations.

"Dalton?" He pushes the door open without waiting and looks in on his agent. "You wouldn't want to pay a little visit to Alec, would you? Just... see how he's doing? You know, um... maybe see if he'll open up or something?"


Being brought cookies and even milk, Dylan again wasn't completely sure how to respond. Even though he'd been here a while now, the kindness still didn't seem real to him. He'd fought the structure of the ranch for so long, then had nosedived, then had started coming back up again... but what the final result was, he didn't know. It had been a very long time since he'd been able to honestly say he was happy... he didn't really even remember what it was like. He knew Mick and Rosetta were trying their best - he wasn't blind. He knew they were trying to be a family to him and get him to socialize more, be more relaxed and settle into the whole family thing. But it still felt awkward to him. Maybe it was his past... maybe it was what had happened with BJ... maybe it was simply his discovery that he'd been living a rotten life and needed to change. No matter the reason, coming here tonight didn't feel natural, nor was it all that comfortable. He stays anyway though, and accepts the dessert offered.

Nibbling on one of the cookies, he glances at Rosetta. "It's good," he comments softly. It really was. He knew all the cooking he liked around here, and the kind he didn't. He knew which meals to skip and which to show up at, just on the menu or who was cooking.

Mick takes a bite of his own cookie and eyes his son's pensive expression. "I don't think I ever saw a cookie give a man such a furrowed brow."

Dylan looks up quickly and before he realizes it, an oh-so-faint grin tugs at just one corner of his mouth. "I was thinking about food."

Mick chuckles. "Food. I hope it was about good food."

"Mm-hmm." Dylan chews thoughtfully. "I was just thinking when Rosetta helps cook in the dining hall, I always know it'll be good." His cheeks grow just a little warm, realizing he'd spoken without recognizing that Rosetta was right there. He says more to move on. "When Jade is in the kitchen, I always know there will be some odd spices used and the food will have kind of a zing to it. Becky's food is always more simple but really good. And when Rosalynn helps out, there's always extra cheese involved so I know I'll like it."

Mick quirks an eyebrow, his mouth turning up into a smile. He'd had no idea Dylan was so observant. "Anybody's cooking you don't like?"

"Um..." Dylan thinks. "Not really. Unless it's something with spinach or cabbage or something like that." His nose scrunches up a little. "Luke's a good cook too, but when he lets Jim help, you know something will end up burned around the edges. And if the smoke alarm goes off, you know it was probably a short-handed night and Clint was recruited against his will."

Mick laughs outright and shakes his head. "I guess I never paid that much attention. So you think if you didn't see who was there and you were given a plate of food, you could tell who had made it?"

Dylan shrugs, but his tone was confident. "Probably."

"What ever possessed you to keep all that in your head?"

"I dunno." Dylan dunks the latter half of his cookie into his milk. "I got a lot of room in my noggin' that's not being used up by the important stuff I should be retaining." Math was the first thing that came to mind. He'd had tests this week, and he'd wound up with a D+ and mandatory homework with Rosetta - not exactly something he'd been pleased about. As a natural pause in the conversation followed, his eyes roamed almost everywhere but anybody's eyes. They ended up landing on a small shelf of games in the living room where there was at least one deck of cards.

Mick followed his gaze before finishing off his milk. "I'm partial to Texas hold 'em."

Dylan's eyebrows rise. His dad? Poker? He tries to hide his surprise. "You kidding? Five-card stud is the way to go."

Mick grins a little and throws Rosetta a quick glance that said maybe this was the "in" they'd been looking for. "You sound pretty confident."

Dylan shrugs, though there was definitely a challenge in his eye. "I'm alright..."


...It was an hour later and the dining room table was still the center of activity. This time though, the dinner had all been cleared away, leaving a few cans of pop, a deck of cards and a bowl of community pennies to be returned at the end of the game.

Mick still sat in his chair, but he'd long since pulled BJ's chair around right next to his. The boy was too big to sit on his lap anymore, but he made sure BJ could be close enough to see the cards and "help" him play while whispering hints and letting him count the pennies bet.

Dylan sat at the other end of the table, straddling his chair backward and very much into the game. Had he realized he'd finally relaxed? Maybe. But for now, he'd decided to ignore it. Studying his cards, he bets, waits for Mick and when it's time to show hands, he's won yet another round.

Mick laughs and shakes his head. "Why did I even try?"

"I have no idea." Dylan grins and gathers the pennies to add to his growing stash. His peripheral vision keeps an eye on Rosetta while his hand crawls to one of the leftover cookies and slides it closer so he can take a bite. "You sure you wanna keep playing?"

Mick smirks. He yawns and ruffles BJ's hair. "I think somebody probably needs to go to bed."

"Start going to bed this early, it means you're getting old."

"I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about..." Mick realizes the joke, shown not through any smile on Dylan's face, but only the humor dancing in his son's eyes. "Ha...ha. Very funny."

Dylan shrugs and finishes up his cookie. "I should probably go anyway."

"Sure. Leave while you're winning."

"Hate to break it to you, but..." Dylan looks at his pile of pennies. "We could be here a while if you want to come out ahead."

Mick laughs and looks at Rosetta. "I think he has a point."

Dylan almost smiles as he stands up. His eyes drift over to Rosetta too before his gaze drops. "Um... thanks for... supper... and the cookies."