Long days

Gunner keeps his eyes on his computer screen for a few more seconds before turning to look up at Katie. His eyebrows lift slightly, wondering why she was trying to find work on his end of things. Maybe the day was a slow one in other areas.

"Um, well..." He shrugs. "I guess if that's what he said then that's what we should do, huh?" He grins a little and stands, picking up a folder from his desk. Maybe having Katie's help would make the rest of the day go faster. Ever since he'd gotten back from the camping trip, every day seemed too long. All he wanted was a little more time off and a little more time with Bree. Every moment with her was heaven, and he had no problem telling that to anyone, especially since everybody now knew that they were engaged.

"Alright, well, I got a guy in the interrogation room." Gunner heads in that direction, gesturing for Katie to follow. "His name is Kent Brackston. He's got a short list of misdemeanors - nothing serious. However, recently we got word that he's had some contact with the Agency. Kent's a big racer and usually hangs out with that desert racing crowd the cops like to ignore. Apparently at his last race, somebody's car blew up. He was blamed and he's clammed up about it."

Gunner turns the corner and aims down the hall. "Personally, I don't think he's guilty. I think he knows who did it and is covering for them. Might be Agency. Might not. I think Reese wants to eliminate that theory because of people like Eli McKade and his sister who are usually around that crowd - I think he's worried that if there's Agency close by, those two might be in danger."

He shrugs as he reaches the interrogation room. "On the other hand, it could just be some off-base drug dealer or something that needs a kick in the seat and that's all there is to it. Or - I could be wrong and Kent could have blown up the car on purpose. Thankfully, nobody was hurt though."

Stopping at the door, he hands Katie the file. "Take a peek. Right now we're just trying to get him to talk. Wanna come in with me?"


Relief washes over Scott as he sees Dalton's reaction. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he really had been worried that Dalton might not want anything to do with him anymore.

Accepting the handshake, he nods, looking up at his friend. "Been better, but been worse too," he admits. "Sorry I didn't get in to see you sooner. I, um... I've been trying to settle back in, ya know?"

He glances around the office. Not a whole lot had changed. A few things here and there. After all, he'd been gone quite a long time. He was rather surprised not more was different. "So, um..."

He fishes for something to say. Now that he was here...what was he supposed to say? "How... how are things with you?"


Mick gives Stacy a weary but grateful smile. "Thanks. You've done more than I could have asked, and I really appreciate it. If you want to stay here just a little bit longer, I'll go see how Rosetta's doing then come right back and take over again."

...As planned, he does return shortly and resumes his watch in Dylan's room. The next couple days went by in a blur. Only once did Mick have to restrain him, but it wasn't quite as bad as when he'd gotten outside. Settled again, that was the last of the angry outbursts, although his raging fever was hard to beat...

Dylan licks his dry lips and groggily opens his eyes as a cold cloth is being placed on his forehead. He ached all over and felt so hot. Was he awake or asleep? It was rather hard to tell.

Looking up, he brings Mick's face into focus the best he can before closing his eyes again. "I shoulda pulled it," he mumbles.

Mick is sitting on the edge of the bed, and furrows his brow. Was Dylan dreaming or was he awake? It was two in the morning, but time didn't really matter at this point. The last few days had all melted together anyway. "Shoulda pulled what?"

Dylan shakes his head slowly. He felt terrible. "The trigger."

Mick frowns. "What trigger?"

"On the... the gun."

Mick's pulse quickens. Was this the fever talking or was this something serious? "Dyan, what are you talking about?"

Dylan pries open his eyes again, though it hurt just try and focus. "When I was... when I was gone."

"And?"

"And I... I was alone." He swallows hard and shivers. "I was gonna shoot my...myself."

Mick feels as though his heart stops beating completely and it takes all he has not to shake his son further awake so he could know the whole story. Dylan had wanted to use a gun on himself? He'd actually thought about ending his life? Panic fills Mick's gaze, though his voice remains steady. Not only did he need to stay calm for Dylan, but Rosetta was trying to sleep across the hall. "What stopped you?"

Dylan's eyes close again. "Dan."

They'd had contact while Dylan had been gone? Mick hadn't known that. "Why do you think you should have gone through with it?"

Dylan's brow furrows. "This is... it's too much. I don't wanna... keep going."

Mick turns the cold cloth over again. "You have to," he urges. "You're almost there, I promise. Just a little while longer."

"Why?" Dylan's voice quivers as he opens his eyes once more. "Why is it... so hard? I'm too tired."

"I know you are." Mick squeezes his hand. "I know. But you're strong too. You're very strong. Just hang in there. You've got this thing beat."

A tear trickles from Dylan's eye and he nods numbly. "I... I'm sorry."

Mick blinks back his own tears, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know. I forgive you. But promise me one thing, okay?"

Dylan's eyes begin to droop, his voice barely audible. "What?"

Mick leans down closer. "If you ever... ever want to end your life again... I don't care where you are or what you've done... you come talk to me... okay?"

Dylan sniffs and seems to drift closer to sleep. "Okay."

It would be another full day and then some before finally Dylan's fever would break and he would become more alert...

"How ya feeling?"

Dylan pulls himself up in bed to sit as Mick brings him a cheese sandwich Stacy had made, and some apple juice. "Um... better... I think." He sighs and looks towards the window, noting that it looked around noon. But which day it was, he didn't know. He rubs some sleep out of his eyes and blinks. Accepting the tray off food on his lap. "I think I'm actually hungry."

"That's an improvement." Mick sits on the edge of the bed. "Had us worried there for a while."

Dylan takes a nibble of the sandwich, relieved that his stomach wasn't churning with the thought of food. "How long have I been here?"

"Oh... four or five days."

Dylan was a bit surprised. He would have guessed a day or two. "Oh."

Mick sees his downcast gaze, and he pats his leg before standing back up. "I gotta go for a while, but Stacy's here in the house if you need anything." Or to keep him here, but Mick didn't think his son had the energy or the desire to take him anywhere. He'd still have cravings for a while, for sure, but the worst was over.

Dylan nods. "Okay." Left alone again, he takes another bite of his sandwich, taking his time eating it. Though awake and alert, his body had been through a lot, and he was exhausted. One look at his gaunt, pale face and dark circles under his eyes would prove that. He'd be here for another couple days before his strength returned.

Mick heads towards the front door, stopping a moment in the kitchen. "I'll be back," he informs Stacy. She'd been in and out the last few days, helping whenever needed, and he was still grateful. "He's awake and eating but I'd be surprised if he didn't fall asleep again within the hour. I don't think he's going anywhere, but if you want to keep an eye on him until I get back, that would be great. I think by tomorrow I can let him make up his own mind if he stays here or goes back to his own bunk."