My arms ache...

Feeling quite helpless, Jason doesn't know what he can do. Standing slowly, he pulls a blanket up over Misty and leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Okay. You just sleep." 

Though he wanted to stay with her, he knew that letting her be by herself for a little while was probably best. There were things that she would have to think through on her own without his help, no matter how hard that was for him. 

Once back in his office, Jason calls Reese to ask what was really going on, but is simply informed that the case is on a "need to know basis" and right now nothing else would be shared. It was frustrating and Jason didn't understand why he couldn't know what was happening with Carson, but he knew better than to argue. He'd just have to sit tight and be there for Misty.

Carson nods numbly, just remaining quiet for a few moments so he could regain control. Katie was so kind - a true friend. Just her believing in him was enough to keep him going a little bit longer. 

Finally lifting his head, he turns to see her face. "Thanks, Katie... At this point I don't know what you can do." Another sigh surfaces. "I guess talk to Reese about protection for Misty. He and Con are the only other ones who know the truth at this point - I want it that way until I get a chance to tell Misty so she doesn't find out from someone else." He'd write the letter today. Yes, today. Before any more time passed. 

"I know all this can be sorted out... I know it can." Maybe he was just trying to convince himself that despite everything the pieces could be put back together and life could go on. Regardless, the Agency was still a very real threat at this point. If they didn't already know that he'd talked, they would soon, and several lives were in danger. 

"I'll see you around." Carson moves to get in his car, pausing just another moment. "Stop by Mom and Pop's any time," he offers quietly. "There's another pizza on the house waiting for you."

A few minutes later, he was driving away, first heading to the restaurant, changing his mind, and going to the apartment instead...

"Carson, is that you?" 

Carson tosses his keys aside and heads for the living room. "Yeah," he calls back to Jaz. Rummaging through some magazines, he finally finds some paper, then hunts a little more to find a pen. Going to the little kitchen, he sits at the table and stares at the blank page. 

"Hey..." Jaz comes in cautiously. "What's going on? When you called last night, it didn't feel right. Were you really on a case?"

Carson shakes his head, still lost in thought over what he wanted to write. 

"Well then..." Jaz sits down too, trying to read his face but just growing more confused. "What is it? Why didn't you come home? Is something wrong?"

"Mmhmm." His pen hovers over the paper. "Truth's out." 

"What? You told them?"

"I had to."

Panic crosses Jaz's face. "Well what do we do? The Agency is going to find out. We can't just sit here and let them come kill us! And what about Misty?!" 

Carson glances up at her without much emotion. "Unless you have a bright idea, how about giving me time to think? I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know if we're in any more danger now than we have been from the beginning - we're all just lab rats, you know that." He sighs and shakes his head. "If they stick to their word, they'll go after Misty first, and Reese has Jason on guard duty with her. She's as safe as she can be for now, without locking her in a holding cell."

Jaz swallows hard, fear still in her gaze. "What are you doing now?" 

"Writing a letter to my wife... since she won't let me talk to her." 

"You mean Reese knows but Misty doesn't yet?"

"Not yet. But she will now, and it'll be from me." Carson leans forward and starts to write, ignoring Jaz until she quietly leaves him alone. 

Once finished, Carson folds the letter and puts it in an envelope, leaving the apartment and heading across town. When Misty would get home tonight, she'd find the letter taped to the door. And he prayed she would open and read it.

Dear Misty,

Not many warriors can be brought down by a mere look. A glance. A fleeting sigh. I guess I'm one of the few. Unfortunately, the reason I've been bruised in battle is no one's fault but my own. I have been brought to my knees in the midst of war and I'm lying helpless on the battlefield, waiting to see the face of the one that can hush armies by her mere presence. You.

There are things my heart longs to say... longs to scream. Please hear me. I need to tell you what has really happened. I can only pray that you read my words and know that this is the truth. Never would I ever have broken your heart the way I did unless your life depended on it - and it did.

The day I received word that your life was in danger was the day that changed everything. From that moment forward, I was no longer a whole man. I was ripped apart, torn in two different directions. It was the Agency's desire to see us suffer - I guess they won. They wanted me to have an affair - or at least look like it - they didn't care which - and leave you. They wanted to see me suffer through it and see you suffer through it. It was just another laboratory experiment for the purpose of Medridge's pleasure. I was told that if I did not comply to their demands, that you would die.

Maybe I am weak. Maybe I let my heart take over my head. Maybe my love is what ultimately caused me such great fear. But whatever the cause, I could not bear the thought of living without you. Watching you suffer. Watching you die. Perhaps I was being selfish. I could not stand even imagining losing you. Therefore - I gave in to the Agency's demands.

There were days I took my anger out on you. I came home drunk. I embarrassed both of us by gaining suspicions that I was cheating on you. And I felt utterly despicable. My anger was not towards you, or family or friends - it was towards the Agency and my inability to fight back. I did not come to you drunk that night - it was only an act to encourage the ruse that I was straying. And I never, ever cheated on you.

Jaz DeMoy is as much a victim in this entire scheme as you and I. That may not be easy to understand or accept, but it is the truth. Yes, she and I had had a relationship years ago when we were both working for the Agency. But since you and I stood together and repeated vows of marriage, I have upheld my faithfulness to you. Jaz was forced into the Agency's plans just as I was. She was chosen to be the "one" with whom I should have the "affair." She did not want to comply. She did not wish the plan on either you or me. But her fear was what pushed her to agree. Her life was threatened and she knew she had no protection. Yes, she and I have been sharing an apartment. But I beg of you to believe me when I say that there was never anything between her and me. I never wanted her. I clutched my love for you so tightly that nothing would ever even turn my gaze. I spat temptation in the face and turned my back on the devil's schemes. I was faithful before I left our home and I have been to this day.

My plan from the beginning was to find out who, under Medridge, was in charge of this action against us. I planned to research, find him/them and take them down. I knew that I needed to make it look as though I was beginning to stray from you - in order to keep them happy. But I thought I could find the answers and solve the case before I was forced to take any more drastic measures. It didn't happen. I was outwitted and was not able to find who I was looking for. I was not able to grasp the upper hand as I scrambled for facts and evidence. Nothing worked. I was always one step behind, juggling my research, work, appearing as though I was faltering, and trying to hold our marriage in tact at the same time. Every time I held you in my arms and kissed your lips and looked into your eyes, I wanted to tell you so badly what was going on. I was tormented with wanting to tell you the truth and being caught with the fear of losing you. It was too much. I know that now. I was arrogant to think that I could take it on alone. But by the time I realized that, it was too late. The damage had been done.

Because I failed to take down the enemy, they applied more pressure and I was forced to leave you. I didn't want to. I hated it. I hated myself. All I could think about was how I was breaking your heart, and, in turn, it broke my own. Driving away, all I could do was cry. I was in too deep to tell you. To explain. To try and make it right. The note on the table... was written with an Agency man standing over me to ensure I went through with the plan. He knew where you were and how to get to you. I feared for your life more than anything else.

When you told me that same day that you were carrying our child, I was placed in a state of shock. All I wanted was to hold you and tell you how proud I was of you. Seeing your anger knocked me down to a level I've never been. To watch you walk away left me with a gaping hole where my heart once was. I ran after you. I got all the way outside to shout your name and stop you. To tell you the truth. To beg you to forgive me. To tell you it would be okay. To ask of you another chance. To not watch you go through this alone. I was a mere half second from crying out when I was punched in the face and forced back inside. The Agency was there. And they had heard everything. They knew about the baby and now had one more thing to keep me under control. Now not only was your life threatened, but our baby's as well. If I would have fought them and something would have happened to you - I never would have been able to forgive myself and I would have fallen on my own blade to end such shame and misery. I had to keep fighting. I had to please the Agency while still trying desperately to solve the case and find out who I needed to take down.

It never happened. I lost you. I lost friends. I lost family. I lost hope. I lost my heart. I lost a piece of my sanity. Watching you find comfort with another man - I would have preferred to die a thousand deaths. Watching you gain hope and reassurance in another man's arms - I would have preferred to be hung on the gallows for all the world to see. Yet it was my fault. I had forced you away. I was the cause of everything. My actions. My love. My pride. My fear. How could I have expected anything else? How could I blame you for seeking shelter in another? I couldn't.

I tried so hard to win. And in the end, it was the accusation of my involvement with the Agency that forced the truth to the surface. And now we lie in danger, awaiting a cruel death unless we find those responsible.

"Her eyes like fire dissolve the expanse between two souls, her heart ablaze in the heat of battle. Like the wind she strikes, not to harm but to conquer - a force which demands respect from the very enemy she defeats - the untouchable heart of another world."

I am that other world. And I have been conquered. I am bound to you, the victor, by dedication, by vows, by love. I would rather be tortured and killed than go on living without my heart that belongs to you. You have given me love. Purpose. A reason to live. Without you, I would be but a shell, encasing anger and hate. But you broke through to me. You tore down my walls and loved me despite my flaws. You taught me what true love and forgiveness mean. You showed me how to live.

I know that I hurt you. I misled you and lied to you. I broke your trust in me as your husband and friend. I broke your heart. And for all that, I am utterly and completely sorry. I never meant for those things to happen. I was only trying to save your life and our child's life. I want to be with you. I want to return to you and start again. I want to start fresh with a new understanding of trust and openness. I need you, Misty... and I'm on my knees begging you to understand the truth, forgive me and allow me back in your life. 

I anxiously await hearing from you so that we may begin a new journey - one on which I will never make the same mistakes. My arms ache to hold you.

With all my love,

Carson

Opening Chad's letter in the privacy of the hayloft, Rosalyn grins at the first few lines. She could just see the teasing glint in his eye, and wished they were together so she could come back with a witty remark. 

Reading on, a new lump rises in her throat. She'd been afraid that he'd be able to tell something was wrong. She should have waited a day or two to write him back instead of while she was still upset. 

Hearing that he'd had a bad week she wishes she could give him a hug. She didn't know what had happened, but it sounded as though they had lost at least one animal. If so it must truly hurt a heart as big as Chad's. 

Reaching the poem, a smile spreads on her lips. Did he write his own? Did he copy them down? She didn't care either way, because he took the time to say those words directly to her. And they did make her feel so good. 

Dear Chad,

You even read between the lines of my letters - a sign that I should keep writing because you truly care. Yes, I am okay. I always am. It wasn't dishwater that stained my last letter, but don't let it cause you worry. Sometimes I feel as though my life were on a rollercoaster - and sometimes the low spots seem oh so low. Then I remember you. And you make me smile, even from miles away. 

And that's all she would say about that. She needn't worry him about how her father felt or the stress she was under to keep the letters a secret - even more so now than before. Chad needn't be concerned about that now. He might never come here again anyway. If he didn't, then there was no point in her causing bad feelings. And if he did, they'd deal with it then. 

I'm sorry that work has not been pleasant for you recently. I don't know what happened, but it must have been hard for it to have made you sound so sad. Never apologize for venting to me. People's lives are made up of the good and bad both. If I were to only want to hear of the good, it would not only be selfish, but unrealistic without concern for you. I love hearing about your life - whether it's good or bad. The good is what makes me smile. The bad is what makes me know you as a real person. 

The days at the ranch have felt long lately. There is little activity and even fewer guests. No one speaks of finances, but I think things could be better. There used to be filled bunkhouses almost constantly, especially during the summer. Now it is one or two clients at a time, perhaps, then weeks in between. On one hand, it's nice to just be our family. On the other hand, I know it's hurting the income. I've heard talks of Eric driving truck again, or of Clint taking on work somewhere else. Times are changing. I suppose that is one thing that is always a given in life.  

I must flee my shelter in the hayloft now, before I'm missed. Tonight is beef stew and it's my turn to cook. And yes, you should be jealous. Did I mention apple pie for dessert? 

Rosalyn