Jim was unresponsive as Angel talked, just lying on the bed with his aching eyes closed. If ever there was a picture of a beaten man - physically and spiritually - it was him.
Angel's question opened one eye though and he looked up at her dimly. "I'd be better if..." He paused as his jaw warned him not to talk too much. "If people'd quit tellin' me how'ta run my family."
He closed his eye again, and was apparently finished talking, but it was even more apparent that there was so much more below the surface. "I feel like I don't belong here anymore," he mumbled quietly. "Like everybody'd be better off without me around."
"I don't know either," Mick agreed with Rosetta. "Other than stubborn pride. At this point, even if he got to know Chad and found he liked him, he'd probably keep his stance just because of the principle of the thing. It's like now he's fighting 'just because.' Just because he's Rosalyn's father. Just because he doesn't like the idea of Chad. Just because he's in control and wants to prove it."
He shrugged lamely. "I just wish I knew what to do. I honestly have no idea where Becky stands, and Clint is quiet, though I think he's taken Rosalyn's side. It just seems like there's always got to be some kind of family issue going on around here, whether it's Eric or Jim or Sparky, or...well, even me and Dylan. Unfortunately, there's no one to blame, like the Agency, for all of this. It's just...us. I know we all like the idea of having the family so close together, but I don't know...maybe it actually causes more problems."
Looking at his wife, Mick sighed before he reached out and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "You used to always be the one to pull all us hotheaded guys together...how do you put up with us, hmm?"
When Rosalyn's phone told her she had a new text message, it took her a few minutes to actually look at it. What she'd advised Chad to do - give up - was exactly what she feared, too.
Still lying on the bunkhouse bed, she finally retrieved her phone and read his message. New tears pooled in her eyes. Why did he care so much? She just didn't understand. Or...did she? If things were reversed, she was pretty sure she wouldn't want to let go of him either. But he really did care about her that much? It was still mind-boggling.
It would be several more hours before she would emerge from the bunkhouse. But even though she had slept, it had not been restful, and her bloodshot eyes proved that. She avoided everybody except Jade and Clint that afternoon, busying herself with work and preferring not to see her parents.
By the time six o'clock rolled around, she wouldn't be found. Clint was the only one who knew where she was, and even then, Rosalyn wasn't a hundred percent sure Chad would really come. She believed his intentions, but she hadn't even replied to his message, and she wouldn't blame him if he changed his mind.
But even so, it was at the end of the driveway where Rosalyn sat, leaning back against the mailbox post. She didn't want Chad to pull all the way in, for fear there would just be another scene. It was better this way, and no one would be the wiser if Clint kept his promise of not telling anyone.
Pulling her jacket around herself a little tighter, Rosalyn closed her eyes as she waited. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She hadn't changed clothes - she was still in her working jeans, boots and t-shirt. Her hair was in a messy pony tail, and her eyes looked like she'd not slept for days. This was not at all how she'd pictured a date night. But it was all she had.
Reese was not at all pleased with Hope's response, and his eyes showed his displeasure. He wasn't surprised, but it still didn't make him happy. And her lack of information only proved to him that something was wrong - especially if Gunner needed to talk to someone. With his history, this wasn't good.
Reese pursed his lips and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Thank you, Hope. When he-"
"Hey, Pete said you were looking for me." Gunner stepped partway into the office. "What's up?"
"Of all the..." Reese put his hands on his hips. "Where have you been?!" he thundered. "We've been looking all over for you!"
Gunner cringed, recoiling half a step. "Sorry. I had to run some personal errands after lunch."
"Excuse me? And where was your phone all this time?"
"It was off, I guess."
"You guess?!" Reese threw his arms in the air. "Since when did you suddenly forget you're an Elite agent?!"
Gunner's brow furrowed, and he kept himself from looking in Hope's direction, refusing to catch her eye. "I didn't forget. I told you I had some personal errands. It was a slow day - I didn't know you'd need me."
"That's why you have a phone! I needed you for a case, but it's too late now. What in blazes were you doing all afternoon?"
"I told you." Gunner's tone turned cold. "It was personal."
"Great. That's great. If you weren't such a good agent and we weren't so short-handed, I'd put you on suspension for pulling this stung. But as it sits, all I can do is give you a warning that next time you decide to go AWOL, think twice and either ask permission or at least keep your dang phone on!"
There was an eerie, tense silence before Gunner eventually cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'll...I'll do that," he replied quietly. He didn't wait to get raked over the coals any more, and instead, left the office.
It was his own cubicle he retreated to, but once there, all he did was push aside his leftover food and rest his elbows on his desk. His eyes stared a blank computer screen. With Reese this mad, he might as well just go home. But he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to be alone. He was afraid of being alone tonight.
