Useless

Scott hesitated a moment, but then did enter Hope's office, letting the door fall shut. He didn't want any surprise intruders. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs though, he chose the corner and slid down to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest. As he fought his inner torment, he remained silent for a good ten minutes, rocking back and forth slightly the whole time as he tried to claw his way back to a more comfortable place in his mind. 

Eventually the rocking slowed then stopped, and he leaned his head back against the wall, opening his eyes. He'd been doing so well. He hated feeling like he'd taken ten steps backward in his progress. He rubbed his blind eye and tried to stay on top of his emotions while finally finding his voice. 

"I'll never be normal...will I?" 


Even though Garret saw and heard Nate, he ignored him, continuing to work on the punching bag. He had too much pent-up energy and wanted to fight. But even when Nate took him to task, he was calm about the whole thing, making it even more frustrating. Garret was used to being raked over the coals and given a chance to take the first swing to see who would come out on top. But not Nate. He had to be so easy-going about the whole thing, it was maddening. 

One last kick met the bag with a resounding whack, proving how hard he had just hit it. Breathing heavily, Garret turned to look at Nate, setting his hands on his hips. "I can't help if I'm not going to be allowed the resources to do it. And if somebody has to babysit me to make sure I don't misbehave, then forget it." His tone was grouchy. A contrast to how he'd been just a little earlier. He felt...unsettled. Nervous. Frustrated. And he wasn't even sure why. But he didn't like the way his mood was bouncing up and down. He'd hated Agency drugs but at least they'd kept him on an even keel. Now all he had was a rec room and the wishful thinking that he'd be able to find some kind of outlet to keep his head on straight.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he took a long swig. If Victoria was here, she'd help. She'd always helped. Whenever he'd come back from a mission, tense and ready to blow his stack, one touch was all it had taken to calm his nerves. But she wasn't here. And she wouldn't be. That was over and done.

The now-empty bottle was hurled into a nearby garbage can. Hard. He swung his gaze to Nate again. "Anything else before I go make myself useless for the evening?"


Kirk grinned as he read Adison's message. She liked to give him a bad time, but he knew he could always count on her.

To Adison: YES. See u shortly

Finally leaving the gas station, it didn't take him long to get to the The Corner - a favorite coffee shop he and Adison frequented. They always got the same thing, and always sat at the same table. Usually to hash things out away from listening ears...

...Kirk held his paper coffee cup between his hands and breathed in the steam as he stared at the dark liquid. Adison knew him well enough to know there was something on his mind, so there was no point in making her guess what it was.

"So, you know I've been over at the Elite headquarters..." Hearing the shop's door open, he looked over his shoulder out of habit to see who it was. He wasn't supposed to be talking about any of this, and couldn't risk a colleague listening in. Adison was the only one he trusted not to rat him out. "Chief's on my butt about getting him my report and I keep putting him off, saying I haven't had enough time. Truth is though... I've got all the information I need but I can't decide how much of it I want to share."

He bit his lower lip, knowing how bad that sounded. In his position, everything was supposed to be black and white, and just the suggestion of withholding information could get him fired. Collect intel and report it as seen - that was his current task. Period. There were no personal opinions that were supposed to be interjected. But he knew the look on his face would betray him. He and Adison were too close for her not to notice. They'd been friends for years and partners for almost just as long, making them inseparable - and as such, they knew each other quite well.

"The Elite's in trouble." He kept fiddling with his coffee cup. "Soon as the facts hit the chief's hands, that branch is gonna be shut down. They have shoddy structure, barely any protocol - and what they do have established is rarely followed, for which there is no discipline. Mike Reese lets them all get away with murder - sometimes that's literal - and treats everybody like equals instead of growing some and tightening the reins to maintain organization. They fly by the seat of their pants on seventy-five percent of their cases, they've got a guy working tech who's got PTSD like you wouldn't believe, they use their own infirmary instead of the hospital even when people's lives are at risk, and there's personal drama going on as bad a soap opera. Then to top it all off, they like keeping around people they've arrested to get these men and women integrated back into society - as if Reese thinks he can do a better job than our prison system. Even now they've got two guys - one is on lockdown with a blown out knee from getting shot on a botched mission and he's as angry as a bothered hornet. The other one was a high ranking Agency man who waltzed in one day saying he'd defected. Now he's being allowed to go out in the field and is probably the most dangerous man I've ever seen - he could take down the entire Elite single-handed without even a weapon, and I'm not kidding. Yet he walks around the place freely instead of being taken to prison where he belongs."

Heaving a long sigh, Kirk found Adison's eyes. He hadn't even told her why he currently had a split lip that was making drinking his coffee rather difficult. Everything he'd just said was very serious and he was obligated to included it all in his report. But there was more. "You know how logical I am. Everything I've seen points towards shutting the Elite down for good. And yet..." He shook his head. "I don't know if I can recommend that. There is more heart in that little place than the whole of FBI combined. They don't just do their jobs for a living - they do it because every single one of them believes in the cause - mainly taking down the Agency, which half the legal system still won't acknowledge exists, but I've seen it with my own eyes. In legal terms, Reese is one of the worst chiefs I've ever seen. And yet he has the utmost respect from his officers, not to mention his haphazard way of doing things somehow actually works. There's not one person there who wouldn't give his or her life in the line of duty. Even that ex-Agency warrior has something about him I can't put my finger on. Bottom line...I like the Elite. I really do. I thought I'd come away ready to shut them down and forget about it. But...instead, all I see is a tiny branch of the law struggling to keep its head above water - not because they're poor at their jobs but because no one is helping them stay afloat. Who else has the guts to function for years underground just so they can keep fighting a war no one else will acknowledge? Before surfacing, they were funded by people who actually donated to the cause - it's crazy! But I can't deny the courage and heart I see in all that. I just...I don't know what to report."

He'd said an awful lot in the last couple minutes, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. His eyes remained ever-alert though, and he was quick to pick up the bill the waitress brought to the table - coffee was on him today. He gave Adison a bit of a sheepish look. "And you're not supposed to know a single bit of any of that...but I can't decide what to do and I need your opinion. It's not as cut and try as I thought it would be."


"Onion? Really?" Clint let the slice remain in his hair for a moment before picking it out and stuffing it in his mouth. "So there." 


At the other table, Lane followed Angel's gaze and gave half a smile. "He's always been a go-getter, which is why I've never understood why making friends has always been so hard for him. But I'm glad he seems comfortable here. After all that's happened...I don't know what he's going to do. I've made a mess of everything and he's left to decide what he wants to do from here on out." 

Luke, sitting next to Angel, lifted an eyebrow. "Hey," he intervened. "You had no idea about the Agency. That's not your fault. If it hadn't been for that, things would still be great. Don't be so hard on yourself." 

Lane's eyes dropped, but he nodded. "Thanks. I just hope I haven't brought trouble to the ranch." 


Laughing at the antics between Ashlee and Clint, Travis winced and held his sides. "Aw, don't make me laugh," he begged. It was hard though - the onion had been awfully funny. 


In the corner, Dylan picked up his empty dishes and carried them to the kitchen like he always did. He never left anything for anyone else to clean up, and he was always the first to leave. Once finished, he walked out the back door - also his norm. 

Wandering to his own bunkhouse, he eased down to sit on the steps and just looked up at the changing evening sky. He could find something to do in the barn, but he was tired and nothing more was required of him today. His eyes wandered back to the main house - even out here he could hear the laughter. Standing, he went inside and flopped down on his bed, turning on the television, but paying little attention to it. It was just enough noise to drown out his own thoughts.