I need you...

As Karla talked, Kip sank down on the bed. His face showed everything from shame to surprise. He knew he'd done wrong. He knew he'd been stupid. But...she was really going to cut things off? Just like that? Without giving him a second chance?

He blinked in shock as she turned to leave. That was it? He sat stunned for a moment before getting to his feet. He had to fix this. Sprinting through the house, he caught up with Karla on the porch. "Karla, wait...please." He reached out to set a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "I'll do anything," he begged softly. "Just give me a chance to prove it'll never happen again."

Tears stung his eyes. Never had he felt so stupid and ashamed. "I don't have feelings for anybody but you." His voice started to crack as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Please don't leave me. I need you."


Jared's eyes remained closed as he began to relax under Grace's touch. He was so tired, and her hand running through his hair felt so good...

...He pried his eyes open and groggily tried to get his bearings, not realizing he'd been sleeping for over half an hour. A new rumble of thunder made him jump, and he looked up quickly, just now realizing he was still using Grace's lap as a pillow. Slowly bringing his mind out of its fog, he squinted out at the rain and sighed. 

Without saying anything, he gradually sat up and managed to get his legs in a normal position again. Then looking over at the crutches, he gritted his teeth. He could get to them if he really wanted to. Still saying nothing to Grace, he used the swing's chain to pull himself up until he was standing, then let himself fall against the wall of the house where at least his target was within reach. Though unsteady, he managed to get a hold of the handles and strap them to his forearms by himself, then turned towards the steps. 

It was still pouring rain, but in this moment...that's what he wanted. He just wanted to feel the coolness on his skin. He wanted to hide in the wet curtain and feel the thunder. Outside. Where he wasn't caged in. 

"I wanna go for a walk," he requested hoarsely.


Though Jason was a little disappointed he hadn't received a more positive response from Misty, he knew his little speech wasn't entirely wasted. And he was glad she still viewed him as a friend. He knew he'd always treasure her friendship...and the short time they'd had as more than friends. But just to gain back some normalcy would be nice. For now, he'd just have to be patient.

He smiled a little as he stood up and came over to her, gently taking the cold cup from her hand. "I'm a master at making hot tea," he teased. "And as far as the donuts are concerned, the offer goes for any day." He gave her shoulder a pat before heading to the door to make another cup of tea for her.


Off to the side, Garret watched the little scene in confusion. He knew the history there because of all the Agency had done to Carson. He knew Jason had stepped in, then left - though he didn't know why. But the bottom line was, he'd left her. Yet here they were, still friends. Misty was broken, no doubt, but even so, she didn't have to forgive Jason. But she did. Why? It didn't make sense.

Rubbing his wrist a bit gingerly, he realized he must have torqued it in his scuffle with Aaron. Glancing over to the unconscious form, he sighed. Maybe his efforts really were in vain after all.

"You alright?

Garret shifted his eyes to Rick, who had just strapped Aaron to the bed again. "What?"

"Your wrist." Rick gestured to him. "Hurt yourself?"

"Nah. I've had worse."

"I'm sure." Rick rolled his eyes and gestured for Garret to follow him to the counter. "You've got more in common with the agents around here than you think." He prodded Garret's wrist for a few moments. "That hurt?"

"A bit."

"Mmm." Rick retrieved an ace bandage to wrap it. "Slight sprain is all, I'd say. Just try not to get in any fights for a few days, okay?"

Garret watched dumbly as Rick bandaged his wrist. Why did this guy even care? The longer he was here, the more he wondered if these people really had all their sanity in tact.

Rick glanced up and gave him a wry grin. "What? Think I'd strap you to a bed, too?"

"Guess I wouldn't put it past you to try," Garret mused. He flexed his wrist and nodded. "Thanks." Wandering out of the infirmary and finding the hall empty, he aimed for the main floor. He'd already worked out this morning and was going mad with boredom...again. Heading for Nate's desk, his path was blocked by the newcomer.

Kirk was just setting up his laptop in an empty cubicle, and had stepped out to find some extra paper. Seeing Garret, he stopped. Despite the recent scene, his eyes showed no fear - only caution. "Reese tells me you're the newest member of the Elite rehabilitation program."

Garret quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't so sure he liked that label. "And you are?"

"Kirk Young. I'm with the FBI, here to evaluate the Elite."

Garret gave him a once over with his eyes. "Here to evaluate, or here to shut it down?"

"Would you like it if I shut it down?"

"Why would I?"

Kirk shrugged. "I guess maybe it depends on where your loyalties really lie."

Garret started to move closer, when Reese's voice from behind stopped him. "Garret, come with me, please."

Despite wanting to take a swing at this FBI agent, Garret refrained, and turned to follow Reese over to Nate's cubicle. Reese gave Nate a stern look. "Would you mind keeping a short leash on this guy until Kirk is out of our hair, please? One more scene like that, and we don't stand a chance." Spinning on his heel, he stalked back to his office.

Garret leaned on the cubicle wall and looked at Nate without much humor. "You can chain me up out back, if you want," he suggested sarcastically. "That would probably keep everybody happy."


Medridge Stared at his map on the wall. One would have to try very hard to even realize it was a map anymore, with so many notes and strings covering it. Faces. Names. Connections. It was only a small glimpse into what his mind must look like on the inside.

"It's been too quiet in Texas," he mused aloud.

Natasha stood nearby, notepad in hand. With Agent Mathis on the Stevenson case in Nevada, she was left to delegate jobs for Medridge as she saw fit. His comment though, made her brow furrow in question. "Sir?"

"Yes...yes, indeed." He paced in front of the map and scanned some of the names before turning around to study Natasha's business-like demeanor. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, glasses on top of her head, and her choice of clothing was a smart blouse and skirt outfit. Anyone would guess she was an ordinary secretary, perhaps for a law firm or the like. It satisfied Medridge. She could blend in if he ever needed her on the field. For now though, her job was just to take notes and put men on jobs for him.

He wandered to his desk and took pen and paper to scribble out a name, then handed it to Natasha. "Find him. I want to know all about him. Everything. Then report back to me."

Natasha read the name, still confused. "I thought you were referring to the ranch."

"I am. But we need new eyes. We need someone who can report back to us exactly what's going on inside. That means someone they will trust." Medridge nodded in satisfaction. "But we must trust him, too. Find his weakness. Then he'll be ours to control."

"Yes, sir." Natasha tucked the note in her pocket for safe keeping. "I'll get right on it."