Caldwell flinched and nearly fell over such was his hurry to back away from the cell bars. His brain darted from thought to thought, erratically veering from "How did that no-account dirtbag know the Marshal?" to "She's gone crazy and I might be next!".

After a long period of silence, he let loose a short string of curse words, he wasn't prepared for that shot and the ringing was still reverberating through the cell and his inner eardrums. He'd killed before, but always in defense of himself or others. He'd known that the Marshal had killed in the past. But to see her do it in cold blood. Well that was chilling.

That's when he realized. Charlotte was standing just a few steps away. He jumped off of his chair, sending it flying in the process. Then Jed turned in an instant to see his little sister standing just inside the shadow of the stairwell.

He cursed again.

The Marshal slowly moved forward. She reached out, her hand trembling, and pressed two fingers against Abe's neck, searching for a pulse.

"He's dead," she finally said, as if it shocked her.

"You don't say." Jed said, wrenching his eyes from the stairwell, a sarcastic tone escaping from his lips. "The heck is wrong with you?!"

"I've never had to set aside my guns when I've talked to someone," she said softly, gently running her hand over Abe's temple. "I've known people who had to, but I always had control of everything. No surprises. No information I didn't expect."

Her fingertips slowly touched his eyelids, then closed them.

"Here I thought, oh yeah! I don't want to kill this guy, so I'll get someone who's more efficient in her work. Brilliant! Just great. Half the town would have heard that shot! And who the HECK is Mercy Tzu?"

He wasn't just dazed and confused now. He was plum angry. And not thinking straight, so as he yelled, he paced around the room, making weird motions with his hands and knocking things over.

"Shut...up," the Marshal said with clenched teeth, slowly turning to glare at Jed. "Mercy Tzu was...someone I knew from a very, very long time ago. Someone who you knew, too, but you were too young to remember her, apparently. Now shut up."

"No! You shut up. I'm supposed to be the immature one. The stupid kid-sheriff who makes instinctive moves based on his gut feelings. Remember!? Not you." He cursed, but all the same, he clamped his mouth shut and slumped down against one of the cold cell walls.

The Marshal slowly walked over and leaned against the cell door and looked at Jed. Part of her wanted to just blame it on instinct--because it was, to some extent--but for a few seconds she considered the truth. How much did Jed remember, really? The Marshal had been a part of their lives for pretty much as long as Char remembered. But did they know her as anything else? Finally she sighed.

"Look, Jed...instinct isn't bad. It can save your life. If you have to wait and see something, or hear something, before you react to it, it can kill you. That's how we're built. But there is a difference between instinct and impulse. You want to learn to manage impulses and listen to instincts, but you have to know the difference between the two. And sometimes listening to either isn't right, either. That's why some men won't ever have any weapon with them when they...interview someone. I've never had that problem."

She paused for a second and looked back toward Abe.

"Then again, it's never mattered before," she muttered.

"Well it sure as heck matters now." He snapped, "I'll have a mob to deal with now. They'll need to know what is going on. I'll have to tell them about Caldwell, several of my men saw him while we were on the way in. I managed to keep them quiet. But they'll talk now. They will have too. The whole town will be worried about me and Charlotte." Worrying wasn't their job. It was his. And thanks to the Marshal, he will have failed in that respect. Jed shook his head in frustration and looked over at what was left of Abe.

"And... I'll have to take care of that thing."

The Marshal looked at Abe, then back at Jed.

"If anyone asks, a gun misfired while I was cleaning my equipment, and no one was hurt. There's nothing more to it than that. Caldwell's fine where he is, and I'll take care of disposing of the body. Situation is covered, no one knows anything that they shouldn't."

He stared at her, but he wasn't seeing his old friend. He was seeing someone completely different. Someone that he barely recognized. "Great, you want me to lie as well. Fine. You're the boss." He stood and started to make his way out of the room before spinning around, his finger pointed at the Marshal. "Whatever the heck set you off, get it under control. And fast. Its a weakness and when you are weak... Well darnit, we all are."

"Jed, there is one thing that I've known from birth, and something you could probably benefit from remembering. Sometimes you have to lie--especially in this business. But for it to work, you had better believe it yourself."

The Marshal walked over and undid the cuffs, then handed them to Jed.

"Don't expect me to be strong for you. If you wanted me to do that, you should have let me go with my original plan. This is your fight, because you're the one who can't stand the thought of having Caldwell shot."

"Well why in sam heck did you bring him here in the first place?" And with that, Jed stormed out of the room. Just about slamming into his younger sister on the way up the stairs.

The gunshot rang through the room and Charlotte jumped instinctively, accidentally whacking her hand against the banister of the stairs. She let out a soft, strangled scream just before clamping her hand over her mouth.

The Marshal was holding the gun.

Blood seeped through the man's white shirt. Charlotte held her breath as The Marshal knelt to take his pulse.

"He's dead," she announced, eyes wide.

Charlotte pressed her hand harder against her mouth. She'd known The Marshal was involved in law enforcement and had probably had to kill people. But it hadn't sunk in until just now. This was the Marshal who had just told her a hilarious story while cooking them all dinner. The one who gave her "girl talks" and made Charlotte feel like she was important, almost delicate. The one that had been a feminine anchor in a place where she was surrounded by masculinity.

And that Marshal had just killed a man.

Be strong, Charlotte, she told herself, but her stomach roiled.

She disappeared upstairs to locate a chamberpot and then lost her lunch. Her hands shook as she cleaned herself up. She sat down on the edge of the bed, then hopped up a few second later and started pacing.

The gunshot echoed through her head over and over. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

She didn't even know the man. But he had a family. Friends. He was loved.

And then it was the Marshal who had killed him. Her. Friend. It scared her out of her wits to see that the Marshal was capable of killing a man for no apparent reason. Why?

He's dead.

Her head spun.

She stopped pacing just in front of the door towards downstairs and then pressed her palms into her eye sockets. It's just like seeing a man get shot in the arm or carted off to jail, Charlotte. It's fine. You're fine.

The door pushed open and Jed ran straight into her. She fell lightly into the wall and glared at him. "Watch out," she snapped, her nerves frayed. "Just..."

She muttered something incomprehensible, then covered her face with her hands as if that would help shut everything out.