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Slowly, Tim crouched and slipped down from the back of the car roof onto the trunk, before landing as quietly as possible on the ground. Chelsea growled, wagged its tail and furiously raced down the porch as the two Marshals made a sprint for the car doors. Raylan got in first, swiftly slamming the driver’s door and the animal changed course, reaching the passenger side, pawing and clawing through the open window.
Tim ducked. “Shut the window, Raylan! Shut the fucking window! It’s drooling on me, for fuck’s sake!”
“Right, right! I got it.” Raylan complied, starting the car, and in heavy-handed control of gear he backed them out of Messer’s yard, leaving the dog barking in futile rage behind them. He exhaled.
“Geez, Tim. It’s okay, you can get up here now.”
Tim reappeared by his side a whole minute later, gun still unholstered, hair a mess. If it hadn’t been for his partner’s ghostly pale face, Raylan would have found the whole scene quite funny.
*
“Let me guess. Some vicious mastiff chased you when you were a kid?”
“Nope.”
“Military mutts didn’t get along well with you?”
“Raylan, quit it.”
“C’mon, ‘tis said that talking out loud about our fears makes them go away.”
Feeling curious looks cast from his side, Tim sighed and glimpsed his watch in exasperation. Half of another oh-so-productive day at the Kentucky Marshal’s office, Harlan branch had shot to hell. So was his mood for the day. Between Chelsea’s saliva in his hair, their very likely dead C.I. and Boyd Crowder he didn’t even want to stick around long enough to find out which was the worst.
“I don’t fear dogs, Raylan.”
Raylan snorted. “Apparently.”
“Just got a little shaken up.” Tim mumbled. “Those teeth were evil.”
Taking the tight-lipped cue, Raylan figured it was his own turn to sigh. There was a time when talking to Tim had been easier, but Raylan wouldn’t blame him; he was the one couldn’t help slipping away from everything and everyone of late. Well, the ladies were best out of state, out of reach somewhere safe. Harlan was one big empty hole in his heart. Alison? Alison probably was the means, not the end, as usual. Shit, that really made him sound like the bastard that he was. And then Tim. Things had gone back to the time of curious absences and prolonged silences, with Tim himself a constant blur at the edge of Raylan’s field of view. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention among all the shits flying around. Raylan sighed again.
“Tim, you better continue looking this extra mean around Boyd. Definitely helps spooking him.”
“Buy me a sandwich first.”
Raylan smiled. “That's all you need?”
*
“How’s Scrabble?”
“You saw it. I was gonna kick his ass.”
“Yeah? Your ‘gas’ versus his ‘ameliorate’? Congratulations.” Raylan tipped his hat, took it off and covered his face with it, letting out a light laugh. They have switched places on the drive back and the winter sun was setting in their faces.
“An extensive lexicon doesn’t always help,” Tim commented, “especially when the man was so desperate.”
“Desperate. That how you see Boyd?”
“Not so much a desperado as you are, Raylan.”
“Where does that come from?”
“Boyd’s got a fiancée in jail and he’s fightin’ to get her back.” Tim shrugged. “I don’t see you doing much about your life these days, except repeatedly beating yourself up over how shitty your parental skills are.”
“Do you need reminding, Tim, that you don’t say shit unless you’re sure it helps?” Raylan glared, temper flaring rapidly as he took the hat off his face to look at Tim. “Plus you don’t know shit about my life.”
Tim’s face remained nonchalant. “I thought talking about our fears is supposed to make them go away.”
“That ship has sailed,” Raylan snapped, before realizing what he had just admitted. He slapped the hat back on his face and faked a snore.
*
“So where am I driving to when we reach Lexington, the office or Monroe’s house?” Raylan was startled awake by the question, sensing a quiet snicker in Tim’s voice.
“Go find your own car at the office. I’ll take it from there.” He sat up and stretched, putting his hat back on.
“That’s the plan, then.” Tim agreed. The all-too-familiar Kentucky route continued to stretch before their car in the dusk, and Raylan felt himself almost drifting back to the snooze when Tim spoke up again.
“There was this Springer spaniel that I helped handle back in Argandab, named Sirius. Chelsea looked too much like his killers.”
“Huh?” Raylan frowned. “You mean other dogs killed your dog, who was called Sirius?”
“Wasn’t exactly my dog. I wasn’t even his proper handler. Just… he was captured when he was injured. And they let other dogs tear him up and I happened to witness all of it. Sirius was all black but you could make out the torn flesh, the guts rolling out, and his furs coated all in shiny blood…” Tim sniffed a little, yet his expression was neutral like he was merely extracting sealed reports from a dusted corner of his memory.
“And they would do it, the other dogs? Kill one of their own kind?”
“I don’t believe they were the same kind.” Tim muttered darkly. “But yeah, why not, isn’t that what we always do – killing ones of our own kind, killing off each other.”
Raylan was getting unsure what the first person plurals here referred to and thought it wise to remain silent for a while.
“Explains it.” He spoke up at last, nodding. “Your fear of dogs ever since.”
“I don’t fear dogs. I once held Sirius for a whole night during an air raid.”
“Point.” Raylan reflected on that. Maybe fear really didn't have to be a specific thing. Some dogs, not other dogs. Raising children, not particularly his girl. Death, life, the inevitable. Connecting with people. Sleeping with them, a respite from being alone. “Sorry about earlier. In fact I thought it was more spiteful when I said it the first time, you know, the bit about you saying shit not helping.”
“You have no idea, Raylan,” Tim said, feigning hurt, “you broke my heart with that.”
Raylan rolled his eyes and something hit him. “We’re not going to the office?”
Tim turned around to look at him in silent expectation. His eyes were soft. “Can I change your mind about your plans after that?”
Raylan sucked in a shaky breath. “Tempting offer, Tim, thanks but no thanks.”
“Then we're going to my favorite bar. You can take it from there.”