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I. Carolyn
She came to visit him in the hospital, his only visitor besides the LEOs during his stay. She brought him flowers and they shared a grin, even though it pulled at his split lip.
Carolyn looked him over and frowned, "Why'd they do this to you, Ray?"
Raylan closed his eyes briefly and exhaled as deeply as he could with his bruised ribs. "I suppose all those nice folks in law enforcement who have found themselves in the Judge's book didn't take too kindly to me helping expose them. Figure they were tryin' to make an example of me or something."
"So you know who they were?"
He shook his head slowly, thinking of the flash of red hair he saw peeking out of a ski mask, "Not for sure. There were three men who grabbed me, but I think maybe five others who were in that room, demonstrating that good ol' Detroit hospitality on my person." He chuckled humorlessly. Almost like being back in Harlan.
Carolyn carefully took his good hand in hers. "Boy, trouble sure does love you."
Raylan ran his thumb over her knuckles, thinking of blue eyes and a smirk hidden behind a glass of Kentucky bourbon. I really think he might.
“Best hope it don’t follow you back to Florida, huh?”
"It won't. I'm retiring."
"You’re what? Because of this? It's just scare tactics, it doesn't -"
"No, Carolyn, it ain't just this," he squeezed her hand and looked in her anxious eyes to make sure he had her attention. "I can't, and I don't want to go on like this with a target on mine and my daughter's backs, having to watch out for the people who are supposed to be on the same side. I ain't so naive that I never knew corruption was everywhere, but now my family is on their radar. And if I can keep my baby girl safe by just walking away and for once in my life, leavin' well enough alone, I'm gonna do it."
He was breathing hard by the end of his monologue, and realizing he had been gripping Carolyn's hand tighter to the point of painful, quickly let go. She looked saddened by his admission and sadder still when he dropped her hand.
"Ray, I'm sorry this happened to you and I'm sorry your daughter was threatened. But I think you and I both know that the only way to truly keep her safe is to root out the corruption from the core."
"Yeah, but I also know that takes time, and rarely ends without casualties."
He could tell she was disappointed in him, that he wasn't willing to fight back. She still kissed him above the cut on his forehead when he pretended to fall asleep. He thought he caught sight of a familiar silhouette just outside the guarded door of his hospital room before he closed his eyes completely.
And when he finally recovered enough to go home to Miami, he left her with assurances that she was welcome to come visit him sometime. And she told him with her lawyer's keenness that he didn't have to lie.
He still greatly appreciated the nice bottle she sent him later though.
II. Dan
Raylan was reasonably certain you weren't supposed to yell at someone with a concussion, even if the yelling was over the phone. Dan was not most people though, and had some leeway for putting up with Raylan and his bullshit twice over.
"How the hell did a simple extradition turn into a total shitshow involving dead Albanian mobsters, dozens of new IA investigations into multiple agencies with officers on the take, and one of my deputies getting kidnapped and tortured?"
Raylan winced at the sheer volume, well-inured to the upbraiding itself by now. Jesus, his head hurt though.
"It ain't like I asked for any of this, Dan. These things just seem to happen around me."
"Right, it's not at all that you track it in with you like shit on the bottom of your boot."
Raylan couldn't help but smile a little. It was just nice to hear a friendly voice he could trust. "Always can count on you to agree with me."
"Yeah well, guess you can," Dan audibly sighed down the line. "I got the report and talked to the Detroit chief, but I want to hear it from you, Raylan. Are you alright?"
In his lonely Detroit hospital room, Raylan looked down at the bulky cast on his broken knee under the sheets and the stark white bandage encasing the stump of his finger, his trigger finger.
"Listen, Dan. I, I think I might wanna quit."
Radio silence from Miami stretched on while Raylan held his breath.
"Raylan, son, I know you got hit in the head pretty hard, so maybe you're still not thinking straight -"
"No, Dan, for once I am tryin' to be realistic. You read the report so you know, my damn knee is all busted up. Gonna take months to heal and more'n likely won't ever be the same. And there's my hand," Raylan gritted his teeth, hoping Dan understood.
"I know, Raylan, I heard about that too," his boss said softly, softer than he'd ever addressed the deputy before. "But you can learn to adjust for the loss, and I know you can already shoot lefty anyway. Sure, you'll have to spend some time riding the desk while your leg heals up, but it won't be forever."
But Raylan knew what Dan purposely wasn't mentioning, that the broken patella had been left untreated for two days, that his old joints couldn't bounce back like they used to, that he might end up parked behind a desk until retirement age if he couldn't pass his field fitness quals.
"I'm being serious here, I really think I might be done." The admission tasted bitter rolling off his tongue.
"No, you listen to me now. Just take your time to recover, see your kid, get your head on straight. Then come talk to me again, see if you still feel the same." Dan's authoritative tone brooked no further arguments.
"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dan."
"And Raylan? I'm glad you're alright."
Dan still seemed surprised when Raylan limped up to him at the bar at his own retirement party and handed in his badge.
---
He had a good laugh a couple weeks later when Dan sent him a job listing at the Miami ATF office though.
Fwd: [email protected]
Re: Open position at ATF Miami
Check it out, two of your favorite things!
-Ray
He sent it to his former colleague, thinking he'd appreciate the humor, but didn’t dare to hope that he himself might be counted as one of those favorite things.
III. Winona
She was staring at him searchingly, gaze flitting down to his right hand, then back to his face. It seemed she had arrived at her answer.
"Well if you couldn't do it for me, I'm glad you could do it for her."
He nodded once. He had always loved her directness, accurate as a sharpshooter wielding words instead of bullets. Love was never the problem. The years between them and all the ways they had hurt each other softened in the wake of this new understanding.
Another sharpshooter came to mind, and Raylan admitted to himself that it wasn't just Willa he was aiming to spend more time with.
IV. Willa
They were out on a borrowed boat, enjoying the sun and sea.
Until Willa dropped the bomb on him.
"So, we gonna talk about it? Why you quit?”
God, she really was Winona's daughter.
Raylan stretched his legs out, extra careful with his right one. Thankfully, he didn’t need his leg to drive the boat. "We can talk about it if you want. We got plenty of time."
He considered answering upfront. Still, what are fathers for if not teasing their kids?
“Hmm, suppose I’m looking to enjoy some free time for a change. Reckon I might take up painting, take a yoga class, maybe join the neighbor’s bridge club if I can get in.”
“Uh-huh,” Willa rolled her eyes. “So you’re not gonna up and go to Georgia to be with your boyfriend?”
Raylan jerked upright, utterly thrown for a loop.
“Now how the hell do you figure that?”
He himself had only learned of Tim’s transfer to the SOG full time six months after the fact, when the crazy bastard came for a visit a few years ago and mentioned in passing how much shorter it made the trip to Miami. Never mind the fact that apparently his daughter somehow was aware of their, well, he hesitated to call it a relationship.
“Dad, come on, it’s so obvious! He’s been coming to see you a few times a year for as long as I’ve been alive.” She huffed and pointed accusingly at him, “And I saw you kissing that time he was here on your birthday.”
He groaned and briefly covered his face with his hands. “Willa, it ain’t like that. We’re not…” he paused to consider what they were like. “We’re not, uh, together like that.”
“Well why not?” She shrugged.
“He…comes and goes as he pleases,” he responded carefully, trying not to sound too much like a pining housewife.
“Right,” she drew out the vowel, “and you get to hook up with whoever you want when he’s not here.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, young lady, where’d you learn to talk like that?”
Willa giggled, “TV.”
“Uh-huh,” he scoffed. “Anyway, I got no obligation to talk to you about any of that.” It wasn't true anyway, before Carolyn, his hook-ups were actually few and far between.
She pouted a bit. “But Dad, Tim’s been posting nothing but pictures of guns and articles about guns on his Instagram since you got hurt. That means he’s worried. And probably angry.”
Raylan had questions, so many it was hard to decide what to ask first.
“Willa, why are you following Tim on Instagram?” Is what fought to the front of the line of questioning.
“Well how else am I supposed to know anything about my dad’s boyfriend when you don’t talk about him ever? I told him he should follow me too, but apparently that’s ‘creepy’ and I should be more ‘selective’ of my followers,” she rolled her eyes and made the air quotes.
God, give him strength.
“Sweetheart, I’m telling you again, he ain’t my boyfriend,” he said as seriously as he could. “Now tell me why you think he’s angry based on that Insta-whatever.”
She did a decent impression of Winona’s glare, searching for answers he didn’t want to give. Something of how he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, because she softened and let it go.
“It’s Instagram, Dad. And he’s angry and worried. He does this every time you get hurt.”
She pulled out her phone to show him. It really was a comprehensive library of guns and ammo on Tim’s profile. Shit, he was probably on some government watch list by now.
“Remember when you got stabbed by that cartel guy a couple years ago?” She asked somewhat rhetorically, a knife in the gut was not something easily forgotten. “I texted him to ask if he was okay after seeing his feed.“
“You text with him?” He really should’ve kept a closer eye on his daughter’s interactions.
“You gave me his number!”
“Yeah, for emergencies. In case your mom or I ever couldn’t help you.” Raylan had hoped she would never need to seek Tim’s help without him, but now it seemed she might talk to him just as often as Raylan himself did. He found he really didn’t mind them being close.
She waved him off, “He’s way funnier than you to text with. Anyway, he said he was fine, then he asked if I was okay, and then he asked if you were being taken care of. You get it?”
“Uhh,” he rubbed the back of his neck and pulled his hat down lower. All he remembered was receiving Tim’s surprisingly apologetic message that he was stuck at a training and couldn’t get away to come see him after that incident.
Willa sighed in the world-weary way of daughters with obtuse fathers. “Come on Dad, think about it. He obsesses with the guns because he’s worried about you and angry with whoever hurt you. And he worries because he wants to protect you. And he wants to protect you by being with you!”
“You get all that from a few texts and the man’s hobbies?” He looked very dubious of her line of reasoning. He loved his daughter dearly, but teenage girls could be downright scary.
She sighed yet again, shaking her head. “I just want you and Tim to be happy. Even if that means you have to leave to go be with him.”
Raylan instantly felt warmer from more than just the Florida sun. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how soft he could be when it came to his little girl.
“Willa, honey, I ain’t going anywhere, alright? I’ll see Tim whenever I see him, but I intend to spend as much of my newly-found free time as possible with you. As much as you can tolerate anyway, okay?” He opened his arm to her for a side-hug.
She leaned into him with a quiet “‘Kay” in response.
“You’ll call him though?”
He hummed, considering, “Maybe.”
They sat quietly for a blissful minute before his phone rang.
~Later~
Raylan (21:34): Willa and I agree, you’re too into the guns.
(21:37): She thinks you’re worried. Don’t be, I’m fine.
(22:50): You could always come down here and check though. Just in case.
V. Rachel
The calls from Lexington kept coming, and Raylan continued sending them straight to voicemail. He had confirmed from local news sites that it was in fact Boyd Crowder who had escaped in a completely unsurprising manner.
What was surprising however, was that the first call he received on the third day since the escape was from Chief Deputy Rachel Brooks. He knew better than to ignore that call.
"Howdy, cowboy."
"Howdy yourself, Chief Deputy Brooks." Raylan eased himself down onto the couch, figuring this wouldn't be a quick chat. His knee still ached when he stood for too long.
Never one to beat around the bush, Rachel pressed on, "I take it you know this isn't exactly a social call?"
"You mean you ain't calling to congratulate me on my retirement?" Raylan couldn't help the bantering or the grin, he missed Rachel.
"I already sent you a card, you waiting for flowers too?" The smile showed in her voice.
He had, in fact, received the card. Well, it was actually two cards, one covered in butterflies and daisies commanding him to "Get well soon," stapled to another card depicting a beach at sunset with the sentiment "Enjoy your golden years!" and "Best, Rachel" signed simply inside.
He snorted a laugh, "Nah, the card was plenty." More softly, he added, "Thanks Rach, I really do appreciate it."
She hummed in response. "Well, if you're really grateful, maybe you could pick up your damn phone next time the Lexington office calls so they don't keep bugging me for help with the Crowder case."
"Damn Chief, still not pulling any punches, huh?" He grimaced, absently rubbing at his knee, as though she'd physically hit him.
"Never with friends anyway," she replied somewhat fondly. "You know they'll keep asking, Raylan.”
“And you know that I’d just tell ‘em what I’m gonna tell you. I haven’t seen Boyd since all that shit in Harlan and I ain’t got the faintest idea where he might’ve got to.” He was careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Oh, so you definitely wouldn’t happen to know where Ava Crowder and their love child might be?” Rachel asked lightly. “I would think that'd be a pretty good lead to start.”
Raylan leaned forward in his seat and schooled his expression, even if she couldn’t see it over the phone. It was Rachel though, she always seemed to know.
“I told you then and I’m tellin' you now, I don’t know where she is or if Boyd even knew about the kid. I haven’t known anything about him in the past 15 years and honestly Rachel, I think I hardly ever knew him back then after all.” He shut his mouth with a click of teeth and a clenched jaw. He hoped Rachel understood that it wasn’t her he was angry with.
“Alright then.”
Raylan froze. “That’s it?”
“Yup, that’s it,” she said breezily. “I’ll report back that I tried my hardest interrogating you.”
He rubbed a hand over his face and slumped back into the couch. “Not much of an interrogation.”
“No, but this is,” she pressed on. “Why’d you quit? The truth, please.”
Raylan groaned, realizing he’d let his guard down too soon. “Rach, I really don’t wanna-“
“Yeah, yeah, emotionally repressed tough guy can’t talk about his feelings. I get enough of that from Tim.” Her words were brusque but she sounded fond again.
“You talk to him much?” He clung to the tangential lifeline.
“Sometimes. Less now, he volunteered for some classified task force right after he went to Detroit.”
Raylan’s heart sank. “He what? Tim was in Detroit?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, putting together pieces only she seemed to have. “He went as soon as we heard you’d been found alive. Your Chief wanted someone you trusted around. But I’m guessing you never saw him.”
“No. No, I didn’t,” he replied, suddenly feeling very far away from Rachel, and himself. He thought maybe the shadow outside his hospital door wasn’t just his imagination.
“Listen, Raylan, I don’t know exactly what you two are to each other now,” she spoke gently, “but every time I do hear from him, he asks about you. I’d like to be able to tell him something next time.”
He closed his eyes and considered an answer. He owed her a little honesty at least.
“I’m just tired of it, Rach. That’s all, just tired of playing these games with lives at stake. People dying and nothing ever changing.” He sighed heavily. “S’ppose I’m just gettin’ too old and jaded.“
She huffed a laugh, “You were already old and jaded when I first met you. But I think I understand.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
After that, Rachel asked a few more questions about his health (Doing better, glad to be off the crutches finally) and joked with him about his plans for retirement (Maybe take up golf, or pickle ball, ha).
He had forgotten how nice it was talking to a good friend.
“Hey, Raylan?”
“Hmm?”
“He misses you, you know that right?”
He closed his eyes and remembered a crooked grin and freckled skin laid out in the morning sun. As usual, they only had a few hours before Tim had to leave.
“I miss him too.”
VI. Tim
Raylan was trying to finish up the paint job on his house, which was no small feat with his knee and dominant hand still hurting like hell, when a black SUV came around the corner. A jaunty horn honk was all the warning he got before it pulled into his driveway.
Tim Gutterson in the flesh slid out the door, his ratty duffel bag in hand.
“Well damn, did you already go and find yourself a new vocation as a housepainter?” He asked in that ever-present sarcastic drawl.
Raylan knew he was probably grinning like a madman, even as he slowly started to descend the ladder in the least painful way possible.
“Y’think someone would pay for the shitty job I’m doing?”
Before he was able to get all the way down, Tim had dropped his bag and trotted over to grab him around the waist. He lowered him to the ground with surprising care, waited a moment for Raylan to find his footing, then copped a feel of his ass in full view of the neighborhood.
Tim was grinning just as widely when he said, “Nah, but the view might be worth the money.”
Raylan chuckled. “Hey there, stranger. Didn’t know you were coming by.”
They stepped back a bit, but not far, their hands still resting on the other’s waist. It had taken years and a new locale for both of them to be comfortable enough with PDA.
“Yeah, I had some business here in Miami,” the sniper said vaguely.
Raylan’s smile dimmed. Right, Tim would’ve told him if he were coming specifically to visit him. This was probably just a convenient stop on the way out of town.
“I didn’t hear about anything big enough to warrant calling you and the SOG out this way,” he tried to say neutrally.
Tim shook his head and squeezed Raylan’s hip reassuringly, likely clocking his uncertainty. “Nope, not here on Marshal’s business. I came for a job interview.”
“Job interview?” Surprise overtook any hesitation he had been feeling. “You transferring here?”
“Nah, a little birdie told me about this job with the ATF. Thought I might try it out, being such a firearms and alcohol enthusiast and all,” Tim said, casual as you please, except for the smirk he didn’t bother to hide. "Guess the interview was just a formality though, basically told me the job was mine on the spot."
“Oh yeah?” The smile was back in full force.
“Yeah,” Tim cocked his head. “Plus I got this boyfriend down here who doesn’t seem to realize I’m in love with him.”
Even though Raylan did have some inkling that Tim returned his affections, it was another thing entirely to hear it spoken out loud after all these years. The part of him that had so desperately sought love as a boy, yet so often denied it finally settled, satisfied. He couldn’t help but lean in and tilt the younger man’s face up for a kiss, which was enthusiastically returned.
“Is that right? Your fella’s a little thickheaded, huh?”
Tim snorted, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He reached up to tenderly brush Raylan’s overgrown hair back. “He has his moments though.”
“Tim,” Raylan figured this counted as one of those moments. “I love you too.”
~~~
“Oh hey,” Tim called out once they were in the living room and Raylan was grabbing a couple beers for them. “Got you a present.”
He set the drinks down on the coffee table to accept the file Tim held out for him. “Well shoot, I didn’t get you anything.”
The younger man shrugged, leaning back into the couch while taking a pull from his beer. “That’s fine, I accept IOUs or blowjobs.”
Any salacious response he had been formulating was cut off when he opened the folder to find arrest records. At least a dozen, all DPD officers and detectives. Maureen Downey’s face was right on top of the pile.
“What’s this?”
Tim took a long drink before responding tightly. “What’s it look like? We caught those sons of bitches that did this to you.”
Raylan sat down heavily on the couch beside him, reaching for his own beer. “Rachel said you were in Detroit, this what brought you there?”
“No, initially I was there to be on protective detail and escort you home. But then I get there, and the officers outside your door said you explicitly requested no contact with anyone remotely in law enforcement.”
“I didn’t mean-“
Tim waved him off, “I know, but at the time, I wasn’t sure.” He bit his lip, grip tightening around the neck of the bottle.
“I saw you lying there, beat to hell, at the hands of those who’re supposed to have your back,” a rare tone of true anger crept into his usually apathetic voice. “I turned right around and bullied my way onto the task force investigating the corruption.”
Raylan knew he probably shouldn’t find it as hot as he did, seeing his man (his boyfriend) vengefully mad on his behalf. But damn, he felt well and truly cared for, loved. “Thank you, Tim. I’m glad they’re off the force, really. But you didn’t have to go spend all those months hunting assholes just for me.” I would rather you have spent that time with me, he thought but didn’t say. He reached over to hold his hand, just because he was here now and they could.
Tim seemed to hear it anyway as he shook his head but didn’t let go. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. Even if I had stuck around the hospital, we couldn’t have been open about it.” He gestured with his free hand between them to encapsulate the almost 20 years they shared together. “I just wanted to make you feel safe, the way you always do for me.”
A lump formed in Raylan’s throat, as it often did when his tough-as-nails Army Ranger was sweet with him. He swallowed thickly, “I do feel safe with you, darling. ‘Specially now that we’re both gonna be out of the Marshal’s Service.”
Tim’s answering hum was sufficient acknowledgement.
They both knew and lived the truth that although the world had come a long way towards open-mindedness, professions like theirs were still rife with those who distrusted anyone whose lifestyle differed from their own. They also both knew that the job Dan had recommended was a primarily investigative position, where Tim wouldn’t have to regularly trust coworkers of unknown prejudices to have his back in the field. Unless the crazy kid went and volunteered himself for another special response team.
“Right, that’s why I’m not gonna ask you for what I’m sure would be the millionth time, why you retired,” the lazy drawl was back.
Raylan huffed a laugh, “Well, how ‘bout I tell you anyway?” He tugged until the smaller man was practically sitting in his lap, so he could look him straight in the eye. The little shit licked his thumb and rubbed at a spot of paint on Raylan’s jaw. He was profoundly charmed.
“I left because I’m tired of the anger, and the fighting, and the wanting. And what I want,” his accent thick and punctuating with a gentle squeeze of both hands on Tim’s thighs, “is to be with the people I love.”
Tim pressed his whole body forward, pushing Raylan flat into the backrest, lips crashing together roughly. The kiss deepened, ending only when the need for air became too much.
“Jesus fuck,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, “That’s what I want too, Raylan. That’s all I ever wanted.” He leaned in again to drop a gentle peck right on the older man’s beauty mark.
“I’m real sorry this happened to you, baby, but I’m grateful it forced both our heads outta our asses,” Tim said softly, still so close his lips brushed Raylan’s cheek as he spoke.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. And I’m sorry it took so long to figure this out.” Raylan ran his hands up the other man’s back, trying to draw him even closer. “But now we got all the time in the world to make up for it.”
Tim merely sighed contentedly in response.
There were no more questions to answer.