Once upon a time (or, more precisely, on the 18th of February) TellatrixForever asked me this question: "Out of curiosity, is it even possible for you to maybe include Devil in your stories? Like say he was out of town, with Business for Boyd?" And then it all kinda just went from there...
Disclaimer: I do not own Justified, nor any of its characters, nor the snippets of dialogue I had to borrow from season 3 for this, and I am not making any money with this.
The Penny in the Parking Lot: Prologue
The Traitors
"If we're bein' perfectly honest" Devil said, pointing his Beretta at Boyd across the table, Johnny in his wheelchair next to him, "it's been comin' a long time."
"One more question, if you'll allow me." Boyd said, lifting a placating hand, and then hesitated, like he was actually waiting for Devil to give him permission to talk, and Devil nodded carefully.
"Devil, knowin' me the way you do, whatever led you to believe you could pull this off?"
Johnny pulled a gun out of his belt all of a sudden, and he didn't point it at Boyd, as Devil would have expected, he pointed it at Devil, who turned to Johnny with a significant amount of shock and surprise.
"Yo, Johnny! Wha-"
"You shoulda known", Johnny said.
"Devil" Boyd called to him, and Devil looked at him, not expecting the bullet that hit him in the side and knocked him off of his chair. Johnny picked up Devil's gun and stowed it away.
"Now we can have that talk you wanted", Boyd said and smiled a little smile at Devil. "Tell me. What's got you so unhappy, son?"
"Devil, I understand. I do."
"Boyd, I'm-"
"No, son, there ain't all that much you gotta be sorry for. I disappointed you, I get that. But what you did, it weren't all bad. I think we can turn the tables to our favor now."
"How… how so?"
"You said you gained Mr. Quarles's trust. You a hundred percent sure you did?"
"Yeah."
"Then I think it'll be for the best if you go on to Frankfort for some time."
"What? No, Boyd, listen, I – I didn't think-"
"Listen to me right here, Devil. It won't be forever, just a couple of months, and be my inside man. Do what you do best, son. Find people who'll help us. You know what I mean. Recruit."
"Well… you know me. People person."
Two weeks later, Colt showed up. Boyd's old Army buddy was looking to catch up, and maybe catch a job. Boyd was glad to see him, and he opened his arms in a wide gesture and let Colt embrace him in a bear hug that lifted him off his feet.
Later on, though, after Boyd told Colton to take care of that man in the chair and Colt just went and shot him, Boyd took a closer look at his old friend from Army times and recognized signs he did not like much, signs of drug abuse. Reddened, puffy eyes, sickly pale skin, shaking fingers. Boyd Crowder reconsidered, and he told Colton as much.
"I know I offered you a job" Boyd said, late in the night when him and Colt and Johnny sat in the barroom. "Lord knows I could use you, the situation with Devil bein' what it is."
Colt was frowning. "There a 'but' coming?"
"But" Boyd continued, "after what happened tonight, I think I'd rather you leave, Colt, I apologize."
"What do you mean, leave? I just got here!"
"And it was good to see you Colt, my friend, it truly was. Just like old times. Almost."
"What is it, Boyd? What's your problem here, man?" Colt was getting agitated. Johnny searched for Boyd's gaze and asked him an unspoken question, and Boyd shook his head at him before focusing on Colt again.
"I see signs for somethin' I cannot abide here, not from someone close to me, not from you." Boyd sighed. "What's it you're on, son? Cocaine? Heroin? Meth?"
Colt sagged a little. "Nah. Hell nah, Boyd, I don't touch that stuff, I swear."
"And now you're lyin' to me, Colt, makes me ask myself where your priorities lie. Do you need this job, Colt, because you need money to buy drugs?"
"Shit, Boyd!" Colton swallowed hard and got more and more aggressive in his stance. "You got any idea what you're accusing me of here? We ain't seen nothing of each other for almost twenty years and then you come and say this shit to me? You don't know what you're talking bout!"
"Were the last few years hard on you? I could understand. But, Colt, if you want this job, you'll have to stop lyin'" Boyd leaned forward, his face a carefully constructed mask of threat, "to my goddamned face."
"This is some fucked up shit right here" Colt said. "You know I could just as easily go to the police and tell 'em you were the one, shot that guy in the face. You're the one, tied him to his recliner and put that fuse in his mouth, anyway."
"That is very true, my friend, you could do that." Boyd looked at Johnny and nodded. "Let's not let it come to that."
Johnny pulled a gun from his belt, just like he'd done two weeks ago, and Boyd called Colton's name, just like he had called Devil's two weeks ago, but this time he aimed for the heart.
Later that night, when Boyd buried Colton's cold body next to Black Lake Creek with some help from Arlo, he listened to Arlo's complains about why they even buried that son of a bitch instead of just tossing him down some abandoned mine shaft or slurry pond like they usually did.
"Colt was a friend, before he became a traitor" Boyd answered calmly, and prayed to whatever God he might or might not believe in anymore that Colt would find peace now.
"The man you threw from that trailer mailed a limp. His name's Tanner Dodd, Quarles's point man in Harlan. He tried to turn Devil against me."
"You gave him the limp."
"Well, I can get territorial."
"How is Devil, by the way? Haven't seen him in some time."
"Well, he calmed down a great bit since you last saw him. He's up north doin' some business for me."
"In Frankfort?"
"Raylan, I believe it's my business he's takin' care of and therefore none of yours."
The night was dark, misty and still as Boyd and Limehouse faced each other on Tate's Creek Bridge.
"I'm returnin' your deposit" Limehouse said, eyeing Boyd's gun carefully while showing him the money he held in his hand. "Duly witnessed. Do see a little interest in there."
"You really think this concludes our business?" Boyd asked, pocketing the money.
"I do. We could both walk away with what we got. Or we can hash it out right now." Limehouse's eyes traveled back to Boyd's truck where Jimmy was standing pointing a gun at Limehouse's entourage.
"Although you're travelin' a little light. Whatever happened to that fat Army buddy o'yours? I been told he paid you a visit, I woulda been sure he'd be taggin' along?"
Boyd was trying hard to keep his face as indifferent as possible to this new bit of information. "Well, I guess we best both sleep with one eye open" he slowly said before turning away. Limehouse's gaze followed him to his car.
"I always do."
Ava looked up at Boyd from the couch, expectant. "What did Shelby want?"
Boyd blinked. "State Troopers are diggin' up Colt."
"What?!"
"Said I was the one, put him there."
"Was there a witness?" Ava was starting to panic.
"Wasn't any witness. It's come from Limehouse."
"How the hell would you know that?" Johnny asked, shocked.
"Last night, on the bridge" Boyd sighed, "he asked where Colt was, just so I'd know."
"He couldn't have known" Ava sounded almost pleading.
"He could if someone told him" Boyd stated.
"Only people who know anything about that" Johnny said slowly, "are in this room."
"Well, it weren't me." Boyd was starting to sound angry, a hard note creeping into his voice. "And I know it weren't Ava."
Ava understood was he was getting at, and she turned a disbelieving face to Johnny.
"You can go to hell, Boyd! I'm the one that was there, helped you clean up the mess of Colt in the first place!"
"Arlo, what about you?" Boyd still gazed hard at Johnny.
"You said anythin' to anybody? Bout anythin'?"
"No, nothin', Boyd…" Arlo sounded strangely hesitant, and Johnny turned to look at him.
"'less…"
Three pairs of eyes were torn to the old man in the rocking chair. "Unless what?" Boyd asked impatiently.
Arlo shrugged. "Not sure. Mighta said somethin' to Helen. Women don't know how to keep a secret."
Johnny started laughing. "Oh shit."
"They're here", Johnny called from the window.
"Arlo, would you mind lettin' them in?"
The old man went over to the door, and Boyd braced himself for what was to come.
"Somebody's gotta call Devil" he said. "Let him know, tell him to come home."
"I will."
"Thank you, Johnny."
"Boyd Crowder, you're under arrest for the murder of one Colton Rhodes aka Colt. You have the right to remain silent."
"I'll insert that right, now what about the lawyer."
"Fair enough."
"What the hell were you thinkin'?!"
"You're gon' have to be more specific, I got a lot on my plate right now."
"Callin' in about Colt! Boyd goddamn near figured out where that came from!"
"But he didn't, did he."
"Because I got lucky! I laid it off on Arlo and one of Ava's girls."
"Well, maybe it was luck. Maybe it was providence. Now, you've wanted Boyd Crowder out the way ever since he got you gut-shot. Now it's done."
"Maybe, Limehouse. But you an' me? We're not done."
"I'm not crazy, I know what I've done!" Arlo said emphatically.
"What did you do?" Art asked him casually, like this was a conversation over some coffee instead of an actual interrogation.
"Don't answer that question, Mr. Givens" Arlo's lawyer interjected immediately, but she was too late.
"First off, I killed that State Trooper like you said" Arlo began.
"Tom Bergen" Tom's State Trooper colleague stated with a grim expression.
"That's right."
"Mr. Givens, don't…"
"Why?" Art implored.
"I did it to protect Boyd! Same reason I killed Colt."
There was stunned silence for a few seconds. Raylan looked like he'd seen an alien, while Arlo's lawyer looked like someone had kicked her in the face.
Art was the first one to find his voice again. "Same reason you did what?"
"I killed Colt!"
"Okay, we're done here, Art!" The lawyer tried gathering her things, although everything was lost now anyway.
"He was ready to take out Boyd" Arlo continued, "and I took him out first."
"Boyd, what the hell! I thought you was gon' spend the rest of your life in jail!"
"Devil, calm down. It's gon' be okay. Arlo saved me."
"How in the hell would the old man be able to do that? Last time we talked he was talkin' to imaginary wives and not even able to tie his own shoes…"
"He… he did me a great service. He took the fall for me. Said he was the one, killed Colt."
"… shit. Did he even know what he was sayin'?"
"I couldn't tell you, son. Had no chance to speak to him, I was sittin' in an arrest cell while the whole confession was goin' down. He might have felt bad because it was him who gave Limehouse the info in the first place."
"Cause he's crazy an' old an' talks to people who ain't there."
"Cause of that."
"Shit. I just… what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to calm down, and stay put."
"Boyd. All this shit goin' on down there with you, and you just want me to stay here? I wanna come home."
"I know you do, son, but the time ain't right. Just a couple more months, you're doin' great, Devil, and I am very thankful for what you do, I want you to know that."
"I do know that, Boyd. Just… shit. All this sneakin' around, workin' three sides at the same time, lockin' myself in the goddamned bathroom and pretendin' to take a shower every time I wanna call you, it's just… it sucks, man. Shit's gon' give me an ulcer or somethin'."
"Devil, you're doin' great. I know it's hard, but what you're doin' is too important to give it up now. If anythin' happens, if I need you down here, I'mma let you know. Alright, son?"
"… alright, I guess. Glad you ain't in prison again."
"You're tellin' me. Take care, Devil. I will call you in a week."
"Alright. Night, Boyd."
"Good night."
I'm not even gonna say anything. I think it pretty much speaks for itself. Also, the really smart ones might have noticed how I titled this fic "Prologue", meaning it's just a harbinger for much more to come.