A/N: This is a collaborative fic with WhoKnowsWhy aka Wkw99. This fic was inspired by discussions at the FX Justified forum and another site. Since so many of the ladies agreed that Raylan and Winona seem to be locked in a permanent can't-live-with-can't-live-without relationship, we decided to explore it a bit. After several months, this is what 'a bit' turned into! Consider this a Christmas present for Jess, Clovergirl, Mondayschild, ripetetbook, bookperson39, okeydokey, Anyways, Cherry, LoveJustified, Giselle, Samh44, Elainebrown, Catz and others I'm sure we've neglected to mention. This fic is also inspired by the several talented Justified fan fiction authors on this site and others. Read carefully. If you see names / dates or publically expressed opinions incorporated it is purely intentional and consider this your shout out.
These characters belong to Elmore Leonard and Graham Yost and not to us. We're just playing with them for our own amusement. There may be a crossover character belonging to Warner Brothers that turns up later.
*Prologue: Ice Cream*
Winona takes a spoonful of ice cream and lets it melt in her mouth. It's cool and sweet and she relishes the fact that for the first time in weeks she doesn't feel sick. She sits on one end of the sofa; one leg propped against the arm rest with her foot crossed Indian style under her thigh, leg dangling off the cushion, toes lightly skimming the carpet. Still holding the pint of Chaneys, she takes another big scoop and licks the spoon clean with the smack of her lips.
"Ummmm, that's good."
"Alright, alright, give it here." says Raylan, reaching for the ice cream. He glances up at her, peeking through the strands of his disheveled hair, as he lies on the sofa, his head resting on Winona's lap. "I thought you said you didn't want any." He says with a teasing grin.
Winona looks down at Raylan and smiles, pondering the fact that it is nothing short of a miracle that they are both here tonight; healthy, and eating ice cream together.
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*Flashback: Numb with Slumber*
To say the last three months had been challenging would be an understatement. Raylan was confined to U of K Hospital for six weeks after the shooting. Initially, the first surgery to remove his spleen and repair his liver seemed to come off without a hitch. Then, the infection...peritonitis-from the Oakridge Boy's unseen bullet fragment...and finally, the reaction to the antibiotics; had beaten Raylan's body to a pulp like no thug or coalmine ever had. Winona was there the entire time. Even as she had threatened otherwise, she was there. She was always there, even when he didn't know it.
The first few weeks of their pregnancy were nearly as difficult on Winona. She hated hospitals. The glaring lights reflected off metal and steel made her head feel like it would explode. The smell. The horrible aroma of disinfectant and synthetic chemical compounds made her green with nausea. The only relief came when the mercy of sleep overtook her fatigue as she sat, night after night, curled up in the chair next to Raylan's bed.
The hospital staff was as kind and accommodating as possible during the weeks of Raylan's stay. Until the legalities crept in when Raylan's health took a serious turn in response to some ill prescribed erythromycin.
"We need to speak to the family." The young doctor said.
"I'm family…I'm his..wife…was his wi… (Clearing her throat) I'm his ex-wife." Winona proclaimed.
"You're not family." the doctor dismissed her and continued flipping pages to study the had never felt so small and inferior. Who was this man chastising her? He was something Arabic; but he looked like a Boy Scout.
In fact, the doctor was not wrong. She was not Mrs. Givens. The truth was, at that moment she was still Mrs. Hawkins. She hung her head and grasped her hair in her hands, cringing at the self made misery she was enduring.
"Is there anyone else?" The doctor asked.
"Uh, he has a father, but, uhh, they're not close." Arlo? Seriously? No. While he was subdued and sweet at their one and only meeting at Helen's funeral; Winona had glimpsed Arlo's mark on Raylan over the years, and she knew how he felt about his daddy. Raylan would rather die than let Arlo into their lives. For a moment, anyway, it looked as if that might actually come to pass.
The Marshal's service was all the family Raylan had, and as it turned out, it was all the family he needed. The Marshals were wonderful to Winona, offering her respite from the watch to attend to her own four week checkup. Rachael was as comforting as a sister, and Tim stopped by nearly every day to recite a different Afghanistan story to Raylan, as he lay numb with slumber. Once, Tim broke into a ridiculous off key warble of a Dolly Parton ballad in an effort to break the tension in the room. Raylan just opened his eyes a little and smiled. There were Marshals and Troopers and Officers and a myriad of other visitors with uniforms and shiny badges. They all seemed to run together like paint through Winona's tired eyes.
When she faced the hospital's staunch Hippa privacy blockade, the Marshal Service managed to come up with a twelve-year-old Medical Power of Attorney document, signed by Raylan and long filed away in his employee folder amid the many, many incident reports. I nominate Winona Cochran as my representative in all matters pertaining to my health and medical care…. Winona secretly wondered if Art had called on his pals at the Secret Service's document and forgery division to materialize that document out of thin air. Or maybe Dan in Miami had some role in it. Dan had called several times, and after speaking with him, she got the feeling that Dan was a color-outside-the-lines kind of kindred spirit to Raylan.
Regardless, the paper turned up right when she needed it. She was now responsible for him, and she felt the full weight of the document like it was lead. She didn't know whether she could muster the strength to face another day at the hospital. Would it be another day of sickness, or another hopeful rally, followed by another setback? Each evening Winona faced her biggest fear as she parked her car in the structure and made the long walk through the corridors of the hospital.
Dear God, please ….prepare me for this hourwas chanted along with the clicks of her steps. Anger over the situation had long since melted into acceptance. Some times you just can't help. Art's words echoed into her very soul. Some times you just can't control, she corrected her thoughts with resignation. Each day she realized anew that if she could face this ordeal; this series of ordeals, and persevere, then she could face anything. She lifted Raylan's hand and rested it on her still slender belly. She hoped to God they'd face it together.
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when she entered Raylan's room to find him sitting up, alert and fumbling with the TV remote. He had been gradually improving for a couple of days, but this was the first time in weeks he'd been upright.
"Raylan!" She rushed to his bedside. "I don't know whether to kiss you or slap you."
"I vote for the first one."
Later that day, the young doctor came in again, this time looking up from the lab report with a smile and direct eye contact. "Well," He said, "I have the best news ever."
Raylan and Winona each shifted their eyes toward each other with a sweet acknowledgement of their private memory.
"Your white count is coming down steadily and..and..you're never going to take erythromycin again."The Boy Scout doctor was strangely humble for a moment. "So, barring any new and unforeseen complications, you should be home in few days, Marshal."
Holding hands, they sighed as they both let out a little laugh. The happiness in the room was palpable.
"I'll get PT in here to get you going. Ok then, see you both tomorrow." The doctor excused himself with some degree of satisfaction, inaudibly murmuring Thank Allah I didn't kill a cop.
Winona felt a great burden lift from her shoulders. She plopped down in the chair, exhausted. She folded her arms and leaned forward to rest her head on Raylan's bed. He caressed her hair. He'll be home in a few days she thought. The only thing left now to do is determine where home is.
"See, I told you I would be fine."
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A/N by MCM edited by WKW