Intro

Raylan heard the happy high-pitched shrieks as he came out of the restroom, tucking the hem of his shirt into his jeans. He adjusted his belt, checked his fly out of habit, and stepped out of the hallway into the bullpen. The scene that greeted him didn't register for a moment, and he shook his head as if to clear it.

A crowd of marshals was hovering around his desk, peering at the contents of the baby carrier sitting on top. A familiar figure perched on the edge of the desk, one stiletto-clad foot swinging as she dangled a stuffed monkey in the air. The shrieking increased in direct proportion to the proximity of the monkey to the baby, and chubby hands reached up.

"Well, hello there, Daddy. Lookie who came all the way from Miami for a visit," Art said as Raylan walked over. "Ain't she a sweetie?" He leaned closer.

"Smile for Uncle Art, Willa," Winona encouraged.

"She's sure a pretty thing," Rachel said.

Nelson nodded in agreement. "Look at those big blue eyes."

"And those long lashes," Rachel said. "I'd kill for those."

Tim stood a safe distance away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, as if babies were contagious.

"She's smart, too," Winona said. "She's already figured out how to get her shoes and socks off. We lose a sock a day."

Raylan slipped past Tim to get behind the desk. "Winona? What're you doin' here?"

Winona looked up, blue eyes meeting his. "Nice to see you, too, Cowboy."

Rachel shot him one of her 'no bullshit' looks, lips pursed together in disapproval, and Tim turned his head to hide a grin as he headed back to his desk.

The phone on his desk rang and Tim answered. "Art," he said after a moment. "Phone call for you." He mouthed F.B.I and rolled his eyes.

"Shit," Art said. Then, his eyes slid to Winona. "Sorry. No swearing in front of the baby." He waved his fingers in front of Willa's face. "Bye-bye for now. You be good for your mama and daddy and come back to see us."

He gave Raylan a grin and a wink. "Have fun."

"Winona," Raylan repeated quietly once the crowd had dispersed. "What are you doin' here?"

She smiled. This was not the warm, comforting smile of their late-night video chats, this was the smile that meant she had his number. "Since you couldn't come to see us, I thought we would come to see you." She scooped Willa out of the carrier. "Say hi to Daddy, 'Punkin'."

"Gah!" Willa shrieked, kicking her legs.

Winona held her out. "Here," she smirked. "She doesn't bite."

"Yet," Raylan said. He took the baby a bit awkwardly, holding her to his shoulder and patting her back. She reached up with one hand and grabbed at his ear lobe.

"Ow!"

Winona's laugh bubbled out, and her eyes lit up. "That's why I don't wear earrings much anymore."

"Thanks for the warning." He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "You wanna have some lunch?"

"I can't," she shot back in a millisecond flat. Firmly grabbing hold of the strap of her leather hobo handbag with both hands and turning on her heel, she said, "I'm meeting Gayle for lunch, and I'm running late. Have fun with your 'Daddy Time!'"

As she sprinted out the main doors of the Marshal Service office, Raylan chased after her with Willa in tow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he tried to slow her pace with his voice. "You can't just leave Willa here with me, now. I'm workin'."

By now, he was following her out in the hallway to the floor elevators. Tim and Rachel looked at each other and, unable to hold it in any longer, erupted in laughter.

"Raylan's been punked," Tim snorted.

"I don't think this a joke," Rachel surmised with a big smile. "This is for real, but it is funny to watch our cool, unflappable cowboy suddenly become ... flappable … when it comes to a harmless little baby."

"Good times," Tim chuckled and nodded with a gleam in his eye.

Back outside of the elevator, Winona pushed the button and waited for the car. "Well, I guess I can leave her with you now. You're her father, Raylan."

"I know that," Raylan said, breathing hard, his adrenaline running. "I'd be happy to watch her this evenin'," he began to negotiate his plight. "When I get off from work. I can't just walk off the job now," he argued. 'It's unprofessional!"

"That's not what Art said," she countered. "He said you've got, and I quote, 'boatloads of paid time off you've been banking for decades.' He said I'd be doing my country a favor by getting you to let go of some of your stockpile of vacation time you accrued in the 90's, grandfathered in, and is being paid out at higher current and future inflationary rates."

"Huh?" Raylan screwed up his face, confused by the high powered accounting lingo that sounded like typical Federal bullshit.

Winona had rehearsed that one and was ready for all of Raylan's predictable comebacks, prepared to go further if need be.

"You and Willa can have a nice few days together, some bonding time," she waved. "Everything she needs is in the diaper bag. There's frozen breast milk and homemade baby food in a chill bag with an ice pack and instructions for warming and feeding. The pack will keep it cold, long enough for you to transfer it all to a fridge. Everything she needs is in there, except for enough diapers. I didn't have enough time to buy more diapers," she said, unapologetically.

"A few days?" he uttered in disbelief, keying in on those three words.

With each passing moment, this was becoming more preposterous.

"Go buy your baby some more diapers, Raylan," Winona snipped. "After all these months of not participating in your baby's life, it's the least you can do."

Ouch. That stung.

Stunned, Raylan just stood there with his mouth agape and Willa in his arms, watching Winona leave as she entered the empty elevator and the doors close behind her.

Damn, Art … Figures he was not only a part of all this, but the seeming mastermind.

The walk back inside the office was a much longer one than the one outside.

Once inside he immediately approached Tim and Rachel. "Would you mind keepin' an eye on Willa for a sec? I need to talk to Art."

Without saying a word, Rachel and Tim did an impromptu round of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors.' Tim lost and Raylan started to hand baby Willa over to him.

"No," Tim held up his hands in protest. "Can't do it."

"Why not?" Raylan asked. "You lost."

"Doesn't matter," Tim was firm. "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies," he mocked the line from Gone with the Wind.

Raylan turned a pleading gaze towards Rachel, holding Willa out for Rachel to take her.

"Afraid not, Cowboy," she smiled. "I'm not about to insert myself in the middle of this one."

"Hmmph," Raylan uttered, suddenly getting the full picture.

He brought his daughter in closer to his chest and headed to go and speak with "Uncle Art".

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Art looked up from his paperwork at Raylan's knock, wire-rims perched on the end of his nose. "What can I help you with, Raylan? From what Jeannie in the mailroom says, the Piggly Wiggly has the best prices on diapers, unless you want to drive all the way out to the Walmart on 64."

"Art, why'd you tell Winona I could take time off? I got the inventory on Monroe's place to write up and..." Raylan began. Then, he felt wetness soak through his shirt onto his arm. "Shit!" He yelped, holding the baby out in front of him. Willa's little face puckered at his loud voice and the sudden movement.

Noting the dampness on Raylan's sleeve, Art shook his head. "No, that would be pee. Shit is thicker, darker, and smells a helluva lot worse. Take it from a man with two daughters and three grandkids."

Willa's face flushed red and the pucker turned into a full-fledged howl.

"Guess she doesn't like bein' wet," Art chuckled. "You'd better go on and change her. There's one of those fold down tables in the Family restroom by the elevators." He dropped his head to his paperwork, but the shaking of his shoulders betrayed his amusement.

With Willa still wailing, Raylan backed out of Art's office and snagged the diaper bag off the desk with one hand.

He cast a pleading look at Rachel who rolled her eyes. "Just because I'm a woman you think I'm gonna take pity on you and change that baby's diaper? You oughta know better." She turned back to her computer, shaking her head.

"I've never done this before." He mumbled. He lugged the bag and the baby down the hall, relieved to find the family restroom unoccupied. He managed to get the fold down baby shelf down and Willa secured. He grabbed a diaper from the bag, thankful that Winona had put them on top. Then, he stared down at Willa, whose screaming had faded into whimpers. She looked up at him, lower lip trembling. None of this was her fault.

"It's okay," he murmured. "We'll figure this out." He felt around and found the waist of her leggings, pulling them down to expose the soaked diaper. Scrunching up his nose, he tugged the taped sides apart, pulled the diaper out from under her, and tossed it in the trash. Freed and exposed to the air, Willa kicked her legs and gave him a smile. Something tightened in his chest, and he swallowed hard.

There was a knock and Nelson stuck his head in. "Wow. Art was right. You're farther along than I thought you'd be," he said.

Raylan glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's a pool. Rachel said you wouldn't make it past the tights, and Tim wasn't sure you could even find a clean diaper in the bag. I thought you might hedge on actually taking the wet diaper off, but Art had faith in you."

Raylan slid the clean diaper under Willa and peeled the plastic away from the tab. "Nice to know someone thinks I'm capable."

"You wiped her off, right?"

"Huh?"

"You gotta wipe her bottom off," Nelson, an experienced father of five-year old twins, admonished. "Front to back. Otherwise, she's gonna get diaper rash. You don't want diaper rash." He reached into the bag and pulled out a packet of wipes. "Hmmm. Must be a good brand. Deborah used the same kind on the twins. Have at it, Daddy. I'm gonna go tell Art he won the pool."

(To be continued …)