Veterans Day

One of the girls on staff who was always trying to get his attention bought him balloons; somebody else brought in a cake. Tim stepped through the doors Veterans Day morning, took one look at the display at his desk, turned and walked out.

The office tried to recognize Veterans Day like it tried to recognize Memorial Day. Art, or the senior Marshal present, would say a few words and there'd be a moment for reflection. There was always a skeleton staff on hand at the office on holidays, or more, depending on the criminal activity that week. United States Marshals business tended to ignore State and Federal holidays even if the Deputies might be inclined to want to recognize them. The year Tim became part of the Lexington Bureau there was a prison break during a bulk transport and one of the Federal top fifteen most wanted was spotted on the Kentucky side of the Ohio River, so it was business as usual and the office was full. There hadn't really been incentive to give the day its due until Tim Gutterson arrived earlier in the year, fresh-faced from Glynco, so the staff fussed a little for him.

Everyone was perplexed at Tim's reaction. Art had been watching from his desk. He chewed on his lip and waited for the murmuring to die down and the traffic in the bullpen to return to normal work patterns then he stood up and walked out and sliced himself a piece of cake and eyed the balloons and addressed his troops.

"It's Veterans Day folks, and I appreciate the extra effort this year. The balloons, Catherine, were a nice touch. And thank you, whoever thought of my stomach this morning – I love cake and vanilla goes particularly well with bourbon. I'm going to put this piece in my safe until later." There was a grateful and nervous general chuckle.

"None of us has had the pleasure of going off to war, so I'd suggest we not try to pretend to understand or unravel how any Veterans that we might know might feel about it. Maybe just some consideration of the personal and unique nature of personal experience, and some respect, would do. Catherine, if you don't mind, I'm going to run the balloons over to the VA Center at lunch. The staff there would appreciate them, I think. And, uh, Rachel's going to take up a collection for the DAV. Now, we've got us some fugitives to round up so let's get to it. Thanks for being amenable to working on a holiday, or at least for faking it."

He smiled a ridiculous smile and took his plate of cake back to his office.

At noon, Tim was still AWOL. Art put on his jacket and untied the balloons from the back of Tim's chair and meandered through the office checking on progress. He ended up stopped at Rachel's desk and made a decision standing there staring at her and holding the balloons and feeling like a clown at a circus and being ignored.

"I'm heading out."

Rachel was scrolling through a list of known associates, previous prison inmates and family members for their top fifteen most wanted member. She didn't look up, asked, "Where?"

"I've taken a personal interest in tracking down one of our fugitives. Feel like some field work today."

Rachel looked up. "Which one?"

"Tim."

She mouthed an 'oh' and frowned. "I've tried calling him. He's not answering, but his phone's on."

Art nodded. "Mine's on too if you need me."

"Okay. Good luck."

Art rode the elevator to the basement and exited the back of the building then stood staring at his car in the parking lot. A walk suddenly seemed like a nice idea. The sky was clear and there was a chill that made his jacket just the right feel open. He wrestled the balloons into his car then headed out to the street and strolled along the sidewalk and ended up in front of Tim's house a short while later. He'd only been there once before, stopping on his way to see a judge with a report that Tim had forgotten to sign. It seemed an odd choice of dwelling for his deputy. He had him pegged more as an apartment guy, no yard to tend – not that Tim's yard looked particularly well tended. He walked up the porch steps and knocked.

Tim answered eventually, still in his work clothes. He hadn't shaken the habit of the more formal type of Marshal wear, suit and tie. The tie was gone, but he was still in his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, and it looked a little wrinkled, like he'd been lying down.

He looked guiltily at Art, wiped a hand across his mouth. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not if you're a Veteran. It's Veterans Day – you all get a twenty-four hour 'Be an Asshole without Consequences' pass. But I need to see your card."

"What?"

"Your Veteran's ID card."

Tim couldn't work out if Art were joking.

"And you could invite me in."

Tim turned sideways and held the door and Art walked past then put out his hand expectantly.

Picking up his wallet from the table in the hall where he'd dropped it earlier, Tim opened it and fished out his Veteran's card and handed it over and watched bemused as Art pulled out his reading glasses and scrutinized every detail of it, front and back.

"Well, it looks genuine. I guess you are a Veteran. Is it too early for a beer?"

"Not on a holiday."

"Excellent. Did you know it's Veterans Day today and that it's a holiday?"

Tim still couldn't work out what this was about or what was coming. He gestured down the hall to the kitchen and took two beers out of the fridge and slid one across the counter to Art along with a bottle opener. "Uh, I was just going to have a sandwich. You hungry?"

"Yeah. I'm saving my cake for later."

Tim opened the fridge again and dug around for some fixings and the two of them sat at the table and ate in silence and Tim got up and came back with another round of beer.

"So you were a sniper in the Rangers?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Tim only nodded an affirmative. Art already knew that about him.

"Why'd they pick you for a sniper?"

"I don't smoke, for one. Good eyesight. And I scored well on the math section of the AFQT."

"You must have shown some aptitude on the range, though."

"Well, yeah. That, too."

Art said, "Why Rangers?"

Tim took a deep breath, his face open and thoughtful. "I dunno. The challenge? I think it gives you a wonderful false sense of being indestructible, too. Of course, they count on you not being able to see the future...everything. And if I'd heard ahead of time about mucking through a swamp, I might not've gone through with it."

"Don't you have to do Airborne, too?"

"Yeah, but that was the fun part."

"You like jumping out of airplanes?"

"Well, yeah. If I didn't, I'd have been miserable. They made us do it regularly even after to keep it up. I loved that part – the freefalling is awesome."

"You're an idiot."

Tim grinned finally. "Yeah, maybe."

Art finished the last mouthful of beer and eyed the empty bottle wistfully. "Gosh, that tastes good today."

Tim got up again and sat back down with two more bottles and Art pushed his chair away from the table and stretched out his legs and settled in for a third contentedly.

"I'm sorry about this morning," Tim mumbled. "I know we're busy and all."

Art smacked his lips together with another sip of beer. "Don't worry about it. It was a bit over the top. I'll see it doesn't happen again. Usually the new guys have to work the holidays but I'll give you a pass on Veterans Day and Memorial Day if it makes it easier for you."

Tim considered the offer, shook his head. "I'd rather work, actually. Thanks, though."

Art figured he understood that.

"I just… I don't want to be the center of attention about it all. I don't like being singled out like that. It just feels wrong. I don't like it. I know it sounds stupid but I got freaked out. I got…" He worked his mouth in all directions trying to come up with a way to say 'upset' without saying 'upset'. "I got mad. It's just…"

"Tim, it's okay."

Tim flicked his eyes quickly over at his boss, gauging the reaction. Something reassured him.

"I think it's a four beer day," said Art after a pause.

"I think working in this office is going to bad for me," said Tim, but he got up and got two more bottles.

"Bad for you…" Art patted his stomach and accepted another beer. "So tell me you didn't shit yourself the first time you had to jump out of a plane."

"Uh-uh. No way. Like I said, I loved it. I had a grin on the whole way down."

"You really are an idiot."

"You want me to take you skydiving sometime?"

"Hell, no." Art raised his eyebrows, looked embarrassed. "I wouldn't mind going to the range again with you, though. Do some shooting. Doesn't Fischer have a Barrett in his collection?"

Tim smiled over at him. "Yep. I set it up nicely for him."

Art grinned back in anticipation, grinned too since the tension that had sat in the air since he arrived was finally gone. "I'd love to try one. But don't tell Leslie."

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