DISCLAIMER: Justified and the songs in this work of fiction are copyrighted material that belong to their respective owners. I just borrow them for my stories. I promise to return them unharmed.
Authors Note: I wrote my first Justified fic last month. My friend M E Wofford thought that it deserved a couple more chapters. So this story will have two. One for Raylan and one for Willie Ray. You might want to read that story, "No Second Place Winner". This story might be a little confusing otherwise. This story is sort of a songfic. The song for this chapter is "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive". In the season finale they used Brad Paisley's version. I happen to like Darrell Scott's. Give both a listen and decide for yourself. For the story I'm using Darrell's. Hope you enjoy it.
In the deep dark hills of Eastern Kentucky That's the place where I trace my bloodline And it's there I read on a hillside gravestone "You Will Never Leave Harlan Alive"
September 1987
Raylan Givens made it. He finally put Harlan County Kentucky in his rearview mirror. It hadn't been easy, but he'd had a plan. He graduated high school. The first in his family to do so. He was smart, but not smart enough for a college scholarship. He could play football. Again, not well enough for a scholarship. But he could play. So he looked around. Eastern Kentucky University had a good football program. They also offered a degree in Criminal Justice. Raylan sat down and figured out how much tuition, books, and room and board would cost for two years. With his foot in the door, Raylan would worry about years three and four once he was there.
So Raylan did something he swore he would never do. He went to work in the mines. He lived like a monk. Socked his money away and worked a part time construction laborer's job. He only went out once a month. His best buddy Boyd thought he was crazy. Pretty funny considering Boyd lived to blow shit up.
At age nineteen, after a couple near death experiences in the mines, Raylan had enough money to go to EKU. His Aunt Helen came down to the bus depot to see him off. Watched him load two duffle bags into the luggage compartment. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and promised to come to his graduation. Raylan climbed aboard the Greyhound and watched as his Aunt Helen and Harlan County got smaller and smaller
Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning And the sun goes down about three in the day And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinking And you spend your life just thinking how to get away
Four years later
It was done. Raylan Givens graduated from Eastern Kentucky University with a degree in Criminal Justice. He'd made the football team, walking on and impressing the coaching staff with his drive and ferocity. He'd gotten a scholarship and years three and four took care of themselves. His senior year, he'd taken every Federal Civil Service test he could. His ambition was to be a US Marshal. Raylan was if nothing else a realist. He would, if he had to, get his foot in the door again and take any Federal law enforcement job. This time things broke his way. He got an appointment to the Marshal's Service. Two weeks after graduation, he'd be in Glynco Georgia at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC).
At his interview, the personnel officer told him, "If you take this job, you have to leave Kentucky and we can't guarantee you'll be coming back."
To which Raylan replied, "That'll be fine by me."
Keeping her promise, his Aunt Helen came for graduation. His dad, Arlo, was God knows where, doing God knows what.
After the ceremony, Aunt Helen found him in the milling crowd of graduates and their families. She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek.
"Raylan honey, I'm so proud of you. Your daddy would be too."
Givens looked around and said drily, "Yeah, I can just feel the love and pride."
Aunt Helen looked uncomfortable.
"Well, he's away on business darlin'. I know he'd be here if he could."
Raylan rolled his eyes.
"Right, business."
Aunt Helen dug into her purse and held something in her hand.
"Raylan, I know that you want to get shut of Harlan and Kentucky. But you'll always be Kentucky born and bred. This belonged to your uncle and I'm sure he'd want you to have it."
She opened her hand and there was a ring with a horseshoe. Raylan recognized it immediately. His uncle never took it off.
"How'd you get it? I figured Uncle Steve was buried with it."
Aunt Helen smiled.
"Before those scumbags from Duke Power killed him, he told me that he wanted you to have it if anything happened to him. I asked the undertaker to get it. I've been saving it for the right time."
"Thanks Aunt Helen."
"Raylan honey, even though you'll be wherever you're gonna be Kentucky is where you're from. It's shaped you and made you who you are. Hopefully that ring will remind you of that."
Over the years, more than once, the ring did exactly that.
Gator's Place April 20, 2009 1535hrs
Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens was ready. He stood, feet shoulder width apart, hands and arms loose. It was going to go one of two ways. Willie Ray Bayard would give up and submit to the arrest. Or he would try and shoot it out. Either way would be fine with Raylan. The twenty eight year old felon was currently mulling over his limited options.
If I was a gamblin' man, I'd wager he's gonna try and kill me.
It had been tried twice before in Raylan's career. Both times the felons came out on the losing end. Raylan watched Willie Ray's hands carefully.
All that bullshit about a man's eyes givin' you advance warning he's gonna pull is just that, bullshit. No officer has ever been killed by a crook's eyes. It's the hands that do the killin'. You watch their hands son.
Words of wisdom from Deputy US Marshal Tucker McQueene, Chief Firearms Instructor Emeritus at FLETC. So Givens watched Willie Ray's hands, hoping a killing was not going to ensue.
No such luck. Willie Ray went for it and Raylan put him down. Knowing where he put his shots, Givens just watched as Willie Ray breathed his last.
Later while filling out the mind numbing amount of paperwork that goes with killing someone in the line of duty, Raylan thought about William Raymond Bayard.
This guy never had a chance. It was like he was on rails to that moment in Gator's Place. I was the last stop on the line.
This final thought on Willie Ray Bayard bothered Raylan for months to come.
Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning And the sun goes down about three in the day And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin' And you spend your life diggin' coal from the bottom of your grave.
A/N: In my writing I have a tendency to go "back in the day". It's fun to flesh out the characters with stories from before the show. I do it over in the NCIS fandom, and I'll probably do it here too. The next chapter will be about Willie Ray.