First story for Justified (don't own anything) and first one-shot for this collection of stories about Raylan and Tim's brotherly love (but definitely not slash).


#1

It happened in the thirty-seventh hour of a man hunt that he and Raylan had been tirelessly on the trail of, and all Tim could think was why it couldn't have happened in the first. Not that he had a premature desire to meet his maker, or whatever the hell would be waiting for him when the lights finally went out all together, but he made it clear to his equally sleep deprived partner and his recently acquired hostage taker that, "What a damn waste of time this has been," in his thick drawl that poured out between clenched teeth while he found himself in a rather unfortunate position.

Raylan's eyebrows disappeared behind the brim of his hat at the statement and he canted his head to the side in an incredulous way but made sure to keep his gun level. "Now's not the time, Tim."

"I'd listen to 'im if I's you," Their annoyingly, yet surprisingly persistent, fugitive, Dan Garret, encouraged while Gutterson felt the gun against his neck press further into his throat causing him to swallow thickly to cover a reflex to gag.

"Well thank God you aren't me. I'd be a rotted corpse by now if I'd listened to him as many times as I was supposed to." Tim shot back, not outwardly bothered by the weapon threatening him.

"You don't shut your damn mouth, you just might become one."

"I'd listen to him," Raylan countered, repositioning the aim of his own gun after Dan had swayed a little, but had a hard time getting a clean shot considering the younger Marshal was currently being used as a human shield.

"I knew you always wanted to shoot me," Tim replied as if he and Raylan were standing in the bullpen of the office and not in a stand-off with weapons drawn in the backyard of their fugitive.

"And yet you're still a sarcastic little shit," Raylan observed with a disbelieving grin, still trying get a clean shot, still failing.

"I never said I had a problem with it."

"HEY!" Dan shouted, knocking the gun into Tim's jaw line making the ex-Ranger recoil until his head was tugged back into place by a fistful of his hair and his eye socket was met with the butt end of Dan's gun, drawing blood as a prize for his efforts. "Shut up!" The sniper tried to double over from the pain, but the hand in his hair prevented him from doing so. He ground his teeth and he let out a rush of air through his nose while cursing the fact that his hands were tied behind his back, because Dan would've been dead minutes ago and he wouldn't have been a...

"...damsel in distress. How the hell did you let this guy get the drop on you?" Raylan questioned, trying to keep his temper in check while watching Tim adjust to an obvious change in vision.

Tim just grinned as if Raylan were simply challenging him to a battle of wits and derision and not pointing out a failure of decorated sniper of the U.S. Army Rangers, Tim Gutterson.

"I hope you don't try to take advantage of me, like Ava and all the others you've saved."

"First off, you're not my type. Second, I've never taken advantage of anyone-"

"Never?"

"Never... Well... that's not the point."

"It was your second point."

"You wanna hear the third?" Givens asked in a 'you done?' fashion.

"If it has to do with getting this dipshit off'a me, then by all means, Raylan," the captured Marshal complied, and if Raylan picked up on the slight affliction riding out on the words, he did a helluva job keeping the reaction off of his face and into his hands that gripped his gun a little tighter.

"Third, I'm gonna give Dan ten seconds to do the right thing and put his gun down, or I'm gonna shoot him," Raylan let his eyes switch to Dan, "and I only shoot to kill."

"I guess he really does want to shoot you." Dan grinned a half-toothless grin and tightened his hold on Gutterson. "Go 'head Deputy Givens, shoot your boy here and save me the trouble."

"Now Dan, I see that you've come to the realization that if you were to let my partner go, he'd be inclined to beat the shit out of you for the way you've treated him," Raylan condescendingly reasoned, "and I'd be disposed to let him, but, a reoccurring problem with you is that you've not seemed to think this through."

"Think what through?" Dan asked, finger getting a little twitchy on the trigger, Adam's apple a little wiggly.

"That if you don't let him go in five seconds, I'm going to shoot you in non-vital place, which goes against everything I believe in, and then I'm going to kick your ass myself."

Silence. Tim stilled himself, pulling on his sniper training to give the best chance at a clear shot, while Dan nervously considered his options, working the weapon around Gutterson's motionless throat.

"Three."

Nothing. Tim closed his eyes, eye rather since the other one was swelled and matted shut.

"Two."

Dan swayed a little, pulling Tim with him, but the ex-Ranger didn't react otherwise.

"On-"

"Alright! Alright!" Dan suddenly shouted and shoved the Marshal away from him, causing Tim to stumble across the yard towards Raylan. The fugitive made a move to lay his gun down, Givens watching him all the way down with his own gun still aimed appropriately. The Marshal noticed the small movement of Dan's fingers tightening around the weapon in between grass blades before he reached out and grabbed a staggering Tim by the shoulder and shoved him down to the ground behind him with a "Get down!", before pulling his trigger.

The gunshot rang out and Dan slumped over in the grass. Dead.

Tim rolled over and struggled to sit upright with his hands still tied behind his back. He blinked blearily at the body from around Raylan's legs.

"I thought you were going to shoot him in a non-vital area if he let me go?"

"By the count of ten. He cut it too close," Raylan answered, finally pulling his gaze away from Dan and squatting down in front of Tim. "Plus, he didn't let you go. He shoved you forward as a distraction to shoot me, then you if he thought it was worth it." The older Marshal pulled meaningfully at the rope around Tim's raw wrists, before asking the younger man, "You got a knife on you or am I gonna have to get one from your buddy over there?"

"As much as I know you wanna go feel up that dead body, I got one in my boot. Sorry to disappoint."

In some alternate universe where Tim Gutterson wasn't a sarcastic little shit and Raylan Givens was...someone else entirely, the older deputy just might let Tim run his mouth to keep his pride and nerves about him after having a gun at his neck, cut him loose and ask if he was alright, but... "My disappointment came when you let a man swimmin' in Bourbon the night before get the drop on you."

Tim was silent while Raylan retrieved the knife from his ankle and cut his ties. He pulled his arms around to the front before shaking them to get the blood flow started again once they were free. He gingerly fisted his battered eye with a small shrug of one shoulder as his only response.

Raylan stood with his phone up to his ear calling Art to get that headache going, and maybe that's why he knelt back down in front of Tim, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from his eye semi-sympathetically saying, "Stop that. You'll make it worse."

"As if anyone's capable of out doin' you! What now, Raylan?" Art's voice was bickering in his ear as he reciprocated Tim's one-eyed annoyed, yet weary, glare.

"Just send the usual, Art. Out to Dan Garret's place," Givens mindlessly responded, his brain more occupied by catching his suddenly listing partner. "Woah, buddy. Where ya goin'?"

The younger man muttered something in true Tim fashion, but Raylan couldn't pick it up and instead focused on Art doing a body check, while keeping Gutterson upright by a hand on the back of his neck. "One body. Dan's. It's justified. I'm tired as hell and takin' the next two days off. Tim's in the runnin' for an eye patch and about to make one helluva awkward office rumor by fallin' asleep in my lap."

"I'd still be a better shot than you with one eye." Tim quipped, smiling a little impishly, the blood running down his cheek and the crimson stain of his teeth doing little to diminish it.

"He might be a little delirious, too," Raylan grinned into the phone at the combination of Tim's scowl and Art's ramblings about headaches, children and if Raylan heard the word brother in there he didn't focus on it.

"Raylan?" Tim's voice suddenly cut in, and it surprised the older man how something that soft could grab his attention in the middle of one of Art's all out rants.

"Hmm?" He questioned, pulling the phone from his ear and placing it against his shoulder, because there was a look in Tim's eye Raylan had only seen on a handful of occasions when the short-hand word PTSD floated around in the air.

"I wanna go..."

"Go where?" and somewhere Raylan thought he heard Art's voice ask if he was even paying attention. To what's important, he had half a weird sense of thinking to say.

"Go..." Tim muttered and though there was no designated destination, it was definitive all the same because Raylan watched his eye shift from the dead man in the yard to a square on his own plaid shirt.

"Art. We'll see you at the hospital," Raylan said into the phone he had suddenly brought up to his ear, cutting Art off mid sentence about his job to take care of him, and context told Raylan he was referring to Tim. He hung the phone up and shoved it into his pocket, before slowly standing with Gutterson's weight.

"Come on, buddy. We better get to the hospital before Daddy-O gets there so at least you'll be medicated for the ass-chewin' we're gonna get." And if Tim grinned a little at the implication that Art was their father, Raylan knew he was in for several smart-ass cracks about being brothers, but he was suddenly surprised to realize he didn't mind at all.


AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! I'm sure a few more one-shots will pop up after this one, so I hope you'll stay tuned.