Title: Hostile Takeover, Hillbilly Style (1/10)

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Raylan/Winona Drama/Romance

Rating: T for coarse language, violence, suggestive sexual situations. No more than the show.

Summary: A brand new Justified fan, this is my first Justified fic. What happens next? A/N: I wrote this fic long before Season 3, episode 1 ever aired.

Disclaimer: SPOILERS: Takes place immediately after 'Bloody Harlan.'

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

Winona Hawkins tentatively entered one side of a semi-private hospital room that was divided by a closed curtain. When she came to the foot of the bed, she stopped in her tracks and protectively folded her arms in front of her, clutching the leather strap of her handbag in her left hand. With the exception of the sun setting outside the window, casting the last of its golden glow, the room was dark. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the bright colored lights, back lit digital numbers, and the loud, rhythmic electronic beeping of the patient monitor. Everything in the room looked cold, sterile, medicinal, and serious. Much too serious. The distraught look on her face said it all: She did not want to be there.

"Thanks for comin'," Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens spoke in little more than a whisper through his parched mouth and throat. The welcome sight of her brought a little smile to his face, that is, until he caught the tell-tale look of dread upon hers.

Too tall for a standard hospital bed, he attempted to shift his long and lanky frame up a little by bracing the balls of his feet against the foot board. Yet, no sooner had he started to push with his legs, then, he was stopped by a sharp jolt of pain that shot through his left side, along the same pathway that had been blazed by a bullet. The pain was chased by a wave of weakness caused by his moderate loss of blood volume.

"I wasn't sure you would," he said, trying to downplay his discomfort. Winona had been shaken up enough, and he wouldn't allow himself to add on any more to what she was already trying to take in.

He had been given an injection of pain medication, twenty minutes before Winona's arrival, and had a pump for pain tied to his bed rail that he could use at will, but he wanted to stay awake for her. Given all that had transpired earlier that day, the marshal was surprisingly alert; however, his coloring was off ... ashen from the blood he lost before the ambulance arrived. Hooked up to monitor wires, a blood pressure cuff, oxygen, a pain pump, and an IV; this was far from the way she last saw him only a few hours before.

"You do know this is exactly what I was afraid of," Winona trailed off, taking a mental inventory of the flashing digital readings that gave a snapshot of Raylan's condition, weakened but stable. Still, she could not bring herself to look at his face, into his eyes ... even in the dark.

"I ducked but guess I wasn't quite fast enough," he said and gave her a bigger smile. Seeing that his smile was not returned, he went on. "I'm gonna be fine. You know I'm indestructible, kinda like the Road Runner," he again attempted to downplay everything, using his notorious Southern wit. "The bullet, it went straight through. I'm fine."

Not at all amused, Winona vehemently protested, "I don't know that. Driving all the way here, I didn't know what I would find. All I knew was that you'd been shot and that Doyle and Mags Bennett are dead!" She finally, stoically looked at him, and then, just as quickly, she looked away. "The only thing I know is, if Art and Tim and the Marshal Service hadn't shown up when they did ... you'd be dead, too." Diverting her stare to the wall, she choked down the hard lump of reality in her throat and suddenly, found herself fighting to hold back tears; however, no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay, they managed to seep through.

Raylan knew there was no point in arguing with her about this ... because she was right. He had indeed been shot, had not worn his Kevlar vest, and came dangerously close to being killed more than once in the same day by a member of the Bennett clan: first, by Dickie Bennett, then by brother Doyle, and later, at the masterfully crafty yet extremely toxic hands of their mother, Mags.

"Art told me you were the reason they showed up," Raylan said, keeping his voice down.

Still avoiding eye contact for fear of losing what little was left of her resolve, she silently acknowledged him by nodding her head.

"Thank you for that, too," he continued to try and kill her with kindness.

His soft brown eyes pleaded with her to look at him.

Winona shifted her weight and hugged herself even tighter, hugging the life inside her ... still refusing to look at him, to break down and give in to him, again. She then stared out the window, across the courtyard of the medical center, and her bottom lip began to quiver. She searched her mind for a silver lining to almost losing him, again. After the last time he was almost killed on the job, she swore this would never happen to her again. And yet, here she was again, only this time with his baby in the picture. Just as she decided it was time to turn around and bolt and run out the door, she grabbed hold of one small, silver strand.

"Well," she flatly said, continuing to stare out the window, "you did manage to get Loretta out of there in one piece. I guess that's something." Taking in a deep breath, she stood there, trying to convince herself that the young girl was the only reason Raylan again put his self in danger. Truth be told, Winona knew that wasn't true.

Raylan continued to search her face, trying to make eye contact. "Would you come 'ere and sit by me ... … for a little while?" He also knew her well enough to know she was standing much too close to the doorway for his comfort level. "Please?"

Still stoically refusing to look at him, he surmised that she was working herself up to leave him, again. He also knew continuing on in his current occupation was now non-negotiable, as far as Winona was concerned.

"You do know that, after takin' a bullet and talkin' Loretta out of ruinin' her young life, I'm in a much stronger position of makin' the case to go to Glynco," he offered.

That did it. She caved, and finally, she looked over at him, the colored lights from the monitor reflected on his face. He looked gaunt.

"Damn hormones," she swore to herself, under her breath, not at all feeling like herself these days.

Unable to hold back any longer, she lost it, and the tears began to freely stream down her face.

Now that he could see her eyes and into her soul, he continued. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm gonna be okay. I promise; everything will be okay."

Winona could not help but think that, in that moment, her brave, strong lawman didn't appear to be very strong at all. But his voice was strong, and she needed to believe him. Dabbing her eyes with the cuff of her jacket sleeve, she let down her guard and finally, walked closer to his side. Reaching over the lead wires and tubing, she tenderly brushed his hair away from his eyes with her fingertips. Her tear filled blue eyes locked with his. Damn, I can't ever stay mad at him.

Her feather touch felt like heaven to him. She was the best medicine he could possibly have, and Raylan gave her a little smile that crinkled the outer corners of his eyes, a little smile she immediately mirrored. Then, she leaned down. Carefully maneuvering around the nasal cannula, she very lightly kissed his lips with hers. She found his lips dry, his skin cool and clammy.

With his eyes closed, Raylan reached through the bars of the side rail of the bed and found his way to her. He firmly placed his hand across her lower abdomen, wanting to connect with the new life growing inside her. She warmly placed her hand over his.

Winona loved this man, yet at the same time, she was very aware of a fear of something bad happening to him, an old, familiar fear she could never shake.

A week later ...

Infection was the biggest concern about the open gunshot wound. The doctors treated it by leaving it open, regularly irrigated and allowed to heal from the inside out with the help of IV antibiotics. The lawman had been damn lucky the bullet missed his vital organs, bones, nerves, major blood vessels. Daily breathing exercises with the respiratory therapist were painful but prevented pneumonia. All things considered, Raylan was progressing well.

Released from the hospital at noon, Winona left her job early from the court house to drive Raylan to his motel and help him get situated. They first stopped at a nearby pharmacy to pick up his pain meds and antibiotics, some plastic wrap and tape so that he could shower, along with a couple of pints of vanilla ice cream. Once back at the motel, he slowly maneuvered his way out of the passenger side of Winona's car and even more slowly, up the stairs to his room, all the while grabbing hold of his wounded side.

"You doing okay over there, Cowboy?" Winona asked, walking a few steps ahead of him so that she could open the door. She could see he was struggling.

"Yeah," he reassured her. "My side, it pulls a little when I stand ... or sit. I don't plan on doin' much of either in the near future. By the way, the pullin'? That means my side is healin'."

Winona smiled at him from over her shoulder, as she pushed the card key into the door. "Says who?"

While glad to have him home, she also knew that he would have said anything to the doctors in order to get them to release him from the hospital. It had been their judgment call to discharge him today; however, they just could have just as easily made the case to keep him a few days longer. She made certain to pay close attention to his discharge instructions, just in case he was being released too soon.

"Says my doctor," he smiled back.

"Welcome home," she said with a lilt in her voice, as she pulled out the card key and turned the door knob. "If you can call this dump a home," she added, under her breath.

"You wouldn't by any chance be makin' fun of our 'love shack' again now, would you?" he quipped.

"Oh, not me," she let out a gratuitous little laugh.

With the door now wide open, Raylan looked around the tired old place. He had actually missed his rent-by-the-week room and was surprised to find it was immaculately clean with everything in its place. It even smelled clean. Clearly this was Winona's doing, as evidenced by the fresh flowers on the table, a bouquet she brought from the hospital the night before. Winona had never been one to be satisfied with the way the motel maid cleaned. She could always do one better.

Raylan walked over to the closet and, rather than have to feel the pull of bending over, he favored his side by abruptly dropping his bag of clothes and discharge papers onto the floor and carefully setting his hat, crown side down, on the top shelf while Winona placed the pints of ice cream in the freezer of the small, motel refrigerator.

"It's almost time for you to take your pills. These antibiotics are to be taken with food." She walked towards him. "Would you like me to make you a little something to eat? I stopped at the store yesterday and picked up a few things."

Raylan turned around to face her. Silently, he reached out and lightly traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his finger and slowly backed her up against the wall between the closet and the bathroom. They searched the other's eyes until he finally leaned in for a kiss. Smoldering embers inside them ignited in a split second as their lips and then, their tongues met. The chemistry between them had always been ... combustible.

"For the last two days, you are all I've been able to think about," he said, breathing a little more heavily in between a sultry dance of kisses he planted along the side of her face. "Why do you think I was in such a hurry to get out of the hospital?"

Their kissing became deeper, more intense, as he began to gently, yet deliberately, press his desire against hers.

"Raylan?" she panted, finding herself breathing heavy with him. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

The embers inside her had also been lit. Winona hated this place where he hung his hat. The walls were paper thin.

"Don't make me beg," was his answer to her question. It had been over a week since they had been together. "We'll be careful."

Winona glanced over towards the room door to make sure it had been closed. Then, she slowly backed up a few steps and led him over to the vanity near the bathroom, where she began peeling off her skirt and blouse, her bra, and panties. All she left on were her black pumps. Then, she hopped up on the vanity counter. Raylan was mesmerized at the sight of her body that he loved and let out a little moan when she very carefully released him from the sweatpants he wore home from the hospital. In lifting up his shirt tail and t-shirt, for the first time since he had been shot, she saw bruising and discoloration. Angry colors of black and blue, purple and red spread around the bandage, from his side and down to his pelvic bone. When Raylan unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off his t-shirt, she also saw black and blue marks left from Dickie Bennett's baseball bat, about his arms and shoulder. She fought to hold back any change in her facial expression that would denote any kind of pity and instead, proceeded to make love to him with caution.

"Do you remember the night," Raylan growled in her ear from somewhere deep in his throat, cupping her face in his hand while she worked her magic, "we did the baby makin'?"

She nodded, as their eyes again met.

"So do I," he whispered, as his hands lightly glided over her body. Then, he slowly, sensually traced where her hair framed her face, by its entire length, until he reached her neck, then collar bone, then breasts. "We deserve ... to be happy, don't we."

Her body welcomed his touch, the nerve endings responding with pulses of joy. Ever mindful of his injuries, she guided him to her. "Yeah, we do," she whispered.

Each one starved for the other, they slowly, carefully came together, making their way towards an intensely heated union and then, to a much needed mutual release.

Later that afternoon ...

The sun shone through the slats of the closed blinds, transforming the light in the motel room into a golden hue. Not normally home and in bed at this time of the day, the change in the light was noticeable, making the normally dreary little room appear much warmer.

Raylan lay in bed on his back with his right arm wrapped around Winona, who was snuggled up close against his 'good side.' He had dozed off for a little while but woke after she left their bed to make a quick trip to the bathroom. On her way back, she stopped in the kitchen and brought him back some peanut butter on crackers and a cold glass of milk so that he could take his next dose of meds. He did exactly as she said, as he decided he had best be a good patient for her, after everything he had put her through. It was the least he could do.

Lying together, Raylan broke a peaceful silence by once again bringing up the baby. "I don't know how, but ... that night... somehow, I knew I was makin' a baby with you," he recalled, as he gently caressed what would very soon become Winona's 'baby bump.' "I'm gonna say this one time, and one time only: Our baby ... is not an accident." He turned his head and looked over at her, into her eyes. "I don't ever want this baby to think he or she wasn't ... you know ... wanted."

She was touched by what he had said. "Okay," Winona nodded, snuggling up to him, even closer. "Raylan, are you alright?" She truly loved that he was happy about the baby, that he loved the idea of becoming a father. Clearly, he was ready for this. However, she suspected all this talk about the baby being wanted had more to do with him than their baby.

"Yeah," he nodded, "never better."

He looked over at her. She leaned in to kiss him, as he continued to caress her lower abdomen. In turn, she began to lightly stroke his body.

Raylan's eyelids were becoming heavy, as the pain pills kicked in and started to do their job. "As good as this feels, and it feels damn good, I'm afraid you're startin' somethin' I may not be able to finish," he mumbled.

"Mmmm," Winona moaned, as she shifted her weight on her side and then, up on her knees. His body responded to her touch. "Lie back and relax. You don't have to worry about a thing." She proceeded to plant sensual, little kisses along sides of his face, down his neck and upper chest. He reached down for her head, lightly combing his fingers through her silky, wavy tresses. She skillfully continued her erotic descent down his body, ever mindful of his injuries when, all of a sudden, there was a rap at the door so loud and unexpected, it made Winona jump out of her own skin.

To be continued ...