"There's two." Art huffed a little, puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms. Rachel had to admit that she was concerned. Raylan and Art's working relationship had been deteriorating for a while, but she had always believed that Art was still fond of the cowboy.

The tone of Art's voice didn't sound happy or fond. He was gazing though the window of the conference room at Raylan's double. Raylan's twin she reminded herself. She rarely made leaps of faith, preferring rock solid evidence before she made her move, but something told her they were on the edge of something here and there was going to be fallout.

Raylan's twin, Graham, seemed completely different to their troublesome cowboy, where Raylan was closed off, Graham was tactile, friendly and open. She really wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Two" muttered Art. The corners of his mouth turned down.

For one very brief moment Rachel felt actively annoyed. It was hardly Raylan or Graham's fault that they were in fact biological twins. There had never actually been a need for Raylan to run a DNA test on himself, to confirm that Arlo was his real father. He took it on trust. After all, why wouldn't he? And he had nothing to compare it to either. So it was a moot point.

She focused on Graham. Seeing the similarities, the obvious ones being the dark exotic good looks, and the easy charm, and the differences, the playful look in Graham's eyes which rarely changed. Despite his lawyer's obvious misgivings, Graham seemed to regard the whole thing as another adventure.

Knowing Raylan the way she did, the cowboy was extremely unlikely to take this as some sort of fun adventure.

Tim appeared in Art's doorway with two pieces of paper in hand. "Graham Logan." He gestured towards Raylan's goofy twin. "Is exactly who he says he is. Professional skateboarder, and pretty good. Owns a small skateboard company, he's comfortable enough that he can spend most of his time goofing off, the company is run by a management team, and Graham is basically the face of the outfit. I did some digging, it was covered up, but Frances Givens gave birth to two healthy boys back on 20th May 1970 in hospital at Louisville." He waved the two papers again, "at which point, and fairly inexplicably, she gives one baby to his father and keeps the other one herself."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "One grows up here." That was sufficient, Raylan's history wasn't much of an open book, and Rachel didn't really want to pry, "and the other grows up to comfortable privilege in New York."

"Utterly unaware of each other until now." Art finished quietly. He wasn't sure how he felt about this one. Exposed to Raylan in the field, Art had quickly realised that he had trouble getting on board with Raylan's quick draw version of justice. Glynco seemed a long way away. Now he knew he really didn't want Raylan around anymore. For the sake of what was left of their friendship, it would be better all round if Raylan disappeared from Kentucky. He preferred not to dwell on that thought.

"And Harrison Peregrine?"

Tim cast a quick look over his notes. "Apparently exactly who he says he is too."

"So everyone is who they say they are." Art turned back to his desk. "Might be the time to introduce the twins to each other."

Tim hunched a shoulder. Instinct said that something was off. He'd checked out the men, and they did check out. But Tim had two tours of duty in the Middle East that told him there was a big picture here somewhere and he was missing it.

"I'm going with them." He said.

Art looked for a moment that he wanted to object, but after staring hard at Tim he shrugged. "Do it."

Tim hated this. Hated seeing the tension between Raylan and their boss. Hated the sense that something was going to go down that was going to wrench Raylan away from Kentucky, and not in a good way. However much of an irritating asshole Raylan Givens was, he was a friend, and Tim didn't have many of those.

Just two, if he was being honest. Rachel Brooks and Raylan Givens.

"… go with them," Art was saying, "keep a lid on things."

[][][][][][][][]

Harrison Peregrine excused himself to use the restroom. He had managed to jack the young deputy's phone, the one who seemed to be Raylan Givens' designated protector.

He had been aware of his operatives' silence for the last half hour. "Mr Reese?" Since the two numbers had come up, they had been on the move almost constantly, and Finch was worried.

"Finch." As ever the younger man managed to put an extra syllable into his name and convey a degree of reproach.

Harold sighed inwardly. "Deputy Givens' accident…"

"Appears to be just bad luck." Shaw's voice cut across, she sounded a little bored, and Harold repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, I don't believe in bad luck and coincidence." He said firmly.

"Finch, you may be right on that." Reese's voice took on that hunting quality which made the hairs on the back of Harold Finch's neck stand up. "Five men, heading into the hospital."

"Ms Shaw?"

"Marshal Givens is safe." Shaw slipped into the room. The deputy appeared to be asleep. She picked up his chart, and started to read, better to be forewarned if they had to move him quickly.

"Marshal Gutterson is driving us over to you." Finch hurried to meet his number and their new best friend. He could appreciate the deputy's wariness.

Graham was waiting beside the vehicle, taking Finch's bag from him the skateboarder helped the older man climb into the vehicle and handed Finch his bag.

The gesture brought a faint smile to Finch's lips. Graham was easy to like, "thank you," Finch gave the younger man a small smile.

Graham's ready grin was infectious. "you're welcome."

[][][][][][][][]

There was obviously a great deal that Peregrine wasn't telling them, Tim was playing along for now, but he wanted to know what this was. He wasn't as fast as Raylan, but he was pretty close. As he stepped into the Yukon, Tim calmly unsnapped the holster of his sidearm, if anything was going to go down, he was going to draw first and ask questions later.

The drive was uneventful, although Tim was certain that they were being followed.

By the time they reached Raylan's floor, and were headed down to the cowboy's room, Tim knew for certain that they were being followed. He just wasn't sure the nature of the threat.

He stepped through the door. Doctor to his left, Tim's gaze swept over her, taking in the drainpipe black jeans, and the heavy boots… his hand moving of it's own volition, clearing the holster he drew down on Raylan's visitor with a speed that would have made the cowboy proud.

"Step away from him." Tim ordered, moving to cover Raylan, Graham was definitely who he was supposed to be, but that didn't say much for Peregrine. A quick glance told him that Peregrine appeared to know the woman.

Who looked amused at Tim's protective stance.

"If you say so…"

Tim took a steadying breath, "What the hell is going on?" Peregrine raised a hand, "Deputy, I can assure you…"

"Huh?" Tim shot a glance towards Raylan, sleepy eyes half opened, as luck would have it, nailed his doppelganger standing at the end of the bed. "What the…" Raylan's bark cut off in a startled pain filled yelp.

Tim's left hand came away from his gun, reaching out for Raylan, as Raylan's hand grabbed for Tim's, the fake doctor stepped forward, as Raylan's twin lunged for the other side of the bed, and taking Raylan's other hand. "Dude."

Tim tried to keep them all covered, as Raylan's grip tightened, the cowboy's eyes were screwed shut, moaning in pain.

The final straw was the big man, who looked vaguely familiar, slid through the door, took in the scene, "so that went well!"