Out of the blue and into the black
You pay for this, but they give you that
And once you're gone, you can't come back
When you're out of the blue and into the black
- My My Hey Hey by Battleme
Tim wakes feeling more exhausted then he went to sleep. It's still dark outside and he considers going for a run but the ache in his head convinces him it's a bad idea. Instead he lies in bed staring at the cracks in his ceiling as the sun rises flooding his room with soft yellow light. He's learned there's no trying to go back to sleep after nights like these, it won't come no matter how tired he is. So he lies in bed sleepless and staring until his phone rings and sends spikes of pain through his skull, sighing he rolls over and reaches for it only to find it's not on his nightstand where it usually is. Swearing he pulls off the covers and after a minute of searching he finds it in the back pocket of the jeans he was wearing yesterday still laying discarded on the floor. He answers the call and puts the phone to his ear, falling back down on his bed. He's greeted with Raylan's voice on the other end of the line.
"Finally, I was gettin' worried you were sleeping off last night.
Tim blinks a few times and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
"Nope. I'm awake, unfortunately."
"Good. I'll be by to pick you up in 15 minutes. Get your sorry self ready for work."
Tim swears softly, and glances at the alarm on his bedside table. It's nearly quarter past eight.
"You didn't forget did you?"
Tim quickly replies in the negative and hangs up, tossing his phone on the bed beside him. It's not exactly a lie, he vaguely remembers Raylan saying he was going to drive him to his car the next morning but it had conveniently slipped his mind until the phone call. He takes a cold three minute shower, rinsing off the sweat and grime of the night and gets dressed. Drying his hair with a towel he walks downstairs and checks his watch, 10 minutes until Raylan's supposed to be here. No coffee this morning then. He makes sure to grab his gun and ID ahead of time, not wanting to repeat yesterday morning and just has time to throw back an aspirin when he hears honking outside. Sighing he grabs his keys and walks out to Raylan's car, sliding into the passenger seat. He winces a little as the sun reflects through the windshield and into his sensitive eyes.
Raylan smirks as he pulls away from Tim's house
"And how are you feelin' this fine mornin' Tim?"
"Shut up."
Is Tim's only response. Raylan just laughs and leaves Tim to his hung over misery as he drives to the bar. When they get there Tim is glad to see his truck has survived the night unscathed. He gets out, thanks Raylan for the ride and walks over to his car, watching Raylan drive away. Sighing again he gets into his car and sticks his keys into the ignition.
He walks into the office and makes a bee-line for the kitchen. Raylan is nowhere to be seen, apparently having come and gone before Tim's arrival, Tim's almost grateful. He doesn't remember exactly he told Raylan last night but probably something he wishes he hadn't and he's glad not to have to the broach the topic with him just yet. The gods have chosen to smile on him today and the coffee pot is full. Pouring himself a mug he walks to his desk and sets it down, intent on finishing the paperwork he neglected yesterday. He's just settled in when his phone rings, checking the ID he see's Darren Wyatt's name flashing on the screen and groans. He wishes so much that it wasn't his job to answer it. He presses accept
"Deputy Gutterson?"
Wyatt's gravelly voice sounds over the phone.
"Yes, what is it Wyatt?"
"Good mornin' Deputy, you sound a little tired? Had a rough night?"
Even the innocent question makes Tim's hackles rise and he can feel his fingers tense on the plastic of his cell.
"Wyatt, I'm busy, get to the point."
"Well Deputy, I really don't like the color of the walls in this house. Can you do something about them? It's really messing with my feng shui"
Tim resists the urge to throw his phone across the room.
"Not my problem."
He hangs up and throws his phone down on the desk. Rachel's walks up to his desk and catches the end of the call, eying the discarded phone.
"Who was that?"
Tim replies angrily
"An idiot who likes to waste federal agents time because he's an asshole."
She raises an eyebrow,
"Sorry I asked. Need something to get your mind off that particular asshole?"
Tim's already standing, shrugging on his jacket.
"Yes god please."
Turns out Rachel's version of getting his mind off of Wyatt is helping to deliver a court summons in the back country south of Lexington. The recipient is a 73 year old man who was caught with three unregistered fire arms in his shed.
"You really need my help with this? The guys like 80 years old."
Rachel takes her eyes off the road to glare at him.
"No, I don't need your help but I figured you needed to get out of the office for a bit."
Tim raises his hand in a peaceful gesture, recalcitrant.
"Sorry, sorry. I appreciate the gesture."
They drive in silence for a little bit, Rachel somewhere in her own world and Tim trying to ignore the headache currently pounding behind his eyeballs. Rachel is the one to finally break the silence.
"So, want to talk about what happened with that witness you took custody of yesterday?"
Tim sighs and rubs his fingers into his eyes, tired of everybody asking if he was okay. When he replies it's a little bit terse.
"Nothing happened okay? He's just a dick, end of story. Don't know why everybody's makin' a fuss about it."
"Tim, don't bullshit me. You came back yesterday from that transport all anxious and jumpy and went out right after to work to drink with Raylan. Now you come in hung over as hell and snippy too. Something's going on."
Tim sighs again, defeated. He never could slip anything past Rachel, with her bright eyes and voice that's kinder then he deserves.
"This guy Wyatt he just… just said some stuff that really hit some sore spots. That's all. He's an asshole who likes to push buttons but that's it. I'm fine."
Rachel doesn't seem to believe him but she lets the matter rest and for that Tim's grateful. They spend the rest of the car ride talking about Nick, he just made his schools varsity basketball team, and the old lady across the street from Tim who he helps out with her garden every now and then. It's ordinary mundane stuff and Tim relaxes into Rachel finally pulls up outside the address for the warrant he looks doubtfully out the window, the house is dilapidated and run down. Paint peeling and windows grimy and dim the place looks uninhabited.
"Damn this place is a dump, are you sure somebody actually lives here?"
Rachel rechecks the file,
"Well this is the address we have, lets knock and see if anyone's home."
He steps out of the car and stretches, arching his back and rolling his neck. Rachel gets out behind him and walks to stand next to him. He's interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. He has a sinking feeling he already knows what it, one glance at caller ID confirms his suspicions. Glaring at the phone he turns to Rachel,
"Sorry need to take this, it'll just be a minute."
Rachel nods and he walks a little ways away and answers the call. He doesn't even let Wyatt get a word in, just starts to talk
"Look, I don't care of you don't like the color of your walls or the curtains or whatever it's not my goddamn problem and right now you're getting in the way of me doing my real job. Do you not understand the concept of an emergency Wyatt? Keep callin' me like this and I'm going to start not answerin' "
Wyatt just responds in his annoying voice
"Oh but you have to Deputy, it's your job isn't it? Wouldn't look good if an important witness got killed on your watch cause you wouldn't pick up the phone would it."
Tim hates it, because he's right. Every time he Wyatt calls he has to answer and that infuriates him.
"Anyways, I was thinking about our conversation yesterday. I think I was wrong about you."
Tim knows he should just hang up now but he can't resist answering, some morbid part of him curious about what Wyatt's going to say.
"Oh yeah? And what's your new diagnoses smart ass?"
Wyatt laughs and the sound scrapes at Tim's ears like sandpaper.
"I don't think you love to kill, I think you hate it. I think you hate it so much you're starting to hate yourself."
Tim ends the call with such force the weak plastic creaks under his finger. He shoves the phone deep into his pocket and tries to tamp down on the fury bubbling in his throat. He walks past Rachel, striding angrily towards the house. She jogs a little behind him to catch up.
"You okay?"
He doesn't look at her when he replies.
"I'm fine. Lets get this over with."
She shakes her head and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'men' before following him onto the porch. He raps hard and fast on the door.
"Federal marshals open up."
There's no response and he raises his hand to knock again, but he never gets the chance. There's a loud bang and then a bullet comes tearing through the flimsy door about three inches from his face, throwing wooden splinters everywhere in it s wake. The blast half deafens him, definitely a shotgun he think vaguely to himself, and hears Rachel shouting into the house. He draws to the side of the door, pulling his glock out and shakes his head to clear his ears of the ringing. Rachel's pressed against the wall on the other side of the door, gun in hand. He whispers across the divide.
"Cover me, I'm goin' in on three."
She shakes her head, whispers back
"Tim, we don't know what's inside. We should pull back-"
He doesn't give her time to finish just starts counting down from three on his fingers, she swears low and hard and then re adjusts her grip on her weapon. With a deep breath Tim ducks around the frame of the door and inside the house. The place is dimly lit and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. When they do he sees a boy who can't be more then 23 or 24 crouched behind a dirty couch with a pump action shot gun pointed over it directly at Tim. He hears Rachel come in after him, feels her presence just behind his left shoulder but he doesn't dare take his eyes off the kid, and more importantly the shot gun in his hands.
"Listen, you've already got yourself in a load of shit kid. Put down the gun and we'll talk. You don't and there's no way this doesn't end with a bullet in you."
There's a tense moment where the boy just glares at him unmoving, but eventually he grins and throws the shot gun down, raising his hands up. Rachel holsters her gun and moves to handcuff him.
"Aw, come on now officers. I didn't mean to shoot at you guys, my finger just slipped on the trigger."
Tim holsters his own glock and moves over to kick the shot gun away, replying dryly
"Yeah, sure your finger slipped on the trigger and I'm the prince of Persia."
Rachel finishes cuffing him and steps back, hands on her hips.
"So, what are you doing in Ted Billings house."
The kids shrugs,
"I'm his grandson Will. I have a right to be here. My wallets on the table over there, you can check my ID if you want assholes."
Tim walks over to the table and flips open the worn leather wallet, takes out the drivers license he finds inside. There's a picture that matches their handcuffed miscreant with the name William Billings printed below. He puts it back in and turns to Rachel.
"Checks out."
She nods and continues to question Will.
"So, you have any idea where your grandpa might be? We're looking for him."
He says nothing, just slowly and deliberately spits at their feet. Rachel just sighs and shakes her head.
"Look, you just assaulted two federal officers with a deadly weapon, that's up to 20 years in prison and a sizeable fine. You can either talk to us now and we'll put in a good word for you with the judge, or if you refuse to co operate we'll take you back and make sure you get that maximum sentence. You'll be a middle aged man by the time you get out."
Will's face goes to tight and angry and he says
"I ain't telling you shit."
Then he turns to Tim
"you need to get your bitch under control before she gets herself hurt."
Something snaps inside Tim, something sharp and hot and dangerous and he takes a step forward and clocks Will right in the face. He only gets one more solid swing in before Rachel's hands are on his arm, his chest, pulling him back away. Her voice is loud and angry shouting something but he can't hear the words, he's to busy fighting her grip on him to get at Will. It takes him a minute of Rachel's voice in his ear before he stops struggling. He brushes her hands off his arm, turns and walks to the wall behind him, puts a hand against it and leans breathing hard and fast. Rachel comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder and spins him around. Her face is fierce and angry.
"What the fuck was that?"
She hisses low and intent. Behind her Will is moaning on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. Tim hopes he broke it. Rachel's insistent, pulling back his attention to her small waving hands. Will shouts angrily from the ground
"Jesus christ. I think that asshole broke my nose!"
"Shut up."
Rachel doesn't even spare him a glance, keeps her eyes on Tim barking the command over her shoulder.
"Tim answer me."
He wipes at his face with his hand, tries to take a deep breath.
"I just… I don't know I got angry."
"Yeah, I was angry too. Doesn't mean you get to assault a handcuffed witness. And what was that kamikaze move you pulled earlier? Running in like that, you could've gotten killed Tim. You're lucky it was just an idiot kid."
Tim feels his fists clench, feels the urge to punch something again rising. He swears, once.
"Shit."
Somehow it doesn't feel like enough so he swears again, louder this time. Rachel isn't glaring anymore, now her gaze is gentler, almost concerned. Her voice is still stern when she speaks but its softer now.
"Look, I appreciate you trying to defend me but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. You can't let your anger take control like that Tim, this is the first and last time you understand?"
Tim nods, mouth working. She stares at him for a second longer then walks over to Will and picks him up off the floor.
"Okay hotshot, time to go."
He's still spitting blood, murderous look on his face. He glares at Tim as they pass and Tim gives him his sunniest smile in return. He follows the pair out, a little behind and rubs at bruised knuckles.
Rachel's just finished putting Will in the back of the car when there's a screeching noise and a truck in just about the same condition as the house pulls up. An old man hops out, a look somewhere between concerned and exasperated on his face and walks quickly over to Tim.
"Shit, what did my dumb ass grandson do this time?"
Rachel replies over the top of the car
"Your grand son took a pot shot at two US marshal's is what he did."
The old man swears and Tim takes the opportunity to jump in.
"You wouldn't happen to be Ted Billings would you?"
The man nods
"The one and only."
He sticks out his hand and Tim shakes it.
"I'm Deputy Gutterson, this is Deputy Brooks."
He says, gesturing back to Rachel.
"Well it's nice to meet you folks, wish it had been under better circumstances. So how bad is it? We lookin' at serious jail time here?"
Tim shrugs, squints against the sun.
"Could be worse, he didn't hit either of us. He might not go to jail."
Ted Billings sighs and shakes his head.
"Guess that's all I can ask for with Willie. I leave his fool self alone for an hour and he gets himself arrested… Figures."
Tim likes Billings. His faces is creased with lines like back country roads and his skin is hard and leathery from to much time in the sun but it's friendly and open. His eyes shine like polished granite from underneath his craggy brows and hidden in them is a sparkle of humor. It's just his luck Tim has to deliver more bad news.
"Mr. Billing's, we were originally here lookin' for you. You have a court date comin' up, charges are for three unregistered fire arms found in your shed."
Tim hands over the summons. Billing's doesn't look surprised exactly, just resigned. He flips through the paper, giving it a cursory glance before he folds it up and sticks it in the back pocket of his jeans and nods.
"Is there any way I could talk to Will before you guys take him back?"
Tim looks back at Rachel who shrugs, and then nods to Billings.
"Yeah, I can give you a minute or two."
Billing's thanks him and Tim opens the back door, letting him slide in beside his grandson. He and Rachel walk a couple steps away to give the pair some privacy. They stand, arms crossed and watch as Will gets what looks to be an earful from his grandpa.
"How does a guy like that have such an ass hat as a grand kid."
Rachel gives him a side ways look.
"You like him, don't you."
Tim shrugs, spits on the dust of the driveway.
"I think he seems like a good guy."
Rachel stares at Billings for a second before nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, he does."
Billings seems to have finished his lecture, pulling open the door to get out of the car and walking over to the two deputies.
"Do me a favor and don't be to hard on him alright? He's an idiot but an harmless one."
Tim wants to make a comment about how he didn't seem so harmless when he fired a shotgun shell less then a foot from Tim's face but Rachel senses it and elbows him lightly effectively restraining him. She smiles, that sweet kind Rachel smiles she reserves for old people and her nephew and promises him they will. He shakes both their hands again then slowly walks back towards the house, disappearing inside with a last look at his grandson. Tim watches the empty porch for a while, chewing on his lip and thinking until Rachel nudges him with her shoulder.
"I don't know about you but I want to get back before Art calls out the search parties."
He nods absentmindedly and follows her to the car.
Whatever his grandfather told him apparently has done much for his attitude because as soon as they get in Will starts talking again,
"I'm goin' to sue you for assault you asshole. I'm gonna show everybody my nose and tell 'em how you beat me up while I was handcuffed and get your white ass fired. And then I'm goin' to sue the bitch for not doin' anything."
Rachel gives him an icy glare in the rear view mirror.
"Nobody's suing anybody. As far as I'm concerned you slipped and hit your nose on a table."
Will gives her a shocked look.
"You can't do that! You can't just lie!"
Tim chimes in
"Who do you think they're goin' to believe. A US marshal or the punk who just tried to shoot said US marshal."
Will's shocked look turns to panic and his voice when he replies sounds less angry and more like a whining child.
"I wasn't tryin' to shoot you you know. Just tryin' to scare you a bit, I wasn't even close to hittin' you."
Rachel snaps back in her angriest voice.
"Save it for the jury."
Will spends the rest of the ride in sullen and slightly terrified silence.