CH 4 Memories

Boyd's head bounced off of the wall as he was roughly thrown into a small dimly-lit room, he heard the heavy door shut behind him and the steel lock's click. He smacked the wall and growled, running his hands through his hair and trying to think of a way out of this. As he inspected the door he realized the men had thrown him into a portable storage unit. A groan from across the room caught his attention. He turned and saw a ratty blanket hanging from some nails on the ceiling, he moved the dingy fabric out of the way. Raylan lay on an old futon, breath coming in short gasps. Boyd covered his mouth, Raylan's wrists and ankles were zip tied to the frame of the futon. Scarier still, an IV tube was taped crudely to his forearm, the tubing leading to a bag hanging from a hook on the wall," Raylan?"

"Mmmmph."

"Holy shit," Boyd jerked the blanket off of the nails to get more light, the futon's mattress was damp with sweat and blood. Raylan flexed his hands as he felt Boyd sit next to him," Raylan, I don't know what to do…"

"C-cold," Raylan shivered.

"I've gotcha," Boyd covered him with his jacket and then the blanket.

His body was burning up but he trembled beneath Boyd's jacket and the blanket he was covered with. He panted from the agony in his chest and was almost sure he was dying, whatever drugs those men had given him were starting to interfere with his ability to differentiate reality from the hellish memories that had continued their assault.

—Raylan sat outside in a lawn chair with a beer in his hand, the beer was almost warm. He stared at the graves in front of him, tracing the names 'Helen' and 'Arlo' with his eyes before he got to the third one. 'Raylan Givens' etched in a Roman type font, he shook his head,' One day,' he thought,' one day this job's gonna put me there,' he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Winona hadn't called to check on him in the last few days,' Probably still mad at me,' he finished the beer and went back inside, coming back out with a bottle of bourbon.

He'd sat there all day, not bothering to get up even to eat, he drank until his vision blurred. At least that's what he told himself, Raylan Givens didn't cry. Every time he had even teared up as a child Arlo had beaten him until he either couldn't move or had passed out. He winced as he remembered Arlo's belt, getting in between his father and Helen. Sweet Helen, the woman who'd given him hope again. She'd believed in him, kissed him good night and read to him out of his favorite western novels until he'd fallen asleep…

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, he didn't bother reaching for his side arm,' If it's my time to go it's my time to go,' he looked almost fondly at the tombstone in front of him.

"God damn, Raylan this is morbid as fucking hell," Tim had hiked his way up to check on him. Raylan sighed, not really in the mood for company but desperate to have someone there so he wasn't alone. He didn't remember everything about the next few hours, other than Tim helping him to his feet and steadying him when he got sick. He'd woke up at Tim's house, on the couch, in clean clothes, with a cool rag on his forehead and another on the back of his neck. Tim was sitting on the floor next to the couch he was laying on, a movie on in the background that he wasn't watching.—

He'd complained about Tim acting like a woman, but at the moment he'd have given anything to be on Tim's couch while they both pretended to watch whatever cartoon or western that Tim put on,' Tim,' his head spun,' where are you?'

Tim's eyes were starting to get heavy, he pulled over and tried to shake himself awake. He turned the AC on cold and put it to max to try and help, his cell rang," Yeah boss?"

"Where are you?" Art got straight to the point.

Tim looked around and realized he was in front of his house," I'm at home, in my driveway.'

"You okay?"

"No sir," he wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion, but he didn't have it in him to lie.

"Want me to send Rachel over?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"Then I'm coming over," Art didn't give him a chance to protest before he hung up the phone.

Art found Tim still sitting in his car when he got there, he knocked on the window," C'mon Gutterson," he put on his boss voice," let's get inside and get you something to eat and some rest."

Tim fumbled the keys into the lock, he walked inside and tossed his bag in the corner like he and Raylan always did after a night out," Go shower and I'll order us some take out," Art pulled out his phone and started dialing.

Tim felt numb, he went to his bedroom and grabbed a change of clothes. He turned the shower on and tossed the day's clothes in the hamper, he almost laughed when he saw a familiar flannel button down hanging on the back of the door. Raylan had a habit of leaving clothes at his house when he stayed over. He'd have given anything to have him there to give him shit,' Are you trying to be my girlfriend?' He'd ask him, Raylan would flash him a shit-eating grin and laugh, then reply with something along the lines of,' Why Tim, are you hitting on me?' He'd never had a friend that he was comfortable enough to banter like that with since Jesse died. He never really talked about Jesse, just like Raylan never talked about Helen. He stepped into the shower and let the water hit him, remembering the far away look Raylan got in his eyes whenever he would talk about her. Usually he was drunk, he'd slur his words and Tim swore he was about to break down and cry when he'd drift off to sleep or get up for a refill or to go take a leak.

—Art had gotten worried about Raylan while he was on suspension, so he'd sent Tim out to Raylan's house to check on him. He hadn't came to the office to get something he'd 'forgotten' and conveniently overhear a case they were working on so he could try and get involved, hell he hadn't even called or sent a text. Tim had tried the usual places, the hotel where he'd stayed when he'd first gotten to Kentucky, the apartment above the bar, the other bar he liked, then he went to Arlo and Helen's house. Arlo was probably passed out or with Boyd, but he went on a hike when he saw Raylan's town car pointing towards the side of the mountain.

He'd found Raylan sitting in a lawn chair outside, beer bottles scattered at his feet and a bottle of bourbon that was about to fall out of his hand and half resting on the grass. Raylan was staring at something in front of him, as Tim got closer he saw the headstones," God damn, Raylan, this is morbid as fucking hell," Raylan's reflexes were still on point, he jumped as Tim spoke, hand going to his hip to grab his gun," Easy pal," Tim put his hands up playfully," hands up, don't go shooting me."

"Tim, what're y'doin' 'ere?" His words were slurred and accent thick.

Tim could smell the bourbon on him from where he was standing," Art got worried about you, he told me to come babysit."

"Not 'n th' mood," Raylan took a long drink straight from the bottle.

"Isn't it a little early to be day-drinking?" Tim walked over to him," Can I sit down?"

"I don' need a babysitter."

"Well what if I missed you?" Tim poked Raylan's thigh.

"Fuck you."

"I'll pass," Tim flashed him a smile," besides I'm not blonde so I don't think I'm your type."

"Fuck you."

"Seriously, Ray, c'mon," Tim stretched and stood up," I'll bring you home with me and get some food in you," Raylan was either too drunk or too tired to care as Tim helped him up. He reached out and grabbed at Tim's shoulders and threw up after only a few steps," Have you eaten anything today?" He wiped his mouth and shook his head," We need to change that," Tim caught his hat before it fell," can you make it down the slope?" Raylan stumbled but nodded,"

Riiiiight," Tim put one arm under Raylan's and the other he scooped under his knees.

"Tim, what the hell?"

"Shutup, princess," Tim grinned," and if you throw up on me I swear I'll kick your ass," Raylan snorted. He'd passed out on the drive back to Tim's house, Tim had carried him into the house and pulled off his boots and hat and put them on the table next to the door. He never realized how heavy and awkward Raylan was until he dragged him into the bathroom and turned on the shower, he helped his drunken friend undress and get in the shower, although he left the washing up to him. He handed him a towel and helped him into a pair of sweats he'd had from his days in the army and an old t-shirt.

Tim put on Alice in Wonderland, it was a comfort movie for him, the story was one his mother had read to him every night at bedtime. Tim could almost smell the lotion she used after she'd had her bath. He grabbed some Tylenol and a bottle of Gatorade and sat on the floor in front of the couch, Raylan took the pills and thanked him before sinking back onto one of the throw pillows.

They'd sat in silence until Raylan got up on an elbow," Tim," his voice was breathy and Tim was afraid he was going to throw up on him, he turned to face him just in case he needed to bail. Raylan sat up, silent for a long moment, Tim looking up at him inquisitively. Raylan leaned forward," I…"

"I can help you get to the bathroom if you need to—" Tim started, Raylan had put a hand on his shoulder and Tim got to his knees to help him up. Raylan didn't stand up, he fell into him and leaned his head on Tim's shoulder," Ray, you okay?"

"She's gone…" it was a choked sound, Tim felt his friend's grief delve into the deepest parts of his heart. This was soul-crushing grief, the kind someone only got once they felt like they'd lost one of the most important things in the world to them. At first he didn't know what to do, he just sat dumbfounded as Raylan leaned against him, breath hot on his neck. Then he felt it, his shirt started sticking to him and Raylan's shoulders were shaking. Raylan Givens was crying. Tim actually had some experience with this, Jesse's death had hit him hard. He'd gone to visit Jesse's parents in Montana and had broke down sobbing when his father had answered the door. He'd looked just like Jesse, a little older and weathered but an exact carbon copy. Jesse's father had cried with him for at least half an hour.

He pulled Raylan into him just like Jesse's father had done for him," It's okay," he remembered when he had to hold his grief in with no one to let it out in front of.

"I'm sorry, Tim," Raylan started to push away from him.

"Ray, your mama just got killed," Tim wouldn't let him go," if this helps you deal with that so you can catch the asshole who did it, well I'm okay with that."

"I'm not gay…"

"You think that would matter?" Tim snickered," Do you know how many of my guys overseas slept curled up closer to the rest of us than they did at home with their wives? We're people, we have emotions and sometimes…" he tried to find the words," hell, Ray, I don't give a damn if you were gay."

"I'm not."

"Shut the hell up," Tim smiled.

"You're the only person I trusted…"

"It's not healthy to keep stuff like this bottled up," Tim helped him back onto the couch but didn't shy away from him.

"She taught me to drive," Raylan dried his eyes," down this road actually. Arlo had an old beat up pick up, she took the keys and we'd go driving until it started getting dark."

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was," Raylan had started composing himself now," No matter what I'd done, she never let Arlo hurt me. She kept me safe, until she wasn't around, then she would tend to me and scream at him like she could scream the demons out of him. Only person he ever listened to, the beatings got less severe when she showed up."

"I know what that feels like," Tim sprawled on the couch and put his feet on the table," I also know you're probably not gonna remember this conversation in the morning, and if you do you're not gonna wanna talk about it," he let his accent show.

"Thank you, darlin'," Raylan drawled, he shot Tim a sleepy smile.—

"Gutterson, you okay in there?" Art knocked on the door, Tim jumped and almost busted his ass.

"Yeah," he got out and quickly got dressed.

"I got take out," Art had several boxes of Chinese food scattered on his coffee table, Tim rubbed his eyes to get the image of Raylan sitting where Art was out of his head.

"Thank you, boss," Tim smiled and sat down.

"We're gonna find him," Art said after a long silence.

"I hope he's all right," Tim felt his nerves fluttering in his stomach.

"Me too," Art took a drink of his beer," even though he's a loose cannon that has piled more paperwork on my desk from all the stupid shit that he does…I hope he's hiding somewhere and trying to get to a phone to call us to come get him," as they finished eating Art took note of Tim downing copious amounts of bourbon, presumably to help him sleep.

"When Jesse died," Tim started," I didn't think I'd ever find another friend like him. It was like a part of me died with him."

"Jesse?" Art leaned back in an easy chair.

"My best friend, he got killed in Qatar," Tim explained," he was my eyes, made sure I was on target, checked my gear for me, we looked out for each other. He took a piece of shrapnel and infection took him from me," Tim got a far away look in his eyes, the dead stare was almost scary," Jesse and I just clicked, I mean whenever you share a space about as big as a fox hole and you literally do everything together you get pretty close to someone. We shared a sleeping bag in the middle of the desert to keep from freezing to death."

"Sounds like a good man."

"We just clicked, we fit. Nothing gay about it," Tim ran a hand through his hair," I knew that no matter what I could count on him. We laughed together and cried together, I always thought we'd get out and go home and sign up to teach new recruits. I actually saw Raylan in Glenco once while Jesse and I were there, it was right before we left for Qatar. Raylan was on a punishment assignment teaching firearms instruction."

"Firearms instruction?"

"Yeah, Ray was a marine," Tim still had that serious look on his face," I didn't talk to him or like get to know him but I watched him while he did his qualifier for that year. I remember telling Jesse 'damn good shot, too bad he looks like such an asshole'," Tim laughed," I was right."

"Yeah, Raylan's one of the best. I'd trust him at my back if…"

"Not about the gun play part," Tim snickered," Ray you asshole…why'd you have to go and get yourself abducted?" Tim's eyes closed and he drifted to sleep.
Art picked up the leftovers and got a blanket from the back of the lazy boy, he covered Tim with the blanket and settled in the recliner. It was going to be a long night.

Art's cell phone went off," Mullen," he stretched, Tim was stirring on the couch at the sound of his voice.

"You put a BOLO out on Raylan Givens?"

"Yes," Art sat up, suddenly very awake," Any word?"

"Someone saw the vehicle he was last seen in come into town, we're watching it but wanted to contact you before we did anything."

"See where they go, Gutterson and I are on our way."

"They find Raylan?" Tim was wide awake.