1000 apologies for how late this update is! Thank you again for the reviews and for waiting patiently! Hopefully this long chapter will make up for it! Please continue to review and PM me! I love reading your feedback!

I enjoyed writing this one, it's a bit of a glimpse into Tim's psyche and some flashbacks at the end! Very sorry for any grammatical errors, I got a bit excited and I don't have a beta! I hope you enjoy reading! xo

It was one 'o' clock by the time Tim dropped G back at her apartment. Rachel wasn't expecting them til 7pm so they had the day to kill before dinner. As G disembarked from Tim's truck, she was tempted to invite him up to her apartment for coffee before thinking better of it. She needed time away from him for these unnecessary feelings of attraction to disappear. G shut the truck door and looked back at Tim, whose eyes were fixed on the steering wheel. He was drumming his palms on the wheel in time to Dire Straits' 'Sultans of Swing' (her choice not his) and chewing his bottom lip absent-mindedly with adorably crooked teeth.

G cursed her subconscious and reminded herself that there was nothing cute about bad dentition.

'You know where Rachel lives?' Tim's drawl snapped her out of the reverie as he leaned towards her from the open window. G blinked a few times and folded her arms.

'Actually, nope.' Tim watched a flash of annoyance cross her face before he smirked. In truth, he'd enjoyed today. Tim never wanted to share the range with anyone, let alone someone he knew, but maybe he would suggest this again. Besides, she was a crack shot and a quick learner.

I'll pick you up, then. The words were on the tip of his tongue but a particularly beautiful guitar solo interrupted his thoughts and the moment was gone. What would Rachel think if they showed up together? Something about picking a girl up for dinner, albeit with another family, seemed like a date, which obviously made Tim uncomfortable.

'47 Ashby Avenue. Her mom's a stickler for timing.' With that, Tim backed out of the parking lot and shot off, nerves a little frayed.

G watched his truck disappear and let out a breath she wasn't been aware she was holding. As she returned to her apartment, she tried to convince herself she was pleased that Tim hadn't offered to pick her up…

It was 6.55pm. G was sitting in the black town car that she was loaning from the Marshal Service, desperately missing her own Ford Mustang that was gathering dust in her dad's garage back in DC. She'd taken Tim's warning seriously and decided not to be late, as she so usually was. She'd parked across the street and taken a second to scope the area. Nice neighbourhood, predominantly families, no noise pollution and driveways full of hybrids. There were even a few white picket fences. G stepped out of the car and strolled across the road. Despite the fact that she liked Rachel, she was nervous. She didn't want to get close to anyone here yet that's exactly what she was doing and her morning with Tim hadn't helped her anxiety any.

G had made a quick call to her ASAC in the afternoon. He'd told her to chill out and that making friends was no bad thing. No one was in any immediate danger.

Yet.

G shook her head and cast the thought out of her head before plastering a friendly smile on her face. Her ASAC was right. She didn't know how long she was going to be here and she couldn't avoid socialising for the whole time. Maybe making friends wasn't that bad an idea…

G swept her long black curls off her face and straightened her signature leather jacket before knocking. She'd stuck with casual for this evening. Blue skinny jeans and a purple jumper. Not like she was looking to impress anybody…

'Hey hey, wondered when you were gonna show up.' The door had swung open to reveal Tim, out of breath, flushed and grinning widely in ripped blue jeans and a khaki army shirt. G didn't think she'd ever seen him so relaxed and unguarded. If anything, he was even more attractive like this than he was in full badass Marshal mode. His greeting was so informal that she almost pinched herself, wondering if this was really him or a programmed hologram. She settled for opening and shutting her mouth twice before muttering a 'hey'. She was ready for his usual smirk to appear, sure he'd seen straight through her, noticed her heart rate speed up. What she was not ready for was a cry of 'GO LONG' before an American football sailed through the very slim space between her head and the front door.

G shot back, plastering herself against the wall as Tim streaked past her, running blindly into the road and catching the ball quite impressively before it barrelled into her car across the street. Good thing no one had been driving around. Then again, Tim was known to be reckless.

'Nick, what has your grandma told you about throwing in the house?' Tim was strolling back to the house, idly flicking the ball from palm to palm. His words were reproachful but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

'My bad…' A sheepish looking kid emerged from inside the house to stand next to her. He looked around ten and was wearing a khaki army hoodie that matched Tim's shirt. 'Awesome catch though!' The boy grinned toothily up at Tim, the admiration for the Ranger evident in his innocent brown eyes. Tim smiled back and high fived Nick before handing him the ball back. G looked between the two and wondered. Who'd have though Tim Gutterson was good with children. It made her like him even more and her stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably like it had this morning. She stamped it down quickly.

'This is G. G this is Nick, Rachel's nephew.' The boy looked a lot like Rachel; G had almost expected it to be her son. She'd seen a picture of him on Rachel's desk but never asked about him. G resolved to ask Rachel more about her life. Nick looked shyly at G from under thick lashes and smiled politely.

'It's nice to meet you.' He muttered. Tim chortled quietly, not used to seeing Nick nervous.

'Good arm, kid.' G smiled down at the boy and stuck out her hand, which Nick shook politely.

'G!' Rachel appeared in the hallway, tea towel draped over her shoulder and a saucepan in her hands. She looked very homely, dressed in loose fitting black pants and a pink sweater, easy smile on her pretty face. G couldn't help but smile at her. Rachel grinned back.

'I see you've met Trouble.' She remarked.

G looked between Tim and Nick. 'Which one?' The two women shared a smirk.

'Come on in, I'll get you a drink.'

The rest of the evening passed in a warm haze. Rachel was an attentive host, Nick was funny and sweet and Rachel's mother, Tanya was hilarious, plying G with endless servings of hot lasagne and serving up lots of embarrassing stories from Rachel's childhood. G found herself having a great time despite herself, enjoying the easy company.

Tim was so relaxed here. He chatted relentlessly with Nick and swapped cheeky banter with Tanya. Tim had been coming to Rachel's every Sunday since he joined the Marshals. They were clearly very good friends who had each other's backs. Family, if anything. G was surprised at how welcomed she felt. Though she was seated next to Tim, the two of them swapped few words, just a couple of smiles. It was nice, seeing this soft side to him. She did her best not to watch him, but she almost couldn't help it. She felt like this version of him didn't surface very often.

G was almost sad to leave. Tanya sent her and Tim home with a box generously laden with pieces of her delicious treacle tart and Rachel extended the invitation to come again next week. Nick even hugged her goodbye. As G sat in her car on the way home, she felt warm inside in a way she hadn't felt for a long time. Not since before the incident in DC.

Tim woke up drenched in sweat at 3.05am. His breathing was erratic, his heart racing uncomfortably. His dream hadn't started off as a nightmare. It had started as a nice sepia replay of the night before. There were shots of him playing catch with Nick, drinking a beer with Rachel on her porch, eating Tanya's incredible cooking. Then there were shots of G. G shooting a gun at the range, her smile when she saw him with Nick. Her smile. The dream zoomed in on her face for some time and Tim was content in REM to dream about her.

But then her face changed, distorted suddenly to become nothing and then to become someone else altogether.

Tim didn't have this nightmare regularly, but it shook him up the worst. He couldn't really call it a nightmare; half of it at least was a precious memory. It was the second half, what he lived through after that was the nightmare. This dream dredged up all those merciless memories and left him feeling like he was drowning in his own blood, reminding him of all that he had lost, warning him of all he could still lose.

He tried to tell himself he didn't know what had brought it on but that was a lie. It was the same thing that always gave him this dream. Fear. Didn't matter what kind of fear or what situation it was in but he always saw her face, he always relived this memory when he was scared.

Tim tried to regulate his breathing. What exactly was he scared of though? Work was fine and he'd been doing pretty well with his PTSD recently. The only thing that had changed really was the new girl. More specifically, how he felt about her. Which wasn't to say much because he didn't really know how he felt about her. Just that she was pretty. And that on an emotional level, not just a physical one, he wanted to get to know her. Was that it then? He was scared of getting feelings for someone? If Tim could punch himself, he would. This was ridiculous. He'd been to war, almost been blown up, he risked his life on a weekly basis what with Raylan getting him in all sorts of trouble and he hadn't had this dream in months. It couldn't be because of G. It just couldn't.

Tim stood up and dressed in some joggers and a hoodie. Knowing there was no way he was going back to sleep now, he decided to do what he did best.

Run.

'Tim! What are we doing here?' Leila's blue eyes were wide and concerned as she snuck a look around the side of the building they were pressing their backs to, making sure none of the sentries were walking nearby. Satisfied they were alone, she rounded on him, red hair making her look all that much angrier. He deserved it of course. Night was falling on their camp and he'd waited until she was walking to her camp before unceremoniously grabbing her arm and dragging her behind a training barrack.

Leila Masters was the only woman who'd ever really held his attention. She was beautiful, flaming auburn hair, intelligent eyes, and acerbic tongue. She was tough, easily able take on one of the bigger guys in the camp. And she had this smile that she reserved only for him and he knew it for a fact because she didn't look at anyone else like that – he'd kept watch. When she smiled at him it touched something deep inside his chest and made him feel things he never thought he'd feel. Not since his mama left or his daddy started drinking.

She made him feel worthy.

They were due to deploy tomorrow morning at 0600 and he knew if he didn't do this now, he'd regret it forever.

He crashed his lips into hers. It wasn't slow or romantic or pretty, it was a desperate kiss. Desperate to show her how he felt, desperately wanting her to feel the same. Truth be told, Tim was scared. He was 21 and about to be thrown into the turmoil of Afghanistan for the first time. He did a good job covering it up, but every time one of the vets wished him luck, his stomach roiled forebodingly. What good was luck right now? This, kissing Leila, was luck enough.

It took a second for her to overcome her shell shock. Tim had always been a favourite of hers. He was polite, humble despite being hugely talented and he was absolutely adorable. But they were going to war and everyone needed their head in the game. Starting something was inappropriate. Not to mention they'd only known each other six months and she was almost a decade older than him. He whispered her name breathlessly and she gave in.

They made love right there, against that wall by the border of trees, for anyone to see should they walk this way. It was harsh and needy and beautiful. Tim was inexperienced but that didn't stop him being good. It finished with her biting his shoulder, fingers tightly wound in his sandy blonde hair. They held each other for some time, the cover of darkness disguising the tears they both shed into each others clothing, overcome with some highly strung emotions that neither of them could articulate.

Tim would never forget that day.

His first.

His worst.

Riding the hours on the thrill of last night's memories. Swapping meaningful glances with Leila, looking beautiful as ever in full battle rattle. They didn't speak, hadn't even spoken last night. But they didn't need words to share their feelings. For the first time in a long time, Tim felt happy.

No matter how many bullets he put into the enemy, he was still happy, oblivious somehow to the horrors on all sides. The intolerable heat, even the sounds of screaming could not deter him. Looking back on it, the way he felt disgusted him but at that point, he floated like he was in a dream, like it was all a video game. As long as he had her in his sights, he was happy.

He was happy up until the second that her beautiful face was ripped apart.

IED.

Accident.

Tragedy.

Over the next few weeks, months, years, he would hear these words and they would remind him, over and over again of the way she smiled at him, seconds before her foot made a wrong step, causing the terrain beneath her to erupt like Vesuvius, taking her earthly form with it.

There was nothing left.

Tim stumbled through the rest of that tour blindly. Twelve months in the sandpit and he could barely remember it. All he could see behind his eyelids was her face. Leila Masters had attacked his senses for such a short time, and ruined his life.

Please R&R!