AN: Ok, so this story doesn't have ton of readers... I really want to continue this but if there's no interest, I'm going to prioritize other stories. If y'all really want me to continue, please leave a review of some sort. Thank you! Thanks though to SpadesJade for her constant reviews. And thanks to my beta JustWhelmed for all the help :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Becky. trust me, if I owned Raylan... hehe, y'all wouldn't see him very often.

Raylan woke up to a cold and empty bed when the sunlight pierced the blinds. "Becky," he mumbled, keeping his face buried in the pillow.

When he didn't get an answer, he sat up in the bed. "Becky?" he said a bit more loudly. He did a quick scan of the room and saw that her belongings were still there, including her phone and wallet.

He relaxed a little, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere without those.

Then he saw the note.

As he read it, he felt a coat of ice start to form in his veins. His stomach dropped to his feet and his palms started to sweat. "Damn you, Becky," he said, crumpling the letter, only to smooth it out again. Far away and beyond your help "Goddamn you."

He started trying to come up with a plan while he was quickly getting dressed. His first reaction was to drive up to the Becket farm and kill anyone and everyone who got in his way.

Raylan had a feeling that Larkin had more men than Raylan had bullets. Becky was right to not go off half-cocked. He smiled at how well she knew him then clenched his jaw to keep from thinking in the past tense.

His second reaction was to grab his phone and, on his way out, call Art for backup. That's when he saw that his battery had been smashed. So had Becky's. And the landline had been cut.

"Well...shit."

He couldn't help but laugh at her ingenuity, even while he was adjusting his hat and grabbing his keys. The longer it took him to follow her, the safer he would be. She thought he would dare not go without some sort of backup. She didn't think he would be so reckless.

She obviously didn't know what risks a man in love would take.

Raylan had no idea how fast he was driving but he was pretty sure it broke the speed limit on the autoban. He was still scared that he was taking too long. Becky's words haunted him. No chance

He knew that his plan wasn't the best, but he also knew that he couldn't out-plan Becky Brett anyway. He thought that maybe minimal planning and instinct was the way to go.

As much as he wanted to shoot some people, he wanted Becky safe and in his arms more. He could only pray that Eschel hadn't killed her yet. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought of why that might be. He refused to think about it any further, concentrating on what he had to do.

Instead of driving to Larkin's place, he drove to Ava's. The woman herself came out onto the porch when he knocked, followed by Boyd.

"What do you want?" she asked in that hostile voice she reserved for Raylan alone. He felt so lucky.

Boyd pushed past Ava gently. "I know what he wants."

Raylan realized then just how Becky got away from him and his rage threatened to bubble over. With a low growl he barely heard himself make, he shoved Boyd up against the wall, arm on his throat. Ava let out a cry and ran inside, presumably to get her gun but Raylan didn't give a damn.

"Why?" he snarled. "Why would you drive her to her death?"

"Because neither of us could think of another way to save you," Boyd choked out, not fighting against Raylan's hold, probably because he felt guilty over Becky too. "Believe me or not, Raylan, but I don't have many friends (Boyd may have actually smiled a little at the term, but it was hard to tell at the angle) and I'd like to keep the few that I have got alive."

Raylan wasn't surprised by the bitterness in his own voice. "You might keep me breathing," he corrected, letting go and stepping back. "But I won't be living."

Boyd didn't even rub at the bruises forming.

Ava came out and lowered the shotgun. She wanted to tell Raylan to get the hell off her property, but she couldn't. She couldn't turn him away when he was standing there with a desperate, quivering energy she'd never seen before. He and Boyd were having some sort of silent conversation. Ava didn't understand the people in her own life. Not the man in her bed, not the woman who called in the middle of the night and made him leave it. Not the man she used to have in her bed or the hold that same woman had over him to make him love like he'd never loved her. Ava wanted to make them all go away, but she knew that she never could.

The silence was broken at last by Boyd. "I'll go get my keys."

They left a minute later and Ava went inside to make biscuits. What else could she do?

All Raylan wanted from Boyd was to be dropped off and picked up at a spot just outside the woods on the backside of the property. "If I'm not back in two hours..." His mouth twisted into a dark line that Boyd didn't like much.

"Be here," was all Boyd said to that. He didn't wish him good luck; he just sent up his first prayer in a very long time.

Raylan was all too aware of the minutes ticking by. Two hours wasn't a long time in matters of life and death. Life or death.

He was hoping that Eschel had brought Becky back to Bennet house because of its isolation. It seemed logical at least and it was his only lead. He edged past one guard. His only chance was the padlocked cellar door.

There was a man outside it, armed with a .45 handgun. Raylan was able to use the shrubbery to get close. He suddenly remembered watching Monty Python and the knights who say "Ni" and had to repress a very misplaced and disturbed giggle. Then he was pulling the goon into a chokehold. It was easier than it looked to squeeze the life out of someone.

He stashed the dead man's pistol in his own pocket and then used the butt of his gun to break open the padlock. It was creepy, shutting himself into the darkness.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust. Fortunately, there was a little light coming from the solitary half-window on the opposite wall.

He could see dim shapes and a trace of movement in the corner. Even in the dim light, he recognized Becky. He thought he would recognize her in the dark by her breathing.

"Becky." She didn't say anything. He scooped her up gently and she only made a little, pained noise in the back of throat. He shook her gently and used her first name. "Farrow."

"Raylan?" Her voice was tried but she already was putting pieces together. "You didn't make a bust."

"I'm here to save you," he said quietly. "Are you all right?" He started running his hands over her softly, checking for injuries.

"You're an idiot," she hissed. "You've ruined everything."

"We can fight about that later. Boyd's gonna be waiting for us." He drew his hand back from her stomach and it came back tacky with drying blood. "Oh goddamn it Becky."

There was a trace of dark humor in her voice. "Boyd will be waiting for one of us." She traced his jaw and he could feel her blood get on his skin. "You should go."

"I'm not leaving you," he said fiercely. Holding her body close, in the dark and the danger, his very soul hurt with all the things he needed to say. "Not ever."

Whatever she might have said in response to that was cut off by the door leading to the stairs and the rest of the house opening with a creak. Footsteps descended, came closer. Raylan clutched at Becky and his gun.

"Hello Marshal."