Brandi and Tim had climbed into Tim's shiny truck and rolled out. The two stopped for coffee and food, preparing to settle in for a long day. They drove a short while and Brandi looked out the window, seeing the older run down neighborhood rush by before Tim slowed and started looking for a spot.

"That's our house right there." He said and pointed it out. It was a small white house with a chain fence. It was missing some siding and moss was growing on the roof. One of the windows was boarded up and the other had broken blinds over it. The front porch was small with two plastic chairs and a couple of boxes acting as a small table. Trash and clutter seemed to flow from the porch to the yard and along the side fence that was covered in ivy.

"We're gonna stick out like a sore thumb." Brandi said and turned to look at him. Tim put his hand on the back of her seat and looked over his shoulder, backing the truck into a spot next to the curb on the opposite side of the street.

"Yeah, well we aren't really expecting him to come out." Tim explained. "Besides, not our money we're wastin'." He finished with a lazy smile. Brandi rolled her eyes and started pulling out some of the forms she had been working on earlier that morning.

"But it is our time we're wasting." She retorted and she leaned over, digging in her bag for the pen that had shifted to the bottom. After a sigh of frustration and a whispered swear, she sat up, pulling out her pen with a small smile. She glanced at Tim and furrowed her eyebrows.

"You gonna do something?" Brandi asked as he sat there, almost still as a statute. He rolled his head to look at her and then rolled it back to face the house.

"I'm doing it."

"Are you just gonna sit and watch all day?" She followed up in disbelief.

"Yup." Tim answered. Short and to the point. Brandi bobbed her head from side to side.

"Ok, then." She gave up and started reading the form and filling it out. The two sat in silence for a while after that. Tim stared at the house and it was almost creepy how still he could be. Brandi buried herself in the work she brought with her, sipping her warm coffee. Time ticked by and eventually the two broke into some of the food they brought alone. Though they were quite, Brandi found it was a comfortable silence. Tim was a quiet man with a quick wit. They had a similar sense of humor and worked well together, falling into a rhythm quickly. She had only been there a week but found her little group had adjusted well to her presence. They seemed to be a better team with one more person to clean up after Raylan and his messes. She was quick on the paperwork and got a hang of the systems quickly, well the ones she had access to. Brandi enjoyed working with them all so far, but found she much preferred working with Tim.

Brandi smiled to herself as she chewed on the end of her pen, her mind starting to wander. She found herself thinking back on Tim's comment from earlier in the day. He was kinda cute like that, realizing what his comment came off as. She thought about his question. As innocent as it was, she couldn't help but think about it. She briefly wondered who could help her and found she really liked the idea of breaking in the bed with a certain blonde marshal.

She was ripped out of her thoughts when a hand entered her field of vision and she startled, flinching away out of reflex. Tim paused and looked at her for a second before continuing his reach for the glove box. He popped it open and Brandi shifted, giving him space to open it up as much as he could. He grabbed what he needed and snapped it closed. Brandi huffed a bit.

"Tell me again why we aren't in the surveillance van?" Brandi asked, embarrassed.

"Well, for one, it's still in the shop." Tim explained as he lifted fidgeted with the thing in his hand. It was a stress ball. He seemed to have the stashed everywhere. "Art said he'd come by later and relieve us with it."

"Ah." Brandi nodded as she started putting the papers away. "And we couldn't wait?"

"Can you honestly tell me sitting in the van is more comfortable than my truck?" Tim asked, looking at her with a lazy half smile. Brandi looked at him.

"Well, I haven't had the pleasure of camping out in the van yet." She pointed out. "Who knows, maybe I'll love it."

"Wouldn't surprise me, especially if you like sleeping on the floor more than the bed." He teased her. Brandi just scowled. He was too quick for his own good.

"Why are we here again?" She asked, shifting in her seat. Tim smirked.

"Well, we received a tip that a possible fugitive is squatting in this house. We are here to see if there is any truth to that." Tim explained in his southern drawl. "Basically, we have to sit here until we get probable cause or the warrant gets approved." Brandi groaned.

"I'm gonna die in this damn truck." She grunted and rubbed her forehead.

"Don't diss my truck." Tim said with a smirk, feigning offence.

"Shove it up your ass." Brandi snorted. Tim chuckled quietly.

"Now darlin' don't threaten me with a good time." He shot back, earning a snort from Brandi before the two lapsed back into silence. Brandi rested her elbow next to the window and rested her head on her hand. Tim heard her sigh through her nose and maybe three minutes passed before she spoke again.

"How did you do it?" She asked. Tim frowned and looked at her.

"What, shove a truck up my ass? Lot's of patience." He answered with a smirk. Brandi snorted and swatted at his shoulder, shoving him slightly. But he could see the smile on her face.

"Bein' a jack ass ain't cute." Brandi told him. "I mean how can you just sit here, staring at a house all day. I've been doing it for maybe five minutes and I'm goin' stir crazy."

"Lots of practice." He said, still looking ahead. Brandi looked at him for a moment, studying his face. He looked like he usually does, face blank, almost bored.

"Military thing?" She asked.

"Yup."

"You miss it?" She asked. He snapped his head to her, looking at her dead on, looking her over. What the hell was he looking for? Brandi just sat there, waiting for his response. Tim looked ahead again.

"Sometimes." Tim admitted. "Though, I don't exactly miss this part." He explained and shifted, crossing his arms. Brandi hummed in amusement and took the hint. She looked ahead to the house and let her mind wander as they fell back into a silence.

The silence didn't last long when they saw someone pull a tab of the blinds down and let it snap back into place. They couldn't see anyone, they were too far away, but it at least told them someone was in there.

"Shit." Tim mumbled and pulled out his phone, calling Art.

"I didn't see him. Did you?" Brandi asked her partner. Tim shook his head, a serious look on his face. "I take it that don't count as probable cause." She stated.

"No." He told her. "Hey Art, we got confirmation someone is in there and there's a chance they know we're here." Brandi could hear that Art was talking but not what was being said. "Right, got it." Tim said and hung up the phone.

"What's the plan?" She asked as he started grabbing his things and pulling out his gun. Brandi followed suit.

"Art and the other two are on their way with the van. They're only a few minutes out." Tim explained. "He wants us to go ahead and see if we can't scare him out."

"I'll take the front and you circle around back in case he runs?" Brandi asked as she undid her belt and opened her door. Tim gave her small smirk and nodded his head.

"Ready when you are, darlin'" Tim drawled as he opened his own door. Brandi smiled and hopped out, walking up the street and to the house, Tim behind her. Once they got through the fence, he went for the side, heading towards the back. She watched him go and started up the steps slowly, hearing her heavy boots on the old wood steps. They creaked under her weight and her heart raced. Brandi didn't know who or what was behind that door and she had to be ready for anything. Her gun was drawn and it felt heavy in her hands. She was embarrassed to notice her hands were sweating. It had been a while since she actually pointed a gun at someone and it wasn't her most favorite pastime.

After what felt like minutes, she reached the porch. Brandi paused and listened, trying to see if she could hear anyone moving behind the door, or anywhere in the house. She heard tires on the pavement and the engine of a large vehicle and she turned to look over her shoulder. A large plain van rolled up parked on the street and she could see her coworkers inside. Brandi heard wood creaking and snapped around, raising her gun and before she could announce herself, the blast of a shotgun rang through the quiet neighborhood.

In a second her heart dropped to her stomach. Before she could take in a breath, the blast knocked her backwards off the porch. The blast of the shot hit her full in the chest and it erupted in pain. It burned and she couldn't breathe. The world spun as she fell and hit the pavement, smacking her head as she landed.

Art, Raylan, and Rachel watched as Brandi fell backwards. Time seemed to slow and they jumped out of the van, pulling out their guns, firing at the door. The sound of shots being fired had alerted Tim and he came running around the front of the house. Rachel and Raylan stopped firing and Art had pulled out his phone, calling for an ambulance and backup as Rachel and Raylan advanced forward. Tim paused for a second, making sure the coast was clear and rushed to Brandi, crouching low. He holstered his gun and grabbed under her arms, dragging her limp body across the yard and out of the way of further gun fire.

As the other three advanced, Raylan ran around the back and Tim heard him kick the door open. Art covered Rachel as she pushed open the front door. Tim turned his attention to his coworker, the one he was charged with protecting, watching over. She was out cold and he looked at her chest. Her shirt was shredded and he could see the blood seeping through. None of the wounds looked deep and he could see some fragments of rock salt and pushed the guilt aside. It wasn't a real round. Tim turned his attention to her head and gently probed behind her head. Brandi winced a bit and he felt something wet and pulled back, seeing blood on his fingertips. Tim gently pat her face, trying to bring her around.

"Brandi." He called her name firmly. "Brandi are you with me?" He asked. "Come on back now." He said as he heard a grunt and she rolled her head to the side, almost leaning into his hand. She bent her leg at the knee, groaning as the pain started to register.

"Shit." She breathed and a weak cough came up, making her gasp and grimace in pain. "Fuck." She hissed. After a few seconds she was able to open her eyes. Tim watched as she slowly looked around, squinting at the sun in her eyes. "It hurts." She gasped out. "It hurts to breathe." She reported and looked at him. Tim had cracked a smile, relieved to see she was awake and aware. "What….happened?" Brandi wheezed out and tried to lift sit up. The pain made her yelp in pain and she stayed on the ground. Tim rested his hand on her shoulder but she reached up her hand and he took it in his out of reflex. He grasped her hand firmly, letting her know he was there keeping her grounded.

"Don't move. You smacked your face pretty hard." He instructed. "Our buddy shot you full of rock salt, too." Tim heard a commotion and his hands went to reach for his gun, but paused. Raylan was leading out a very angry man who was cussing up a storm. Raylan was none too gentle with him and Rachel followed, gun at the ready. Art came out of the house last and looked over to the two in the yard. He made his way down the steps and jogged over.

Brandi saw a figure loom over her and as he knelt down on the other side of her, the blurry figure cleared and she saw Art's worried face starting down at her from under his baseball cap.

"How is she?" He asked, clearly concerned for the young woman.

"She's ok." Tim assured him.

"Hey, Art." Brandi whispered hoarsely with a weak smile.

"Brandi, where the hell is your vest?" He asked, incredulous in his usual irritated parent tone she was so used to.

"I forgot it." She answered honestly, her smile still in place. "Sor-" She was cut off when a cough wracked through her and she gasped and choked on a loud pained noise. Her arms tried to wrap around her chest out of reflex and Art and Tim stopped her, not wanting to risk her hurting herself more. They waited patiently as she caught her breath and settled down.

"Look, Brandi, just lay still." Art told her. "Ambulance should be here any minute now."

"Ground's cold," she told them as she tried to blink away the tears brought on by her coughing fit. "Can I sit in the truck?"

"We should see if she's got anything serious before we move her." Tim told Art bluntly. "If we move her and she has a real bleeder she could bleed out." He sounded as though he spoke from experience.

"Alright, let's take a look." Art approved with a nod. Tim's hands went for the buttons on the top of her blouse. She was wearing another button up thankfully. Brandi didn't have the energy to move, but she still had the strength to give them a hard time.

"Buy me dinner first." Brandi teased hoarsely and she could see Tim's smirk and hear Art's tired sigh. It didn't quite reach his eyes but he humored her as he continued to undo her shirt.

"Sorry, sweetheart, we gotta do this a little backwards." He told her as he continued to undo her shirt. He carefully peeled the shredded fabric away from her skin, his face unreadable and all business. Through the blood, they could see some of the chunks still sticking into her skin. A few of the larger pieces had gone through her bra, but luckily it seemed the smaller bits were stopped by the extra layer of fabric. The abrasions stretched from the base of her throat to just below her ribcage and extended from shoulder to shoulder. They could already see some bruising forming around her ribcage. They'd have to be careful moving her. Brandi watched as his face didn't change, giving her no indication of how bad it was.

"Nothing looks too deep, but you're definitely bleeding." Tim reported calmly.

"Then why can't I sit up?" She asked and began to shift. Her ribs were begging her not to move and the stinging alone almost made her give up but she grunted and started to sit up anyway. The ground was way too cold and damp for her liking. Tim helped her up, a hand on her back.

"Well, you're not supposed to move if you just smacked your head." Tim told her. "But I take it you don't care about that." He drawled. Brandi nodded.

"Too cold and damp." She wheezed. "Rather sit in the truck."

"You are here for barely a week and you go and get yourself shot." Art scolded her as though he caught her hand in the cookie jar. He and Tim gingerly helped her stand and she swayed as the world spun. They steadied her and let her pause for a minute and get her bearings back. After a moment, she fumbled with the zipper on the front of her Marshal jacket and zipped it up, trying to cover up at least a little. Art and Tim guided her over to the van where they popped open the side door and let her sit, rather than making her climb into the truck. Sirens sounded in the distance.

"You doin' ok?" Rachel walked over and asked her, passing her a bottle of water. Brandi nodded her throbbing head and her vision swam as she tried to open in. Seeing her struggling, Rachel took it back gently and cracked it open for her. Brandi gave a weak smile. She was grateful for her coworkers, particularly Rachel's patience. The woman was something else. She was always calm, even when she meant business, and she helped Brandi out with a few things when Tim wasn't around. They even got a chance to gossip every once in a while. She was so used to being around men, she had forgotten how refreshing it was to work with another woman.

The ambulance came and Brandi didn't have the energy to fight back. They let her load her up in a stretcher and get her into the ambulance. They took a minute to get her situated and look her over. More Marshal's arrived with the proper vehicle to take in someone.

"I'm gonna ride with her to the hospital." Art told his group, his hands on his hips and they listened to him. They stood in a small circle, some with their arms crossed, some with their hands on their hips.

"Rachel, Raylan, you two go on back to the office." He instructed. "Get started on the paperwork, see if we can get this finished up quickly." The two of them nodded in agreement.

"Yes, sir." Rachel answered.

"Tim, you can follow us to the hospital." Art explained. "We'll probably need a lift back."

"You don't think they'll keep her?" Rachel asked.

"No, her injuries don't seem too extensive." Art explained and a tired smile crept onto his face and he shook his head. "Besides, I don't think they can keep her any longer than she lets them."

"Sounds like you've been through this before." Raylan pointed out quietly, almost amused.

"More times than I care to recall." Art admitted and Raylan just smiled. "Alright, let's get this shit wrapped up."

Tim and Art stood in the hall of the hospital, waiting to hear about their coworker. They stood talking to each other. Tim was giving him a rundown of what was in the guy's file. There wasn't anything to suggest he'd be violent. Up until this point, he had only had non-violent offences. He hadn't even had a gun under his name. They were interrupted when a nurse approached the two.

"I'm looking for Art Mullen." She announced, looking between the two.

"That would be me." He announced, turning to her. "What can I do for you?"

"You were listed as her emergency contact." She informed him. "I need to go over some things with you." She explained and looked at Tim with a glare. "Are you her boyfriend?" She asked in harsh tone, eyeing him up and down, noticing his stern face and crossed arms. Tim bobbed his head and blinked rapidly, confusion clear even on his stoic face. Art just snorted and kept to himself.

"Her coworker." Tim corrected, meeting her firm tone. The nurse stared him down and he met her gaze. He held firm and she seemed to be debating something.

"I vouch for him." Art intervened. "Is there something we can help you with?" He asked. The nurse pursed her lips a bit and looked back at Art.

"Ms. Calhoun will be fine. I just wanted to ask a few questions." She explained. Art nodded

"Ok, shoot" Art told her, resting his hands on his hips.

"Is she living with someone? Has she just ended a relationship? Has she been in an accident or anything?" The nurse asked. Art looked at her for a minute before looking at Tim, both sharing a look of confusion.

"She lives alone now. I don't think she's been in an accident. Why?" He asked, not sure what she was getting at. The nurse sighed.

"Come with me please." She instructed and led the two men to an exam room. She closed the door behind her and flipped on some lights on the wall. She pulled out two x-rays and clipped them up. They could see the fractures clear as day.

"Normally, it takes more than a fall to break or fracture ribs for a woman of her age." The nurse explained. "The force of the shot gun did help, but the fractures and breaks should not have been this severe." She pointed to the major fractures. "These are fractures from today, but if you look closer, you can see some older ones." She began to point to small, barely noticeable fractures. "These are consistent with long term abuse."

"She had an abusive mother growing up." Art disclosed. "Could they be from that?" He asked. She hummed.

"It's possible for the older ones, like here." She explained. "But these are barely a month old and look suspiciously like a boot." The nurse told him, looking at the two men. "In addition to this, her shoulder has been repeatedly dislocated." Art and Tim took in the information in silence, Art clenching his jaw. "I also had to take a few pictures." She announce and pulled out the pictures, handing them over to the two men. One was a bite mark on her upper arm that had been healed for a while and faded to a white scar. On her upper shoulder, on her back, it looked like she was hit with something made of glass, scaring littering her skin, mixed with old scars that were starting to fade and new ones that were just starting to scar over. Art scowled. What the hell happened to her? "I took these to add to the file in case she eventually wants to press charges."

"I wouldn't even know who this could be. I'm just her boss." Art told her. "Have you spoken to her about this?"

"No." She said shaking her head. "She knows I took the picture, but I didn't bring it up. I get the feeling she wouldn't speak to use anyway." The nurse shifted on her feet almost worriedly. "Look, I'm not even supposed to be telling you both this, but I've seen enough of these kinds of injuries to know what's going on." Art nodded, knowing she wouldn't have said anything if she didn't think he could be trusted.

"Thank you for letting me know." He told her quietly, looking at the picture in his hands one more time before handing it back. Tim handed back his picture as well. The nurse nodded.

"I just needed to know if there was a possibility she would be going home to a dangerous situation. She's lucky nothing stabbed her lungs." The nurse explained. "She has a pretty severe concusion. We recommend she not be alone at least for the first twenty four hours." The nurse instructed and Art listened and nodded.

"How long do I need to keep her out of the office?" Art asked. The nurse thought for a while.

"For the concussion, give her at least a week or until the symptoms are gone. For the ribs, she needs to rest again. Ice and Tylenol will help. No advil, it could make her head more likely to bleed." The nurse began explaining. "They won't heal completely for six weeks. She could probably be good in a week or two for desk work, it depends on how bad she wants to get back." Art nodded and smiled.

"Thank you." He said. The nurse took the x-rays and began walking out of the room. Art and Tim followed her back out into the hall. "How much longer until she's ready?"

"She should be ready in a few minutes." The nurse told them. "Excuse me." She said as she walked away to take care of other patients.

"I'll have to call Leslie, see if she don't mind havin' a guest for the night." Art explained and pulled out his phone.

"I can take her." Tim offered. Art looked at him, studying his employee carefully.

"She can stay at my place." He offered again, putting his hands in his back pockets. "I got a couch. I don't sleep much these days anyway. I'll watch her." Art sighed and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"This ain't a guilt thing, is it?" Art asked carefully. Tim shrugged with a small smile, looking away for a second.

"I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't feel a bit responsible." He admitted, meeting Art's stare. "But it isn't something I'm gonna eat myself up over, if that's what you're worried about.

"Alright." Art said, convinced enough.

"Home sweet home." Tim told her as opened the door to his apartment. He dropped the keys onto the small hall table that held a lamp and stepped in, holding the door open for her. Brandi lumbered in, still sluggish from the pain meds they had her on.

"Thanks." She mumbled and looked around. It was an older apartment and was hardly decorated. The kitchen was the first room she saw. It was small and had a few dirty dishes in the sink and a few things on the counter needed for cooking. One of those magnetic calendars was on the fridge and couple of magnets. He closed the door behind her and she looked back at him. He motioned for her to go ahead in. Brandi walked further in and he flipped on some lights. The living room had worn furniture. A couch was pushed up against a wall and TV was pushed against the wall opposite. A heavy wood coffee table rested between them. On the other side of the room, facing them, was a worn out chair sitting just under the window. A blanket was folded over ther back of the couch and one was tossed haphazardly on the chair.

"Pardon the mess." Tim said as he grabbed the stacks of junk mail and spare bottles from the coffee table. She saw the end table with the lamp and noticed a few picture frames. A clock ticked on the wall above the couch and a plant sat on the window sill. She smiled to herself. It was cozy and looked lived in.

"It's a nice place." She said as she lowered herself onto the couch and leaned back slowly. She winced but quickly relaxed into the couch, closing her eyes and letting her shoulders relax.

"What, you think I lived in a hut?" He asked lightly from the kitchen and she heard the bottles clink in the trashcan. She looked at him and smiled. He looked at her for a minute before clearing his throat. "I'm gonna order some food. Chinese ok?"

"Fine by me." She said quietly. Brandi was exhausted and still a little drowsy. "Thanks again for letting me crash here." Tim didn't say anything and continued looking through a drawer for a takeout menu. Brandi smiled to herself and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. She heard him ordering food and then moving about his kitchen. She was just starting to doze off when something cold was placed gently against her face. Her eyes snapped open and above her, Tim was staring at her, his eyebrows furrowed like he was concentrating on something. Brandi could see something else, she could see the slight concern in his eyes. Brandi smiled softly up at him.

"I'm still alive." She told him. His face relaxed ever so slightly before he let his smirk slide in. He lifted the large bag of ice and placed it on her face. Brandi frowned and grabbed the ice, lifting her head up and removing the ice.

"Good. Don't need to explain to Art how you died in my house." Tim said as he pulled out his phone and sat down next to her on the other side of the couch. He had his phone in one hand and a beer in the other. She took the bag of ice and rested it on her ribs, but it was difficult just holding it there. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, she didn't quite know here to put it. Brandi just leaned her head back and let out a sigh.

"How's your head?" He asked her, trying to make conversation and keep her awake.

"It feels about as great as my ribs." Brandi told him. She heard him snort. "I can't believe it. My first stake out and I get shot." She heard him laughing quietly and swatted at him without looking. "Don't be a jerk." She joked and closed her eyes. She inhaled as deep as she could. Brandi took in what she could. The couch, though the fabric was a little rough, was cushy. Soft enough to swallow you, but firm enough you wouldn't get stuck. She let her fingers run over the couch fabric, just feeling it. The apartment was quiet, occasionally she could hear Tim taking a sip of his beer, his dog tags jingling. A door would open and close, a neighbor coming home. She inhaled again, taking note of the smell. Surprisingly, the place didn't smell musty, like most apartments. There was a faint smell of wood smoke, clean laundry, and a bit of his cologne. It was an interesting combination, and it smelled like a home. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, just breathing, but she must have dozed off, because she was jolted awake by Tip tapping the side of her knee as he stood up, dog tags jingling against his chest.

"Food should be here soon." He told her. She hummed in response and didn't bother lifting her head. She was a bit worn out from the day and just wanted some sleep. Brandi scowled when Tim shook her leg.

"No sleeping. You gotta stay up." He told her. She opened her eyes and glared at him.

"That's such a stupid thing." Brandi said. "If I fall asleep I'm gonna wake up. I didn't hit my head that hard."

"Doctor seems to think you did." Tim told her as he made his way over to the kitchen again, tossing his empty beer bottle and pulling out plates for them. Brandi sighed and crossed her arms across her chest, wincing as she did so. Her arms were just under the ice. The position was uncomfortable so she didn't stay that way long. The ice was making her cold and she wished she was wearing more than a tank top. Tim had taken her to her house and helped her up the steps. Thankfully, she was able to change into something more comfortable on her own. She pulled on a green cotton tank top and her sweatpants. She had thrown her hair up in a messy bun and slipped on some flip flops. She didn't care how cold it was, she wanted to be able to take her shoes off easily.

The tank top had allowed Tim a chance to notice she had a few tattoos. One peeked out from under her shirt on her back, and he was able to see the tattoo that was inside her upper arm. It was a beautiful rose, with the leaves and thorny stem making a sort of nest around the rose. It was very detailed and well colored. He couldn't tell what the tattoo on her back was though. On her first day, he did notice a small tattoo on her wrist and he'd been meaning to ask her about it. It was some sort of triangle.

He watched her from his spot in the kitchen as he opened another beer, her head leaned back, ice held close. Many of the more severe abrasions were covered in bandaids of all shapes and sizes, but most of her skin was bare. His eyes followed the trail of cuts and bruises and scrapes down her neck and chest. Mixed in with the cuts he could see the occasional freckle. Her shirt was cut low and he took a moment to let his eyes trail over her, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He couldn't deny she was a beauty, and witty to boot. He wasn't quite sure why he offered to have her over. Was it guilt? Was it a sense of responsibility? Or was it just something else to do besides drink alone until he crawled into bed?

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts as there was a knock on the door.

"Food's here."

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think of the new version so far!