Tim had been taking his physical fitness for granted, and now he regretted it. He'd woken up feeling ambitious this morning, and now he felt about ready to keel over as he sucked wind after a brisk six-mile run. This used to be easy. A few years ago, he wouldn't have even blinked at eight. His 30s were not treating him kindly.
When he'd woken up all bright-eyed and ready to take on the day, he had planned to follow up his run with some more body weight exercises when he returned home, but he knew already he wouldn't even make it to the 58 push-ups and 69 sit-ups that had originally gotten him into the Rangers. Maybe it was time for him to stop drinking so much and start prioritizing his health. Fuck, he really was getting old.
Tim didn't particularly care for his apartment, but he did like that it only took him about ten minutes to get to work, and he was especially grateful for the quick commute this morning. It meant he had plenty of time to take a shower and then collapse on his couch for a full hour before he had to start getting ready for work, which gave his legs the time they needed to stop itching. It was while he was sitting on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him and cursing his hamstrings when he heard his bedroom door open. Suddenly, he wished he'd just kept running.
"Well, hello, there..."
She was blonde and tan and Tim couldn't for the life of him remember what her name was. "Hey..." he said hesitantly as she crawled into his lap. She was wearing the navy blue henley shirt he'd tossed off in a drunken frenzy the night prior, and when she leaned into him, he could smell the stale beer and smoke from the bar they'd met each other in. She leaned in to kiss him and he faked a cough to avoid it, though she was unperturbed. He held is hands out to the side, pressing his back as far into the couch as he could to no avail. She tasted like dull copper and he struggled a little not to gag when she tried to press her tongue into his mouth.
"Listen, uh..." he twisted his mind in knots trying to remember a name, any human name suitable for a female, "Ma..."
The mystery woman pulled back incredulously. "Tammy," she said, irritably.
"Yeah, I know. Uh, listen Tammy, I've gotta get to work, so it's probably best if-" That was the trick. She was off him in a second, tearing off the shirt. She stood in front of him, arms crossed beneath her breasts. She was, truly, quite stunning, and for a moment he admired Drunk Tim's ability to at least make sure he woke up next to a dime, even if he had been nearly blacked out.
She stormed off, shouting "Fuck you! You were lousy, anyway!" over her shoulder and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped into bathroom in order to avoid her leaving and reemerged only when he'd heard his front door slam closed behind her.
Yes, he decided, he really did need to stop drinking so much.
#
When Tim got into work that morning, he did the same thing he'd been doing for months. Before he tucked into the drudgery of his Marshal duties, he pulled up his Internet browser and looked for information on a rescue of human trafficking victims in the state of Kentucky. Then he searched for seizure of a tractor trailer. Finally, he checked for reports of dead men in the Daniel Boone National Forest. As had been the case every day since he'd returned from his mission with Kathryn, there was nothing. No news articles, no blog posts, not even a hint from a conspiracy theorist forum. It was perplexing and frustrating. A puzzle he couldn't find the last pieces to.
Tim had made it a point to arrive early, and he walked over to the coffee pot and set it up to brew a fresh pot. He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms comfortably over his chest. The stance reminded him of naked Tammy for a second and he smiled, enjoying the mental view. Then Nelson walked in and the vision was gone.
"Good morning, Tim!" he said, far more excitedly than Tim thought appropriate for the early hour. He gave a quick two finger salute and was glad when he heard the machine beside him beep. Even if the coffee was bad, it was better than nothing.
Tim was busy finishing a follow-up report on the shooting of Doyle Bennett, a necessary step toward getting back in the field after the mandatory desk suspension that had followed. He'd been stuck in the office for a week and he couldn't wait to get back out. The sooner he could complete the paperwork, the sooner he could get away from Raylan and his loud hissing every time he moved a little too far to the left in his chair.
It had been a busy enough morning, with plenty of people coming in and out. Among the visitors, Tim had noticed David Vasquez and a self-important-looking FBI Agent bustle in about an hour prior, but they'd been holed up in the conference room with Art and Rachel since they'd come in, and he couldn't guess what they were discussing.
"Tim?" He looked up and saw Art poking his head out of the half-open door. He motioned him in and Tim leapt at the opportunity to leave his desk.
When he walked into the conference room, the air felt electric. The balding FBI Agent was looking petulant, which Tim took no small amount of satisfaction in. Vasquez was leaned back in his chair, with one arm propped up on the arm of his chair and his hand covering his mouth, which made him difficult to read.
"Take a seat, Tim," and Art gestured to an open chair opposite the other two men. Tim lowered himself into the chair carefully.
"Been a while since I've been called to the principal's office," he said.
"We have a new case we'd like your input on," Art said without acknowledging his subordinate's sarcasm. Tim furrowed his brow, wondering what type of a fugitive could possibly require his expertise. Were they tracking another Ranger? AWOL Marine? "We've got a confidential informant who turned and got an FBI Agent killed in the line of duty."
Shit, Tim thought, that was certainly one way to push a case to the top of Art's pile.
"Anything I can do to help," Tim said, curious, and he watched as the three other men in the room cast furtive glances at one another. Then Art dropped a thick file down on the table in front of Tim and he looked down at it. It took all of Tim's training and resolve not to react.
The photo paper clipped to the outside of the file staring back at him was of Kathryn.