It was only after Tim had punched Special Agent Matthew Reed in the face that he realized he'd decked more cops than criminals in the last week. He considered whether maybe it was time for him to change professions.
"What the hell, Tim!" Rachel said as she yanked him back. Tim probably could have shaken her off, but he knew better than to try. Rachel had always been a lot stronger and tougher than she looked, and he had no desire to wind up hip-checked onto the floor. He needed to stay upright if he was every going to get a second chance to hit Reed.
"Deputy Gutterson, I'd like to remind you that I am your superior in regards to this task force."
"Fuck the task force, you sold us out." Reed wiggled his jaw back and forth, rubbing his right thumb along the bone to feel for tenderness, wincing. There was some blood in his mouth, but as far as Tim was concerned, it wasn't nearly enough. Rachel still had hold of him, though, so he couldn't punch Reed again. Yet. "Come on, Raylan, back me up here!"
Raylan was leaned coolly against the door to the conference room, his head tilted down so the brim of his hat obscured his face entirely.
"I hafta say, Agent Reed, I'm inclined to agree with Tim's view, even if I don't agree with his methods."
"If I'd realized Korsakova was the one who'd show up, I wouldn't have leaked the information. I thought they'd send Dawson."
Art banged his hand down on the table, and when Tim looked at his boss, he could see his fury clearly, even as the older man tried desperately to rein it in. "You put two of my Deputies in danger, Agent Reed. You very nearly got them killed. And your only regret is that they weren't up against an even more dangerous criminal?"
Reed shrugged, and Tim felt the urge to do more than punch him. "We need Dawson. Without him, we'll never know who hired him."
"The fucking Russians hired him!" Tim shouted, and he knew he needed to calm down, but the ability to speak without screaming seemed to have been ripped out of him somewhere between delivering Kathryn back into FBI custody and finding out that Agent Reed had been the one to tip off the Russians about her location.
The unctuous look Reed gave Tim did nothing to quell the latter's desire to mash his face into chum. "You seem to have a bit of a temper, Deputy Gutterson. Do you often punch your law enforcement colleagues with such unrestrained rage?"
Tim understood the meaning of Reed's words quite clearly. But with Anderson dead, he knew the man only had his instincts, and even if they were correct, there was no way to prove them.
His threat had no substance, and Reed was going to have to try a lot harder if he wanted Tim to spare him a broken clavicle and a few missing teeth.
"You could have at least warned us," Raylan said quietly.
"If I had, you might not have followed my instructions."
"So you would have been okay with them dying?" Art asked, forcing each letter between his teeth like too-thick grits.
Reed shrugged again, "I had faith in their abilities."
The room lulled into an excruciatingly tense silence. Reed picked up an empty coffee cup and spit blood into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tim squeezed his fists tightly and released them, hoping the stretching of his fingers would help relieve some of his frustration.
It did not.
"What if I offer to help you get Dawson?"
Kathryn was seated—still cuffed at ankles and wrists—in a chair in the corner. She had been completely silent at the scene, in the car, and at the courthouse. Tim thought maybe she'd gone mute from the shock of Raylan's acquiescence to her request.
Tim knew he almost had himself, he'd been so surprised.
When she finally spoke, it was with that light California accent she had perfectly detected in Reed's voice, so it was clear she was speaking to him directly.
"What are you suggesting?" the Agent asked.
Kathryn remained perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes were intense and piercing as she looked at Reed. "Use me to lure him out, but do it correctly this time. If I don't die," Tim flinched against Rachel's grip, which tightened minutely, "I want to cut a deal."
#
"I don't fucking like this."
"You don't have to like it, Deputy Gutterson, you just have to do your Goddamn job."
Reed didn't even look at Tim as he said it, his eyes were fixed on the television, waiting for the news to start. Tim was leaned against the glass between the conference room and Art's office, sullen and pouting.
The office was much quieter than it had been. All non-essential personnel had been sent home to rest up for what was sure to be an excruciating and exhausting day that was set to start early the next morning.
Tim had actually been dismissed some time ago, but he was too jittery to sleep and so he'd stayed behind, intent on reviewing every piece of information he had over and over until he had it memorized.
After all, Kathryn's life depended on it.
The woman in question was currently in Art's office with David Vasquez, hammering out the terms of her agreement with the FBI. Reed had been part of the negotiations until recently, and Art had remained in his office in more of a power play than anything.
Tim couldn't hear what they were discussing. He only hoped Kathryn was smart enough to look out for her own interests over everything else, including him.
And especially including Delia, who had made absolutely no attempt to contact him since he had visited her home.
When the breaking news banner flashed across the screen, Reed used the remote to unmute the television.
The anchor was a pretty blonde woman in her twenties, and she was wearing a bright yellow blazer that made Tim's eyes hurt. "And tonight, we have breaking news regarding the fugitive Sarah Geller who we featured on our program earlier in the week," they flashed a photo of Geller up on the screen, "After being taken into custody over the weekend, Ms. Geller will be transferred to the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women following her arraignment at the Lexington County Courthouse earlier this evening. Sarah Geller stands accused of the murder of FBI Agent Christopher Romero, and is a suspect in a shooting that occurred in Daniel Boone National Forest," the photograph of Kathryn they were using was the same one from her original file, with her natural hair color. It reminded Tim how much he hated the black dye she was still sporting. "We will provide updates as this case progresses."
Reed muted the television.
"All right," he said, "Let's see if that's enough to get Dawson on the hook."
#
Tim was bent over a map on his desk, retracing their planned route for what felt like the thousandth time when Vasquez finally exited Art's office. The man looked more exhausted than Tim had ever seen him, with his tie dangling loose and limp around his neck.
"What are you still doing here, Deputy Gutterson?"
"Making sure I don't fuck up tomorrow."
"Wouldn't it be prudent to get some sleep, then?"
"Sleep don't make you a better shot, preparation does."
Vasquez looked like he wanted to say something else, but he sighed and turned toward the conference room instead. Reed was slumped back in his seat, dead asleep with his mouth open.
"Tell him I left if he wakes up? Ms. Geller's deal will be on his desk tomorrow for approval."
"Assuming she doesn't die."
Vasquez nodded, "We can only hope," he said, and Tim had the distinct inclination that he and Vasquez had opposing feelings on the subject.
"Did she ask for anything?" Tim didn't know why he asked Vasquez; he supposed his genuine curiosity had gotten the better of him.
"Aside from reduced sentencing?" Tim was surprised when Vasquez smiled a little. "She asked for music. She wants to listen to music tonight before we transport her."
"Like a last request?"
Vasquez shrugged. "Maybe."
Once Vasquez left, Tim shot another look at Reed, who was still out, and then he walked into Art's office.
The Chief Deputy was leaning back in his seat, a glass of bourbon coming slowly away from his lips. He looked up, surprised by Tim's appearance. "What in the hell are you still doing here?"
"Reviewing my mission parameters," he said, and Art's expression faltered before it softened. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a second glass so he could pour Tim his own drink.
Tim had expected Kathryn to be seated in one of the wooden chairs opposite Art's desk, but she was perched instead on the couch, still chained. She looked tired, but alert, and Tim wondered how much of her discussion with Vasquez had included reviewing details of her own past.
Tim took a seat as Art slid the glass across his desk.
"How do you feel about it? The mission?"
Tim gave a short laugh as he took his first sip of bourbon. "I think it's fuckin' stupid," he said, and Art nodded slowly.
"It probably is. But then, most FBI operations are."
Tim smirked. The two man drank in silence and Tim wondered if he was allowed to speak with Kathryn.
"I've gotta hit the head. Can you watch Ms. Geller for a minute? Vasquez is supposed to send someone up to bring her to the holding cell downstairs, but it'll probably be a minute."
Tim looked up at Art, confused for a moment, until the older man clapped Tim on the shoulder as he walked past, and he pulled the door closed behind him.
Art was giving Tim the chance to speak with Kathryn alone, and Tim wasn't sure exactly what that meant.
Tim stood and turned, leaning against Art's desk so he could face Kathryn comfortably.
"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded, though it wasn't entirely convincing. "I don't like this."
"You'll be fine, Deputy."
"I don't like that we're betting your life on my ability to pull before Mark Dawson when we don't even know where he'll be."
"I believe in you," she said with an exhausted smile. "You can do it!" Her voice was a whispered shout, and she pumped her fists with mock enthusiasm like some morose imitation of a high school cheerleader.
The image was somewhat tarnished by the clanking of her wrist restraints.
"What did you tell Vasquez?"
"Enough that he'll get a dozen convictions if he's half as good as he thinks he is. Nothing about you, though, so don't worry."
"It's not me I'm worried about."
That caught her attention, and when she looked up at him this time, he could see the fear—slight and well-managed, but still there—in her eyes.
"I trust you," she said quietly. "You saved my ass in that field, and I know you'll do it again tomorrow."
"What if I don't?"
She shrugged. "You tried to stop me, Tim. It's not your fault I'm so fucking stubborn."
They stayed like that, quiet and watching one another, until the handle turned, and Tim walked to the door, brushing past Art as he entered.
"Goodnight, Art. I'll see you tomorrow."
Tim knew the Chief Deputy was watching him as he flew through the office and out the door, but he didn't care how strange his behavior might seem. He had prep work to do and he couldn't do it so close to her.
He couldn't look at Kathryn while he tried to think of all the different ways Sarah Geller might die tomorrow. But he had to think of them; had to imagine every possible scenario in which she might lose her life.
It was the only way he could be prepared to stop them from happening.