On a mundane level at least Art Mullen had always known that Raylan had a sister. It said so in his file. But since Raylan had never mentioned her, Art had never asked. But there was knowing, and there was seeing the evidence with your own eyes.

Now he had no doubt of it. Raejeanne Givens was unmistakably Raylan's little sister. In the few moments of their acquaintance Art judged her to be as volatile as her big brother, feeling the strangest moment of déjà vu when a beautiful young woman looked straight at Art with Raylan's eyes. Separately the Givens siblings were handsome, together they were breath-taking, the resemblance striking. There was definitely something to the power of two. They were alike enough to be taken for twins, Jeannie's nose more roman than Raylan's which was the only real difference in their features, although Jeannie's face was softer and more feminine than her brother's.

She was certainly drawing some admiring looks from the men in the office, followed by some extremely wary glances Raylan's way. Art grinned. He also had no doubt that anyone messing with Raylan's baby sister was going to draw Raylan's fire. Since there was no one in a thousand mile radius who was not aware of Raylan's quick draw and sharpshooting credentials, that probably meant they were in for a lively time of it.

Except that Tim was openly staring at Raejeanne, and he'd barely flicked a glance in her brother's direction. Art could scarcely miss the fact that Raejeanne was staring back, every opportunity that she got. Art had missed the actual introduction, but if it was anything near as hormonal as the staring suggested.

Oh crap.

Vasquez sidled up to Art. "Guess we take this up again on Monday?" Art sighed and crossed his arms. "Guess so."

Vasquez grinned, "something like a nightmare, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"A world where there are two of them."

"Raejeanne's not a marshal, Vasquez."

"But she's his sister. The same temper, the same issues…"

Art gave him a sideways look, "who knows, she may calm him down."

Vasquez chuckled. "You are an optimist, my friend." Art nodded at the truth of that and watched Raylan and his sister walking towards him. It really was quite eerie he decided. They hadn't seen each other for twenty-three years, yet their mannerisms, body language, accents, even the way they moved was so alike it was like looking at carbon copies.

Raylan was looking hopeful, and Art nodded again, "go on, get out of here before I change my mind!"

Now wasn't that just weird, the matching smiles were positively spooky.

"Nice to meet you, Art." Art shook Raejeanne's hand in a bit of a daze. Watched brother and sister walk away, and wondered if things had just got a lot better, or his trouble had now doubled.

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Raylan was in a bit of a quandary. He needed to take his sister somewhere nice and intimate, where no one could track him down or give him a hard time, because this was all too new and a little too raw.

Nice let his scruffy one room apartment above the bar out of the equation. They might not have seen each other for a very long time, but every memory he had of Raejeanne, now flooding back full force, said that his sister had expectations of how things should be. And he knew for certain sure that his living arrangements didn't come close.

The bar itself, with people who knew him by sight at the very least, also not good. Besides, also not really what you would call nice.

He thought about all his usual haunts. Nope. Wiped them off the list. They were populated by people he either knew or who knew him.

He hadn't realised that his little internal conversation had been noticed, until Jeannie put her hand on his arm. "Ray?"

"Hmmm what?" Raylan muttered absently.

She turned around and put both hands on his arms. "I can hear you thinking." She said. "And wherever we go… as long as they serve ice cream, we're good. Okay." She rubbed her hands on his arms a little, "you can explain why you're living in a flophouse later, when we've eaten and we're both a little drunk."

He bristled, "it's not a flophouse…"

"… but it is a dive." He had forgotten just how irritating Jeannie's smile of triumph could be. Sadly, he could scarcely deny it, nor the car crash that his life, both professional and private, pretty much was.

He looked at his bright, beautiful, obviously together sister and sighed. If one Givens had to make really good, he was glad it was her. Something of that feeling must have showed in his expression, because suddenly she was in his arms again. Her arms wrapped tight about him, and he just held on.

"Ice cream."

Raylan nodded. He knew a place. He never went there because it was pricey and kinda smart, which wasn't really his scene and the few times he had actually been in there looking for people, even the bartenders looked down on his country accent some. Which set Raylan's teeth on edge.

But as a bolt hole with food, drink and ice cream, it was perfect. Even the most persistent of searchers were unlikely to think of that place.

He shot a look at the car. Everybody knew his car. He would not put it past some of the people he knew to cruise around until they tracked him.

"So we take my car." He hadn't realised that he had voiced that concern out loud.

"Your car?"

"Yeah… y'know, car… four wheels, engine, goes when you turn the key."

"You drove here?"

"How else was I going to carry my belongings. And Spike."

"Spike?"

"My pet."

He gave her the look. The look he had pretty much been giving her every day from when she was six until the day he left.

"Pet what?"

She was grinning from ear to ear, damn… she could still push his buttons.

"Spike's a tortoise."

Thinking that was a pretty strange pet to have, Raylan sighed, he really didn't want to do this in the street. "Okay, lead on, where's this car of yours."

xxxxxxxx

Raylan eyed his sister's car warily. "Oh my god, how old is this thing?"

"Cheri was built in 1986."

"You're kidding me." Raylan stared hard at the bright yellow Renault 4 which turned out to be his sister's conveyance of choice. "It's nearly as old as you are." He said weakly.

"So. The French built them tough. Rubber mats on the floor instead of stupid carpet. Practical. I like that."

Raylan opened the door and folded his lanky frame carefully into the passenger seat. Glanced over his shoulder at the contents of the back of the car. There was an open box wedged firmly in the gap between the passenger and driver's seats. The box was full of hay, and he could see the shape of something just beneath the surface.

"That's Spike."

There was a rustle as the thing moved a little.

"Hello Spike."

"Seatbelt." Raejeanne announced firmly.

By the time Raylan had figured out the seatbelt and clipped it in, Raejeanne had put the car in motion.

The old car rattled a bit, but seemed perfectly structurally sound. Raylan tried to get his head around her driving this thing all the way from New York.

It was a warm day, and Raylan searched for the button to lower the window a little.

"Winder."

"Pardon?"

"Winder to lower the window, or though you could just crack the quarterlight, saves effort."

Raylan put his hand on the catch for the strange little triangular shaped window. The catch wobbled under his hand, in contrast to the window which was incredibly stiff.

"It helps if you think of it not so much as a car, but as a loose alliance of parts travelling in approximately the same direction. Now where are we going, or am I going to drive around town until every one who knows you sees you in the un-cool car with your sister driving?"

Raylan scowled a little, and settled down to give her directions.