"What do you mean, there's nothing medically wrong with him but you can't rouse him?" Tim scowled and folded his arms across his chest.
"Deputy Givens is non-responsive at this time." Tim took an instant dislike to the man's pompous bearing and tone.
He liked still less the gleeful light in the man's eyes as the doctor continued, "there are a number of procedures we can try. I'll get started in the morning."
Oh no, you won't. Tim was not about to let Dr Frankenstein play with his sleeping friend. "Raylan's alive and in one piece, sorta, I want him to stay that way. I want a second opinion." Tim tightened his jaw and threw his fiercest lawman's scowl at Dr Frankenstein. "NOW." He growled for added emphasis.
A brief vision of hideous experiments and bubbling chemistry set ups flashed through Tim's mind, as the creepy doctor experimented on Raylan's helpless body. Not in this life. It had come as a major surprise when the paramedics fished Raylan's wallet out of his jeans, pulled out his medical advice card and handed it to Tim.
Apparently Timothy Gutterson was Raylan Givens' medical proxy.
Tim took his responsibilities very seriously.
"On second thoughts, I'll take him out of here right now."
"But you can't…" spluttered the doctor, seeing his chance to test out some theories literally slipping through his fingers. "Deputy Givens…"
"…is asleep. He's not dying, he's physically fine, all he needs is an iv and drip for nutrients and hydration, and our boss' wife can take care of that." Tim stood his ground.
"We'll look after him."
[][][][][][][][]
On balance, Tim reflected as he closed the door behind the sixth set of well wishers, perhaps taking Raylan back to his spare bedroom wasn't the best idea he had ever had.
When Lynn, one of the office girls, and her friend had showed up, wanting to see Raylan, well Tim couldn't see the harm. Raylan was neatly dressed in a blue and white hospital gown and lying in Tim's spare bed. Like Snow White.
If Snow White had been male and a forty-two year old Harlan-born Deputy US Marshal.
So he let them sit in there with Raylan for a little while. Which was fine, until one after the other they got up to kiss Raylan full on the lips.
By the time the third set of hopeful females had been ushered out of Tim's front door, he was feeling more than a little frazzled. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell went again.
Rachel looked at him with a little concern. Tim stepped aside and waved her slightly impatiently into his apartment. "Even when he's asleep Raylan can't keep his hands off them."
Rachel frowned, puzzled. "What?"
Tim huffed, "apparently every woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty in a fifteen mile radius has it in their heads that Raylan can be woken by true love's kiss. I've been fending them off all afternoon."
Rachel actually blushed. Tim stared as her eyes slipped away from his, and she looked down at the floor. "Erm… That might have been my fault."
Tim crossed his arms, "how so?"
"Well, I might have… possibly… oh damn… I might have mentioned it to Lynn."
The office junior secretary was sweet and more than a little naïve. She had a tendency to believe everything the Deputies told her. Tim's frown cleared as a horrible thought occurred.
"That explains why Mrs Haverson showed up a couple of hours ago, dressed up in her Sunday best."
Rachel shuddered. She wouldn't wish Mrs Haverson on anyone. "You didn't?"
"Hey, doesn't matter how much Wyatt Earp gets under my skin, I wouldn't do that to him." Tim actually looked offended that Rachel might think he would let any harm come to Raylan.
Rachel shuffled her feet a little. "Forgive me?" She said.
Tim nodded. "I do. Raylan, you might have to beg forgiveness a while longer. And true love's kiss definitely isn't the answer." He grinned at the thought.
"Why?"
"Because Winona blew through here two hours ago, and it didn't make the slightest difference."
[][][][][][][][]
Leslie Mullen showed Tim how to switch out Raylan's drip bag. Easy.
Then she pulled the quilt back, "now we need to turn him."
Whoa. "Turn him?" Tim hadn't realized that looking after Raylan meant more than protecting him from mad doctors with that Frankenstein gleam in their eyes. The whole kissing thing was mostly harmless, if irritating, but actually handling Raylan, without his knowledge. Tim wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with that.
Leslie had this look on her face that made Tim blush, "Tim, Raylan can't lay on his back all the time, we don't know how long it will be before he wakes up. If he stays on his back, he will get pressure sores." She moved into position at the side of the bed, "it's easier with two people, but possible with one." Tim's horrified eyes watched as Leslie moved the tubing out of the way, certain that his own bladder twinged in sympathy. At least he hadn't seen that indignity actually performed. Leslie put a hand on Raylan's hip, and under his thigh, Tim put his hand on Raylan's shoulder, "support his head with your other hand, Tim."
Moving Raylan was surprisingly easy. When it was done, Tim's fingers lingered, gently stroked Raylan's hair back from his forehead. "We'll figure this out, I promise." He said quietly.
Leslie Mullen smiled to herself and slipped quietly out of the room. Leaving them alone.