"Hey, kiddo," no matter how old he was, no matter what training he'd had, no matter how many kills he had, to Elizabeth he was always 'kiddo'. "What's up?"
He rolled his eyes at her over the phone, "Who has Grandma's engagement ring?"
"You meet a girl? And you haven't mentioned her?" Tim could hear her eyebrows.
"It's been a bit quick? Who has the ring?"
"It's been how quick, kiddo?"
"A few days and three years, alright? Who has it?"
"You've had the same girl for three years and I haven't heard about her?"
"No. We met for the first time three years ago, everything else has only been the last few days. Are you gonna answer my question?"
"Don't think you might be rushing things a, I don't know, a lot? Or are you Billy Crystal?"
"Huh. Is someone 'blaving'?"
"Wrong movie, kiddo. I thought we taught you chick flicks better than that. 'When Harry Met Sally.' Billy meets Meg Ryan and they hate each other. They meet again, mild dislike, then they become friends. Then they have sex and realize they ruined their friendship. Then they realize they're in love."
Tim squeezed his eyes shut. God help him when she and Clare met. "More of a 'I chased her through the woods because she was a fugitive-"
"What? She's a criminal?"
"No, falsely accused," Tim continued at speed, "Then she saved my ass despite my being a Marshal. Then she gets away and I spend the next few years catching hell for supposedly sleeping with her then letting her go."
"Did you? Sleep with her?"
"No. And I fuckin' hate that question."
"Well, you are asking about a diamond for her. How have I not heard of this girl? Tell me about these last few days."
"She was cleared. I went to bring her back to put her in protective custody-"
"So, you knew where she was? Why didn't you just catch her?" Elizabeth asked smugly.
"No evidence to warrant being sent there... Her name's Clare. She's a doctor. God help me, but I think you'd like her. She's insufferable, too."
"You do love insufferable women," she agreed perkily. "So, the last few days you and she have been after each other like rabbits because she's not a fugitive and hormones have led you to believe you and she should get married. Ok."
Tim was feeling a familiar throb at one temple, "Sure, yeah. That's it. Ya sussed it out. Except protective custody isn't really suitable to the whole 'rabbit' thing, but I am planning on it later. Who has the ring?"
Elizabeth took her time answering, "Mom."
"Fuck. I was sort of hoping you had it."
"Would you like me to get it for you, Tim?"
"Seriously?" She was offering, no less. He didn't have to play the 'I'm-an-American-hero-AND-your-baby-brother' card. "Have you just had a really good day? Or are you angling for something?"
"Actually, now that you're observing regular social norms, I had a wonderful day. That band I was playing with? They got a contract and I get to play on the album. I can bring the ring when I go meet this Clare of yours."
"Congrats." Tim racked his brain to when Elizabeth said she had gone back to being a guitarist. Nothing. Of course, Elizabeth had a new career every couple of months or so since her divorce from The Lawyer, it may have just slipped her mind to tell him. "You're ok with my giving her the ring, right?"
"I haven't been so turned off by the male species to need it myself yet. So, yes, by all means, it's a waste of a good number of carats not to give it to her."
"But you still want to meet her first?"
"I'm all for making new mistakes, and marriage would be new to you. But... I didn't introduce anyone to The Lawyer before I married him. And it would also be a waste not to learn from other's mistakes when possible, Tim," Elizabeth said gently. "You afraid me and Mom won't like her?"
"No. I'm afraid you'll all go shopping together and she'll have seen too many of my baby pictures to ever sleep with me again, to be honest."
Elizabeth roared with laughter on the other end of the line, "I miss you, kiddo. You be careful."
"Yeah. Yeah, love you."
"Love you, too, kiddo."
He hung up smiling. Yeah, they were going shopping, probably with little Izzie, too. Shi-it.

Lou-Anne was amazingly calm after being told about Graham's suicide. There was a brief comment about cowardice that got Clare's lips pressed together, but all in all, any reaction to it was going to be severely delayed. She sent Clare home with Tim, when he came back, telling him, "Clare would only come back tomorrow anyway. Get her some sleep now."
"Why do people pretend I can't hear them?" Clare asked a passing scene tech during the exchange.
"She's stubborn that way," Lou-Anne continued in fairly complete denial that it was her husband in the body bag.
"Insufferable, yes, I'm noticing that," Tim said with glance at her.
Clare made a face at him. "You call if you need anything. Anything at all," she hugged her aunt.
"I am so sorry, baby," Lou-Anne whispered. "I was so afraid that if I told them I knew you didn't know about it, we'd lose Megan's liver."
Clare nodded, pulling back to ask, "You want me to tell Gramps and Gran? About Graham."
Lou-Anne seemed dumbfounded for a moment. "Someone will have to, I suppose, but, Clare-"
"I haven't seen them yet. It'll save me from having to make conversation," Clare said it breezily, but Tim caught her hand and she squeezed his. "We were gonna swing by there tomorrow anyway. Visit the bike, catch hell, check if Graham had always been a resentful ass, y'know Sullivan family crap."
"You sound like your father, Clare," Lou-Anne said.
Clare smiled and wiggled her brows.
"Edgar Moss needs to be told, too," Tim pointed out, wondering if that should happen before or after they tell Duffy.
"We could stop and do that on the way back to your place?" Clare asked, catching herself from calling it home. It wasn't her home, she was living out of a suitcase and shopping bags for goodness' sake.
Tim shot her a look from under his lashes, "We could. Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"I want to talk it over with Art and Raylan about the notifications," he said, "But first I want to go home with you and forget everyone else exists." He kissed Clare's forehead and she leaned into him, arms wrapping his waist.
"You got out of bed first, slick. I was just following your lead."
"Take her home, Deputy," Lou-Anne said with a pat on Clare's back and a squeeze of Tim's forearm.
After she'd walked off Tim whispered in Clare's ear, "I think she likes me."
"I like you," she said before kissing him.
"Better do more'n that," he muttered leaning into the kiss. "Let me talk to Art, then I'll take you home."

Clare watched him with Art, wrapping her arms tight around her torso, as Raylan came up to her. "There was nothing we could do. Graham..."
"Did he just not see another way out?" Clare swallowed. "Was he...scared of something?"
"He asked about Stark and Kender's deaths. They were both hanged and someone- Kender in Stark's case- made it look like suicide," Raylan answered.
She nodded.
"Tomorrow?"
"Supposed to see my grandparents. We were going to tell them about Graham anyway, but... Tim wanted to talk to you about who's getting told when, I want to be there for Moss."

"I don't think Tim wants you there."

Her look let him know exactly how Clare felt about Tim's feeling on that subject.

"Put it this way: I know Tim doesn't want you there," Raylan said gently. "You could give him a break."

"The way he gave me one when I woke up alone tonight?" she spat, looking over at Tim and Art, trying to glare.

"He did it because he's in love with you. He's trying to protect you. It's what we're wired to do, rescue our women," Raylan said softly.

"I know," she whispered, "I just wish…I don't know what I wish. I just… I was scared when he was gone." She took a deep breath as Tim walked back over. "We telling Moss?"

He nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulders, "Tomorrow. Now, we go home." To Raylan he said, "Art'll take you to the hotel, he said." He stuck his hand out, "Thanks."

"Turnabout's gonna be bitch," Raylan said, taking his hand.

"Harlan usually is."

Raylan smirked, turned to Clare, "Your boyfriend's a dick."

"I know," she smiled, but she held on to him anyway, and they walked back to his SUV.

"So, you had to chase me down at Graham's and you brought Art," Tim was dwelling on that tidbit. A lot.

Clare picked up her head, previously resting on his naked chest, to look at him so he could see her roll her eyes at him, "How did I bring Art, when he was driving?"

"Still. Art."

"You rush out of bed with me to threaten my uncle and I'm supposed to catch crap because you got caught borrowing Raylan's cowboy hat? Is that how you see this going?" She tried to rest her head on her fist, but her now-purple bruise was in the way. "Just had to do it, didn't you?"

He gaped, then looked genuinely offended, "I did not borrow his hat. I brought him, so he could use his hat and I wouldn't have to."

"Put that much thought into it, huh?"

"So much thought," he let his fingers run over her face, "I wasn't going to kill him."

"Just let Raylan kill him?'

"It's not personal if Raylan kills him. It's personal if I kill him. Hell, it's murder if I'd killed him."

Clare's face softened, she moved to kiss him, "Oh, baby." She kissed him, nibbling at his lips, sucking at his tongue. He rolled her onto her back and came up for air.

"Do I want to know why my admitting near-murder turns you on?"

She grinned up at him, all sparkles and undisguised glee, "You couldn't kill him."

"I kill people for a living. I'm a sniper, for Chrissakes. I didn't want to murder him…there's a difference," Tim leant back, pulling her up with him, and rubbed his face. "I wanted to hurt him. Make him pay, and I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror. Be able to… be here in the world."

"You brought Raylan to save you from yourself."

"Yup, but Graham's dead anyway. And Moss is involved and we have no way to go after him for it," Tim sighed. "Y'know we were fooling around. I'd like to go back to that."

"So demanding," Clare shook her head as his hand slipped under the Army t-shirt she still wore. She pulled it off and tossed it somewhere behind her. "Do I get to be on top this time?"

"Well, you did say I wasn't being creative having you on your back all the time," he said, pulling her so she was straddling him.

"Protection?"

He reached into a nightstand drawer and passed her a condom.

"And are you going to bitch about how this is used?"

"Probably not," he slid lower on his pillows.

"Probably?"

"If you take much longer with that, I'm going to have you on your back again."

"Is that a threat, Deputy?" Clare leaned close to his mouth. "Are you going to make good on it?"

He kissed her silly and flipped her before she could catch her breath. They came up laughing and he started kissing her throat softly, working his way down as she ruffled his hair. "Clare?"

"Yeah, babe?"
He picked his head up from between her breasts, looking more vulnerable than she'd seen him, "Make the world go away?"

"Anytime." She pushed him onto his back and straddled him again, kissing him wetly as her hand tugged his erection. She kept her mouth on his throat as she rolled the condom on him, one eye half focused on the task.

Tim looked up at her as she teased herself with the tip of his penis, not quite lowering herself on him yet, back arched in anticipation. His hands gripping her hips as they watched each other. He bucked into her finally, through with the teasing. Clare ground herself into him as his fingers bruised her with each thrust. "Like this? Ba-," her head tossed back, as she got close to her climax, "Tim, please. Harder. Oh, there. There," she squeezed her muscles around him, leaning to brace herself on the headboard. "There. C'mon, baby. Ther-"

Tim tried to keep his eyes on her, moaning and riding him. He tried to focus on her tits bouncing before him, to distract him from her tightening wetness. But he lost it and exploded beneath her.

He didn't come before she did, but she was half expecting him to, couldn't have faulted him for it if he had. She gasped as she rolled next to him, tossing the condom in the wastebasket. "Where's the world, babe?"

"What world?" He kissed her head, pulling her close.

"You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"I promise," he murmured, already dozing. His first promise, so she nestled closer and drifted off.