Author's note-

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I've been having a bit of a rough week. I came home on Monday night and found my fiance in my bed with another woman. Kinda guttd me, ya know? Needless to say, things didn't go very well for any of us. I decided to move out and have been looking for another apartment. It's been keeping me away from writing.

Anyway, enough about my problems. Here's the chapter. Hope that you enjoy it. :)

Lou

Chapter Thirty Six

Raylan stared at himself in the smeared mirror, wondering when he'd started to look so gaunt and tired and just plain... old. He dropped his eyes to the sink, pressing the plug into place and starting the water running. Careful not to get his IV wet, he let the water run over his fingers. Once the sink had filled, he dropped a washcloth into the water.

His hands shook a little as he untied the laces on the gown and shrugged it off, leaving himself standing dressed only in a pair of PJ bottoms he hadn't worn since his last stay in hospital.

"Marshal Givens?" one on his guards called from the doorway.

"Yeah?" Raylan called back, wondering which of them it was.

They were both short, stocky men, with calluses on their gun hands and eyes hardened by the years they had spent doing the job.

"Your doctor is here, Marshal Givens," the man called through the room. "Shall I let him in?"

Raylan raised his eyebrows, wondering just what Art had told the man to make him ask that question. He dropped the washcloth back into the sink, splashing water over himself and glanced at the crumpled gown.

"Sure. Just give me a second to put a shirt on," he called back as he left the bathroom.

He reached the bed and perched on it, reaching carefully into the locker for his bag. His spine cracked as he leaned forward, tugging the bag out onto the floor. The white sleeveless shirt was on the top. He pulled it out and slipped it over his head, working his IV bag through the arm with care.

"Marshal Givens, can I ask you a question?"

Raylan looked up from smoothing his shirt, brow creasing as he met the other man's eyes. "Call me Raylan and I'll think about it," he said with tired smile.

The other man shook his head, amused. "Well, in that case, you'd better start calling me James."

Raylan stretched carefully, feeling the stiffness from spending too much time staying still finally start to leave his muscles. "What was the question?"

James opened his mouth, closing it again and shaking his head as the door opened. "It'll keep."

Doctor Carter followed the other guard into the room, carrying a closed chart in his hands. "Hi, Raylan. How are you feeling?"

Raylan frowned, glancing at James. He felt as though he was missing something, and it bugged him. He shoved the feeling away, turning his attention back to the doctor. "I feel fine." He held the hand with the IV up. "You come to unhook me?"

The doctor moved to the foot of the bed, flipping quickly through Raylan's chart. "Temp has been normal for the last two days. Blood work looks good. No sign of the infection coming back." He dropped the chart back into its holder along with the one in his hands and walked back to Raylan, pulling gloves on as he neared the bed.

The wounds on Raylan's shoulder and arm were covered only by a light dressing. The doctor carefully peeled them away, probing the wounds with professional fingers.

Raylan turned his head to watch the doctor. "How do they look?"

"They're healing very nicely," Doctor Carter said, recovering the wounds. "Tell you what, let me take another scan of that shoulder to make sure they're nothing nasty going on inside. If that comes back clean, I'll take you off the IV and you can go home in the morning. How does that sound?"

"It sounds perfect," Raylan plucked at the hospital bed with one hand. "Be nice to sleep in my own bed again. When can you do the scan?"

Doctor Carter checked his watch. "Right now, actually."

Raylan nodded. "Let's get it done then."

"I'll be right back with a wheelchair," Doctor Carter said with a smile, holding one hand up. "Oh, I know you can walk. It's just hospital policy. I'm sure you understand."

He stepped through the door, letting it swing closed behind him.

Raylan watched a bird fly past outside of the window. The weather had finally cleared, leaving the sky cloudless and icy. It seemed to stretch out forever, cast in rich, inky blue. The streetlights slowly flickered to life, dull yellow light sapping the colour from the streets.

The door opened behind him. Raylan turned, expecting one of his guards. His eyes widened at what he saw.

Doctor Carter stood just inside the room, one hand resting lightly on a sturdy looking wheelchair. He held a gun in the other hand, pointed straight and steady at Raylan's chest.

"What is going on?" Raylan asked. He kept his hands open and loose by his sides. He fixed his eyes on the doctor's face so he wouldn't glance at his bag, where his gun was hidden, tucked away in a locked box.

"It's time for your scan, Raylan," the doctor said, voice low and cold.

The sound of it sent a shiver down Raylan's spine. It was the same voice he'd heard from countless murders and rapists. He knew that nothing good would come from going with the man.

"You mind if I sit down for a while?" Raylan asked, easing towards the bed. "I'm a little light headed from standing."

He let himself sway as he reached the bed, grabbing the footboard for dramatic effect.

The doctor frowned at him. He lifted the gun a fraction. "Get in the chair."

Raylan shook his head. "No. You're not going to get away with this. I have two guards right outside the door. They'll come busting in if I yell loudly enough."

Carter shook his head. "True. You think they'll be fast enough to stop me shooting you?" he sneered. "I mean look at you. You can't even walk across the room without hanging onto the furniture. No way you're going to dodge a bullet in the gut."

Raylan held up a hand. "Okay. You got me there." He wrapped one hand around the strap of his bag and tugged it towards himself ever so slightly. "You're right. No way they can get in here quickly enough to stop you shooting me."

"What are you doing with that bag?" Carter asked. His finger tightened on the gun's trigger.

Raylan stared at him, knowing there wasn't time for him to get his gun out. "I'm looking for a shirt. It's chilly in here," he said, keeping his tone low and calm. "Let me get one and I'll come with you."

"Oh, there's no need. We can do this right here." Carter shoved the wheelchair away from himself and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, dark cylinder and held it up. "Do you know what this is?"

Raylan lifted an eyebrow. "Pepper pot?" he asked, and shrugged.

The doctor laughed and pressed his thumb down on the device. "Nope. I believe you folks call it a dead man's switch. Means if I let go of it, a bomb will go off."

Raylan's fingers touched wood. He turned the box slowly, feeling for the lock. "So where is the bomb?"

Carter laughed. "Oh, this is the best part. It's with your little friend Hope and all of your buddies at the courthouse."

The lock clicked open as Raylan rolled the last number into place. He drew the gun out with one hand, keeping it hidden below the shirt he'd piled on top. "Is that the only bomb?"

"Yep." Carter laughed. "You have a choice. Either you can die, or you can shoot me and blow a public building full of people to bits." He tilted his head. "Which will it be?"

Raylan closed his eyes for a second, centring himself. "I don't see why it has to be either. Can we just talk about this for a minute? What is it that you want?"

The doctor laughed again. "I don't want anything. My boss is paying me very well to make sure you and your trouble making buddies are out of the picture. His business was doing rather well before you started your investigation." He tilted the dead man's switch meaningfully. "Choose now. Either come with me, or I'll let go of this switch. Which will it be?"