Title: The Swear Jar 15/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (although no worse than the show).

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Slowly and carefully sitting up in the bed so as not to wake Lindsey, Raylan glanced at his watch. 7:12 a.m. He found himself clad in his jeans, his open shirt, and socked feet. He grabbed his cell phone from the night stand and rapidly flipped through the screen. Three missed calls from Winona.

His head sloshed against his skull as slowly stood up and shuffled to the bathroom. After his night of boozing, he had to piss like a wild race horse. After he relieved himself, he filled up a glass of water at the sink and downed it in three gulps. He refilled the glass and while drinking it down, he opened his medicine cabinet and found his bottle of aspirin. He poured 4 tablets out of the bottle and swallowed them on his empty stomach with a third glass of water.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and noted that he looked to be an ashen shade of grey. He leaned down to brush it teeth in an effort to get the sensation of old Bourbon-flavored cotton out of his mouth, and then, splashed cool water on his face to wake up. Then, he slowly walked out of the bathroom, walked out of his room, and headed downstairs to find some privacy.

He called Winona.

"Look, before you say anything, please, let me tell you what's been goin' on since I last saw you," he pleaded; worried she might hang up on him.

"Okay, but first, are you okay?" she insisted on knowing.

"Other than havin' the worst hangover in history, no, I'm not okay," he answered her. "I talked to Art like we discussed. It did not go well."

"Well, okay," she said. "What does that mean?"

"It means he said I have demonstrated conduct unbecomin' of a marshal, and it could mean my job," he answered her again. "He says I used bad judgment by goin' and seein' a convicted prisoner on my off duty time."

"Well, did you tell him why you feel so responsible for Boyd?" she asked, her voice becoming a little shrill.

"I did. And while I think he understands, as a supervisin' marshal, he's bound by duty to report the incident," he explained. "I had to stay there the rest of the day, chained to my desk with Art in the office. I've never felt so uncomfortable, so caged in my life. By the time it was time to go home, I was so keyed up ... I just couldn't tell you what happened, not after the wonderful news you told me about the baby. So, I stopped for a drink and I'm ashamed to say, I drank and drank until I passed out."

He continued to ramble. "I just woke up in a start and saw it was mornin', and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm just so sorry."

After a long beat of silence, Winona said, "I guess the most important thing is that you're okay. And I'm sorry things didn't go well with Art. Once again, I think I'm making things worse for you. It was my suggestion you visit Boyd, and it was my suggestion you tell Art what happened in Nashville before he finds out from someone else. I'm sorry, Raylan."

"It's not your fault," he assured her. "I'll just have to wait and see what the Service has in mind as discipline."

"Are you going straight into work?" she asked.

"No, I can't go in lookin' like this," he said. "I'll call in and then, come home and clean up first," he decided. "I'll see you in a bit, alright?"

"Alright," she said. "And thank you for telling me the truth."

"I can't tell you how much money I owe Caitlyn's Swear Jar," he quipped. "I think I broke a record, yesterday and last night."

"I was cussing up a storm last night myself. I owe the jar, too," she admitted. "We'll settle up with it tonight, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you soon," he said and cut the call.

Had he told her the truth? He was about to find out.

Raylan slowly pulled his body that was attached to his throbbing head, back up the stairs to his room. He opened the door to find the bed was empty. Then, he heard that Lindsey was in the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, looking as rough as he did.

"I took some of your aspirin," she informed him. "How are you doin'?"

"I just got off the phone with Winona," he said, running his fingers through his wild mop of hair. "What the hell happened last night?"

She sat herself down on the corner of the bed, looking as sexy as she ever did.

"You had too much to drink last night, as did I," she said. "I helped you up here to your bed and you were out as soon as your head hit the pillow. I pulled off your boots. And then, I proceeded to pass out right beside you. There was no way I was gonna make it back downstairs under my own steam."

"So, we didn't ... ?," he asked, motioning with his index back and forth between them.

"Oh, I sure wanted to," she admitted. "You are one stud of a lover, Raylan. You sure know how to light my fire, every time, but to answer your question … no. You couldn't have gotten it up last night if your life had depended on it. And besides, as much as I love havin' fun with you ... I'm no home wrecker."

He smiled at her.

"That's what I love best about you," he said.

"How about I go and fix us some eggs and a little hair of the dog?" she asked. "It's a sure fire cure for a hangover."

"Really?" he asked. "Yes, please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When Raylan was on his way home, he called Winona and gave her a more accurate time of arrival. Lindsey had whipped them up each an Eggs Benedict with a chaser of Gatorade that followed a shot of vodka. She swore with all the protein, fat, salt, and electrolytes, this was 'the cure.' He had to admit between Lindsey's cures, the aspirin, and all the water he drank ... he was feeling almost normal.

When he arrived home, Winona was in the living room nursing Cait. He quickly said 'hey' and went in to take a shower. After his shower and shave, he exited the bathroom, followed by a puff of steam. Wrapped in a towel, he found Winona waiting for him.

"I just put her down," she said, referring to Caitlyn.

He walked towards her.

"What time do you need to get back to the office?" she asked.

"I've got some time," he said. "Do you want to talk?"

She gazed into his eyes and brought her self closer to him. She went up on her tip toes and kissed him. Then, she kissed him again with tongue and passion and rubbed up against him until his towel dropped, exposing his desire.

"I seem to be feeling much better," he noticed, and he took her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He seductively undressed her, nibbling each newly exposed part of her body along the way. Once she was completely nude, she begged him to enter her. He did as she said but teased her, entering her very slowly and then, devouring each of breast. He loved that her breasts made more womanly since she first became pregnant. The thought that she would have them at least through at least another pregnancy excited him even more. Winona let out soft moans of pleasure pain until she rolled over, on top of him, taking control. She picked up the pace a bit to match her spasming waves of pleasure. She skillfully rode the length of him while he moved against her, matching her stroke for stroke. When he could feel her approaching ecstasy, she rolled over, back on top of her. The weight of him was made especially for her, and she threw her head back, as he slowly took her over the top and followed her in an intense, explosive climax.

She placed her hand behind his neck and brought his head down to her for a kiss. She loved him. He loved her. And he would never put his love for her in jeopardy, ever again.

Lying there, in the afterglow, he stared up at the ceiling.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said.

"I think I may have a way out of this mess," he said. "It will cost me some of my pride, but it might just get the job done."

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I tell you what," he said as he reached down, grabbed her hand, and brought it up to his lips and kissed it. "Let me run it by Art first and if he bites, I'll let you know, okay?"

"Okay," she said, squeezing his hand.

All she wanted for was everything to go back to where they were before she made the seemingly stupid suggestion for Raylan to visit Boyd in Nashville.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was lunch time before Raylan arrived at the office. Neither Tim nor Rachael had returned from their lunch, but Art was there, and he waved for Raylan to come back to his office.

"Well, how's the hangover, Raylan?" Art asked with his typical lilt in his voice.

"Better than I thought it would be," he confessed.

Art sat down on the corner of his desk, as Raylan stood propped up in his open doorway.

"And did you have time to think about your latest predicament," Art asked, "in between your shots of Bourbon?"

"I have an offer I want to run by you," he answered. "You asked me why I feel I owe somethin' to Boyd. I explained to you that the man saved my life on two occasions, and I guess you feel that's not worth me givin' a shit about him anymore. I've given this a lot of thought, and I can honestly tell you that I don't know why I still feel obligated to Boyd after everything he's done as a criminal. I mean, I can get really angry with Boyd. I want to be done with him ... but I can't do it, at least not yet."

Art was listening but was becoming impatient.

"And you said you have an offer?" he tried to speed things along.

"I'm gettin' to it," Raylan pointed with his finger. "I can't tell you why I do what I do ... because I honestly don't know. You know me, Art. I'm not lyin' about this. I honestly cannot tell you. So, I was thinkin', what if I was to offer to see the Department shrink? Maybe she can help me figure out why I can't let go of this feeling of obligation I have when it comes to Boyd?"

"Yeah, and maybe she could figure out why you're so trigger happy, too," Art smiled.

"Don't push it," Raylan said. "I'm in trouble because of Boyd ... not because I shot someone."

"This time," Art added, "but I see your point."

Art shifted his position, crossed his arms in front of him, and said, "Tell you what ... I'll make the proposal and see what they say. I know you don't want to talk to the shrink, Raylan. I can't tell you what is gonna happen, but I must say ... I'm impressed by your offer."

"Thanks," Raylan replied. "Let's just see what they say. And can we keep this between us, please? I wouldn't want Tim or Rachael to know about this."

Art laughed. "Yeah, those two would never let you live it down. They already both think you're nuts!"

"That's not funny," Raylan protested.

"Alright, Raylan," Art said with a smile, enjoying his fun at his marshal's expense. "We'll keep this between the two of us."

"I appreciate it," Raylan nodded.

After a beat, Art added in an authoritative tone, "And one more thing. You are not to have any contact with Boyd Crowder ... in any way, shape or form, in any capacity be it personal or professional. We're gonna add that to your 'offer.' And while we're at it ... let's extend that 'no contact list' to include Ava Crowder, Johnny Crowder, and any other 'Crowder' I don't know about! Capiche?"

In no position to argue, Raylan could no nothing but say, "Capiche."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Later that night at home, after they had given Caitlyn a bath and put her to bed, Raylan recapped his entire conversation to Winona over take-out Chinese.

"Wow, that's major thing for you to do," she said, knowing there were parts of him she assumed would forever remain private.

"Maybe it's time I get my head shrunk and find out more about my childhood," he lamented. "I'm a father now. I don't want to be carryin' around crap I don't even know about or remember, you know? I dunno. Maybe I'll learn somethin' about myself."

Winona couldn't help but feel two ways about what he was proposing to do. On the one hand, she'd always known there were some tender spots in Raylan's past. He was very self-protective about them and whenever she got too close to them, his reactions weren't nice. Over the years, she'd learned where to tread lightly.

On the other hand, she felt that if he were free from some of his demons, he might be a happier person. He might even be able to fall asleep at night ... without having a few drinks or sex. Not that she minded the sex. In fact, they were pretty evenly matched in that department. However, she knew he had wrestled with bouts of insomnia for as long as she had known him.

She reached over and placed her hand on top of his.

"It's up to you, Cowboy," she said, "how far or how deep you want to go. I know you love your job, but your psyche is your own. It doesn't belong to the Service or to me. It belongs to you. Just remember that."

He turned his hand over and gave hers a loving squeeze.

"Thank you for that," he gave her a weak smile. "You have no idea how good you are for me."

Winona got up from her chair and approached him. He shifted his weight in his chair so that he was facing her, and she proceeded to take a seat in his lap. She gazed intensely into his eyes and traced her fingertips along the chiseled line of his jaw.

"You're good for me, too, Raylan," she purred, as she leaned in for a kiss.

He tasted of Kung Poa and she of plum sauce, and their tongues melded the flavors together in a slow, sultry kiss. Raylan's arms brought her in closer, so that he could slowly unbutton the back of her blouse. Winona then adjusted her weight so that she straddled him. Fully clothed, her body began to slowly writhe against him.

"You are soooo good," he growled in his throat.

As their breathing became heavy, Raylan lifted her skirt to her hips, giving her more freedom to move. She began to grind her hips against his, as he reached up under her blouse and released her from her bra. He then cupped her breasts in his hands, moaning as she continued her grinding movements.

All of a sudden, their sexy interlude was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Shit!" he exclaimed and automatically pulled the phone out of his pocket.

It was the habit of a marshal to always go for the phone. It was something he could not control. Winona knew it and accepted it, but that didn't mean it didn't sometimes frustrate the hell out of both of them.

Raylan quickly glanced at the screen and hit a button.

"Who is it?" Winona breathlessly asked, tossing her head so that her hair fell to the other side.

It was a call from Ava Crowder, and Raylan had hit the button causing the call to go to his voice mail.

"Get my cell phone number changed," he noted to himself.

He then placed the phone on the dining table, near his beer and his fortune cookie.

"Now, where were we?" he asked in a breathy voice and leaned forward for another sultry kiss.

Their kiss turned into one of the sexiest make-out sessions either of them had ever experienced. Winona continued her lap dance until they could stand it no more. She made love to him that night in the chair and afterwards, they moved to the bedroom where Raylan slept like a baby.

(To be continued ...)