Title: The Swear Jar 25/X
Author: Romantique
Email: dolph1n
Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General
Rating: T for language (but 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
Raylan pulled up a chair and watched his sleeping baby girl through the slats of her crib. She looked like a little angel, especially when she slept … Caitlyn was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
"You know, she doesn't know anything about Harlan or the Crowders or anything about your past … what it may or may not be," Winona said softly from the doorway, breaking Raylan's thoughtful silence. "All she knows is that you're her Daddy, and you make her feel safe and secure. It's all she's ever known."
He pursed his lips and turned his head to look at Winona.
"Your father never made you feel safe and secure," she continued, as she walked closer towards him and took a seat on the corner of their bed, beside him. "If that's not evidence of how far you have come from your troubled beginnings, that were no fault of your own, I don't know what is."
Raylan started to say something, but Winona interrupted him, as she reached out to touch his knee.
"I know you think you might have schemed to do something you shouldn't have done … when you were a much younger man," she went on, "but if you did … you've taken your wily skills and chosen to use them in law enforcement for good … not for, as you say, 'for ill-gotten-gains.' Because you were raised around the Arlos and Bo and Boyd Crowders of the world, you know these people … how they think and how they operate. You have an insight into them that very few marshals have. That's why you are so good at what you do."
"Wily, huh? … Like the coyote," Raylan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He never asked for his past to come crashing in. No matter how he tried to keep it pushed down, it demanded to be front and center in his thoughts, in his mind.
"I gotta know," he continued, "for sure whether this happened or if I'm losin' my freakin' mind." In a frustrated hush, he looked over at Winona and locked eyes with her. "I can't get past this, unless I know … for sure." Screwing up his face, he continued, "'cause right now, I'm thinkin' it did happen."
"I know," she said with an understanding nod.
"And there's only one person who can confirm whether it did … or it didn't happen," he continued.
She asked with a knowing hesitance, "Boyd Crowder?"
"Yeah," Raylan let out a sigh of displeasure, "Boyd."
Winona slightly leaned back on the bed shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Raylan? … Would you please promise me one thing?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Before you go running off to the prison at full speed to see Boyd, would you ask Art, first? Do it with his blessing and not behind his back this time?"
With a look on his face, as if the thought never occurred to him, he remarked, "D'ya think?"
Reaching over she gave his leg a loving squeeze, she softly said, "Yes, I do."
Two days later …
Art Mullens drove his SUV with Raylan riding along in the passenger seat as the two headed for the U.S. penitentiary at McCreary, a high security federal facility about 125 miles south of Lexington. It was a crisp, sunny morning, and the long drive gave Art an opportunity to catch up with Raylan after his recent absence due to his recent offsite training. There was only one thing that marred the beauty of the morning.
"Of all people, I can't believe I'm taking you down to see the likes of Boyd Crowder," Art growled, leaning over the steering wheel.
Raylan shifted his weight in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with Art's chosen topic of conversation.
"May I remind you that you started all this shit," the deputy marshal said to his boss in between sips of his now cold cup of coffee.
He didn't like cold coffee but needed the caffeine, as he took a little longer to wake up and get with the program since he began taking the sleeping pills.
Art flashed a quick glance over to his passenger. "Me? How did you figure I started this shit?"
He was referring to the current shit, and not the usual, every day shit that his charge brought into his life on a semi-regular basis.
"You're the one who was all hot and heavy to get the 'shrink train' movin' outta the station," Raylan recounted, using his free hand to facilitate his answer. "In fact, you had me jump on that train faster than a fly on stink. What was the rush?"
"You volunteered to board that train, Raylan," Art reminded him.
"I know … but you just couldn't wait to get that train movin' along and outta your hair," Raylan said with a pointed finger. "And, so … here we are."
Letting out a pent up sigh, Art found himself frustrated that he had no come back for that one because it was true. "Yeah, here we are," he sighed in resigned agreement. After a beat of silence, he continued, "I guess it was inevitable."
"That I needed to board the 'shrink train' in the first place?" Raylan asked in an effort to sarcastically complete his boss' thought.
Art answered, "That, and it would lead you back to your ol' buddy, Boyd."
"If it makes ya' feel any better, I'm not happy about that last part," Raylan offered the older gentleman.
After a moment of empty silence, Art counter offered, "I am glad you called me last night and told me about your need to talk to him. And that you let me drive you out there because of your sleeping medication and all."
Raylan acknowledged what he was saying with a nod.
"Makes me think there's hope for you, yet," Art went on. "Now, tell me the truth …Was Winona behind the phone call?"
"You know she was," Raylan admitted, wholeheartedly.
"Always listen to her, Raylan," Art counselled him. "The woman has a good head on her shoulders."
Raylan gave his boss a knowing, agreeing nod.
Completely changing the subject, Art offered, "So, I hear we have a wedding being planned, as I speak. A tea party reception of all things. Faylene's been up since the wee hours this morning, searching the internet for froofy napkins and tea cups and such in exactly the right shades of green. Better plan on havin' dinner after the reception because I know I am. Man cannot live on watercress sandwiches and crumpets alone."
Raylan gave a little laugh. He suspected the garden tea party was all Faylene's idea, one that a grateful and pregnant Winona would not reject, although he was pleased to hear that Faylene was using the color green. That was clearly Winona's idea.
"When the bride is pregnant, tea is not necessarily a bad thing," Raylan explained. "Besides, I like outdoor events. My only request is that we have ice cream to go with the cake."
"Well, just so you know, Tim and Rachel and I are planning on taking you out once last time before the big day," Art smiled.
"A bachelor party?" Raylan asked, tipping his hat back. "I dunno how Winona's gonna feel about that."
"Don't worry," Art said. "Rachel will be there to ensure things don't get too out of hand. She wisely suggested we take a limo on a Friday night so that there's no drinking and driving and, most likely, no work the next day. I think it's a good idea. Plus, you know, Winona's getting her traditions, too. Faylene is all over throwing her a combination wedding and baby shower … especially since she found out you two are expecting twins?!" Then, he turned to look over at Raylan. "When were you gonna tell me?"
"Sorry, Art," Raylan answered with a big, tight-lipped smile. "Winona swore me to silence, and then I guess she went and told Faylene?" he guessed out loud.
"In all fairness to your bride, Faylene guessed she was carrying twins, and Winona had to tell her," he explained. "The woman is really good at that sort of thing. She said she was tipped off by Winona's cravings for steak and French fries with mustard."
"Really? I've never seen her eat that combination." Raylan screwed up his face. "That's disgustin'. The mustard with the fries … not the steak."
After a beat, Art said, "The only craving I have is for a good ol' pulled pork sandwich. On our way back, we'll stop at Sonny's over in Corbin for lunch. You've eaten there before, haven't you?"
"Over at Sonny's? Sure I have," Raylan answered the man. "Although, Bubby's has arguably better barbeque."
"Oh, really?" Art responded. "I've never eaten at Bubby's. How's it better?"
"Here we go," Raylan laughed. "Who's got the better barbeque? It's all a matter of what you're lookin' for. If you're looking for ribs? I think Sonny's is pretty damn good. But if you like a good pulled pork sandwich or some catfish and all the fixin's? Bubby's is hard to beat."
"Catfish, huh?" Art remarked. "I haven't had good catfish in a while. Do they have hushpuppies, too?"
"No hushpuppies, but they have fried okra. They even serve a catfish, barbeque, and frog legs combo." Raylan was very knowledgeable about this place.
"Sounds good except for the frog's legs," Art said. "I think I'll pass on those."
"Well, they have a buffet, too. You can get what you want," he explained.
"Hmmm," Art thought for a moment. "I am undecided about whether I want barbeque or catfish. Hell, I could have both!"
"Yes, you could," Raylan nodded his head.
"Well good, that's what we'll do," Art agreed. "Now, what were we talkin' about before my cravings got in the way?"
"You were sayin' that Faylene guessed Winona was pregnant with twins, and that she's always right," Raylan recounted.
With that, Art returned to his original topic. "Anyway, that's why I always listen to my wife … because she is always right. That and it keeps me out of the dog house. You'd do well to do the same and always listen to Winona. Life's always easier when your bride is happy."
"I know that's right," Raylan agreed, remembering that it was her idea for him to tell Art about the dreams he had been having and this trip to see Boyd.
"Do you know the sex?" Art continued with his interrogation on the babies. "Of the twins?"
Again, Raylan gave a big, broad faced grin.
"One's definitely a boy," he confessed with pride in his voice. "The other was turned so that the doctor couldn't tell. We'll have to wait until the 20 week ultrasound to find out."
"And you're alright with instantly becoming the father of three?" Art continued to pry.
Raylan almost gushed. "I've always kinda teased Winona about havin' our own little baseball team," he confessed. "I'm thrilled," he said. "So is she."
"You do know they cost money, right?" Art was again referring to babies.
"I'm sure we'll have a soberin' talk about the fictitious ball team, after Winona delivers twins," Raylan assured him.
Art stared at the road ahead looking rather wistful. "A little Raylan, huh?" he chuckled. "Can the world handle another Raylan … or two?" After a beat he asked, "Are you going to name your son Raylan, Jr.?"
His son. Raylan had never heard the words before. He liked the way it sounded. Not that he ever thought he could love anyone more than Caitlyn … but a son? Just the thought made him grin from ear to ear.
"Oh, no," Raylan shook his head. "We haven't really talked about names yet, but I can assure you that none of my family's names will be on the short list."
"Art's a good name," his boss looked over at him with a confident grin on his face. "I just want to throw that out there."
Raylan chuckled. "Art, you know I have no say in the matter. I'll just nod in agreement at whatever Winona says."
Art laughed again. "Say, you are getting the hang of this marriage stuff. You're just full of surprises these days."
"Yeah, well," he said to himself, still smiling, as he nodded his head.
Raylan really did not mind being the butt of Art's jokes. In a way, it gave him the comfort of knowing that all was well between the two of them.
Later that morning, after they had solved all the world's problems, the two law men finally reached their destination. Art parked his rig in the metered lot across the street, and the two men walked towards the main entrance of the penitentiary at McCreary. As they walked into the building entrance, a sudden unexpected sight turned Raylan's head.
"What are you doin' here?" Raylan asked with a look of astonishment on his face.
"Well, I could ask you the same," Ava Crowder gave a sweet little smile to the approaching marshal and his boss.
She was obviously leaving, as they were coming in.
"Are you here visiting your boyfriend?" Art bellowed with his usual teasing towards her in his voice.
"You mean my fiancée?" she politely corrected the older gentleman, as she stopped walking when she reached them.
Her response made Raylan flash her a quizzical look, as he and Art stopped walking, too.
"I thought you were all done with Boyd," he reminded her of their last conversation.
Ava looked up at him sheepishly. "I didn't get a better offer from you."
"Hoo boy," Art rolled his eyes.
He had always noticed the sparks that flew between these two; they had obvious chemistry. He also knew it was both inevitable and probably not something either one of them wanted. He compared it to something that tasted or felt good, but was no good for either.
"It's not like that," Raylan insisted, out of the side of his mouth to his boss, a statement that confirmed Art's suspicions.
"Ava, I got twins on the way," the deputy marshal informed her.
"Well, that ought to put a nail in the coffin, once and for all," Art commented and then, Art bellowed a hearty laugh that echoed throughout the space.
"I'm so glad you're amused," Raylan quipped to Art with his hands on his hips.
"Truth be told, I'm here talkin' to Boyd about what we talked about," she toyed.
"Oh, shit," Art sobered up in a New York minute. There was no telling what Ava meant.
The two let Art stew for a moment before Raylan finally said, "Ava's thinkin' about goin' back to school or openin' up a business."
"What kind of a business?" Art asked in the suspicious tone of a Chief Deputy Marshal.
Ava smiled. "A hair salon. I could even cut this boy's hair … for a fee," she said, referring to Raylan, "and it sure looks like he needs a good cut."
"Hmmph," Raylan gave an embarrassed smile.
"And I'd even cut yours, too," she continued, speaking to Art with a smile. "I wouldn't have to charge you as much … just use the clippers to even you up.
"Would I have to drive out to Harlan to get this haircut?" Art asked with a dual purpose.
Shaking her head, she answered, "Hell, no. I'd like to move up to Lexington … get out of Harlan once and for all."
"Really?!" Raylan responded in astonishment.
"I may be a little slow on the uptake," she continued, "but I did, finally, get the message. Harlan is no place to be if you want to stay in one piece."
Art chuckled. "As I live and breathe. Ava Crowder is going to turn over a new leaf. By talking to her felon boyfriend about her new line of work."
"Distrust all you want," she continued in her gentile way, "but I'm tellin' you the truth. You'll see."
Then, she abruptly changed the subject. "You all aren't here to see Boyd, are you?"
"Yeah," Raylan replied. "And we need to get to it. It was nice seein' you," he tipped his hat to Ava.
"It was nice seein' you, too, Raylan … Sir," she smiled at the two.
As the each turned on their respective heels, she added, "And congratulations on your twins."
She had, indeed, heard Raylan's news, loud and clear.
(To be continued …)