Title: The Swear Jar 28/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.

The following morning …

Raylan was led into Dr. Freid's office by her receptionist. Raylan arrived bright and early, Dr. Freid's first patient of the day. He took a seat in what had become 'his' chair and drummed his fingers along its arm, as he waited for her to join him. When she did, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his prescription bottle of the sleeping medication and placed it squarely on the table between them.

"Carolyn, I'm not gonna be needin' these anymore," he announced, his voice still noticeably hoarse from the night before.

Dr. Freid looked at him, studied him.

"I went to see Boyd yesterday at the penitentiary, like we talked about last time," he continued. You'll be pleased to know Art Mullen went with me."

Shifting in her seat, Dr. Freid asked, "Tell me … How did it go?"

She was interested in hearing what he had to say but didn't want to appear to be too interested.

Raylan took a hard swallow. "Those dreams I was havin' … They were true. Boyd confirmed everything."

"I see," she commented.

As a pre-emptive strike, he went on. "As to, 'How do I feel about that?' I didn't feel that good learnin' I almost took a wrong turn in my youth. But I did find out that none of the money I stole was used for any 'ill-gotten gains.' And all the money's gone and has been for a long, long time. Learnin' that part made me feel not quite as bad."

After a beat he continued. "Art added that anything that happened or may have or almost happened is of no interest to law enforcement. It's long past the Statue of Limitation. He and I played 'good cop/bad cop' with Boyd, with me bein' the good cop. Luckily for me, Boyd told me what I needed to know."

The doctor's continued silence made Raylan take his cue to continue speaking. "And I learned somethin' else, too. I learned I don't want to be buried in the family plot. Under any circumstances. And I pretty much guaranteed that will not happen."

The doctor didn't understand the connection of the visit with Boyd to burial plans.

Raylan proceeded to tell her what he did the night before, in great detail. The description of the headstones near the family home, his headstone, was something he had never shared with Dr. Freid before. It was a haunting image he painted for her. And Raylan finding the note inside the tackle box and destroying his own headstone in anger with his father was full of symbolism that was not lost on the doctor.

After finishing the story, Raylan heaved a heavy sigh. Once again, Dr. Freid said nothing, looked at him … studied him through her professional eyes.

"I know you're gonna ask me how I feel after all this?" he finally spoke, figuring that answering the question was going to be his only way out of there. "I feel free," he said in all honesty.

"And your voice?" she raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter with your voice? Are you coming down with something?"

It was common for her patients who were under great stress or duress to become ill. She was aware of a well-documented correlation between emotional stress and performance of the immune system. The mind-body connection was a strong one.

"Honestly? I was yellin' … a lot … while I was pummelin' that headstone last night," he confessed. "Guess I kinda got carried away, and I lost my voice. But on the plus side, I slept better last night than I've slept in a long, long time. And I didn't even have to take the pills. I feel good. Really, really good. I feel like a heavy weight was lifted off of me."

"That's good," Dr. Fried finally spoke and nodded. "But hold onto the pills. If you don't need them … by all means, don't take them. But if you do find you need them, over the coming days? You'll have them on hand."

"You don't believe me," he stated and his eyes narrowed.

Dr. Friend uncrossed her legs. "No, it's not that," she insisted, "not at all. You do seem different today. You're calmer. You look rested."

"See?" he nodded. "There you go." After a beat, he added. "That's really all I have for you today. Unless you have somethin' you want to talk to me about."

He decided he had reached the end of the road of the reason he came to see her in the first place. The mystery of the dreams that were causing him to lose sleep had been solved.

"Alright. Would you like to make an appointment for next week to follow up?" the doctor asked, guessing at how soon he would like to return.

Raylan leaned forward in his chair. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm gettin' married to the woman I love. We're gonna have three beautiful children. Hell, even Art thinks there may be hope for me yet … which is his way of sayin' I'm doin' good on the job." After a beat, he said, "My life is good. It's never been better. Besides, if I need you … I know where to find you." After yet another beat, he added, "Unless you think I need to come here longer to take care of any remaining concerns of the Marshal Service?"

He was tactfully referring to concerns of hers, and she caught his drift. She was the Marshal Service in this matter.

"No," Dr. Freid, shook her head and gave a smile a smile of satisfaction. "I agree with you, Raylan. You've come a long way … because you worked hard at it. You should be very proud of yourself. And you've just voiced the realization that I'm here, the door is open, any time you ever feel the need to re-open it."

"Yeah," he nodded, just wanting to get on with his life. "Sincerely, I do want to thank you, Carolyn, for helpin' me take a look at somethin' I really didn't want to see."

"You're welcome," she smiled.

Most people did not want to deal with their demons. It's what kept her in business.

As he got up to leave, she said, "You take care of yourself, Raylan."

He tipped his hat to her, and she watched the marshal walk away, and she couldn't help but notice that he intentionally left the bottle of pills on the table.

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

Raylan returned downstairs to his office after his appointment, just as he promised Art he would. He had to testify in a case at the Courthouse later that afternoon involving a re-captured fugitive. In fact, Raylan had been the arresting marshal in the original case which sent fugitive to jail.

So, he decided to spend the rest of the morning working on paperwork. Of one thing Raylan could always be sure … there was always more paperwork. Rachel, Tim, and Art were all out in the field, leaving him some peace and quiet where he could concentrate on his tasks at hand.

His peace and quiet was soon interrupted when the phone on his desk rang.

"Givens," Raylan immediately picked up and spoke into the receiver.

It was Constable Bob Sweeney. Raylan intently listened for a moment. Bob tended to become excitable.

"Hey, Raylan. I'm sorry to have to inform you about this, but your family home was vandalized," Bob said, speaking at fast speed. "I found the lock on your Daddy's shed busted, and one of the headstones near the house has been obliterated. It wasn't your Momma's."

Bob thought that telling Raylan his late mother's headstone was untouched would be a relief. "Do you have any idea who would want to do such a thing as bustin' up a headstone?"

"Bob," Raylan stopped him from talking. "What if I told you that the vandal was me?"

Raylan sighed, as the amateur lawman on the other line went on and on, reciting various, obscure County ordinances … most of them involving fines.

"I can't vandalize my own property!" Raylan insisted. "In fact, I have the legal right to bust up my own headstone if I want to."

Not understanding what Raylan was telling him, Bob asked, "But why would you do that?"

"I dunno," Raylan shirked. "Maybe I decided that when the time comes, I don't want my final restin' place to be in Harlan."

Met with dumbfounded silence on the other end of the line, Raylan decided to break it. "Look, Bob, I do appreciate you lookin' after the place for me and callin' me today. I'll drive out and replace the lock on the shed on my way home tonight."

"No need for you to drive all the way out here just for that," Bob replied. "I'll pick up a lock from the hardware store and put it on the shed. You can pick up the key from me, next time you're out this way."

"Thanks, Bob," he said. "I owe you one."

Just about the time he was going to hang up the phone, Raylan was still feeling pretty good about things and said, "Hey, Bob. Winona and I are gonna tie the knot, again, in a few weeks. Would ya' like to come to the weddin'?"

"Really?" Bob did not hide his surprise. His old high school acquaintance, Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens, had never invited him to anything before. "Sure, that'd be great!"

"It's on Saturday the 23rd," Raylan explained. "You can bring a date if you like. There will be a garden reception afterwards. I'll get back to you with the address and other details."

After ending the conversation and hanging up the phone, again, Raylan couldn't help but notice how good he felt.

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

Raylan made it home on time that evening. He found Winona in the kitchen with Caitlyn, who was sittin' in her high chair, ready to eat. It looked like Winona was making tacos. He noticed she had cooked seasoned beef and had various bowls full of various taco fixings.

"Hey," he walked up next to her and gave his woman a breathy kiss and a smile. "Would you like me to feed Miss Cait while you finish up here?"

"That would be so nice," she smiled back at him and gave him another lingering kiss.

Afterwards, Winona handed him a small bowl with some pureed green beans and carrots she made herself.

"Mmmmm," Raylan said to his little one. "Look what's on the menu for you. Green beans and carrots from the Farmer's Market."

He was throwing some acknowledgment Winona's way because she took great pride in making her own baby food. With a tiny little spoon, Raylan sat next to his baby and carefully fed her. With each and every bite, Caitlin would wave her arms and kick her feet with approval.

It was then he noticed that Cait's bib said, 'Daddy is a Stud.'

He laughed. "Where did this come from?" he asked Winona.

Warming the last of the tortillas on the griddle, Winona looked up from the stove. "I found it when Faylene and I were out shopping the other day. I also bought one that says, 'Mommy is a Babe.' She smiled. "And another one that says, 'My Parents Don't Have Any Rhythm.'"

"Are ya' sayin' our children weren't exactly planned?" he asked, patiently waiting for his baby to swallow the bite of carrots in her mouth. "Because that's not how I see it, at all."

"Are you sayin' they were?" she asked. "Because I don't remember it happening that way."

He looked up at her with a lot of love in his eyes. "The way I see it, we're just makin' up for lost time. I mean, think about it. If you and I had stayed together the first time we were married, we would have surely had three children by now. Probably more."

Winona was almost finished assembling enough tacos for them to get started on for dinner.

"Well, yeah," she said, coming up behind him with two plates full of food. "When you put it like that, yeah," she said. "It sounds a lot more romantic than, 'Ooops.'"

As she placed one plate in front of him and the other beside him, Raylan playfully spun her around until she fell into his lap. Winona giggled.

Smiling and gazing into her eyes, he said, "One couple's 'Ooops' is another couple's 'Passion.' Can we help it if we can't keep our hands off of one another? Even after all these years?"

Winona placed her arms around his neck and leaned in for another kiss. Raylan placed his hand over her growing baby bump.

"As much as I'd love to continue, save our place for later tonight," she whispered, feeling him responding to her. "Dinner is getting cold."

Gently releasing her so that she could sit in the chair next to him, he said, "I was just tryin' to prove a point."

She laughed. "And you did a good job, too."

A moment later, while Winona brought him a beer out from the refrigerator, Raylan changed the subject when he proceeded to peel off three one-hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet.

"This is for the Swear Jar," he explained. "Remember I told you last night?"

"I think the jar is no place to store that kind of money," she commented. "How about we open up a college fund for her at the bank? And we can do the same for the twins once they're here."

"Well, how much is in the jar?" he asked.

Guessing, Winona answered, "With that? Oh, there's well over a thousand."

"Really?" he asked, taking a pull on his beer.

"Yes," she answered, "and you are by far the Number One contributor to the fund."

"By the way," he said, changing the subject again. "I invited another guest to the weddin' and his plus one … if he even has one." Drifting off in thought, he said, "I don't think Bob has a girlfriend. He'll probably bring his mother. You don't mind, to you?"

"Bob. Isn't he that goofy Constable from Harlan?" she asked as she took a bit of the end of her taco.

"Yeah," Raylan answered, sipping on his beer, feeding his baby. "He's been watchin' Arlo and Helen's place for me. He's a little strange, but he's a good guy. And since we lost Trooper Tom, Bob's been our eyes and ears over in Harlan County."

"Is that where you were last night?" she asked, careful not to add any tone to her question.

"Yeah," he answered without hesitation. "After Boyd confirmed all those dreams I'd been havin' were true, I went out to the house last night to dig up that tackle box that used to house all the money. I don't know what I thought I would find. All there was a nasty note from Arlo. It pissed me off, so I cussed him out and destroyed that headstone he bought with me name on it, so many years ago. I decided last night I don't want Harlan to be my restin' place. I have a family of my own, and you and I will decide such things when the time is right."

Winona smiled. "Good answer."

"Anyway, that's why I owe the Swear Jar so much money," he said. "I dressed Arlo up and down and every which a way."

"Is that how you lost your voice?" she surmised.

She proceeded to finish her taco.

"Yep," he answered.

"Why don't you switch seats with me?" she suggested. "I'll finish feeding Cait, so you can eat your dinner."

Raylan looked at her plate. Winona had already wolfed down two tacos in no time flat. He took her up on her offer. The 'tag team approach' to child-rearing seemed to work great.

After digging into his overly full taco, he asked Winona, "Do you remember my headstone that was placed precariously close to my father's house?"

Looking over her shoulder at him after she'd given Caitlyn another bite of beans, she answered, "How could anyone ever miss that creepy sight? Why your father ever put them on the only path to and from the front door is beyond me."

"I thought it was pretty clear Arlo wanted everyone to see them, especially me," he explained. "When I was younger, I thought they were placed there only to scare me or the mailman or whoever. But now, I think he put them there for him. He wanted to see my mother every time he left the house. Their love/hate relationship ran very deep. Anyway, the fact that they scared his son was bonus points for Arlo."

"The reason I even bring them up is that … I destroyed my headstone last night. I made the decision that, whenever the time comes, I do not want to be buried there, in Harlan, next to my father. I don't want my grown children and my wife visitin' me there."

Winona smiled. She appreciated him projecting so far into the future.

Raylan placed his hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to talk about any of this now, but when the time comes for us to make decision about those kind of arrangements, I'd like for you and me to be together. And provide our kids with the option of bein' there, too … but only if they want to be. That's a decision every family need to make for themselves. Winona, you are my family … you and the kids."

She reached up with her left hand and grabbed his, still on her shoulder. Tears formed in her eyes. She was touched by what he had said.

"I still may have to work in Harlan, on the occasional assignment," he continued, "but the place doesn't have the same hold on me it once had. I'm not runnin' away from Harlan like I did when I was younger. This time, I'm walkin' away."

Raylan gave Winona's hand a squeeze. She turned her head further towards her and kissed his hand.

(To be continued …)