Nix That

Raylan had managed to find out more than he wanted about the unlucky soul that ended up in the used gravesite. He discovered that Eldon Everett was twenty-six years old, and loser from Harlan County who strayed a little too far west and got burned by believing he was much stronger than he was. There was no concrete evidence of anything, but he was placed in an area all too familiar to Raylan; it was a region that he cared never to be involved in again. What puzzled him was Nate claiming that the men digging the hole sounded as if they were from the Midwest. It's not that it was impossible, but highly unlikely. Now whether his son was mistaken or purposely lied was the mystery that he somehow needed to solve. But he had placed that on the back burner as he drove home with Winona and Nate after eating dinner out.

"So I'm thinking I get to pick the baby name," Winona announced.

"And why is that?" Raylan questioned.

"Because if I'm going to carry him or her around and go through agony to get it out then I would say it is my right. Your mom picked your name, right Nate?"

"I couldn't tell you, I wasn't really in on the conversation, something about a uterine wall dividing me from the outside world."

"So you think you can just pick out any old name and I'll just go along with it?" Raylan asked.

"Yep, in fact if I want to name the baby Jiffy Pop then that's what I'll do. What do you think about that name Nate?"

"Very modern and eclectic, and I bet he or she will already have two kids already named that in their kindergarten class."

"You know, you're probably right," she agreed as they pulled into the driveway.

The three trooped up to the door where Raylan unlocked it and walked right into his son who had stopped dead in his tracks. "Dude, what…" But no more needed to be said as Fletcher Nix sat at the table and stared a hole right into the three of them.

"Come on in folks," he invited the stunned crowd. "Have a seat right over here," he told Raylan pointing to the chair opposite himself with his gun. "We're gonna play a little game here," he began to explain. "I'm going to put the gun in the middle of the table, and then we'll count down from ten and when we get to one, we both reach for it and whoever is faster wins. You see it's really very simple. Now first you put your gun on the floor Marshal."

Raylan swallowed in an effort to remain calm. He looked back at Winona who looked as if she could projectile vomit at any time. Nate had stepped forward placing himself much closer to the action than Raylan cared for. And as he did so often, he had begun studying the situation, most especially, the stranger that was sitting in his chair.

Raylan complied with the request, putting his gun on the floor as he sat down. "Now are we all clear on the rules?" Nix asked. Raylan silently nodded. "Okay now ma'am would you do the honors of counting down from ten for us?"

The invitation was met with silence. Nix turned his head and looked at Winona who seemed frozen unable to compute anything. "I'll do it," Nate volunteered.

"Well my boy, then you go right ahead," Fletcher encouraged.

While he offered his counting skills Nate had shifted so that he was just barely facing Raylan. He was able to make subtle eye contact. As he began to count down in a steady rhythmic pattern he managed to move his eyes giving Raylan all the information he needed. It was now clear that Nix held something up his sleeve and Raylan knew exactly how to counteract it. So when Nate hit two, Raylan pulled the tablecloth towards him, thwarting his opponent's effort at stabbing him with an ice pick. He then easily shot the man and ended the standoff.

"Sorry about your tablecloth," he told Winona as he stood up.

Nate peered over at the fallen adversary and was relieved that no blood had spilled on his chair. As Raylan dialed the ever familiar number to bring in the necessary folks to help clean up this disaster, Winona wobbled over to the couch and collapsed.

There was no doubt that the nearly invisible indication from Nate, had given Raylan the information he needed to win this confrontation hands down. He had had an idea of what this man was capable of, but having it confirmed was invaluable. Once again his son had been beyond cool under pressure and it continued to scare the hell out of him. Genetics can play a critical factor in behavior but he was beginning to fear there was more than his DNA at play here. His fact finding mission earlier that day was beginning to scream in his head. Was Nate covering something up, and what was his son capable of?

That next day Raylan picked Nate up from school and took the long way home. "If you need to talk to somebody about what happened last night or anything else that has happened, I can arrange that." He offered.

Nate scrunched down his eyebrows and looked confused. "I'm fine, why do you think I'm not?"

"It's not that I don't think you are okay, its just – well it's a lot for anybody to deal with, but especially a child."

"I'm fine, Dad, really."

"Well maybe you shouldn't be."

"You are," Nate pointed out.

"I'm adult, who has training and experience with these types of situations."

"But I'm just a kid who should be freaking out and you're worried because I'm not freaking out."

"Yeah something like that," Raylan admitted.

Nate just shook his head and pulled a book from his backpack and immersed himself in its pages. Raylan gave sideways glances towards his son, and found himself deeply concerned. His sons' illness marched to the beat of its own drummer, often affording him some good days followed by a treacherous downfall; his symptoms coming at him like restless marauders bent on destroying whatever was nearby. Raylan could generally see it in his sons eyes; the sparkling intense orbs would fade to listless mud. He hated God on those days, cursing the affliction that denied his son the basic joys of life and childhood. Nate would often put on a good front; at least for a while but the pain would wear him down and there was nothing in a fathers repertoire that could restore what they had all thought was his God given right to health, wealth and the pursuit of happiness. Raylan knew this insidious disease clouded his son's love of life and there were days that greatly concerned him. He didn't believe that Nate was suicidal, but he was beginning to wonder if he wasn't all that eager to continue living.