Chapter 1: Denial Ain't a River

He was the kind of man good girls had been warned about. Soft-spoken voice. Bedroom eyes. A steady sure gait that made a woman look twice although she knew better. Yeah, Rachel Brooks thought, as she watched his a woman away stalk from his desk in a huff, Raylan Givens had a way about him, and it would serve Rachel well to remember that.

A loud frustrated grunt came from the next desk. Against her better judgment, Rachel looked over. Without anything between them, their gazes locked. This wasn't the first time, but unlike all the others, Rachel didn't look away. The annoyance that had darkened his forehead faded as the single look lengthened, held, and bordered on a stare.

Dangerous game, a tiny voice warned in the back of her head. Look away came another one, but she failed to listen. Blood pulsed in her veins. This was craziness. In any minute, Gutterson would return and make an insinuation. Or worse, Art would step from his office and bark an order. All these scenarios played briefly, but none were strong enough to convince her to blink let alone turn away.

Then he stood.

Eyes still on her, his long stride had him at her desk before Rachel could think to breathe. What now? Should she play it off? Make it about the job? Or make her interest known? Give herself the opportunity to becoming another notch on his bedpost? At that thought, reality set in and the cord of excitement wavered just a bit.

"Did you see all that?" he asked with the tiniest smirk on his face. "Heard an earful, too."

"Not really," she answered honestly.

"My apologies for the distraction."

She shrugged. "None needed."

"Sure?"

Rachel smiled. "Positive."

R&R

Positive, she said. The little straitlaced spitfire made the singular word sound seductive and promising.

Damn.

Raylan had nodded once and walked away then. She was one of those good girls. Far too good for the likes of him. Probably wouldn't put up with his shit anyway. Not that he looked for shit. Shit just had a way of finding him.

Not ten seconds later, Art called them both into his office. She walked ahead of him and he reminded himself to keep his eyes and mind off the enticing curve of her rear and slight seductive sway of her hips. He had yet to see her in a dress, but with the fit of her slacks, he didn't need to. Well, maybe the vision would be a sweet sight to behold.

Art sat them down and closed the door. He handed them folders and started with the particulars of the case. Raylan tried to ignore the surge of anticipation at the chance of working with Rachel again.

"You're on transporting duty." Art gestured toward the documentation. "Darla Jenkins is a key witness in the Cassalotti trial."

"The girlfriend," Raylan said, leafing through the papers. "She's been in WITSEC?"

"Yup, safe and sound, so it's your jobs to make sure she makes it to the witness stand in the same condition."

"It says here she's afraid to fly," Rachel said. "We're driving her back?"

"That's right."

"From California?" Raylan said.

"Right again," Art said. "Can't get anything past you. Your flight leaves in an hour."

R&R

The ride to the airport was strangely quiet. Not they were the best of friends in a co-worker kind of way, but there was usually some kind of banter if not about the case, about the weather. By the time they were buckled in inside the 747, Rachel wondered if the flirting, slight as it was, had spooked the seasoned Marshal.

Who woulda thunk it?

She considered laying it out in the open. This detail would last close to a week. It wouldn't do for tension to hang between them. The Cassalotti case had to come first. No, actually, keeping the witness safe was even more important than that. As usual, professional won over personal.

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?" It surprised her that he spoke first.

"You're awfully quiet…"

"Me?" She tilted her head to the side and looked up at him.

"I was wondering…" He twirled his Stetson between his hands. The ring on his right ring finger caught the light from the sun filtering through the window. After a few more twirls, he set the hat on his knee. "Are you okay?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he said. He made a show of looking around at the other passengers before fixing her with his undivided attention. "There's nobody else on this plane I know or care about. And don't you dare say 'me?' again."

"Well, I…" She blinked. He cared about her?

"You have two fatal shootings under your belt now," he said, leaning in close so that their conversation could not be overheard. "Every time any of us try to talk to you about it, you shut us down. In fact, you've been quiet."

"Qui—"

"Rachel," he warned. "Yes, quiet. This transport should be easy. Fly to Los Angeles and drive back. No big deal, but the easiest assignments can go haywire. I've seen it happen."

"You just want to make sure I have your back."

The smile lit up his eyes. "I'm not worried about my back."

"You're worried about mine?" she asked, incredulous. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation. Just minutes ago, she wondered if he had freaked out about their little game of eyesex, but oh no. His mind was on her shooting history!

"I know everyone thinks I'm trigger happy—"

"No one thinks that."

She managed to get the words out with a straight face and he gave her a cute grin for the effort.

"Sure, as I was saying. We got 7 hours of air time. Just you and me. No Art. No Tim. No department shrink."

Rachel sighed. How could a secret office crush turn into such a hard case for her deepest thoughts? He was supposed to be the hardnosed, long arm of the law type. Hell, he wore a Stetson and cowboy boots for goodness sakes!

"So what, you're my priest?" She tugged on his tie. "Is there a collar under there? All this time I thought you had a red cape."

"Deflection is a technique I'm damn good at," he said, "so I recognize it. But you know it makes me wonder why."

"I told you before, I'm good."

"Denial ain't a river in Egypt."

Rachel gasped. "I'm not in denial." How dare he? He didn't know her well enough to even suggest it.

"I won't press—"

"Really?" She didn't bother to hide the sarcasm.

"You ever been to LA?"

Change of conversation? She was down for that. "Nope. My first time. You?"

"I've been out a few times."

So began their conversation about Los Angeles and interesting sights. Rachel found herself mildly amused. It seemed they'd more than made it up for the silence from before. Mid-flight the exchanges shifted to the paperwork and strategies for getting their witness safely back to Lexington. After awhile, yawns crept in. Rachel tried to hold them, but she failed miserably.

Raylan called the flight attendant and got them both pillows and blankets. He settled back with the Stetson on his lap. When he closed his eyes, Rachel allowed herself the indulgence of admiring his profile. She wouldn't let herself think. So, he cared about her, and no, she could not let herself dwell on that. Wanting could come from that. Lusting from afar was one thing, but wanting up close could create complications she didn't need. Sighing, she closed her eyes and drifted off. Even in sleep, determined not to dream about him.

R&R

Raylan could have kicked himself. He went in too hard. Came on too strong. But he hadn't lied. He was worried about her. The first kill was not as simple as swatting flies on the steps of your grandmother's back porch. He'd stood not five feet from her. She hadn't flinched. At the second kill, he arrived soon after and she'd been just as cocksure then.

He glanced down at where her beautiful head rested on his shoulder. She looked so peaceful, almost angelic. Hell, she didn't even sleep with her mouth open. He pulled the blanket up around her. In an hour, the veil of professionalism would drop over them again. Whatever started in that morning in the office had to be pushed down. Forgotten. And God knew, blurting out that he cared had the potential to bite him in the ass later.

Raylan was a reckless sonovabitch. Screw the consequences. He did care about Rachel, and he didn't give a damn that she knew.

[A/N: Thanks for reading. I just fell in love with Justified and am ga-ga over the potential for Rachel and Raylan. They're cute together and the subtle flirting is fodder for my shipper heart. Anyway, this fic is about Rachel and Raylan finding each other. There will be no bait and switches with Tim or Winona. Be warned, this fic won't strictly follow the show, but there will be bits and pieces thrown in for good measure. Reviews are always appreciated!]

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