Shore Leave

FebuWhump Bingo Square "Help Them" (and some remnants of "Time Loop" as well) on the It was Justified Discord

Setting: post 'Justified: City Primeval'
Sequel to my stories "All at Sea", "Albatross", "Dropped Like An Anchor", "Navigating Rapids" and "Barrelman"

oOo

Boyd suddenly found himself with an armful of teenager and didn't quite know what to do. He stood stock still in front of the restroom door, his hands half-raised at his sides like confronted with a life wire, and threw an uncertain look over his shoulder at Raylan. His friend had the audacity to simply laugh unhelpfully back at him. So he did what he had longed to do all along and wrapped his arms around his boy, careful not to cage him in if he wanted to get away. The moment Zach felt his father's hug, he tightened his own hold even more. Boyd rested his chin on his son's messy, dark hair, closed his eyes and wished for time to freeze.

Raylan stayed where he was, unwilling to disturb them just yet. Seeing Boyd and Zach together like this, comfortable in the other's embrace like they had known each other their whole lives, was a sight to behold. The happy smile seemed stuck on his own face and he was glad he got to witness this tender scene. Deep down, he had never doubted Boyd would be a doting father, no matter his other failings. He could still recall how Boyd had treated Bowman when they were tads after all. The way his late brother had turned out in the end, certainly wasn't down to a lack of loving support from Boyd.

Then the door to the wash room opened once more and an older gentleman with curly white hair emerged, still rubbing his wet hands on the legs of his pants. He stopped in his tracks for a second, gave the duo before him a wistful smile and then squeezed past them with a quiet "Sorry, lads".

Reluctantly Boyd let go of his son and took a few steps out of the way to the lavatories, a clear signal for Raylan to approach the two now they've had their moment. Zach hadn't noticed him before but recognized the man with the cowboy hat immediately. He beamed at Raylan and waved at him.

"Hey, Raylan."

"Zach," he greeted and gave him a warm smile before his face turned serious. "You okay, kiddo?"

The boy nodded somewhat solemnly. "Yes," he said meekly, knowing full well he was probably in for it. But then he couldn't help himself and added cheekily "I'm peachy", an expression he had heard someone say when they exited the Greyhound earlier.

Raylan frowned. "That was one spectacularly dumb idea. Your mom is worried sick."

"We're really glad you're alright, Zach," Boyd added. "But you listen to me, son: you ain't never gonna scare your mother like this again," he scolded the teenager sternly for running away with a hard expression that was miles away from his usual scary face.

The boy's eyes were directed at the tips of his sneakers when he mumbled petulantly, "Yes, sir," sounding contrite about frightening his mom but not really regretting coming here.

"How'd you even get on the goddamn bus as a minor?" Raylan questioned more curious than angry.

Zach looked sheepish for a second. "I convinced them to let me visit my dad in Miami, who my mom won't allow me to go see after their divorce." He glanced at his father as he said it as if gauging his reaction.

"And they believed you?" Boyd asked incredulously, eyebrows raised more than half-way to his hairline.

"Of course," the teen replied proudly as if no other option was feasible.

"You really are your daddy's son," Raylan sighed in defeat but his words were more fond than barbed. He met Boyd's gaze, who was valiantly trying to suppress a grin. Pees in a pod, Raylan thought to himself and shook his head.

After a beat of heavy silence, only interrupted by the soft growling of Zach's stomach, Boyd clapped his hands once like he used to do when starting a shift in the mine. "Boy, am I starved; I could eat a whole cow it ain't fast enough. Anyone up for a very late dinner?"

At everyone's enthusiastic agreement, a bright twinkle, Raylan had learnt to fear ages ago, entered his eyes and he smiled deviously at his friend stating, "Raylan's buyin'."

~o~

A mere block from the Greyhound station, they finally got something decent to eat at Magic City Kitchen, which thankfully only closed at 3 am. Afterward, they found themselves booking into the Clarion Inn for the night. It wasn't half bad, and it was clean. Raylan had stayed there before on a job while passing through and knew the desk clerk wouldn't bat an eye at their party of three. The man had also generously provided them with toothbrushes, toothpaste and a hairbrush. Everything else they needed was up in the room anyway, which sported both a king and a queen bed. Neither adult was willing to let Zach out of their sight at any rate but the kid didn't seem to mind anyhow, eager to stay close to Boyd. While Raylan understood the sentiment of course, being a father himself, it also gave him pause. There was only so long, this whole thing was sustainable.

Ava had broken out in tears, her voice shaking with relief, when Raylan had called from the bus depot to tell her their little runaway was fine. While he didn't particularly want his phone traced to Atlanta in this case, he figured he was safe as long as he didn't get caught with Boyd.

Unsurprisingly her reaction was less than thrilled when he admitted Boyd was with him and the teenager. She wanted Zach home stat; away from her ex-fiance, went without saying. Her reasons were sound, no-one understood this better than him, but Boyd was here now, had helped looking for their son; nothing to be done about it. And in truth, Raylan doubted he wanted to, either.

He had promised to keep an eye on him but as long as Boyd was on his best behavior, Raylan saw little reason to shut him out then and there. Once morning came, he'd take Zach home to Ava – alone. This was going to be the one and only chance for Boyd to connect with his boy for a scant few hours.

The minute they entered their room on the second level and Boyd locked the door behind them, Raylan collapsed face first onto the king bed. After all the excitement and driving all day, he was beat. Boyd chuckled and picked his friend's hat up from the mattress where it had fallen upon impact. There was some shuffling as Zach made himself at home on the queen, but Raylan didn't lift his tired head, not even when Boyd pulled his boots off for him and placed them next to the bed.

"Scoot over," he implored.

Raylan murmured something unintelligible into the sheets, already half asleep, but didn't so much as stir.

"You're hoggin' the whole bed." A weary sigh preceded a gentle hand tapping at the prone man's hip. First lightly, then more insistently, until Raylan eventually crawled to one side of the king like a crab on tranquilizers. The mattress dipped when Boyd sat down heavily as well, kicking his own boots off. Raylan was already snoring softly.

Zach looked over at them with an indiscernible expression on his young face.

"He's been drivin' like a bat out of hell to get here," Boyd explained. "It's been a day."

"I didn't mean to cause trouble," the boy said around a yawn. "I just wanted to meet you."

"I know."

"Mom barely talks about you. I wanted to know for myself, you know?"

Boyd looked down at the clasped hands in his lap with a sad half-smile. "What'd she tell you about me?" He wasn't entirely sure he wanted an answer. Ava's opinion, bad as it got in the end, still mattered to him, all things considered, despite their history – or maybe because of it.

"Mostly only ever how you'd be proud of me when I get good grades or something," he admitted. "Once, when I was sick as a kid–"

Boyd refrained from pointing out he was still barely more than a child. Remembering being a teenager himself, he was keenly aware that wouldn't be appreciated at all, and he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"–I asked why you're never with us; never call, either."

The dark-haired man swallowed at the raw emotion in Zach's voice at the memory. He was feeling a certain kind of way about it, too. It made him angry for a second but he tamped it down. His ire toward Ava might not be buried as deeply as he thought after all, but now was certainly no time to reflect on this.

"She said you can't come visit, but never why. Just that you love me."

"She's right. And I do, very much," Boyd assured his son with a warm smile that was more sincere than many over the past fifteen years.

"Did you two break up over Raylan?"

There was a soft grunt from the other side of the bed at the mention of his name although Raylan seemed to slumber on peacefully. The question caught Boyd completely out of left field and his eyes widened. "What?"

"When you were married, did you tell her you were gay? Is that why you left?"

"What makes you believe that?"

"She never says you love us," and even quieter, "or love her." He sounded more heart-broken over it than he seemed to realize. Bless kids and their secret need for harmony between their parents.

Boyd stood up and crossed the short distance to the other bed. He waited for his son's permission, careful not to intrude, before sitting down next to him.

"You listen here, son. I loved Ava like I ain't never loved no other woman. Or ever will." Hesitantly he offered his right hand, palm up, and Zach took it with his much smaller hand, clinging to his father. They both seemed to need the physical connection right now to get through their heart-to-heart.

"We ain't been married; but that's a lamentable tale for another day. And we all made mistakes, said some things–" he interrupted himself. "It's complicated. Raylan played his part, too but not the way you think. Ava needed away and I was... held up elsewhere for a good while." He gave the boy an intense look, then emphasized, "But it ain't never been your fault, you hear me?"

Zach nodded earnestly and leaned against his shoulder. Boyd pulled him into a one-armed embrace. The urge to take the kid and run, consequences be damned, was almost overwhelming. What did it matter, he was a wanted man anyway? He stole a glance at the locked door, then at the king bed across from him. The other man's rigid posture and low breathing told Boyd that Raylan wasn't actually sleeping anymore. How much of their conversation he had listened to in secret, he had no idea.

"Lets get some sleep," he told the teenager instead whose eyelids were drooping heavily.

"'m not tired," Zach slurred and Boyd had to laugh out loud. It would have startled Raylan had he truly been dreaming. Now he tensed a little but settled down again quickly. Boyd returned to the king bed after tucking Zach in when he stretched out under the covers. With another deep sigh, he climbed in next to his friend and switched the light off.

"Night, boy."

"Good night, dad."

Then, in a whisper, "Night, Raylan." He felt the other's silent assessment like an actual weight on his shoulders but didn't comment. Finally, the taller man turned over and snuggled up to Boyd, throwing one arm across his torso. If to cuddle or make sure he didn't run, was anyone's guess.

~o~

An annoying ringing coming from Raylan's phone on the nightstand woke them all up in the morning. Judging by the muffled groans and unhappy noises, neither of them was any kind of early riser. Add to that, the late night and longer day before, and the former marshal was lucky, Boyd didn't pull his gun.

Raylan shut the alarm down and got to his feet in sleep-rumpled clothes. He wasn't any more willing to rise than the others but nature called and he had a flight to catch with Zach. Bleary-eyed he padded toward the bathroom, reasonably sure Boyd would be up and about by the time he returned, and would have made his kid get out of bed as well.

After freshing up, they checked out and went for breakfast at the Waffle House across from the impressive 200-foot Ferris Wheel.

"I want the triple chocolate cake," Zach announced happily the moment he spotted the pie display opposite the entrance.

The two men exchanged a look. They knew the boy was testing them, specifically Boyd.

"You're getting eggs and hash browns." Boyd declared as they followed the waitress' gesture to a table in the corner. At the teenager's less than impressed face, he conceded magnanimously, "you can get ham too if you like."

"But I want cake," Zach pouted like only a thirteen year-old could, while shuffling into the booth to sit at the window. "You said I could have what I want."

Raylan ordered them coffee and a coke, with unholy amusement watching Boyd and Zach locked in a staring contest about which foods counted toward a healthy breakfast. As much as he loved Willa, it was refreshing to not be the one on the receiving end of teenager moods for a while.

Their beverages arrived and Anna, their young waitress, stood with her pen poised over her pad. Sullenly the boy stabbed his finger at the eggs and ham on the laminated menu, Boyd decided to go for waffles with a side of sausage and Raylan, after Boyd's pointed glare informed him coffee wasn't breakfast, took eggs and hash browns.

While they were waiting for their food, Zach played with his plastic cup grumpily. Then his blue eyes brightened like the summer sun and Raylan had to turn his head to the window for a second, because apart from the eye color, the kid looked so very much like Boyd in years gone by, it hurt.

"Can we go see the World of Coca Cola? Shawny, a girl at school, said you get free samples during the tour."

"Sorry, son. That ain't possible," Boyd said, although he seemed half-torn.

"But we're already here in Atlanta. I saw the tower from the bus; it can't be that far," he needled.

"This ain't vacation, kiddo." Raylan banked the child-like enthusiasm. "Gotta get you back home soon or your mom's gonna skin us."

Anne brought their plates and they tucked in, only noticing now how hungry they actually were. The food looked good and Boyd helped himself to a generous splash of maple syrup on the waffles. The boy noticed his father's sweet tooth of course and filed that information for later possible black-mailing.

"We could do Centennial Olympic Park real quick," Boyd negotiated with his son.

Zach considered the offer for half a minute, seeing his chance, then countered, "Fine, but I get a slice of triple chocolate cake for dessert."

Boyd rolled his eyes but nodded. "Done."

The two Crowders shook hands to seal the deal and Raylan hid his smile by stuffing a fork-full of eggs into his mouth.

~o~

Just when they were leaving the Waffle House, a weathered cop walked up to the entrance on his way in. Two blocks up the road, Boyd could see an assortment of other police cruisers and found himself doubting the wisdom of eating in a diner this close to a police station. Now there was nothing for it. Without batting an eye, Boyd held the door open for the officer.

"Thanks," the sturdy-looking cop said, nodding politely and stepping past him, mouth probably already watering at the smells drifting out from behind the counter.

"You have a good one, officer," Boyd replied, following Raylan and his son onto the sidewalk and toward the park across the street on their right.

Raylan was baffled at his friend's audacity. "You fixin' to head for Rice Street and it's southern hospitality?" he asked in utter disbelief.

"Not as such," Boyd replied with a wicked smirk. Fulton County Jail in downtown Atlanta rated even lower on his bucket list than going back to Tramble, truth be told. Never mind his welcome there, should it ever come to it, would be anything but warm after his spectacular escape.

"You're aware you're not only shovelin' your own grave here, right?"

"Raylan Givens, when have I ever led us into trouble?" He showed teeth in his most winning smile, then clarified after a glance at the teenager next to them, "On second thought, don't answer that."

Zach observed their interaction with undisguised interest. It looked uncannily like Boyd's calculating face with Ava's eyes. It was adorable.

"Are you always like this?"

Both men grinned ruefully and the kid cocked his head. "Thommy, a guy from my history class... his dad's gay, too. But you two are way cooler," he concluded.

"Oh, to receive the blessin' of the next generation." Boyd placed his hand over his heart dramatically, his expression affectionate. After all, he had the two most important people in the world with him right this moment. No-one could ever take that away from him.

The three of them entered Centennial Olympic Park and strolled towards the water fountains. The morning was warm and sunny. In spite of the early hour, there were already some small children running between the waterworks squealing with delight, their mothers standing close by and watching fondly. In a sudden sentimental mood, Boyd caught himself mourning his lost chances of watching Zach playing around, not a care in the world, at that age. All things Raylan likely got to do with his own daughter years ago. He stomped down on the bitterness rising inside him with effort. It wasn't Raylan's fault per se but damn, did he help! He guessed, part of him would always resent Raylan in some form for the life choices they both made along the way.

They strolled around the park for a good hour, savoring the greenery all around them and the still subdued burn of the sun in the morning. The heat was promising to be stifling by midday. Then Raylan got antsy, pointedly checking his watch repeatedly as if Zach and Boyd didn't get the hint the first time.

"Lets head back to the car 'fore Raylan here pulls a muscle in that arm of his," Boyd teased, attempting to cover his own disquiet with humor. Zach snorted but Raylan gave his friend a knowing look over the kid's head, letting him see he had his number.

"Family vacation's over, I'm afraid," the taller man affirmed, not entirely happy about it either. They had all enjoyed the time spent together.

"How about lunch first?" The teenager asked hopefully.

"You hungry, we can grab somethin' at the airport, kiddo."

Zach hung his head but nodded, suddenly more muted than before. "Mom's gonna be so mad." He obviously wasn't too keen to reap the questionable benefits of his running away like he did.

"Probably," Boyd agreed. "You just remember, she's all worked up 'cause she loves you."

"And the 'brilliant' idea was all yours." Raylan didn't actually need to make the air quotes for them to be understood.

"I know," Zach mumbled.

~o~

As they were weaving the car through the stuffy downtown traffic of Atlanta toward the airport, all three of them became increasingly grateful it wasn't rush hour.

"They gonna move it some time this century?!" Boyd complained short-tempered about the cars in front creeping past Peachtree Center.

The boy paid him no mind even though he had basically hung on his father's every word like it was gospel so far. He was busy pressing his nose to the window instead to see the enormous metal scorpion adorning the Hardrock Cafe's wall. Boyd in contrast had no eye for the scenery right this moment and Raylan left him be.

It took them longer than last night to get back to Hartsfield Jackson but Raylan finally found them a parking spot and killed the engine.

"Not to call your constitutional right of free will into question, Raylan but I do believe this is the drop-off zone," the dark-haired man pointed out with an unasked question marring his features.

Raylan chose not to comment and got out of the rental. The other two followed suit reluctantly. Before Boyd could say anything else, Raylan pressed the car keys into his hand and turned to Zach.

"Sadly your daddy can't come along. He's got to return the car."

Two pairs of eyes burned holes into the former marshal, all but incinerating him where he stood.

"You got to be kiddin' me." Boyd's growl sounded dangerous and there was the distinct threat of violence in his dark eyes. Raylan guessed it was only because of his son that the other didn't push him up against the car.

"Boyd," he warned, taking in Boyd's posture and balled fists, opening his stance to brace for attack.

"Dad?" The unmistakable insecurity in the teen's voice brought the two of them back to reality with a screech before things could get out of hand.

Boyd threw his head back and breathed deeply a couple of times, counting to ten… or maybe a hundred. He hunched his shoulders and loosened his hands, deliberately not looking at his friend.

"Then I'm not going," the boy declared stubbornly.

"Raylan's right, son. Much as it pains me to admit, certain unfortunate circumstances render accompanying you home an impossibility."

"But I just met you not twelve hours ago. I don't wanna leave you again," he protested.

Another deep breath for Zach's sake, then Boyd placed a placating hand on the teen's shoulder and said, "I don't wanna leave you, either but Ava's been waitin'. And I promise I ain't gone for good." The glare aimed at him dared Raylan to counter his words. To be fair though, the other wasn't going to; not in front of the kid.

Boyd led his son a few paces away from his friend and the rental. He leaned forward until they were eye to eye, handed him a slip of paper and whispered gravely, "Don't let anyone see... but you ever need anythin'– anythin' at all, you gimme a call. No matter what, you hear?"

Zach considered his father's serious face and knew to take him at his word. He nodded just as earnestly.

"Now, a wise man by the name of Arthur Ashe once said, 'From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life.' You be good for your mom. Ain't gonna give her no more trouble, boy."

"No, sir." The kid's voice trembled a little; he sounded choked up.

Then Boyd pulled his son into a tight embrace, which the teen returned desperately. Although Raylan was starting to get impatient with them, he refused to ruin their good-bye in a rare show of sentimentality. At long last, Boyd let go of Zach, ruffled his wild hair and pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head.

"Love you, son."

"Love you too, dad."

Raylan cleared his throat. "Lets get goin'." And to Boyd, "Don't you total the car, insurance'll only cover so much." He tried for a smile that was pitiful at best. "Be back soon as possible. I'll see you then, Boyd."

"Yeah," the other man sighed as he reached for the door handle. "See you then, Raylan."

He got into the driver's seat and watched them walk away. Refraining from starting the car immediately, he waited for his boy or Raylan – or both – to wave him good-bye at least. Zach turned around and lifted his hand right before he disappeared from view and Boyd turned the keys in the ignition with a heavy heart.

~o~

Arriving at LAX, Zach trudged after Raylan to the car rentals as if the gallows awaited him where he was going.

Raylan turned to him and said urgently, "You need anything, snacks, coke, bathroom break, you get it here. We're not stopping in Santa Clarita. I saw paper clippings of some weird shit going on there."

The teen's features scrunched up doubtfully. "I'm not scared. That's just rumors."

"Rumors or not, I'm drivin' and we ain't stoppin' around there."

Zach shrugged and kept walking. "We're home in an hour, right? I'm good."

Raylan adjusted his hat and approached the well-dressed man at the rental counter.

Their drive up to Lebec went without a hitch until they passed a road sign announcing 5 miles to Santa Clarita. Beneath the name of the city someone had painted a clear "Help Them!" in red lettering that wasn't dissimilar to blood.

Zach took a breath but Raylan interrupted him. "Not stoppin' here!"

~o~

Raylan arrived back at the marina in the early hours just before the crack of dawn. After his four and a half hour flight from LA to Orlando and another good three hours of driving here to Fish Creek, he was dead on his feet. At this point, he'd been up for almost 24 hours and grateful for what little nap time he had been able to squeeze in on the plane. His younger self wouldn't have batted an eye at the all-nighter but by now he had no doubt he was getting too old for that shit.

He climbed aboard silently, careful not to wake Boyd. The reflection of the moonlight on the water provided barely enough light for him to see by as he trudged wearily toward the cabin. Raylan yawned heartily when he entered and closed the door behind him with a soft click. Kicking his boots off while padding almost blind to the sleeping area, he was glad Boyd hadn't so much as stirred. He felt too tired to undress further; his clothes were already rumpled beyond recognition anyway.

When he came up to the bed, he found it undisturbed and cold though. A quick look around confirmed the yacht was empty. He dropped to the mattress like a lead weight and buried his head in his hands.

The End

→ 4.404 words

A/N: unbeta'd. We die like Boyd and Raylan's Happily Ever After

A/N 2: Fulton County Jail (downtown Atlanta) is also referred to as 'Rice Street'

A/N 3: Boyd's words "From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life." are quoted from Arthur Ashe

A/N 4: Cheers for everyone who recognized the super-sneaky mini-crossover with Timothy Olyphant's show "Santa Clarita Diet" – I couldn't resist.

Part 6 of Waterlogged