Raylan stopped the sedan in the shadows of the stand of trees two blocks up the street from the department’s offices.  He leaned his seat back and waited.  Rachel had told him not to wait but she couldn’t control what he did outside on his own time.   Minutes ticked by slowly and he was tempted to go back inside to make sure she was okay.

He didn’t jump at the tapping on the passenger side window but his hand clutched the butt of his gun.   His fingers relaxed at the Marshall’s badge placed against the window.  Through the open window he heard her voice then saw her face.

“Waiting for someone in particular?”  Rachel asked.

He shrugged.

“So,” Rachel paused for effect.  “According to the Raylan Givens Fan Club you have a big heart.  According to me you have a lack of respect for boundaries.  So let me say this again.  Don’t.”

Raylan watched her walk away disappearing as quietly as she’d arrived.

Raylan fumed all the time he followed her.   Lack of respect, hell, all he was trying to do was support a partner.  He slowed down at the light his eye on her car pulling into a parking lot.     There were no signs or markers to indicate what the building held, just a crowed parking lot.   Club, bar, church, he thought to himself. 

Inside he stood with his back against a wall of the corridor leading to a large room filled with tables, chairs and a stage.  The rich tones of the night’s featured vocalist filled the space around him.  Memories of late Miami nights and warm companions filled his mind for a moment until his eyes found Rachel sitting at a table far from the door with her back to the wall.  On the table in front of her was a platter piled high and two large mugs of cold liquid.  She never glanced in his direction but her sliding a glass to an empty space signaled her permission for him to sit down.

Butt in chair, hat in the empty chair between them Raylan eyeballed the food on the platter.  A smoky mixture of fried potatoes and whole okra spears strips of chicken and beef wrapped around cubes of Pepperjack cheese and cups of dipping sauce.

He looked at the empty saucer in front of her.

“I thought I was hungry.”

“Anyone else joining us, platter’s big enough to feed almost everyone at the station.”

“No.  Just you and I since you won’t leave me alone.”   Raylan watched her swallow the beer and noticed the shot glass sliding along the bottom of the mug. The boiling liquid disappeared rapidly.

“That’s a raw mixture on an empty stomach?”

“Raylan I didn’t let you sit at my table to play Momma.  I have one.”

“I understand the sentiment so think of me as a friend.   Friends don’t let friends drive drunk or …” he paused for effect, “grieve alone.”

“So,” Rachel laid her cheek on top of her hands holding onto the top of her mug, “you’ve been following me around to hold my hand, pat me on the head, and whisper in my ear that the sun will come out tomorrow.”

At the look on Raylan’s face Rachel couldn’t continue, instead she worked on not smiling.

“Too much?”  She was finally able to ask.

“A bit.”  Raylan said rolling his shoulders. 

“Okay, I’ll play nice.”

For the next few hours Raylan ate while watching Rachel bathe her wounds in music and alcohol.   The clapping died away among the scrapping of chairs on the wood floor and the slowly brightening lights.  Raylan reached for his wallet.

“Already paid for.”   Rachel said, pushing away her empty mug.  She stood with both hands flat on the table her body slightly bent placing her further into Raylan’s personal space.

“I’m going home alone.”

“Okay,” Raylan drawled.  “You don’t need to...”

“Raylan, I think you’re a man that needs to take care of someone: Ava, Winona, Boyd, Loretta.”  She took several steps away from him and the table.  “I don’t need a caretaker.”

“We’re talking friends here.”  Raylan was now standing, hat brim rolled up in his hand.

“Friend is good as long as you understand the boundaries.”

Raylan nodded, put on his hat and placed his hand on her elbow.  “Deal.”