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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Raylan entered the office expecting to see the usual crew.  Instead officers from the overnight shift sat at Rachel and Tim’s desk.  Even Art’s office was Art-less. 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“It’s Rachel’s birthday.”  Answered the officer at Tim’s desk.

 

Raylan threw his hat on the 3-in-one behind him, puzzlement on his face.

 

He strode over to the area containing the unit’s mailboxes.  Nothing.  At his desk he turned on his computer and opened his email.  No messages with an invitation to a birthday party.  No messages from the three at all.   He stared at the screen, seeking his balance.  He had plenty to keep him busy until the end of the day but the idea that they’d left him out hurt.  He pulled up the latest monthly newsletter, looking for the “Let’s Wish Them a Happy Birthday” section.  “Rachel’s birth month is December?”

 

“Yep.”  One of the officers replied.

 

“How long has this group dissertation been happening?”  Raylan tried to sound just interested and not needy.

 

“Three years or so, after Brooks was injured in an escape attempt.  Since then your partners celebrate her recovery in some weird of way.”

 

Four hours passed with Raylan sitting at his desk his filling-in the O’s and zeros on various correspondence and forms, the current one an email from HR for department support of the upcoming blood drive.  His mind stuck on why his partners had not invited him to the gathering.  Maybe Art was still pissed about the missing money or Rachel... he thought he and Officer Brooks had worked out their territorial boundary thing and Tim.  Well they understood each other just fine, or so he thought.   The idea of being left out continued to grate on him until he grabbed his hat.

 

“If anyone asks I’m…out.”  He said to anyone within hearing.  In his car he pulled his radio from its holder.  “Givens to dispatcher.”

 

“Dispatcher.”

 

“What is Officer Mullen’s whereabouts?”

 

A chuckle sounded back at his.  “I was instructed to say, “first he’s surprised at your restraint and two, Rachel says bring more ice.”  

 

Raylan checked-in at the Silverleaf office, greeting the personnel inside.

 

“Joining Art and the others?”  Asked the man handing him a clipboard and pen.

 

“Yes.”

 

“They’re on Range 6.”  Raylan slid the clipboard back and pick up the goggles and ear muffs waiting for him.

 

He walked through the building to the back and out onto the bright sunshine.  His eyes quickly adjusted and he spotted Art first, sitting in a lounger with a cooler at his side.   Several paces beyond him stood Rachel and Tim in gunfighter stance, hands resting near their holstered firearms.  He moved slowly forward not wanting to disturb their concentration.  He heard Art shout, "draw," and watched as both drew and fired at the target at the end of the field. 

 

Art lifted a pair of binoculars and started at the targets.  “Tim dead center.  Rachel couple of inches off center.”

 

Rachel took off her goggles.  “You need to clean those things,” she pronounced as she strolled to the targets.  She replaced the used ones with new paper.  By the time she had returned Raylan was pulling a bottle of water and a sandwich from the cooler.

 

“Raylan’s feeling left out.”  Art said.

 

“Happy birthday,” he tipped the head of the bottle in his hand in Rachel’s direction. 

 

“Low man on Totem pole loads the targets.”  She called over her shoulder as she settled in front of her blocks.

 

Raylan looked from one to the other.  “Low man, huh?”

 

Tim stopped loading his gun to look at Raylan.  “Yep, Rachel’s call all day to day.”

 

Raylan looked at Art.  

 

“I’m only allowed to hand out sandwiches and bottle water.” 

 

“He’s working on his tan.”  Rachel added.

 

Raylan pulled a cinder block next to Art’s position.  “No invite.”  His voice rose slightly.

 

Art turned his face in the direction of Raylan’s voice, his famous raised eyebrow working even with his eyes close.  “Word of mouth only.  Guess you would take care of personal business that day.”

 

“Art cover up.”  Rachel called.  Art put his ear muffs back in place.

 

Whatever Raylan was going to say was drowned out by Tim and Rachel’s shooting.  After the echo died away, both turned to Raylan.  He rose slowly as if making up his mind.   Pulling his hat low he walked past them toward the targets.

 

Rachel and Tim looked over at Art, who winked in their direction.

 

 

 










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