Justified 2x13 continuation

Raylan stared at Mags Bennet. He frowned, he felt a deep sorrow at the death of this woman. Criminal, family enemy…murderer. But still he held a deep respect for her. She had grown up in Harlan. Married in Harlan, widowed in Harlan.

Survived in Harlan.

Not an easy thing for a woman to do, and Mags had done it. Created an empire for her and her family. An empire that had come to an end, on one Thursday afternoon.

It was the end of an era.

Art watched his agents control the scene. Doyle Bennet lay where he had fallen. A well placed shot from Marshall Tim Gutterson saving Raylan's life without a doubt.

Art tried not to think of what the outcome would have been if his nagging conscience hadn't made him listen to Winona.

He heard a scuffle and watched Dickie Bennet struggling in the arms of two of his Marshalls.

He strode over

"Mr Bennet…we have you on murder, attempted murder, assault, brandishing a firearm, possession of narcotics with intent to distribute… I think its in your best interest *not* to add resisting arrest to that list."

Dickie opened his mouth, but Art cut him off

"I wont warn you again."

Dickie fell silent, and allowed himself to be manhandled into the back of the cruiser. Art turned to one of the Marshalls.

"Take him back and process him, I'll be back shortly."

The man nodded and got in the car. Art sighed, he looked at the scene. It looked like the OK Corral. Doyle's men were being loaded into cruisers, The coroner had just arrived and was making his way to Doyle's body. He turned away, looking for the one man he wanted to speak to.


Raylan sat staring at the body, deep in thought. The liquor had left him feeling light-headed. Or maybe that was the blood loss, he wondered idly, feeling warm blood soak into the waistband of him jeans.

He hurt.

His ankle burned from the rope Dickie had hung him with. His sides and elbows were tender from the blows with the bat, and his side was a burning mass of agony from where the bullet had tore through his body.

Art saw Tim and Rachel with a young girl Art assumed to be Loretta McCready, but no Raylan.


Tim looked up startled


"Where's Raylan?"

Tim nodded towards the house.

"Still inside, with Mrs Bennet."

Art felt a small tug of alarm. Raylan had been inside for getting on 10 minutes, and had made no move to come out. Art felt a little better when he realised that there had been no more gunfire - but knowing Raylan that didn't mean he wasn't in trouble.

He moved towards the house, the front door was open and he walked in cautiously, gun drawn but not raised.

"Raylan?" He called. No answer

"Raylan? Mrs Bennet?" Art felt a chill as there was still no answer, he moved further into the house, and saw Raylan sitting at a table. He glanced at Mags Bennet and saw that she was dead.

"Raylan?" He asked again, no answer. He holstered his gun and strode over to his Marshall, his heart pounding in fear. He placed a hand on his shoulder, "Raylan!" He felt a shred of relief as he stirred under his hand but didn't wake.

"Tim! Get a medic in here!" He called, worry creeping into his voice. He knew, he *knew* he shouldn't have let Raylan go in that house. He also knew that with one look in his eyes there was no way he would be able to stop him.

"Art?" Raylan spoke softly

"Raylan…how are you feeling?" Art asked, worry in his voice

"Been better…" he said softly, his eyes starting to close again.

Art reached out and slapped him across the face - hard. Raylans eyes opened quickly, clearer this time.

"Don't you dare pass out on me Raylan Givens…at my age my heart cant cope with this kind of stress!"

Raylan managed a ghost of a smile

"Do my best, Art…" He grimaced as pain shot through him. He was tired. It had been a damn long few days, and he was tired of fighting his one man war. Of trying to make sense of his life… "Where's Loretta?" he asked, looking around.

"She's outside with Rachel, she's a little upset…" Raylan nodded

"She'll be ok now. Its over…she can start again. Get out of here and forget this place…start again…" Raylan tailed off softly and Art remembered their conversation earlier that morning.

"Do you still want to leave Raylan? Youre gonna have some sick time coming…"

Raylan shook his head

"I don't know…Art…I don't feel right…" He whispered

Art blanched, fear creeping in his gut.

"Raylan, Im going to move you, ok?"

Raylan nodded softly, his chin falling on his chest.

Art stood, and grasped Raylans chair, pulling it slowly away from the table. He swallowed thickly when he saw the blood dripping onto the floor.

"Raylan, help me out here. Im just gonna lie you on the floor. A medic is gonna be here any second ok?" Raylan nodded

"Ready?" Art grasped Raylan under his shoulders and eased his up out of the chair, he couldn't refrain from grunting sharply in pain as Art eased him to the ground.

"Shit!" He gasped. Art had grabbed a towel and was pressing it tightly to the wound. He panted in agony.

"Sorry…Tim! Where's that medic?"

Tim entered the house, he looked at Raylan…

"Five minutes Art…on their way…" Art squeezed Raylans shoulder reassuringly.

"Hear that Raylan. Five minutes and then you get the good drugs."

Raylan tried to smile, but a shudder ran through his body making him grimace.

"Tim, find a blanket - hes going into shock. Hes lost a lot of blood."