#raylan whump

[deemurph007]

Chapter 4: Evade

"M'okay." Tim sighs. "Just feelin' pretty tired. Tell me somethin' to keep me awake." Raylan thinks Tim probably means for him to tell him a story of him working Miami, or maybe even a childhood tale. "Winona's pregnant." Raylan blurts out because he hasn't told anyone and he hasn't had a minute to even process the information fully. He's known for a few weeks, but his and Winona's relationship had become incredibly strained, especially since he took that bullet during the whole fiasco with the Bennetts. "I meant like, a joke or something." Tim snorts dryly before he adds, "Congrats?"

[deemurph007]

i'm sick again, so that means tim suffers, too. A lil excerpt from a wip where he and Raylan get exposed to pneumoic plague and have to endure a 72 hour quarantine and tim starts to develop symptoms. (It's definitely not perfect plague procedure because I'm pretty sure they could actually isolate at home with the perscribed meds, but...this is more fun)

Raylan really notices it the third time Tim clears his throat while they each lay on their respective beds in their sealed isolation rooms. They've been in quarantine for nearly six hours at this point and they've been passing the time in relative quiet with Tim opting to read one of the shitty books they've been left with while Raylan's basically been staring at the ceiling trying not to think about how the pneumonic plague once had a near 100% mortality rate during the Black Death and how he really wished he hadn't paid attention in History class. When Tim clears his throat for a fourth time, Raylan speaks up. "You thirsty or something?" He asks it casually but he's fairly certain if they had the heart monitor on him, it'd show an increase in his rhythm because their fugitive had coughed up blood and mucus into Tim's face and the words Black Death just kept rattling around Raylan's head despite the fact that modern medicine is more than capable of treating this. "Just a scratch in my throat, Raylan." Tim tosses his book down on the table next to his bed before he adds, "you heard 'em: the likelihood of us developing severe symptoms is low since they got us hooked up to this shit." He waves his right hand with the IV tube protruding from it as emphasis. His voice is a bit muffled because the speaker that allows them to speak to each other isn't great, but he still sounds like Tim, so Raylan lets out a small sigh of relief. "Maybe we should try to get some sleep." He suggests because it's nearly midnight. "Yeah, probably not a bad idea." Tim sighs and he fixes his pillow before he lays down. Whoever's monitoring them must be paying attention because the lights above their rooms dim suddenly as Raylan slides down to his pillow and closes his eyes. Two hours later, Raylan wakes up to Tim coughing.

[deemurph007]

Just some (more) ideas. Some of these are partially written, some just live in my head until I can't think of them anymore and type them haphazardly into a note on my phone. Tim whump galore!

Here's the more established ideas:

When Tim was in the Army, there had been a girl he'd hook up with when he got stateside, mainly because she'd let him stay with her rent-free, and hooking up with a beautiful woman was apparently what you're supposed to do as a Ranger. Then he goes and gets himself blown up by an IED. Fastforward four years and a buttload of trauma later, Tim gets a phone call from CYFS in Tennessee claiming Abigail has died and he's the father of a four year old named Beth.

Raylan and Tim are in the middle of collecting a fugitive when a hazmat team shows up suddenly and they're pulled away from the scene by people dressed head-to-toe in protective gear, thrown into makeshift showers, and whisked off to the hospital where they have to endure a 72 hour quarantine together after they're exposed to pneumonic plague.

Tim's abducted (probably by Walker, Seabass and ChooChoo) and buried in a pine box beneath several feet of dirt as a means to send Raylan a message. He has his cell phone, but the reception is spotty. The marshals race to try to find him before his oxygen runs out. Hallucinations, possible brain damage, all that fun stuff.

Complete AU where Raylan comes to Kentucky to be part of a task force of gifted deputies. He's been compared to Sherlock Holmes his whole life -- he can read a person in four seconds and know more about their life than they do. He's paired with Rachel, a human lie detector, and Tim, an empath with an unusual ability to see a dead person's final moments through touch.

Tim gets a phone call and learns that his older brother has died. He has to go back to Indiana to deal with it. Painful memories mix with a painful present and Raylan tags along because Tim isn't able to say no to him.

And then there's the various scenarios floating around in my headspace that haven't figured themselves out yet -- Tim gets attacked during a WitSec posting;Tim has to go undercover and things go badly; A sniper is taking shots at LEOs at fake crime scenes and Tim tries to snuff him out.

[deemurph007]

final chapter of Evade

summary:

Nobody's having a panic attack or flashing back. Neither of them are fighting for their lives. But Raylan leans in and presses his lips against Tim's. It's gentle and inquisitive at first before Raylan's hand finds Tim's hair and he wants to deepen the kiss because he realizes he's been wanting to do this since before their ordeal in the woods. But before he can, Tim sucks in a breath and pulls back with a curse. 

And that's a wrap on Evade! Had a blast writing it!

Upcoming projects:

After: a follow up to "Episodes" that dives deeper into Tim's grief after losing Tyler.

Changes (title will likely be something different): a multi-chapter fic that explores what might have happened if Tim had been a bit closer to one of those sticks of exploding dynamite in 6x13.

[deemurph007]

several sentences sunday

couple more ideas floating around in this head of mine.

This isn't me anymore Aka: the abducted and tortured and left with a life altering TBI + full amnesia fic. Why do I keep derailing Tim's life? *cuz it's fun*

Three days. That's how long it takes to find him, and when they do, it's not good. The cellar they find him in is cold -- cold enough that Raylan can see the moment his breath halts as he reaches the bottom of the steps and his eyes fall on Tim's limp form hanging by his wrists from a pair of handcuffs that have dug deeply into the skin. "Tim? Jesus, Tim?" Raylan's inital shock is quickly replaced with concern because Tim isn't moving, might not even be breathing. There's blood -- a lot of it -- covering his bare arms and legs that seems to drip off his bare toes that hover just above the concrete floor, creating small puddle beneath him. His white undershirt is soaked and stained, both with blood and dirt, and his black boxers hang low on his hips, revealing bruising that disappears under the hem of his shirt. Tim doesn't move or make a sound as Raylan reaches him. His chin remains tucked against his left collar bone, but now Raylan can see a startling gash that stretches from his left eyebrow to his hairline that's blocked by the hair that is matted to his forehead. The blood from it cakes the left side of his face has soaked into the front of his t-shirt. The skin surrounding it is a deep shade a purple and it's swollen, but also, sunken. It's a significant headwound. Maybe a fracture. Raylan reaches a shaky hand to press his fingers against Tim's bruised neck. His skin is cold -- too cold -- and damp, but beneath his finger tips, he feels the slightest flutter of a pulse. He's alive. Somehow.

The Past is Present Aka: a different amnesia fic of sorts.

Raylan can't get over the fact that Tim is even alive, let alone awake enough to answer questions. When JJ Higgins slammed the butt of his shotgun into the side of Tim's head, Raylan could have sworn he heard Tim's head crack open. His bullet found Higgins seconds later, but not before Tim was sprawled face down on the tiled kitchen floor of the shitty trailer with a bump over his ear that compared to the size a baseball. He hadn't woken up by the time the ambulance arrived or during the drive, but after an hour at the hospital, the doctor had found Raylan to bring him back to see Tim because had apparently woken up pretty confused. Art's still a couple of hours away, so now Raylan is observing while the doctor goes through standard questions with Tim for the second time. He's got some bruising around his right temple, and the swelling over his ear doesn't appear to have gone down any. But he's awake. "Tell me your name again." The doctor instructs and Tim's eyes are squinting and they flick to Raylan before he responds. "Tim Gutterson." "Good. And do you recognize this man?" Raylan's eyebrows raise when Tim shakes his head slowly, wincing as he does. The doctor gives Raylan a nod -- he wasn't expecting Tim to remember him.

"He looks like a cop." Tim says and he winces sharply before his hand gingerly hovers over the bump on his head. "M'head hurts." "Okay, that's okay. Tim, I want you to really think about this next question: do you know where you are?" Tim appears to think about it before he gives a slight shrug with his right shoulder. "The hospital," He answers and then adds, "in Indianapolis?" Raylan opens his mouth to correct him, but the doctor raises his hand, stopping him. "And, Tim, just one more question: how old are you?" Tim's brow furrows a bit and his eyes blink tiredly. "16."

Quarantine Aka: Raylan and Tim get exposed to the Pneumonic Plague because why not?

Things happen quickly after that. Raylan loses sight of Tim as they're pulled forward towards the makeshift showers that hadn't been there a few minutes ago and then people in those hazmat suits are pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing at the fly of his jeans. They're not gentle and they're not concerned about privacy. He's shoved forward and met with a sharp blast of cold water that takes his breath away just as the same happens to Tim on his right. He steals a look at the younger deputy and his eyes land on the speckles of blood and spittle under Tim's right eye from where Spencer Wilson coughed directly into Tim's face just a few minutes before the hazmat team showed up. Tim gives him a look just before the water sprays his face, washing the blood and spittle away. Raylan has a split second to pull in a breath before the hose is turned on his face. The muffled voices of the hazmat team instruct them to change into the scrubs provided and they're fitted with K95 masks before they're loaded into the back of an ambulance, their hair still dripping.

[deemurph007]

Since mother nature decided to give me another snow day (it is MARCH 24. STOP IT) here's another snippet of an idea coming together.

First preview can be found HERE

Tim comes to when vomit bubbles up his throat and he rolls to expel it. His hands press against dusty wooden boards as his stomach revolts, spilling his breakfast onto the floor beneath him. His head is pounding and he's cold. When his stomach empties, he sits back on his behind and takes a few deep breaths before he wrenches his eyes open. He's in a small windowless room and it's dark and damp. He looks down at himself and realizes why he's cold. He's only wearing his black boxers and the white t-shirt he wears under his henleys. His pants, boots, socks, and henley are missing. So are his gun, badge, and handcuffs.

[deemurph007]

justified fic - chapter 8: Evade

summary:

"They find us?" Raylan whispers into the ground. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Tim slips an arrow out of its holder and draws back the bow. It doesn't shock Raylan in the slightest that Tim knows how to use a goddamn bow and arrow, but watching him slowly scan the woods while keeping the bow drawn despite his injuries is truly impressive. Raylan jumps a bit as Tim lets the arrow fly. 

[deemurph007]

justified fic chapter 7: Evade

Chapter Summary:

"No," Tim sighs, "I'm sorry. I'm feeling..." He twirls his wrist next to his head, struggling to find the words. "I'm having trouble staying in the present." He admits and he expects Raylan to give him the look -- pity mixed with uncertainty-- but Raylan's looking at him with complete trust. It does nothing to ease the panic in his chest. "What do you need?" Raylan asks softly and Tim lets out a humorless chuckle. "A bottle of bourbon."