merp.

Or, Boyd starts throwing dynamite during 6x13, but his aim is a bit better and Tim's life is changed in an instant.

"Tim, I'm sorry." Rachel breathes before she adds, "I shouldn't have --" "We were all chasing after Boyd, Rachel." Tim sighs. "It's not like you pulled me ontop of the dynamite." "No, but you pushed me out of the way." "And if I hadn't you'd be dead." Tim lets out a frustrated sigh and Rachel feels her eyes welling up. "Am I okay with the fact that I woke up five days ago without a leg? No, Rachel. I'm not okay with that, but I would've made the choice to push you knowing this was a possibility." His eyes soften a bit. "And I'd do it again, okay?" He lifts his hand and nods for her to take it. "Because you're an idiot." She breathes and takes his hand before she wipes at her eyes. "Well, yeah." He smiles.

His hands are shaking so much that he can't properly grip the lighter, let alone get his fingers to complete the complicated action of actually flicking it to produce the flame. He curses -- it comes out airy and shaky -- as a water droplet rolls down his forehead from the hair matted to his forehead with mud. He focuses on the sound of the rain and not on the muffled shouting of the paramedics working diligently on the victim. He tries the lighter again and drops it. "I got it." Raylan's voice comes out as a grunt as he bends down in front of the Town Car's open passenger door to retrieve it. "Let me." He flicks the flint easily, producing a flame on the first try. Tim doesn't say anything as Raylan lights the cigarette that's hanging loosely in his lips, but once he's greeted by the sweet and sickly taste, he inhales it immediately, letting the smoke sit in his throat before he breathes it deeper into his lungs and out in a shaky exhale. "That was stupid," Raylan says, leaning against the frame of the car before he reaches out to fix the wool blanket that had been draped over Tim's shoulders, "you oughta let the medics look you over." "I'm fine," Tim says in a voice that definitely doesn't convey he's anywhere close to fine, "the kid?" "Think they've done all they can. Looks like they're gearing up to head to the hospital." Raylan's looking in the direction of the ambulance. Tim blows out another shaky exhale in response. His whole body won't stop shaking. "Can't say I'd reccomend jumping nearly 12 feet from a bridge into a river in January, Tim." "Noted." Tim snorts and coughs up a some river water onto his boots. "We should get you out of those wet clothes before you catch hypothermia or whatever." "Mm." Tim tosses the half finished cigarette into the damp earth beneath his feet and sniffs. They'd been in the area when the Amber Alert went out that some asshole decided to kidnap his 8 year old son and they encountered the shitty pick up truck that held both the asshole and the kid. They pursued until the truck barrelled into the bridge barrier and crashed hood first into the river. Tim didn't hesitate to jump in after it despite the height and the cold. The water was murky -- almost black -- and it took Tim a little too long to locate the boy and free him from the wreckage. Raylan knew the kid was gone the moment Tim stumbled to the river's edge with the limp boy in his arms, but he helped Tim with CPR until the medics arrived. "I'm gonna take you home." Raylan decides and Tim just blinks away another muddy water droplet from his eye.

"Mm." Tim nods and lets out a shaky sigh. "When's your flight?"  "I cancelled it." Raylan watches as Tim's eyes slide closed again. The pull of the drugs in his system is strong, but he seems determined to remain conscious and have this conversation.  "Why?" It comes out breathy and he keeps his eyes closed.  "Wh--because you're in the hospital." Raylan furrows his brow at the ridiculousness of Tim's question. "Because you...you nearly died, Tim." 

"Hey." He says quietly and he knows Tim isn't going to respond, but the silence that follows feels like a punch to his gut. "Got your bell rung pretty badly this time, huh?" He says with a deep swallow and Tim doesn't respond. He doesn't show any indication that he can hear Raylan at all. Raylan looks back at the leg suspended in the sling and he clenches his jaw when he feels tears stinging his eyes. "Christ, how'd this happen?"

Raylan rolls over in the bed and notices immediately that something is different. The light is filtering through the blinds, which tells him without looking at the clock that it's after 7am, and the bed isn't empty. Tim's laying there to his right, face pressed against the pillow, sleeping soundly with deep, even breaths. So, he's alive. Raylan slowly pushes himself up on his elbow and leans over Tim, getting a glimpse of the left side his face. His nose is red and his cheek looks flushed, despite clearly not going for his morning run. His hair almost looks....damp? Raylan's fingers reach out and before they even reach the curls over Tim's ear, he can feel a heat radiating from him. A fever. He thinks back to the night before, when Tim kept clearing his throat while they were trying to watch some sci-fi movie Raylan didn't understand. It's a weird thing his mouth does, curling into a smile at the thought Tim Gutterson, Ranger Sniper knocked down by the common cold. But Tim always wakes up first, so this is practically like witnessing Halley's Comet during an eclipse, and Raylan relishes in the thought that he gets to take care of Tim for once. "Y'keep staring at me, m'gonna punch you." Tim's words come out mumbled and hoarse and Raylan lets his fingers comb into Tim's damp curls. "Sorry, you want some tea or something?" He offers and Tim shakes his head without opening his eyes. "Tylenol and water, then." "Breakfast of champions." Tim breathes before a dry cough escapes his lips. Raylan frowns, but a warmth spreads across his chest. "Guess we're spending the day in bed?" He asks as he swings his legs over the edge. "Mm." Tim sniffs and seemingly nuzzles his face deeper into the pillow as Raylan gets himself upwards. He lingers a bit, his mind taking in how relaxed Tim appears, how the filtered sunlight seems to highlight every perfect feature the man has. Tim sneezes suddenly reminding Raylan that this perfect moment is framed by the fact that Tim's sick. Tylenol, water, and tissues coming right up.

"Do you remember his first day?" Rachel looks to Art with her question. They're all sitting around the coffee table with the bottle of bourbon in the middle, there to refill their glasses as they finish them. "I remember how nervous you were to be taking on a rookie." Art smirks before he adds, "Especially since his Glynco scores were off the charts." "When you told me I was getting an ex-Ranger, I expected a 200 pound alpha male to walk through those doors." Rachel breathes. "Definitely wasn't expecting Tim."