angriestman | (no subject)

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andrea

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He's banged up - nothing really serious, a graze from a bullet on his forehead, a shallow slash across his ribs. He's limping slightly. But he's angry, now - he's burning and that's enough to keep him going.

He catches sight of her through the trees and breaks into a loose jog.

"Hey, Andrea!" he calls.

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"I don't know," he says and, for the first time in years, he actually feels sort of lost. Dimly, he misses Tim Gutterson - having a shot like that at this back wouldn't hurt right now.

"Rachel and Jess are safe, so he won't go after them."

"Who else is important to you?" Andrea asks. There's Danny, but she suspects he's safe, too, still in the clinic as far as she knows, still under the watch of doctors and, hopefully, Steve. "If he went after Rachel, that's what he wants. To go after the people who matter."

Maybe she's reaching, maybe she doesn't completely understand what's happening, but it makes sense to her this way.

"Danny's in the clinic and Steve can look after himself," says Raylan, grimly. "And you're right here." Something moves in the tree-line.

Raylan closes his eyes and waits.

At the movement, Andrea turns, crossbow raised, trying to track where it's coming from. It could be an animal for all she knows, but she isn't sure and she doesn't want to let her guard down, not even for a second.

She still doesn't know what she'll do if something wearing Raylan's face comes through those trees.

There's a part of Raylan that knows how it would have turned out if he'd never made it out of Harlan; if he'd stayed down the mines until his nails were so black that he'd never get them clean. Until he breathed coal dust.

And it would look a lot like what steps out of the trees. It's him, but worn thinner, worn harder, shot through with steel not silver, gun in one hand, pick-axe in the other.

"Well, hello, darlin'," he says, eyes only for Andrea.

"Hiya, sweetheart," she answers, following him with the crossbow as he comes out of the trees. Her voice is steady, but seeing Raylan steps out toward them is unsettling in ways she doesn't know she'll ever be able to explain. He looks different, but not enough and she knows she's supposed to just shoot him, but she doesn't now if he can.

Briefly, she glances at Raylan -- her Raylan -- looking for some kind of idea as to what she's supposed to do.

It was one thing to shoot Arlo, another to watch Mags Bennet die but quite another to be faced with himself, long-legged and vicious, full to the brim with malice. He watches him, glances at Andrea and doesn't have the first idea what to say.

"Don't," he says, looking himself in the eye. "Don't you dare."

Andrea steps back, closer to Raylan, making sure to keep him near. She still has the crossbow up, but she doesn't know if she can bring herself to pull the trigger. What she wants is some kind of permission. It doesn't matter which of them it comes from, she thinks. An aggressive move toward either of them will be permission enough.

But she wants Raylan to tell her it's okay.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks.

Raylan's got his gun up and he ignores the fact that his hand is shaking. He doesn't take his eyes off his own face and he can't help picturing what happened to Rachel, how scared she must have been and how much she must hate him now.

He doesn't look at Andrea.

"Do it."

It seems like enough permission for the both of them. The Raylan across the clearing takes a step toward them, but that's as far as he gets. Andrea's gaze shifts back to him and she squeezes the trigger on her crossbow and she wonders, somewhere, if Zhuge disapproves of what she's using his beautiful weapon for, but it can't matter now.

The bolt hits him in the throat before he has the chance to take another step.

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