It had been three months since Raylan had woke back up in Harlan, in his shitty motel room that smelled of boot and faintly of Jim beam and gun oil - You know how sad that sounds, that room, someone had said to him at it's description. He had not been at all well, and it had taken 3 weeks before he started to realign. The nightmares ebbed off, the affects of drinking too much moonshine on a regular basis eased, letting him maintain the weight that he had lost in Mathis and magically regained when waking up here.
Physically, he was fine. No scars on his face and body, despite the fact that his fingers felt the ghosts of them when he touched his face, but mentally, Raylan was broken. Even after 3 weeks, he was still a little shaky. Art had sensed Something was Wrong when Raylan threatened to leave if he couldn't have his own leave but so far, no one else in the office had dared asked him what the hell had happened.
Another 3 weeks passed before Raylan appeared in the office like he had never left, tucking everything under the hood, in spite of the emptiness that had settled in him. He was back in reality; he knew who he was and he could sort out there from here. He had his guns. And he was all alone again. Tim remembered nothing, staring at him with that narrowed eyed suspicion as Raylan had danced around his questions, his hints and his searches for Malcolm had been all in vain. So it was back to work. Another pyre of things he couldn't resolve and couldn't talk about.
Same place he'd been in when he'd left but worse. It was all so much worse.
Another extra month hadn't made it much better but Raylan was working on it, night after night, drink after drink.
Today was a Tuesday. He'd looked on his calender not five minutes before the doors to the office opened violently and the file in his hand slowly lowered to his desk as Athena charged over and stood before him like she was just there. Like she wasn't some hallucination.
But this was The Office. Raylan glanced around, at Rachel and Tim before standing up. "Athena."
There was no hesitation in pushing up from and moving around his desk, one hand settling on the outside of her shoulder as he guided her into the conference room across from his desk with a soft "Come with me."
Once inside the room, Raylan shut the door and pulled the blinds, like he was worried she wouldn't be there when he turned around from his task. But there was no use in waiting, in torturing himself with the what ifs and Raylan turned.
"Please tell me I'm not havin' some kinda flash back hallucination." It was a roll of the dice, if she understood what that meant or if he just made himself to look like the weirdest fucking adult in the office. But he had to know, right out of the gate. Did she remember him or did he have to compartmentalize?
smudge smudge
Physically, he was fine. No scars on his face and body, despite the fact that his fingers felt the ghosts of them when he touched his face, but mentally, Raylan was broken. Even after 3 weeks, he was still a little shaky. Art had sensed Something was Wrong when Raylan threatened to leave if he couldn't have his own leave but so far, no one else in the office had dared asked him what the hell had happened.
Another 3 weeks passed before Raylan appeared in the office like he had never left, tucking everything under the hood, in spite of the emptiness that had settled in him. He was back in reality; he knew who he was and he could sort out there from here. He had his guns. And he was all alone again. Tim remembered nothing, staring at him with that narrowed eyed suspicion as Raylan had danced around his questions, his hints and his searches for Malcolm had been all in vain. So it was back to work. Another pyre of things he couldn't resolve and couldn't talk about.
Same place he'd been in when he'd left but worse. It was all so much worse.
Another extra month hadn't made it much better but Raylan was working on it, night after night, drink after drink.
Today was a Tuesday. He'd looked on his calender not five minutes before the doors to the office opened violently and the file in his hand slowly lowered to his desk as Athena charged over and stood before him like she was just there. Like she wasn't some hallucination.
But this was The Office. Raylan glanced around, at Rachel and Tim before standing up. "Athena."
There was no hesitation in pushing up from and moving around his desk, one hand settling on the outside of her shoulder as he guided her into the conference room across from his desk with a soft "Come with me."
Once inside the room, Raylan shut the door and pulled the blinds, like he was worried she wouldn't be there when he turned around from his task. But there was no use in waiting, in torturing himself with the what ifs and Raylan turned.
"Please tell me I'm not havin' some kinda flash back hallucination." It was a roll of the dice, if she understood what that meant or if he just made himself to look like the weirdest fucking adult in the office. But he had to know, right out of the gate. Did she remember him or did he have to compartmentalize?