[ HAPPY HALLOWEEN — if you wore a costume, let me know what it was! I was Knuckles from Sonic. I wanted the yellowjackets soccer team uniform but they didn't make it in plus sizes and I didn't feel like diying one :( ]

☆︎

I NEED SOME SOAP.

[ 1.08 ]

"PAISLEY GRACE," Bo Crowder said as the girl stepped into the back room at Johnny's bar.

Because Sheriff Mosley was the one to arrest Bo Crowder, when the corrupt cop was incarcerated for contract murder, Bo's case was evaluated and he was let go nearly three whole months early. And within a day of him being out of prison, Johnny told Paisley Grace that he requested a sitdown with the woman, which made her anxious — but at least she wasn't requested along with her father, so that was a good sign.

"Mr. Crowder," she nodded. Paisley Grace hadn't actually begun working for him until after he was locked up five years ago, so this was her first time meeting with him face-to-face. She'd met him before working for him, of course — she knew everyone in Harlan and they knew her. "Glad to see you out of prison orange."

"Oh, so am I," he chuckled from behind his desk. "Have a seat."

Paisley Grace glanced at Johnny, who was stationed in the corner, before doing so, facing Bo. "What can I do for you, Mr. Crowder?"

"You know, all I ever heard from the inside was how good you were at running my protection ring — at least until that father of yours robbed me blind and ran it into the ground, giving that Mosley a chance to take over," he grumbled, making her tense, fearful he was going to take his anger on Arlo out on her. Seeing her reaction, he just chuckled. "Oh, calm down, girl. I wouldn't waste a shot as good as you just because me and your daddy need to have a sit down. No, I've asked you here to ensure I can still rely on your services."

"Of course, Sir," she said with a nod.

"Good. And can I assume that your older brother's involvement in my and my son's cases won't be seen as a conflict of interest?" he asked her.

Paisley Grace scoffed and rolled her eyes, not necessarily meaning her words. "Raylan's been a thorn in my side since he got to town. And he don't care much for me, so no, it won't be a conflict."

"Good," Bo said with an easy smile. "First order of business, then. Boyd — my lawyer knows a little something about the A.U.S.A.'s case, in that it may not hold. So, when and if my boy gets out of a cell, I want you at his side. He's changed."

"I'm aware," she said with an amused smile. "He's singing Jesus' praises inside, right?"

"Right. 'Bout got him killed a few times," he sighed. "And I suspect it might get him killed when outside too. He needs someone to protect him."

"You know, he'd throw a fit if he heard you saying he needs little old me's protection."

Bo just smirked at her. "Well, that's why I picked you. To get on his nerves. Now, the second order."

Paisley Grace sat up a little straighter when she saw how serious his expression grew. "Yes?"

"I'm heading down to Florida soon. The head of the cartel, Gio, will be waiting to meet with me. Once I strike a deal with him, all my old operations will be up and running again. And so my protection will be a desired product once more. You'll be supplying that protection. Understood?"

"Understood."

☆︎

Paisley Grace steeled herself as she walked into the Marshals office, her eyes skimming the room quickly for her brother as she fought the urge to turn around and bail on him and their lunch plans. He wasn't at his desk, but she could see him tucked away in Art's office, the two discussing something intently.

Figuring he wasn't ready yet, she just looked around the rest of the room, searching for a familiar face. First, she saw two armed officers stationed outside the holding cell, making her figure someone was inside. But she didn't really care, so she kept going until she spotted Tim, who was at his desk and reading something.

Deciding to be a nuisance to the handsome man, Paisley Grace plastered a pleasant smile on her face and sauntered over to him.

"Well, ain't this a surprise, seeing you here," she spoke up.

She instantly had all of Tim's attention, who dropped the paper and looked at her with wide eyes. "Paisley Grace," he said, standing up and straightening his tie. "What are you doing back here?"

"Well, Raylan's determined to have that lunch," she said, rolling her eyes. Then she sheepishly bit her lip. "Thought I'd say hi, but maybe I shouldn't have given the reason the last time I was here. Might not wanna be seen talkin' to me."

Tim smiled and shook his head. "No, ma'am, it takes more than a brother suspecting his sister of being a button man to scare me off."

It made her laugh, and he adored how her nose scrunched up. "Good to know," she said. "I'd hate to scare off a handsome young Marshal."

"Handsome?" he smirked. "Thought I was 'just alright'?"

"Well, maybe I just said that 'cause Rachel was standing there," she shrugged. Then she glanced at Art's office and saw that Raylan caught sight of her. He held up a finger, signaling he'd be a few more minutes. "Mind if I keep you company while waiting for Raylan?"

"I'd mind if you didn't," he told her.

"Perfect. I can't wait to hinder you," she said with a bright grin. "How about a tour or something?"

And that was how Paisley Grace got Tim to walk her all over the courthouse. He started on the bottom floor, showing her where the courtroom was — and he introduced her to Judge Reardon.

Tim told her there was a rumor that he didn't wear clothes underneath his robe, and now she was giggly just thinking about it.

Eventually, they made it up to the top floor again, and Tim walked her around the Marshals office, introducing her to some of his coworkers while Raylan was still talking to Art. They ended up back in the interrogation room, which was empty.

"I think you're familiar with this room," he told her a bit awkwardly.

"Unfortunately," she murmured.

"So, you and Raylan got some issues, huh?" Tim boldly asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'd never have guessed," she said sarcastically, both laughing. Then she shook her head. "I figured I can't really hold what happened against him. Growing up the way we did... with our dad... one of us was bound to turn out bad. Just wasn't him."

"Come on, now, you ain't bad," he told her, stepping closer as he tilted his head down to look down at her. "You're just... tough as the circumstances you grew up in."

"I like how that sounds," she said with a soft smile. But deep down, she knew he was wrong. Tim didn't know, not really. He didn't know she was already back under Bo Crowder's thumb. "Naw, I ain't bad. Be sure to tell Raylan that."

"I'll be your number one defender," he promised. Then he heard the phone at his desk ringing. "I'll be right back."

"Don't rush," she said, watching as he jogged back to his desk. Now that she was alone, she kept looking around the room. There weren't any current cases going on, evidently, because the cork-board meant for evidence was empty — Tim probably wouldn't have let her in for confidentiality reasons as well.

There was a side door that was open, so Paisley Grace poked her head in. It was some kind of locker room, which she entered, looking around. Only to turn the corner and see the two armed guards from before right outside the bathroom door.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here," one said. "We're escorting prisoner Cal Wallace."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, putting her hands up even though she had no idea who Wallace was. "I'll head out—"

It all happened very quickly. The door to the bathroom burst open, and a huge man in an orange jumpsuit rushed out, hitting the larger of the two guards over the head, knocking him out. Then he grabbed the other guard and held a shiv at his neck.

"Tim!" Paisley Grace shouted while running toward the door.

"Don't you move, girlie!" Wallace snapped, making her pause. "Back toward me!"

Paisley Grace looked outside the door, her eyes wide, watching as all the Marshals reacted as quick as possible. Tim was closest, his gun raised with Raylan right behind him. "Drop the weapon! Let him go!"

"Put it down!" Rachel shouted.

When Paisley Grace didn't move, Wallace grabbed ahold of her and yanked her back, kicking the door closed as well. Then he rushed to shut the one leading into the interrogation room.

"Do as I say or I'll gut the girl!" Wallace shouted through the door.

There was silence for a moment, and when Wallace couldn't hear what the officers outside were planning, he grabbed the handcuffs off the belt of each armed officer. He forced them into Paisley Grace's hand and nodded to the two men. "Cuff them together, Princess."

Paisley Grace glared at him, not all that threatened by the flimsy, homemade knife in his hand. But she did bend down, cuffing the two guards's hands together and behind their backs.

For just a second, she eyed the gun that was on the floor, but it was like Wallace could read her mind. She gasped, feeling the point of the shiv at the side of her neck.

"Nuh-uh. Come on up here," he said, yanking her harshly.

He moved toward a window with blinds that led into the break room. She could see Art there, and Raylan was a few steps behind him, his gun in hand. And just in the doorway was a very worried Tim.

"There's still a chance to walk back from the cliff here, Wallace," Art said, speaking loudly since the doors were closed. "If you'll just let these men and Paisley Grace go, I'll make sure to it personally that you don't see any retribution. And depending on the condition of the men on the floor, I might be able to keep you out of Shu—"

"Quit blowing smoke up my ass!" Wallace snapped angrily, his arm still around Paisley Grace. "Else I might have bite the adam's apple of this pretty little thing to spit blood back in your face!"

"Oh, I'm gonna stab you in your ugly little face!" Paisley Grace spat.

In retaliation, he slammed her head against the glass hard, making her groan in pain. "Keep your mouth shut, girl!"

"Now, Mr. Wallace, I'm just trying to resolve this situation before the TAC team gets here and takes all the credit for bringing you out of there," Art said, keeping calm.

Wallace just hummed and eyed Raylan. "You the shooter? They send you in here to ghost me in case this thing goes further south?"

"Well, the chief's a pretty good shot himself," Raylan told him.

"But you're better."

"Yep."

"I'll talk to you, 'cause you don't bullshit me!" Wallace yelled. "We know where each other's coming from. Plus, I've always had a problem with authority figures. Move it back."

His last sentence was directed at Paisley Grace as he dragged her back. Then he started pushing some of the lockers in front of the window so that they'd lose sight of them.

"As for you, boss man, you can go back to your command post, have another doughnut!" he told Art, clearly not a fan.

Paisley Grace was sort of useless as he dragged her around the room, and it pissed her off. "So, tell me?" she asked him. "When I fucking kill you? Do I wanna bathe in your blood or paint the walls with it?"

Wallace just laughed at her, shaking his head. "You are a riot, little girl, really."

"Oh, I'm being dead serious," she said with a smile. "I figure you won't laugh then."

"Wallace!" Raylan called from outside. His voice was closer to the interrogation room door, so Wallace dragged Paisley Grace that way.

He opened up the door just the slightest bit to peer out, keeping Paisley Grace right in front of him the whole time. Wallace's eyes skimmed the room, taking in the shorter man in a fancy suit who hadn't been there before. He was also the only one not armed.

"Who's the little man in the suit? He some kind of super boss man? Huh? 'Cause he wasn't here when these two hacks hauled me off to the head," Wallace said.

"You eyeball everything, huh?" Raylan asked him.

"I do," he nodded. "Before you tagged in, I noticed you looking back like you had to ask his permission."

"He's an assistant U.S. Attorney," Raylan explained. "He's here investigating a couple of my shootings."

Paisley Grace's eyes went wide, not knowing he was still being investigated for anything. She figured Tommy Bucks was in his past, and shooting Boyd had been justified, in her opinion. But then again, if he was being considered for release, it must be because if Raylan.

"A couple of your shootin's?" Wallace repeated. "Damn! Man, I hit the nail on the head when I called you 'shooter.' Is that why you didn't take me at the jump? You have to resolve this situation without drawing your weapon, prove something to the A.U.S.A.?"

"Well, you were moving — dragging my poor sister around," he said, eyes on Paisley Grace. And he was surprised to find that she didn't look scared. "I figured it's fifty-fifty I put you down before you cut her. Our daddy wouldn't like them odds."

"Shit. Your sister?" Wallace asked as Raylan put his gun away.

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "Besides that, the point of this exercise is everybody lives."

"Oh, you think you're gonna manage to pull that off?" he asked doubtfully.

Raylan just nodded calmly. "They pay me to try."

"So, what now? Do you need a list of my demands? You gonna offer me a - a chopper, a plane, a suitcase full of money?"

"You can't fly a plane and a chopper at the same time, dumbass," Paisley Grace said in a snarky tone.

"Girl!" Wallace muttered while pressing the shiv to her neck.

"Paisley Grace," Raylan sighed, glaring at her. "Shut up."

That made Wallace laugh. "Yeah, y'all are siblings, I figure."

"So, you want a chopper or a plane?" he then asked.

"Has any numbnuts ever fell for that?" Wallace asked, tilting his head. "I mean, really thought he was gonna walk out of a hostage situation, take off in a 747, and get a hand job from a stewardess, huh?"

"I suppose you're right," he shrugged. "These days, the Air Force will shoot down a passenger jet just to stop it getting taken over."

"Got that right. Ain't no freedom no more," he said, making Paisley Grace roll her eyes. She'd rather him stab her just so she wouldn't have to hear him talk anymore.

"So, what now? What's your play? You gonna offer to exchange yourself for some hostages? Sacrifice yourself for your baby sister?" Wallace asked him.

"Hell, no."

"Fuck you too, Raylan," Paisley Grace scoffed.

Raylan just shrugged innocently. "I was just thinking that I'm so happy that's not me with a shiv against my neck. How'd you get that in there, anyway?"

"Keistered it."

"Keistered it?"

"Ew!" Paisley Grace shrieked, feeling it pressed to her neck. "Get this shit off me! Literally!"

"Now I'm really happy not to be the one with it up against my face," Raylan said with a little smile that pissed Paisley Grace off more.

Then Wallace shut the door, not giving Raylan another chance to look at him. But that didn't matter, because while Wallace was biding time, Tim was working on getting a camera in through the vents so that they could see.

And he had to watch as Wallace shoved a gag in Paisley Grace's mouth and shoved her hard up against the lockers.

"There. That more comfortable?" he asked mockingly before calling out to Raylan again. "Hey, shooter? You got much experience with this sort of thing? Negotiating with a barricaded suspect?"

"Not really," Raylan admitted through the door.

"Well, you're doing a good job so far," he told him. "You have established a rapport with the subject. But now you got to make a determination. Is the subject emotionally disturbed? Well, you got an opinion on that?"

"You seem pretty stable... Although you did spend all morning with a shiv up your ass, which I will never let my sister forget," Raylan told him honestly.

Paisley Grace huffed around the sock shoved in her mouth as Wallace yanked her toward the door again. He opened it up and looked at Raylan. "Well, that leads us to the $64,000 question — is the situation negotiable? Has the subject expressed a desire to live—"

As Paisley Grace felt the shiv up against her neck again, she lost it. She let out a muffled scream and threw her head back against Wallace's, taking him by surprise.

Wallace stumbled back, the door shutting as he fell on his back. Paisley Grace rolled out of his arms and got to her feet. Before he could swing his weapon at her, she stomped down hard on his wrist, breaking it. He screamed as he dropped the shiv, which she grabbed. Wallace recovered and lunged at her, making her topple over. They rolled around, and as Paisley Grace screamed in anger, the sock finally fell from her mouth.

Raylan and Tim rushed into the room, not caring about safety protocols anymore — Paisley Grace had kind of ruined the procedure. But they couldn't take a clear shot with the two fighting and rolling around on the floor.

But finally, her flailing fist with the shiv in hand hit something — Wallace's neck. And he let out a choked scream above her as she stabbed him. Then she pulled the shiv out and jammed it right back into his artery, his blood pooling out and dripping onto her face, making her cringe.

Eventually, Wallace went limp above her, his whole weight falling on her. She groaned and tried to push him off to no avail.

"Get. Him. Off!"

Raylan and Tim acted quickly, pulling Wallace's body off her. And one touch to the uninjured side of his neck told Tim that the man was dead.

"Are you okay?" Raylan asked as Art, Rachel, and the attorney, David Vasquez entered the room as well, assessing the scene.

With a grimace on her face, Paisley Grace looked at her blood-covered hands and arms, letting the shiv drop. "I need some soap."

☆︎

Only Raylan was in the bathroom with Paisley Grace as she got cleaned up — she'd changed out of her bloody clothes and into a t-shirt of Tim's and a pair of sweatpants that belonged to Rachel. The sweats were a little short on her, but it was okay.

"That was dangerous, Paisley Grace," Raylan told her. He wasn't proud of what she'd done in there. He was pissed. "I had it handled."

"I had a shit-smeared shiv to my throat. I wouldn't call that covered," she scoffed while continuing to scrub the blood off her face.

"I was working my way toward a nonlethal agreement," he insisted.

Paisley Grace's cold gaze met his through the mirror, surprising him. "I didn't want a nonlethal agreement."

Silence fell over them for a moment before Raylan sighed. "You should've trusted me to handle it and keep you safe."

"How can I trust you, Raylan?" she asked sadly. "I don't know you enough to trust you. And it kinda seems like the world doesn't want us to have that lunch to change that."

"Yeah, I guess right after you just killed a man isn't the best time to go and grab a burger," he muttered.

"I don't need a burger. I need a drink."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You ain't old enough."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm sure that stopped you at my age," she said, rolling her eyes. "I bet you was an awful lot like me before you went off to become a Marshal."

Raylan just hummed and looked her over. "Maybe a little too much like you."

☆︎

Maybe the universe didn't want Raylan and Paisley Grace to bond, but the universe could get fucked. Because after such a horrible day, the siblings now sat together on the couch in Art's office. And they weren't alone. On Paisley Grace's other side, Tim sat. And Rachel was in a chair across from Art, who was pouring four glasses of bourbon.

"Come on, baldy," Paisley Grace whined as he handed a drink to everyone but her. "I'm an American hero. I saved lives today."

"No," Art said, narrowing his eyes at the 'badly' comment. "You actually took a life today. And the only American hero here is Tim — he was a sniper for the Rangers."

"No, shit?" she asked, looking to the man. "That's real impressive. I'll have to see you in a shooting range someday."

"Way Boyd Crowder makes it seem, you'd give him and me runs for our money with a gun in hand," Raylan chimed in, sipping on his drink.

She just raised an eyebrow. "I know I don't hear judgment from the reason Boyd's gettin' out of prison."

After everything with Wallace and Paisley Grace was settled, Raylan had his meeting with Vasquez. And it was revealed that because Boyd's incarceration relied on Raylan and Ava's testimony, he'd now be released since it was revealed that the two were sleeping with each other. So, Bo's lawyer had been right in his assumption.

"She's got you there, Raylan," Art sighed. Then, after a long moment, he poured one more glass and handed it to a giddy Paisley Grace — it wasn't even a full shot, but she was happy, nonetheless, to be included.

"So, Paisley Grace," Tim said, putting his arm over the back of the couch — and coincidently around her shoulders. "Let's hear a little bit more about the badass that went psycho and killed a prisoner today."

"I am not psycho," she scoffed, elbowing his abdomen. "You'd have lost it if someone held an ass shiv to your face too!"

Raylan just chuckled and shook his head. "I am not letting you forget that for the rest of your life."

"Good," Paisley Grace said with a smile.

He raised a confused eyebrow. "Good?"

"Means you're around to remind me for the rest of my life."

"Well, ain't that just tooth-rottingly sweet," Art said with a smirk, making Raylan roll his eyes even though he was smiling at his sister.

"So, Paisley Grace, you go to the college?" Rachel asked her, earning a nod. "What are you studying?"

"I'm getting a Bachelor of Fine Arts with a concentration in Painting and Drawing," she explained. "And a minor, if I can come up with the money for the classes, in Multimedia Design."

"Damn, that's impressive," Tim said. "Well, let me know if you need a model for the next Mona Lisa. I've been told I'm quite handsome."

Paisley Grace just laughed at him. "I'd say just alright," she teased.

Raylan eyed the two with a small frown before pushing Tim's arm off the back of the couch. "Anyway, I suppose it's really been a hell of a day. Hostage situation, both Crowders going free within the same week."

"And to think I almost bailed on you and missed out on it all," Paisley Grace hummed.

"You almost bailed on me?"

"You did try to accuse her of being a hitman last time you saw her," Rachel reminded her.

"Not helpin', Rachel," Raylan said as Paisley Grace laughed.

"Aw, it's alright, Rachel. He apologized and gave me forty dollars."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I gave her forty dollars. We're square."

☆︎

Raylan was there when Boyd was let out of prison, meeting him as soon as the heavy mechanical door opened. Boyd walked out in the clothes that someone had brought him — the ones he'd been shot and arrested in were thrown out.

"Have you come back to welcome me into free society?" Boyd asked, surprised to see the man. "That's awful white of you, Raylan."

As he shook his hand, Raylan also shook his head. "Oh, I thought you left all that master-race bullshit behind you.

"Oh, it's just an innocuous expression. It has nothing to do with skin, much like 'It's a black thing.'"

"Oh, yeah," Raylan said while rolling his eyes in annoyance as they walked through the yard. "You know, while we're on the subject of your, uh, conversion, I have a question."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Seeking is the goal, and the Search is the answer," Boyd said with a nod.

"Yeah, the question is why would the born-again Boyd Crowder allow himself to be released unjustly without having to do penance for his crimes?" he asked accusingly.

"Well, I myself have struggled with this very question until I realized that this turn of events is nothing short of a miracle," he explained. "It's God's will that I walk free, and who am I, and who are any of us, to fight the will of God? Now, my ministry has gone as far as it can behind these prison walls. As much as it pains me to say this, there are men's souls in there that are simply beyond my power to save."

"I'll bet," Raylan muttered.

"Now, my mission now is to cast off the shackles of my incarceration, to go forth in the land, and spread his good word, the way that Jesus did with the apostles," Boyd went on.

The final gate leading to the outside opened up, and Raylan raised his voice. "Yeah, I know, of course, yeah. It's funny. I don't see it as a miracle. See, the - the way I see it, I'm the one who allowed you to be unleashed upon the world. Like I'm the one who's gonna find a way to put you back in a cage."

"Well, I hope you understand, Raylan, I can't let anything stand in the way of my divine calling."

"Good luck with that," he muttered.

"No luck needed," Boyd said before walking out and spotting who was waiting for him outside. "Hello, Daddy! And Paisley Grace, my god, it is good to see you!"

Raylan looked out and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he spotted Paisley Grace waiting with Bo Crowder. She met her brother's gaze and grimaced, clearly not thinking that he was going to be there and spot her with the man.

"What's it gonna be like, the first bank you see with questionable security, a good getaway route?" Raylan asked Boyd accusingly. "You gonna be able to resist that temptation? Not a lot of temptation inside."

Boyd sighed and looked at him. "You know, you haven't believed a word I've said. You think all my talk of God is just me working some angle."

"All I know for sure is you robbed banks and blew shit up and murdered at least one man," he reminded him. "You remember Jared, right — guy you shot in the back of the head on Tates Creek Bridge?"

Rather than respond, Boyd just remained calm. "I must leave you now, Raylan, to be restored to the bosom of my family."

"Okay, well..." Raylan just sighed and stepped to the side, letting Boyd walk on.

He watched carefully as Boyd raised his hands above his head. "I will continue to pray that someday I might bring you a modicum of peace."

"Mm, and I appreciate that," he said sarcastically.

Now done with Raylan, Boyd ran right for Bo, who embraced him in a big hug before leading him toward the car where Paisley Grace was waiting. She pushed off the side of the car with a huge grin. Boyd rushed right to her and hugged her, making her laugh as he lifted her off the ground.

"It is mighty good to see you, Paisley Grace," Boyd said, finally setting her down. "And I see you are still faithfully at Daddy's side."

"Well, I'm only here to make sure you get home safe. Don't need no one coming after you," she told him. "You know — taking another shot right here."

As Paisley Grace firmly pat his chest right over his still-healing bullet wound, Boyd let out a groan and bent forward just the slightest bit. Paisley Grace just giggled as he looked at her, not appreciating her joke.

"You wound me," Boyd muttered while rubbing his sore chest.

"Well, maybe God can forgive me if I pray hard enough for both times."

Boyd's face scrunched up. "Both times? I do not understand — shit!"

With a smirk on her face, Paisley Grace reached out and poked him in the chest once more, making him swear underneath his breath. "Ooh, watch your language. God don't like when his chosen talk like that."

"And to think I let myself miss you while locked up."

"That's your mistake."