Even with Raylan being three quarters leg the sniper had usually been able to keep up with him. There were a couple of steps upon which he nearly stumbled but relief he felt when the pounding wind was left above them gave Tim a much needed burst of energy.
It carried him along those twenty-five yards and helped him keep his footing when Raylan suddenly dropped. At first the laughter sounded fairly standard operating procedure for the irreverent humor they all shared around the office. But as it continued Tim looked down at his partner and his brow furrowed with concern.
A cacophony of thoughts crashed through Tim's head all at once, nearly overwhelming him with conflicting reactions. Guilt battled against concern before they twined together into one clear message. Raylan was experiencing a much needed breaking point. Had skidded well past the line of reeling it back, despite what Tim knew would be a desperate attempt to bottle it all up, tuck it back up under the hat.
"Raylan," he said in a tone that projected more strength than Tim might have felt at the moment. Going down on one knee, he didn't stop to ask permission as he gathered the older man into his arms. Drawing Raylan back into the shelter of his chest, practically into his lap he bent his head and pressed his cheek against drenched hair, whispering. "I'm not letting you go. Stop trying to run from me; from yourself. It's okay to hurt."
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It carried him along those twenty-five yards and helped him keep his footing when Raylan suddenly dropped. At first the laughter sounded fairly standard operating procedure for the irreverent humor they all shared around the office. But as it continued Tim looked down at his partner and his brow furrowed with concern.
A cacophony of thoughts crashed through Tim's head all at once, nearly overwhelming him with conflicting reactions. Guilt battled against concern before they twined together into one clear message. Raylan was experiencing a much needed breaking point. Had skidded well past the line of reeling it back, despite what Tim knew would be a desperate attempt to bottle it all up, tuck it back up under the hat.
"Raylan," he said in a tone that projected more strength than Tim might have felt at the moment. Going down on one knee, he didn't stop to ask permission as he gathered the older man into his arms. Drawing Raylan back into the shelter of his chest, practically into his lap he bent his head and pressed his cheek against drenched hair, whispering. "I'm not letting you go. Stop trying to run from me; from yourself. It's okay to hurt."