[ short filler chapter because bambi isn't really involved in the first two episodes of this season ]

✵︎

LAY DOWN AND LIFT UP YOUR DRESS.

[ season 2 — episodes 1, 2 ]

BY the time the Marshals and ambulances arrived, Bambi was exhausted and covered in blood as she sat next to Ava on the front porch of the cabin. Ava was putting pressure on Bambi's gunshot wound, which was slowly still bleeding.

But thankfully, Art, Rachel, and Tim arrived with local officers, and EMTs were right behind them. And as everyone assessed the crime scene, Tim acted quickly, picking a weak Bambi up in his arms and carrying her to an ambulance before the actual first responders could do so.

"Ain't you a big strong hero?" Bambi asked with a huff of a laugh as he sat her on the waiting gurney.

"Only for you," he said, grinning as he climbed in the back of the ambulance with her. "I'll need to ride with you to the hospital and get your statement. Raylan didn't exactly explain much on his call. Where is he?"

"Oh, he went after his boyfriend," she said, shutting her eyes as she joked.

"Nah," Tim said, cupping her cheek as the EMT pulled Bambi's shirt up to begin inspecting her side. "Keep them pretty eyes open for me."

"Only for you, Marshal," she said, peeling them back open. Then she took in a deep breath, wincing as it pulled at her wound. "Alright, let's get this interrogation started."

✵︎

The first place Bambi went in the hospital once she was stitched up and actually felt like moving — her nurse recommended she takes few laps around the floor anyway — was to Johnny's room. Bambi had never been so thankful when Rachel stopped by her room to tell her that Johnny had been rushed in after someone heard gunshots coming from Ava's house.

"Well," Bambi said as she leaned against the doorframe, her eyes on her cousin. "You look like shit."

Johnny did. He had all kinds of wires attached to him and looked near dead — he felt it too. He'd only just woken up an hour ago, after all.

"You don't look much better," Johnny muttered, looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes. He was on a lot of pain medication.

Bambi just grimaced and shuffled into the room, dragging the metal pole her IV was hanging on with her until she was perched on the edge of Johnny's hospital bed.

"The cops been to question you yet?" she asked him, letting out a relieved noise as she did sit down.

"Nah, Raylan ain't been by yet," he said. "But another Marshal filled me in. Gave me a short summary of what happened once I was... disposed of. Reckon they want me sober for when I fess up to all the shit Bo got up to."

Bambi frowned and shook her head. "Last his boss, Art Mullen said, Raylan was flying down to Miami. Probably to chase down that guy that Daddy was working for. And Boyd got shot — he's in some other hospital closer to the airbase Raylan left from. Some trucker dropped him off, scared out of his mind, it sounds like."

"Well, shit," Johnny breathed out. "A lot happened, huh?"

"Hell of a lot," she agreed.

Johnny studied her carefully, watching how she stared down at her hands that were scraped along with her arms from all the crawling and hiding she'd done in the cabin.

"I'm sorry about your daddy," he said.

Bambi looked down at him sadly. "I ain't," she said softly.

"I ain't sorry about... the side of your daddy the police were interested in," he clarified. "I'm sorry about the one that was always at your softball games and who taught you to shoot and how to drive even though you were only eleven and way too young. He was still your daddy. He was your kin."

She smiled tightly and reached for his hand. "You and Boyd's all the kin I need anyhow," she told him. "So, what's the doctor say?"

It was evident that it was bad news as Johnny's face fell. "They, uh, they don't know I'm gone walk again."

"Shit, Johnny," she gasped, her eyes wide. "You're joking."

"I ain't," he said, shaking his head before rolling his eyes. "Best be glad I ain't got no front porch steps, huh?"

Bambi's eyes watered, both so grateful that Johnny was alive but hating that his life had been so greatly changed all because of their goddamn family.

"I can help you with whatever comes after this, but I'm just glad you're alive, Johnny."

"I ain't," he muttered bitterly. "What use am I gone be? To you? To anyone in Harlan?"

"Don't say that—"

"Oh, shit, Bambi, you know I'm right," he cut her off. "I'm gone be useless. Can't even protect you anymore. And what? You're supposed to rely on Boyd for that? Like he ain't crazy as all get out."

"What are you talkin' about? Protection? Daddy's dead, and Raylan's taking care of the man he was working for," Bambi sighed.

Johnny looked at her pointedly. "Yeah, Bo's gone, and that means someone's gone wanna fill his boots in Harlan. And if that were me? First thing I'd do was go making sure the Crowders were out of commission. You best watch your back if I can't."

"Well, I'm good enough to watch both ours anyhow," she told him, not worrying about it. "I figure you and I won't be targets given your condition and me bein' a woman."

"Naw, don't go using that woman excuse," he said, shaking his head. "Mags Bennett the scariest woman I ever met. So, watch out for her, now. They may be taking over as the next big crime family of Harlan."

Bambi just smiled. "Mags loves me, Johnny. And they wouldn't be the crime family of Harlan — they live in Bennett."

"Still in Harlan county, and you know that's what I meant."

"Well, she just deals in weed," Bambi shrugged. "She ain't got no business with the kinda stuff Daddy was messing with."

"Oh, I do hope that mean old woman proves you wrong."

✵︎

It was a week and a half before Bambi returned to school, and even then, she taught sitting from a chair, not up to standing for eight hours just yet. And on her first day back, her kids loaded her up with homemade cards and gifts — cheap toys from the dollar store that made her smile.

While she loved seeing her kids, she was exhausted by the time she got home. Thankfully, she didn't have to cook dinner. Plenty of people had brought her things like casserole and pizza and various sides for her to heat up when she wanted so that she didn't have to lift too many fingers.

And when she got home, there was a gift from Helen on the front porch — fried chicken. Out of everyone in Harlan, her family line had always had the best recipe.

But before Bambi tore into it, she had to change her bandage, which she did every two days. The gunshot wound had been throbbing for the last three hours, the pain medication they gave her doing very little to help with it since she'd been working.

Since her bathroom was so cramped, she opted to put a little desk mirror on her coffee table in the living room surrounded by medical supplies. She lifted up the dress she wore, tucking it underneath her chin as she began pulling the old bandage off. She started to groan when she felt it pulling at the making of a scab.

Only for a knock to distract her — she hadn't been even close enough to ripping the bandage off because she was such a wimp, but she blamed her inability to do so on the knock.

"Who is it?" she called, lowering her dress, not bothering to get up.

"It's Raylan."

"Come on in," she said, looking over her shoulder.

He came in, taking the time to lock the door behind him for security unlike her, who never bothered to do so. Then he wandered into the living room, taking his hat off as he did so.

"Hey there, Raylan Givens," Bambi greeted, not expecting him. He'd called her once when he got back from Miami just to make sure she was okay, and after she assured him that she didn't need a visit, he had to focus on work.

And there was a lot of work, Art hardly letting him off his leash.

"How you doing, Bambi Crowder?" Raylan asked softly as he kept coming, only to nearly trip over that loose floorboard of hers, making him roll his eyes before he leaned against the arm of the couch. "Ain't fixed that, I see."

"I've been doing okay," she assured him. "You caught be about to totally chicken out on changing my bandage though. Thank you for helping me put that horrifying task off."

Raylan raised an eyebrow and looked at the supplies on the table. "Oh, no, if it's time to change it, you're gone change it. I ain't letting you get infected on my watch."

"Well, then leave," she said teasingly. "You're interrupting my fried chicken dinner for one anyhow."

He scoffed and put his hand to his chest. "Don't tell me you don't want me here after a week of not seeing me."

"I killed two men for the first time last time I saw you. Can't say I'm just longing for a repeat," she muttered, only to watch his face fall. So, she quickly reached for his hand. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. Still makes me feel like shit though," he sighed. "But I'm serious, now. I ain't leavin' 'til that bandage is changed."

Bambi just grimaced. "But it hurts, Raylan. And I ain't got a good mirror setup anyhow and—"

Raylan rolled his eyes and moved in front of her. "Bambi, it's gone hurt a hell of a lot more if you don't clean it and all. I've ignored it enough times in my early years, and it's a bitch of a time. So, just lay down for me and let me take care of you."

Bambi frowned at his order, tilting her head. "I ain't just gone let you do that, Raylan."

He raised a pointed eyebrow. "Are you gone do it?"

That made her huff in annoyance as she crossed her arms childishly, only to wince when her elbow hit her wound, thus making Raylan look at her accusingly.

"Lay down and lift up your dress," he said firmly. His eyes traced her reddened cheeks, making the corners of his lips turn up. "I'm a slut, remember? Ain't nothing I ain't seen before."

Bambi, despite how flustered she felt by Raylan's request, managed an amused smile. Then she did as told, lying down on the couch. She was wishing she had worn some bike shorts or something underneath her dress as Raylan pushed the fabric up her thighs, revealing a plain set of white underwear with lace along the band.

He wasn't too concerned with her choice of underwear though — alright, in the back of his mind, he was a little concerned. But he focused instead on the gauze pad taped to her side that had a small, light red spot pooling in the center from her weeping wound.

She bit her lip as he started to peel up the gauze, only to squirm and let out a groan when the scab was pulled at again. Quickly, with his free hand, Raylan pushed her down by her stomach to keep her in place.

"Keep still for me so it don't hurt as much," he said before making quick work of the bandage. He pulled it off quickly, him feeling no sympathy for her as she let out a yelp.

Then Raylan got to work, grabbing the supplies to clean the rather deep wound. He was surprisingly gentle with her, and she was able to relax soon, more-so focusing on his hand on her stomach rather than what he was doing at her side.

She couldn't help it — his hand was just so big and warm, his fingers splayed across her stomach as he kept her pressed into the couch. Slowly, she looked from his hand to his relaxed face, taking in his soft-looking lips and deep brown eyes that were fixed on her skin.

Raylan Givens was handsome — Bambi didn't know why it took him being so close to her physically for her to notice for the first time.

So impossibly handsome that it made her feel a little nervous for a moment before she remembered that Raylan wasn't who was meant to be making her feel like that. Raylan was her friend and nothing more, and so she shoved that nervousness into a deep, dark pit inside of her, knowing she could wallow in shame once he was gone.

Before she knew it, he was taping the fresh gauze to her side, and his eyes flicked to hers as he raised an eyebrow. "Now, was that so bad?"

Bambi swallowed thickly before shaking her head weakly. "I guess not."

The two slowly separated, and Bambi pulled her dress back down before sitting up. Since her hair was a bit messy, Raylan couldn't help but tuck some behind her ear before he stood up, towering back over her as she remained on the couch, looking up at him.

"I've, um, your Aunt Helen brought me some chicken for dinner if you want some," she found herself offering.

And Raylan's eyes lit up instantly. "Now, if that's the same recipe my mama used, you've got yourself a dinner date, Darlin'."

Bambi smiled, ignoring how her stomach leapt at the nickname he'd never used before. Then she got up and led him into the kitchen. "She brought mashed potatoes and gravy too. I've just gotta heat them up."

"Well, I'm glad you're at least eatin' good while you're recuperating," he said. "But I got a serious question for you, Bambi."

She looked at him over her shoulder while grabbing the Tupperware bowl full of mashed potatoes, raising an eyebrow. "Serious?"

"Your brother," he said simply, making her sigh. "He disappeared from the hospital he was in last week. You know where he is? I need to talk to him."

Rather than tell the full truth — that Boyd, as of four days ago, had started living with goddamn Ava — Bambi just gave him a little bit of information.

"Heard he got a job digging coal again at the mines," she murmured, focusing back on the food. "I don't think it's smart, him working that hard while his shoulder is still healing. But he'll be there working night shifts for a while, I think. I guess you're gonna pass on dinner to go find him?"

"Oh, naw," he said, shaking his head as he smiled charmingly. "Like I said — I can't say no to that recipe. Besides, I gotta get back into Lexington afterward. Got someone I need to talk to."

That someone was Winona, who he'd been avoiding since the night they slept together — not that it was hard given how busy Art had him as of late. A lot of paperwork had to be caught up on after everything that happened.

But Raylan didn't really wanna talk about Winona with Bambi.

"Well, at least let me get you good and full before you go, 'cause Helen brought way too much food for just me," Bambi said as Raylan got some plates down, moving around the kitchen as comfortably as if it was his own. "Got fresh sweet tea from Mrs. Declan Williams if you'd like. Or Mags Bennett's 'Apple Pie' — fair warning, it ain't pie, though."

Raylan looked at her in alarm. "Mags has been by?"

"Yeah, two days ago," she said simply. "Her and Sheriff Doyle came by to check on me, see how I was doing with Daddy dying. Told me I could always call them if I needed anything even though they're in the next town over."

"I'd rather you just call me," he said stiffly. He opted not to talk about what he'd been up to recently and how it was linked to the Bennetts.

Bambi had a bleeding heart, and it would crush her to know that they'd hired a child predator who kidnapped a young girl named Loretta — Rachel and Raylan had just finished rescuing her the night before. It'd just ruin her fairly good mood, he figured.

"Well, you're still number one on my speed dial," she assured him.

"Well, I'm flattered," he smirked while grabbing the sweet tea from the fridge. "Now, let's get some of that chicken. My mouth is already waterin'."

✵︎

It was another week before Bambi saw or heard from anyone in the Marshals service. Well, that wasn't true. Tim and Raylan were on the news. They'd been transporting a pregnant prisoner to a doctor appointment, and she escaped. But just two hours ago, it was reported that they'd found her. The news didn't state the details of why she'd escaped and who helped her, but Bambi figured the reporters would uncover all that soon enough.

It was late — Bambi was considering going to bed, but she was glad she didn't when a soft, hardly audible knock came from her front door. She cautiously got up to check and saw Tim through the little window in her door, so she quickly answered it.

"Hey," Bambi greeted softly, taking in his troubled expression. "What'd I do to deserve your fine company tonight?"

She opted not to ask him about work, figuring that was why he looked so down in the first place.

"Can I get a drink?" he asked her, finally looking from the ground to her.

Bambi nodded and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the house. "You're lucky. The bartender hasn't closed up yet."

He managed a barely-there smile before sitting at her kitchen table, watching her carefully as she poured two glasses of whiskey, setting them on the table in front of him. Tim immediately picked his up and took a long drink from it. And Bambi stood behind him, rubbing his tense shoulders.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly as he relaxed into her hands.

Tim sighed and slid a hand back to hold one of hers. "You see it on the news?"

"Just the basics. Y'all got her back into custody."

"After I shot a man in the head who was ready to shoot her through the damn stomach," Tim muttered, squeezing her hand. "Shit, it was... I mean, Art's gone ask what if I'd of missed."

"You don't miss," she reminded him.

Tim swallowed thickly. "But what if I had?"

Bambi leaned down and rested her chin on top of his shoulder. "You don't miss, Marshal Gutterson. And you saved that woman and her baby's life," she reminded him. "You're the best shot in Kentucky. Don't go doubting that now."

After a moment, he nodded before taking the second glass of whiskey and downing it. Then, he turned around in the chair and pulled Bambi into a slow kiss, cupping the back of her neck. And as their mouths moved against each other softly, he smoothly stood from the chair, standing at his full height — he wasn't much taller than Bambi, so she didn't have to stand on her toes or anything.

Soon, getting tired of just her mouth, Tim moved to kiss down her jaw and neck, sucking harshly on her skin as she let out a breathy sigh.

"Tim," she whined as his hands landed on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pajama shorts. "Tim, doctors said no strenuous activities."

After he'd sucked a mark that would be impossible to hide the next day, Tim pulled back and smirked down at her. "Trust me. I don't plan on you doing any of the work."

Bambi grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his. "Well, I'll never complain about that."

✵︎

The next day, a mere forty-five minutes after Tim left, full from the breakfast Bambi made him, she got another visit from a U.S. Marshal. She was surprised to see Raylan on the other side of the screen door, his hat gone and in a tight, white t-shirt and pair of messy jeans. And he had a toolkit in hand.

"Raylan?" Bambi asked, sounding a little amused. "What are you doing here on your off day?"

Raylan just smirked and raised up his toolbox. "I'm fixing that damn floorboard before it kills you."

She grinned and shook her head in disbelief. "I told you I ain't payin' you for it."

"All's I want in return is one of them blueberry pies."

"Well, I suppose I can arrange that."