Title: Back Again
Fandom: Justified
Rating: PG
Length: 500
Content notes: References to violence/physical abuse.
Author notes: For fan_flashworks Challenge #7, "Do-Over". I honestly think half this reason I like this show is that there's people with my native accent and vernacular on TV who aren't the butt of the joke.
Summary: Don't matter how often he's got to be there, he'll be there.



There's a phrase he heard tell once, somethin' about doin' things over and over and expectin' different results, but right this minute, as he's starin' down the barrel of a shotgun, he don't care about gettin' it right. He didn't expect no different results this time, when he stepped up on this porch and knocked. He knew what was comin'. "Now, Donna Jo," he says, both hands low at his sides. "That's hardly neighborly, puttin' a gun in a man's face like that this early."

Her blond hair is stuck on top her head, stickin' out all around like hay, and there's a yellow bruise around one eye. She's standin' sideways like her leg's got a world of hurt in it, but her hands ain't the least little bit shaky. She's got that shotgun aimed and she ain't takin' it down, no matter how many lawmen stand on her porch come lookin' for her man. "Not feelin' neighborly today," she says, and her tongue pokes through a hole between her teeth that she didn't have last week. "You get on out of here, Marshall. Ain't done nothin' wrong. Nobody here wants to see you."

It ain't the first time he's set foot on this creaky porch and sometimes he wonders why he bothers comin' back again. Donna Jo's man, he's got a hankerin' for the sort of substances that make him see little green monkeys and when he's lost another paycheck on the horses, those little green monkeys suggest that fists don't hurt none when they land on a woman. Raylan'll throw a punch when a body's got it comin', but this weren't deserved.

He moves slow, pushes his hat back on his head, and gives a nod to Donna Jo. "Then I'll be on my way, maybe get a coffee down at Mary's. She still got that wagon wheel over the door?" The shotgun lowers as he takes a step back, his boots on the step and then on the dirt. Raylan doesn't move his eyes from her face and there it is. That little flicker, that little glance. She'll rant and wail and shove a gun in his face for her man, no matter how many times Mike hits her, but ain't no defense'll keep her from givin' away where he's hidin'. He's in the house, probably in the room where Raylan can hear the TV and what might could be the open-up hiss of a fresh beer.

Raylan tips his hat and walks back a few more steps, smilin' to beat the band, until he's through the broken gate and by his car. Donna Jo slams the door and the whole house rattles and groans. Raylan leans on the roof of his sedan, scratchin' his brow. Donna Jo'll put that shotgun in his face another dozen times, he knows, but he'll come back every time. Her man has more to hide than wild fists and a weakness for the ponies, and Raylan has a pile of patience.