I wrote this longhand on a recent holiday in Tasmania, and my muse bit so hard I filled one notebook and had to buy another. So I am transcribing this on my laptop, the story is complete, it's just taking me a while to type and upload it in chapters. While I was driving, I was inspired by many angsty songs on my playlist, will put a list of them up at the end.

This is my first Longmire fic and only my second attempt at fic ever and feedback and comments are welcomed, thanks for taking the time to read. Have seen all 3 seasons of TV and first 8 books, so have blended various elements of each together here, Katee Sackoff is my Vic inspiration.

WALT

Vic had bribed him with the offer off pizza, beer and a comfortable sofa instead of pot pie and hard office chairs for working on tidying up the never ending reports and paperwork generated in the process of sheriffing Durant, Wyoming.

Her good for nothing husband had cleared out and left town (and Vic) a week after the hostage incident. He left Vic to clean up the house, pack his stuff for the company to onship, sell the place and find herself a new one. It had been a busy couple of months for her and not in a good way.

It was his first time at her new place since she was settled and he was curious as to how it was suiting here. There were too many mornings latel with Vic arriving late, grumpier than usual and dark shadows under her eyes.

Removing his heavy jacket and boots at the entrance, Walt quietly socked his way up the stairs, knocked and opened the door, only to draw up short, hand on his service weapon as a tiny black…..thing….. skittered towards him quickly. With his usual presence of mind, Walt stuck a foot out in the way of the oncoming critter and quickly shut the door behind him, closing off the obvious escape route.

When the mystery critter reached his sock encased foot, it proceeded to latch on with all four paws and what felt like needle sharp teeth even through the heavy duty wool socks he was wearing. Of course it was at the point he was making faces while the kitten – a now identified critter – chewed enthusiastically on his big toe, that his deputy sped breathlessly around the corner of the kitchen counter, muttering darkly under her breath. Vic stopped, arrested by the sight of a 6'5" sheriff being attacked by a kitten small enough to be held in one large calloused hand.

Walt looked at her, an arm braced against the wall, the other clutching a bundle of folders and paperwork, and he winced as the kitten energetically practiced his disembowelling back paw technique. "Help" he rumbled "save me from your ferocious guard kitten".

Vic's eyes were crinkled suspiciously at the corners as she nodded, kneeling beside him, eventually disentangling the kitten weaponry from his foot, bundling the tiny black and white creature in her arms, talking calming nonsense to him as she resumed her feet and looked at him. "Hi Walt, meet Fred"

"Fred?"

"As in Fred Astaire, for his tuxedo and how fast he is on his feet". She rolled the kitten over, showing off all four white paws, and the white bib down his chest and belly. A tuxedo kitten indeed.

"I didn't know you liked cats" he queried.

"Not entirely sure I do" she replied, placing Fred on the floor, no doubt to rampage on more unsuspecting feet. "A friend of Ruby's had kittens, and Ruby insisted I take one". She paused "I think he was supposed to be a distraction from ….. stuff". Walt nodded and proceeded cautiously into the room, he was big and the kitten was tiny.

"Ruby's heart is in the right place". He paused at the large, slightly saggy brown leather sofa. "Is this the comfortable sofa you bribed me with for dealing with these, and he handed Vic the pile of paperwork. With a sigh, she took it and started spreading it out on the coffee table.

Several hours later the drudgery had been completed, beer and pizza consumed and Vic had somehow finagled him into telling stories of his days learning the ropes with Lucan. Warm, full of good beer and pizza and able to relax for a night off, Walt had been encouraged by his audience to tell some of the crazier and more unlikely stories. He knew Vic would only believe half of them anyway, but Wyoming had more than its fair share of the crazy, and all the stories were true, one way or another. He sunk a little deeper into the sofa, if he rested his size 14's over the arm at the end he fitted quite nicely.

VIC

Vic looked up from tidying away all the paperwork back into its pouch to see her boss quite comfortably asleep on the Sofa of Doom. Quietly she tidied away the detritus from dinner onto the kitchen counter, the rest could wait til morning. She knew Walt could sleep anywhere (even on the floor of his office) and it was a necessary skill for soldiers and law enforcement officers who were always on call. She turned off the lights, and retired to her bedroom and left him to it.

She woke, startled out of sleep by a sound and blearily looked at the clock, maybe a couple hours sleep. From the depths of the sofa came a noise like bear gurgling under water, Walt snoring of course. She sighed, rubbing her bleary eyes and the second noise that had woken her mewed urgently from her feet. Swearing quietly Vic raced to the SHUT door of the room the kitten lived in, she had forgotten to put him inside last night. Hoping not to stand in any surprises on the way, she quietly sped down the hall and opened the door for the kitten who raced to his litter box and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

Noting the food bowls were half empty she topped them up with kibble and the stinky wet stuff Fred hovered up, and freshened the water bowl. After peeing like his life depended on it, Fred raced over and got stuck in, purring his rusty chainsaw purr. Vic smiled and ran a finger down the tiny back, scratching as he arched into the caress. On the way out she turned the light off and closed the door, the kitten on the right side of it this time.

Now to deal with the other noisy houseguest, Vic gave his shoulder a solid shake. And another one "Walt! Walt, you have to get up" and grabbing both his hands, pulled in the right direction to get him moving, and not letting go while he mutter incomprehensible threats and lurched to his feet

"What?" sleepy and grumpy with it. She kept tugging, steering him in the dark to her bedroom, and steered him up against the other side of the bed from where she slept.

"You were snoring loud enough to be heard across town and that sofa will do your back in worse than sleeping on the floor. She gave his chest a shove "Lie down and don't snore or I will fucking shoot you"

He sank down on the bed, and groggily registered what she was saying and tried to protest. Grabbing the rug from the back of the sofa she handed it to him and under the covers on her side, lying down with a huff "For gods sake, we are both adults and you are on TOP of the covers, both our virtues are suitably protected"

Too tired to protest further, he plumped a pillow, draped the rug haphazardly across his legs, and within moments was sound asleep, facing away from her. Oddly aware of the presence of the man now sleeping next to her, Vic curled in her usual position on her side, facing away from Walt and eventually drifted off herself.

WALT

He was jerked awake from a blissfully deep sleep by his deputies voice crying out. Pausing to shake the sleep from his brain and wipe a hand over his face, he realised as she thrashed and flailed, crying out again "Oh God! No No NO!" then "Its my fault, he's going to die!".

Silence but for heavy ragged breathing and Walt realised she was having a very vivid nightmare "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh God please don't be dead". Walt realised she was reliving events from the Chance farm situation and went to reach across and wake her up.

"Walt you bastard! You better not die on me now" and she broke into heaving sobs, her whole body shaking with tension "It's my fault, its all my fault". Shaken, Walt gathered her into his arms, her back to his chest and tucked her head under his chin, where it fitted easily as she was so short

"Shhh Shhh its OK" he cradled her gently, rocking her like a child to soothe her "Wake up Vic, its OK, we made it out OK"

With a shudder her whole body clenched and he knew she was awake. He also knew this was no nightmare, he had lived through PTSD himself and knew the signs. The short temper and dark shadows under her eyes made more sense, if every night had been like this, she must be living through hell. He wished he had paid more attention and realised sooner.

"Shhh Shhh its OK" he crooned singsong as he would to a small child or frightened animal. Walt didn't expect her to burst into noisy wet tears, but continued to hold her, encouraging her to turn towards him, gently stroking her hair back and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Eventually the storm of tears ended but he still held her lightly, allowing her the choice of whether to stay or move away. Sniffing mightly she blew her nose noisily on the top sheet and wiped her tearstreaked face with a clean bit. Resting her forehead for a moment on her chest and murmured "Well Fuck"

Walt huffed a laugh and let go with his top arm and lay back with Vic still cradled by his other arm. He kinda liked how well they fitted together. "PTSD is a bitch" he said it both as a statement and a question and felt her nod against his arm.

"Since the farm" he queried, another nod. "Why didn't you say anything?" and waited for a response. And waited. He twitched his arm under her head "I'm not going anywhere till you talk to me"

She sighed "Fuck Walt, you were there. What more needs to be said?"

"Nightmares?" another question and another nod. "Anger management issues?" another question and this time a snort and a sassy "you mean more than usual?" in reply. He huffed another laugh before asking "You seen someone about it?"

He had sent Vic home to Philly for a week or so after Sean left, she needed a break and her headaches were serious enough to be checked out by a specialist. He had used that as an excuse to give her some time off. Vic nodded "Yeah I spoke to the precinct shrink in Philly". Before she could return to active, Vic had to have at least one formal appointment, it was mandated after being in a hostage situation, even if she had technically been a civilian at the time. It hadn't helped much by the looks of things.

"They gave me sleeping pills but you know the problem with those" . Walt nodded, big city cops who weren't on call 24/7 didn't realise how much such things can impair reaction times and decision making processes. "And they didn't stop the nightmares".

Walt grunted "Only one thing does that". She levered up onto one elbow and glared a little at him "What?"

"Time" he replied "A lot of time" and he narrowed his eyes at her briefly "Talking to someone who understands and who you trust can really help". She threw herself flat again "Fuck that, I lived through it once already, don't want to keep dragging it up over and over again"

She sighed and rolled away, her head still cradled by his arm and dragged a pillow under her head "Its 5m, go back to sleep, might as well aim for another couple of hours".

Walt rolled towards her, tucking the blankets up over her shoulder. He slid a little closer until they were nearly spooning, but for the layer of blankets between them. Neither said a word as he carefully draped an arm over her, tucking her to him just a bit. Eventually both fell asleep and there were no more nightmares. Or snoring.

When Vic woke later in the morning he was gone. A bag of her favourite custard pastries was on the bench next to a note "TALK TO HENRY".

It was only later that she remembered being woken by a soft pressure on the ticklish spot where her neck curved into her shoulder, almost like a kiss…..