Vic woke with a slight buzz in her head. She was struggling to open her eyes, the morning light aggravating the dull ache that radiated throughout her skull.

After a few minutes things seemed to settle a bit.

Her disorientation lessened.

Her surroundings came more into focus.

Holy shit.

Her eyes flew open.

Her heartbeat started to quicken, and the clenching feeling in her gut started to rival the throbbing in her head.

She turned slowly to her left, pushed herself up to a seated position, holding the sheet against her as she did, and found herself looking at Walt's naked and sleeping form.

Holy shit!

She pulled the sheet more tightly against her chest.

Walt stirred. Vic stilled and held her breath. When he did not waken, she closed her eyes and let out the breath she had been holding. Her eyes drifted open and back over to Walt. She took in his steady breathing. His bare chest. His left foot peeking out from the sheet draped over his lower body.

She closed her eyes and tried to put the pieces together, but things were a bit muddled. With a quick look at Walt to confirm he was still sleeping, Vic slipped out of the bed. As she tiptoed across the room, she searched for her clothes. She suddenly had a vision of their clothing strewn throughout the other room, and stopped in her tracks. She looked at the closed bedroom door, and then at the door to the bathroom. Hearing Walt stir again on the bed, she quickly stepped into the bathroom, waiting until she shut the door before turning on the light.

Her eyes fell on Walt's jeans and green button-down shirt hanging over the shower curtain rod.

Rain.

She remembered rain.

She closed her eyes to try to make sense of the images suddenly flooding her thoughts.

She remembered running quickly through a few sprinkles to get into the Red Pony to pick up her dinner order. She remembered Henry looking up from his conversation with Walt to smile at her in greeting. She remembered Walt's eyes on her as she made her way toward them at the bar. She remembered Henry placing a beer before her and trying to convince her to join them instead of going home and eating alone. She remembered the smile that reached Walt's eyes when she agreed to stay.

Vic stood in front of Walt's sink and turned on the faucet, letting the water flow over her hands. She saw herself holding the front door of the Red Pony slightly ajar as she looked out into the rain, which had become a downpour. She saw Walt appear at her side and felt his breath on her ear as he leaned in to be heard over the music. She heard herself accept his offer for a ride and then saw him run out in the rain. She saw him pull his truck up close and then reach across to open the passenger door as she made a dash for the vehicle.

Vic looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and started to laugh at the sight of her tousled hair. She tried to smooth her hair down, and then leaned over the sink to run water over her face. She saw Walt sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from head to toe. She heard her laughter as she reached out to run her fingers through his wet hair, which was plastered to his forehead. She saw a slow smile spread across his face as he looked at her, his gaze making her heart flutter.

She winced at the dull ache between her eyes and opened Walt's cabinet to see if there was anything inside she could take for her headache, but came up empty-handed. She remembered sitting with Walt in his truck in the Red Pony's parking lot. She remembered the rain beating down hard against the windows, blocking everything else out. She remembered her reluctance to go back to an empty house and her suggestion that they go somewhere for coffee. She remembered their decision to stop at his place first so that he could change.

Still standing in front of the mirror, Vic rubbed her hand over her eyes and then pinched the bridge of her nose. She saw Walt's profile as he drove silently, concentrating on trying to see through the rain. She saw him glance over at her every now and then, his expression unreadable in the dark.

Vic's eyes fell on the tube of toothpaste on the sink. She removed the lid and squeezed some on her finger. She remembered Walt pulling his truck in front of his cabin and then pausing briefly to look her way. She remembered the squish of his boots meeting mud as he jumped out of the vehicle and made his way to the porch. She remembered reveling in his closeness as he held her at his side under the umbrella he'd brought back with him.

Vic finished brushing her teeth, turned to her right and brought her hands up to touch Walt's jeans, confirming they were dry. She remembered Walt going immediately to his bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. She remembered removing her boots, and making her way to his kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

Letting go of Walt's jeans, Vic pulled down Walt's shirt and slipped it on. She then turned, pausing with her hand on the bathroom door handle. She was nervous that she would open the door and find Walt awake and awkward around her. Or full of regret. Or insistent that what had happened could never happen again.

She took a deep breath and then slowly and quietly opened the bathroom door and poked her head out. Walt was no longer in bed, and the room was empty.

She stepped cautiously into the room, her eyes immediately falling on her clothes, which were now lying on the chair in the corner. The jeans and shirt Walt had changed into last night were lying on top of his dresser. She remembered him approaching her side as she stared out the kitchen window, watching lightning snake through the dark sky. She remembered him unsuccessfully searching his cupboards for coffee after he suggested they not risk going back out. She remembered pulling a bottle of whiskey off his shelf and holding it up with an arched eyebrow and a gleam in her eyes.

Vic thought briefly about whether she should get dressed. It might help any potential awkwardness between them. But she also worried that he might think that her getting dressed meant that she regretted what had happened and wanted to make her escape.

Keeping Walt's shirt on, she put on her underwear, and then slid back under the covers. She pictured Walt as he sat on one end of the couch. She pictured his eyes, blue, and focused intently on her as she shared a story. She pictured him leaning toward her to fill her glass, his eyes never leaving hers.

She had just settled in when the bedroom door opened, and Walt appeared. He was holding a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Vic brought her eyes to his, as he stood before her in his boxers and a t-shirt. She remembered thinking it had been four months since her divorce was finalized, and six months since he had asked her to stay. She remembered wondering if he was ever going to make a move. She remembered thinking he was sitting too far away from her on the couch and that it might finally be time she made a move of her own.

He paused a moment in the doorway, and then walked over to her side of the bed and sat on the edge. "Morning." His voice came out gravelly, and Vic felt her skin flush at his nearness. She tried to focus on his words.

"Morning." She sat up, leaned back against the headboard, and reached out, taking the water from him. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"My head felt like crap when I first woke up. Feels a little better now." She took a sip of water, looking at him over the rim. "How much of your whiskey did we end up drinking?"

His eyes were still locked on hers. "A fair amount." He opened up the aspirin bottle and handed two tablets to her. She took them, swallowing them down with a large sip of water.

His eyes stayed with her. "I didn't know if you'd remember the whiskey."

"I do."

She remembered edging closer to him on the couch, taking the bottle of whiskey from his hands, and putting it back down on the coffee table. She remembered sliding in closer, waiting for him to halt her approach.

"So you...you remember last night?"

His right hand was on the bed, and she briefly looked down, watching his fingers unconsciously clutch the sheet beside her hip.

She nodded. "Yep."

She remembered the drum of rain against the roof, and the catch of his breath as she drew closer to him on the couch. She remembered his initial hesitation at her touch, and then the moment he started returning her kiss. She remembered their nervousness as their fingers fumbled with each other's buttons.

She brought her gaze back up to his face, finding his eyes had dropped to her lips. They fell a little lower, landing at the opening of his shirt she was wearing. He suddenly seemed to realize where he was looking and quickly glanced to the side.

"I'm worried...I'm worried that I took advantage...of the situation."

"Walt, if I'm not mistaken, I kissed you first."

Walt looked down at his hands. "And because of the alcohol...maybe you weren't thinking clearly...maybe we just got carried away."

"I don't think alcohol causes you to do something you don't want to do. It just lowers your inhibitions. I wanted what happened last night to happen. Based on how you responded...I thought you did too."

He looked back up at her and held her gaze. After a moment he raised his hand and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, his fingers coming to rest on her cheek. And then he seemed to check himself, dropping his hand and breaking eye contact.

He looked over his shoulder to the right. "My room looks different from this side of the bed."

Vic paused, blinked and then shook her head slightly. "I take it you haven't slept on this side before?"

"No one has slept on this side of this bed before." He said it quietly as he continued to look around the room, so Vic wasn't sure he was aware of what he'd said, or that he'd said it out loud. "Only you."

Unnoticed by Walt, Vic's eyes grew big at the meaning of his words. She brought the water glass to her lips, swallowed and then placed the empty glass on the nightstand.

Walt caught the movement and looked over at the glass. "I was going to make some coffee but remembered I was out."

When he looked back at Vic, his expression was unreadable.

"That's right. You being out of coffee last night was responsible for...all this." She grinned, wanting him to know she was joking.

His expression didn't change, and for a moment she worried her attempt at humor had backfired. "I thought it was the whiskey you pulled off my shelf that led to all this. You said it lowered our inhibitions. Which means you, and your whiskey, not my lack of coffee, are responsible."

Her grin grew bigger. "I pulled out the whiskey only because you were out of coffee. So ultimately it's all on you for not keeping your kitchen better stocked."

"It was your idea to go out for coffee instead of letting me drive you straight home."

"But you were the one who was soaking wet and had to change his clothes before we went out."

"I ran out in the rain so I could get my truck to pick you up so you wouldn't have to get too wet."

"You're the one who offered me a ride."

"And you're the one who had a few beers and needed a ride."

"You're the one who convinced me to stay and drink those beers."

"Henry was the one who convinced you to stay."

She wanted to tell him that Henry wasn't the reason she'd decided to stay at the bar. Instead she shrugged. "Ok, let's blame Henry for all of this." She laughed, and then smiled as Walt did the same.

Walt looked out the window to his left, and then back at her.

"I'll run out and pick up some coffee. And some food. My fridge is embarrassingly empty."

She was reluctant for him to leave, worried that he might come to the conclusion that last night was a mistake by the time he returned.

"Ok." As he went to stand, she brought her hand down on his, causing him to pause and look back at her. "But don't overthink things while you're gone."

He took her words in and then stood and walked over to his dresser. Vic tried not to stare as he stepped into his jeans and then slipped his shirt over his shoulders. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of socks.

"I couldn't find your shirt."

Vic's brow creased in confusion. "What?"

He buttoned his shirt as he walked back to the edge of the bed and then sat down and started putting on his socks. "That blue top you were wearing last night. I couldn't find it when I was gathering up our clothes earlier."

Vic glanced over at the chair. She'd assumed her shirt was in the pile below her jeans. "So you don't like me in your shirt? You want me to get dressed?"

His hands stilled and he looked up at Vic. "That's...that's not what..." He paused when he saw a smile break on her face. "I just thought you might be wondering why your shirt wasn't in the pile." Once again his gaze dropped to her neckline before returning his attention back to pulling up his socks.

When he was done, he looked back up. "I'll look again when I get back. Or you can look for it while I'm gone. You might have a better time remembering where it...landed."

"You're the one who took it off me and tossed it."

"I wasn't really concentrating on the shirt once I..." He trailed off, and then looked away trying to mask a grin.

Vic smiled in response. "I'll take a look for it while you're out."

Walt looked over at his bathroom door, a slight look of concern crossing his features. "Sorry about my bathroom. It's kind of in a state of...renovation."

Vic snorted, causing him to turn back toward her. "Renovation? Is that what you're calling it? I was in your bathroom the last time I stayed here, and not much has changed since then. And that was a year ago."

He paused a moment, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. "Ok, I'm heading out. I'll be back in a bit." He leaned over to kiss her goodbye, as if it were a natural and common thing for them to do, and then froze. As if he'd suddenly realized the assumed familiarity of the action.

"Sorry—" he started to say, but Vic leaned in and captured his lips before he could fully apologize for something she hadn't been sorry he'd done.

Vic pulled back. "I'll see you when you get back with my caffeine fix."

Walt rose, a bit unsteadily Vic noticed with a smile, and made his way across the room. He paused a moment in the doorway, turning his head slightly to the side. "I like you in my shirt." He exited without looking to see if Vic had a response, closing the door behind him.

Vic sunk back down into the bed, listening to the sound of the front door opening and then closing.

Holy shit!

She burrowed a little deeper under the covers, and stretched her arms out over her head.

Holy shit!

Walt. Last night. Even with all the images and sensations running through her head, she almost couldn't believe it.

Rolling to her left, Vic looked at the side of the bed Walt had occupied earlier.

Until last night, every shared meal, every car ride, every beer they'd had together had been in the context of work. The only times she'd been to his cabin were to drop off his car. The one time she'd been inside his cabin was because he'd felt it was his duty, as her boss, to provide her protection. And they definitely hadn't spent any time together, just the two of them, outside their working relationship.

But last night, all that had changed.

That had spent time together. Just the two of them. It had definitely not been work-related. And there was definitely something there between them. She'd felt it.

The entire night had been a series of looks and small moments, culminating in something potentially significant.

Vic thought it a positive sign that Walt hadn't verbalized any regret or insisted that they never do it again. His hand at her cheek, his willingness to poke fun at the events that led them to their night together and his comment about her wearing his shirt were all promising. But she expected that he would soon start retreating, and she knew she needed to prevent him from falling back on his usual tendencies.

They had given each other space over the past six months. He'd given her the space she needed as she adjusted to life during and after her divorce. And she'd given him space as he adjusted to a world in which Barlow Connolly was behind his wife's murder. But life had been moving on, and very little had progressed between them.

Until last night.

And now, after last night, she didn't want to go back to how things had been. She hadn't fully processed what had happened, but she knew she wanted more. More than just a professional relationship with Walt. More than just last night. And she thought he might want more as well. She just had to convince him that it was ok to want more. And that it was alright to go after it with her.

Vic heard the front door open and the sound of Walt's boots on the hardwood floor and sat up with a start. She hadn't realized how long she'd stayed in bed thinking through recent events. Looking forward to the coffee he'd promised to bring back, Vic rose from the bed and picked her jeans up off the chair. Getting some caffeine in her system might further clear her thoughts and help her through the conversation she knew she and Walt needed to have.

"Dad? You home?" With only one leg in her jeans, Vic froze at the sound of Cady's voice.

Holy shit!