It seems my life only has two speeds these days: lightning fast and agonizingly slow. Right now I'd give anything for it to be the latter of the two, but disaster always seems to move in slow motion. I've done what I can for Branch. His life is now in the hands of the more than capable professionals of Durant Memorial…and maybe in the hands of fate, as well, if I believed in that sort of thing.
After my little run in with Mathias and Henry, I finally make my way back to the office. I deposit my hat on the rack in the outer office and make my way into my own office only to find the entirety of my able-bodied staff gathered around the mess I'd made in an earlier fit of rage. I answer their well-intentioned questions and ask Ruby to get a lawyer on the phone. I foolishly think I'll be left to my own devices when Vic starts giving orders to get the others to disperse. Instead she closes the door to my office and the rather one-sided interrogation begins.
"What happened?" She asks. "And don't give me any of that monosyllabic, Gary Cooper crap. Talk to me." She demands. And she definitely means business. This is the part of my feelings for my deputy that I can't resolve. She's so unlike…well everything I'd ever known I wanted in a woman. In this way she is Martha's polar opposite and no matter how hard I try, I can't wrap my mind around it.
The ensuing conversation is not one I'd ever wanted, or even thought I would have, with Vic. For some reason, I've lost all control of my mouth and the words come tumbling out against my better judgment.
"My wife didn't die of cancer," I sigh. "She was murdered by a meth head named Miller Beck."
I fully expect to see pity, but Vic quickly schools her features, and for that I am grateful. I don't think I could take it if I had to see that look in her eyes.
"Wow…um…I'm so sorry." She's lost for words. It's okay. I have been, too, for the most part. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" She questions.
The words just keep spilling out.
"Miller Beck turned up dead a few months back. Henry was just arrested for his murder."
"Henry?" She asks, just as shocked as I was.
"Yeah, but he didn't do it." I should have known that this statement would elicit the next question she asks.
"And you know that how?"
"It's alright, Vic." I try to reassure. "I didn't kill anyone"
"Then whose blood is that?" She doesn't believe me but she's trying not to sound accusatory.
I look down at my shirt, having forgotten that I am still covered in Branch's blood. The answer to her question is going to require more answers than I have patience for, but ignoring her would be a far worse fate.
"Oh, it's, um…it's Branch's."
Before she can ask any more questions, I bolt from my office and make a beeline for the Reading Room. You would think that I would know by now that I can't just run away. I'm stuck back in my own head and Vic's voice seems a million miles away now as she calls my name. Predictably, Vic follows me into the Reading Room. I pull the tin badge from my shirt and set it on the sink before stripping out of my jacket and shirt. Vic's still asking questions and I'm back on autopilot as I respond.
Vic is suddenly quiet for a moment, and it's then that I realize she's seen the scars on my back. The ones from Denver that only Henry and I know the origin of. Finally she snaps herself out of it because she's back to asking me questions about Branch. I wash my hands and pull on a new shirt. She watches as I try to fasten the buttons. The adrenaline has finally started to wear off and my hands are shaking so badly that I can't even thread the buttons through the holes. It's one of the things I hate about these khaki uniform shirts. Not to mention that they're stiff and itchy if you're not wearing an undershirt.
When it's clear that I'm getting frustrated, Vic steps forward and puts her hands over mine. My first reaction is to pull away from her, but I temper it. She gently moves my hands and I watch as she pushes the buttons through their holes with deft fingers. They only thing that gives away anything about her state of mind is the very slight tremor I notice as she fastens the last buttons. If I hadn't been looking, I'd never have seen it.
Next she picks up the tin badge. The one I'm not sure I'm fit to wear these days. I think maybe I should have dropped out and let Branch run unopposed. I could have retired quietly. It's not like I've been doing a very good job of protecting those whom I've been elected to protect. I can't even protect my closest family and friends; forget about my deputies. Vic obviously isn't on the same train of thought that I am. She pushes the pin through the stiff material over my heart and fastens it without sticking me, which is more than I'm capable of some days.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She seems to sense this and I watch her eyes rake up my body. I try to tamp down the fire her gaze ignites to no avail. I might have been able to rein it in if I hadn't noticed her very slight hesitation at my lips. That's what does me in, really. Her gaze burns bright as she meets mine. I see everything I've done my best to ignore these last couple years. I have no right to these feelings, but here they are. I'm so tired of fighting; so I decide that I'm not going to do it anymore and I lean in to kiss her.
A quiet grunt escapes her lips as I kiss her. I think I've been too rough, or worse, that I've misread the signs all along and this was the wrong move. Heat rushes to my face and I start to pull away as the worst-case scenarios starting winding their way through my unquiet mind. Much to my surprise, the hand on the star over my heart grabs at the fabric of my shirt and pulls me closer. Her other hand reaches up to stroke my cheek and all my worries fade away.
Vic doesn't try to push. She's patient and inviting; two words I wouldn't ordinarily use to describe her. I have a visceral need to taste her and she doesn't fight me. She lets me explore her mouth before taking her own turn. I'm rewarded with a tiny gasp as I nip at her bottom lip and soothe the sting away with my tongue. I feel like I could melt into her at this moment and I truly want to. The problem is that, just like in my dreams, the real world gets in the way. The truth is that I still have no idea who shot Branch. I have no idea where to even start looking. Henry's life is hanging in the balance and I am utterly powerless. And now I'm quite certain that I've just opened an entire can of worms by kissing my deputy, rather suggestively, in the office bathroom. I've literally laid all of my cards out on the table and now I'm left hoping it doesn't blow up in my face.
She must notice that I seem distracted because she pulls away first. Her hand lingers on my cheek and her thumb traces my bottom lip. I see something I can't identify in her eyes. It's uncertainty mixed with something else. I want so badly to erase that fear, but right now there are more pressing matters to attend to.
"Vic, I…"
She shakes her head and moves her hand over my mouth, so I stop. She steps up on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of my mouth. I try to turn my head to meet her lips again, but she's gone again before I can get there.
"You should go…try to figure this out." She's all business again. Her ability to switch seamlessly and instantaneously between being a woman and being my deputy ignites a whole new fire in my gut. I want to kiss her all over again, but she's right, I need to figure out who shot Branch.
"I'm gonna need a ride." I look sheepishly at Vic. To her credit she doesn't question me, but I see her make a quick assessment of herself in the mirror.
"We're going to need to leave out of the back exit." She says pointedly.
It's then that I realize that her face is red from beard burn. Martha used to complain that I didn't shave often enough and that kissing me could often be equated with kissing the hind end of a porcupine. It seems old habits die hard and my day and a half beard has made its presence known on Vic's face. She steps around me and splashes cold water on her face to soothe the burn away.
I leave the Reading Room to retrieve her duty jacket. When I return, she's looking more put together and again I marvel at her ability to compartmentalize. She thanks me for her jacket and we slink out the private entrance to Durant Memorial.
