BTB
POS FOURTH SEASON – SPOILERS!
You: You know who you are, you've been warned!
A/N: You may have seen a few of my gacccckkkkk posts in reviews, expressing how my poor lil shipper heart was broken as Season 4 unfolded. I am shell-shocked and one of those who had to be talked off a virtual ledge of Grand Canyon scope. I mean, tears, lots of them. A few of you writers, you know who, and a few readers, you know who, have talked me through this. In particular, the lyrics to the song "Bones" by Jaida Dreyer (in the Seasons 1-3 Recap Trailer promoting Season 4) spoke to me. Be forewarned, I have NOT seen most of Season 4. My husband and I are going to watch it as Craig Johnson is, one per week. For us, the entirety is probably too muc,h too soon. * If* I have made any huge gaffes, PLEASE PM me.
This plotline inspiration is due to Vickrok's *husband*. Have any of us with those other halves ever acknowledged them? LOL—so, I brought mine in, too. Thank you, DW! I discussed with *mine* the possibilities of two plot points well before Season 1 began…that the slide in the department started just after Martha was diagnosed, and that training under Lucian had been *anything* but "By the Book." After Martha's diagnosis, everything at the station just got deferred and/or spiraled down. Walt had hired two green deputies just before her diagnosis, but basically ignored both Ferg and Branch as his focus honed in on Martha, as was proper. He took chances, like buying pot from Jamie for Martha. Branch became unpredictable, as though privileged, he could pursuehis own agenda. Ferg languished unappreciated and only self-trained. Lucian's Old School ways wouldn't answer to fill in for Walt, but Ruby did her best to keep the station limping along.
Walt hired Vic six months after Martha had been murdered because he saw the spiraling decay, but he was at that point powerless to stop it, and thought Vic would do what he could not, keep his department running, By the Book. He eventually made his way back to the station, and in the course of several years, found himself falling in love with his deputy, yet the whole station was still dysfunctional and showing the strain due to his earlier neglect.
With Branch murdered and the Wrongful Death suit regarding Barlow still pending, Walt realizes it's now time for him to resume his position of authority, and attempt to do what Vic's been doing for so long…operating By the Book, but her offer to lie for him after his misguided attempt on Jacob's life, even as she had covered for him and almost lost her career after his visit to Gorski, and after she took the punch meant for Jacob, he realizes he can't accept her offer in good conscience, can't compromise her, so he clumsily cuts all ties with her over a few months. It had been so comparatively easy with Lizzie, they had only been intimate one night and never dated, but with Vic, he has found friendship, the comfort of silence without words, a staunch partner who has his back, and absolute loyalty. Losing her, he has lost more…so much more…
But before the main event…inspiration lyrics: This, and a few lines from Sitting on a Time Bomb, are giving me hope for Season 5…I hope in the context of my story, they can provide you with some solace, too. If not, there's always Pappy Van Winkles. *WINK*
BONES
By Jaida Dreyer
Throwin' faith in the fire
It's time to go
Live free or die tryin'
Gonna justify my soul
I broke the silence
I walk alone
Made friends with darkness
Out here digging a hole
Every now and then you let what you love go
And the wicked things you carry swallow you up whole
Bless these bleedin' hands
and what will rest below
I'm buryin' bones
Buryin' bones.
There's somethin' waiting.
That cannot be found
Tied to the Chains
Of what's goin' in the ground.
Right now, I'm strong
But I'm not naïve,
One day this could be
The death of me.
Every now and then you let what you love go
And the wicked things you carry swallow you up whole.
Bless these bleedin' hands
and what will rest below
I'm buryin' bones
Buryin' bones.
(There may be more lyrics to this song, we have only heard a short version. Any mistakes are MINE from personal transcription.)
XXX
Chapter One
The level of Pappy's in the glass bottle had lowered appreciably and the conversation turned at first desultory, then non-existent by the time the late-evening July sun had set. The mild summer evening belayed a cool tension hovering between them in the modest room, silent, reaching only invisible tendrils, yet bold enough to make itself known.
Finally Lucian said, "I hear from Ruby you've keeping yourself running dusk to dawn, trying to clean the old place up."
Walt pressed his lips together, trying to feign apparent concentration, twirling his rook in his fingers without lifting it.
"Ruby is calling it BTB."
At that, he felt his eyes flicker up to his old mentor.
"That being…?"
"By the Book. That distant thing, that elusive holy grail you and Ruby and I never found, that for which I never trained you, because we never grasped it ourselves. You seemed to figure out how to get around it and things seemed to generally turn out pretty well. You took over and did all right with what you did have, at least before Martha got sick…"
At that, Walt shrugged. The whiskey went down warm and smooth, but less welcomed than usual. Although he sought solace he could not find in it, and although their Tuesday night chess had expanded to include Thursday evenings at Walt's tentative suggestion, he still did not find that, any more than he had ever found the elusive By the Book Lucian alluded to a moment ago.
"How's the lawsuit prep?"
Wrongful death, of a man who committed murder. "I can't comment on a pending case."
"See? By the Book. No fun, anymore, Walt."
He thought about Henry, doing a couple more weeks of jail time after botching a Hector impersonation. He had promised Henry no more prison, done his best, and with Cady's and Mathias' help had gotten him a minimum security gig, but still…Henry had told him he used to be fun, but he knew that must have been a lifetime ago, at least before Martha had been diagnosed. Then, any fun he ever remembered had ended.
"You still seeing that Lady Head Doctor?"
Walt winced. No, and that was another reason to find solace in a glass of Pappy's. She had cut him loose after their half-date had been interrupted by his past. Even as the man lay half-dead unconscious at his feet, he suspected his reaction to the intruder had given her just cause to go to her own therapist for years.
The investigation had suggested he could use some therapy, too. He had been given a list, just as he had years prior, when every so often something violent had managed to happen. Ruby had dutifully made an appointment for him, and before the first hour was up, he'd given the pleasant young doctor a new set of nightmares of his very own. The youngster, obviously shaken, had been very professional and suggested to increase visits to three times a week, but he had grabbed his hat, almost run out the door and not taken any further calls from their practice. He was, after all and a lifetime of it, a master of deflection.
"Nope," was all he said. It was, after all, none of Lucian's business.
That echoed in his head…"My personal life…is none of your business."
He winced and took another slug from his crystal glass. That was why he was here with Lucian, safe and warm and insulated from the foibles of life, from love and hatred and everything in between. Right now, he told himself, he needed the undemanding and unconditional affection he shared with the old sheriff.
Lucian shifted. "Getting too old to sit this long," he said, and it was obvious he was trying to jump-start the dying conversation.
"Where's your second, anyway?"
"My second?"
"Or your first, I'm not sure where she fit in down the line with Dr. Drab… No, she should have been your first. Still should. Feisty little Moretti."
"Lucian…" he said it with warning, but it was not a topic he was prepared to address.
When she was released from the hospital, he suspected Vic would again take the unpopular evening shift. In unspoken agreement, she had begun taking shifts when he was not on duty at the station. She no longer rode with him, no longer had arguments about cultural icons he had never heard of, or listened to his stories of the adventures he'd found growing up. No more…
He knew he had stabbed to death any semblance of friendship they had developed over the years. He missed it, and her, especially when on calls, but he would never say a word. He alone was responsible, and she would be better off with a younger, more stable man, and he would do his damnedest to try and promote that by the book.
Not that he hadn't heard about some of her escapades. Before she'd begun changing the duty rosters, he'd called her into his office, leaving the door pointedly open.
"Ethics, Deputy. Maybe we don't have a morals clause…"
"But maybe you fucking should, and if it bothers you, fire me."
It was an unmistakable challenge, one he might have considered taking a year ago, and then might have kissed her, but it was still early days after his flirtation with death from the cabin thing; he was not yet prepared either to deal with anything inside, nor lose an integral part of the department, not yet.
Without Branch, they remained woefully understaffed. Before the cabin invasion, he had asked again about rehiring Zach or Eammon, as though their transgressions had been addressed and were merely in a hiatus, despite both doing fine jobs…
She had balked about Eammon. "I told him I'd talked to you about it, and he agreed."
He wasn't so sure he was hearing the whole conversation, and made a mental note to talk to Eammon himself about it later, but just said again what had become his recent mantra. "Really can't afford any more bad publicity for the department right now, Vic."
She turned to him. You mean you can't afford it. We're just covering for you, like we always do." And then turned on her heel, into the hall without a word, and after that, the duty rosters changed dramatically. Lucian's face swam back into focus.
"Walt? You listening? Yep, I'm talking about the Italian one who began to sound like you. The one who forgets to button her shirt. I always thought she'd been taking buttoning lessons from you." He lip-pointed to where the top three buttons of Walt's shirt lay undone, exposing a profusion of rapidly silvering chest hair, and a hint of the stitches still healing he wore since the fracas in the cabin. It was just one more to add to the party.
"Looks better on her," said Lucian provocatively. "She seeing anyone, now? That mealy-faced accountant fella wasn't worthy of a woman like her." He smacked his lips. "I always thought she did have a thing for older guys…"
"Lucian, if you're just going to ramble on, I'll leave." When had he gotten so…fustian? That was an old word, out of one of his remaining friends, his books, but Lucian was really asking for it, tonight. "But it's still none of your business."
None of your business. Wince.
"I'm just saying. Man likes you, needs a woman, someone to go home to, someone to cook and launder for him, warm his bed…"
Okay, so Lucian had turned into a crusty old comedian. "You're one to talk, never succumbed to any woman, and you know Martha wasn't like that…"
"No," Lucian said softly, "but neither is Doctor Drab. Maybe you should consider one of those types I'm talking about, if you're going to throw away the more spirited fillies." He snorted, before hawking a big lougie into the brass spittoon in the corner.
Walt wasn't even sure if spittoons were allowed in retirement facilities. It brought up the image of Lucian in an open-door cell arguing with Branch over shooting up the retirement home. A pang in the general vicinity of his heart began to grow, and then, alarmingly.
He stood up suddenly, grabbed his hat.
"Just remembered I need to be somewhere," he said, sliding the rook with one finger and toppling Lucian's knight.
"Well, shit with sneakers on!" exclaimed Lucian, who studied the board even as Walt managed to crank his hat down and leave the old sheriff to his own devices.
He made it halfway down the stairs toward where the Bronco sat in privileged OFFICIAL parking, before he started to cry over Branch, over Vic, over what he had become.