A/N: I have the worst time trying to write for Matt, so this feels a bit rough to me, but the inspiration for the basic premise came to me the other week and would NOT leave me alone. Also, I know Matt doesn't usually come across as so emotional or poetic or in touch with his feelings, but I like to think there's a difference between how he acts and what's really going on in his head, so hopefully that difference is clear :) Enjoy!
A/N 2: The dialogue is taken directly from "Hostage!"
As a lawman, Matt took his sworn duty to protect those who could not protect themselves as seriously as any man ever had, if not more so. In every situation, he weighed all his options and took action to keep everyone safe, men and women alike. Something in his upbringing urged him to make women and children and the less fortunate his priority, but sometimes he had to make the hard decision to choose the course that saved the most lives, regardless of sex, age, or social status. It wasn't easy or right or just, but that was just the way it was when you lived with a badge practically embedded in your chest.
Then one day, suddenly, every woman became Kitty.
The pair of horses carrying their heartsick charges thundered relentlessly down the dusty road, racing against the mercilessly ticking clock.
It wasn't immediately after the first time they'd met—although, he'd noticed her. He'd told her as much last year on that interminable train ride to Denver. Lying there, incapacitated, hearing Kitty's heart laid bare, he had to say something. He had to reassure her she wasn't alone in their relationship. All the assurance she had gleaned over the years from his tight-lipped, stubborn-hearted ways was true, and so much more. So he broke through her reverie to confess— "I noticed that day, Kitty. I noticed"—and kicked himself when a few tears escaped her eyes and he could do nothing more than comfort her with heartfelt, empty-sounding words. But she knelt by his side and ran her fingers through his hair and turned the tables, as always, comforting him, and they dared to discuss the possibility that he might not walk away from this injury. He might not ever walk again, but she'd be damned if she'd let him die on her. Her and Festus and Newly and Doc would save everyone on the train, and he'd just have to hack it.
It wasn't immediately after that first morning in the café, but suddenly, sometime within the first few years of their relationship, every woman became Kitty.
Matt dismounted before his horse even had a chance to stop.
"She's upstairs, Marshal."
Someone else would take care of Buck, and Matt took the stairs to Doc's office two at a time. Arms strained against the railings to pull himself up faster. Then he was there, and he opened the office door and….
All the air was sucked out of his lungs, and all he could do was look at her.
Every young girl working in a saloon became Kitty, and Matt paid them more attention. Not because he had any interest in them, but because he was making sure they were treated right, making sure they weren't being forced to do anything they hadn't consented to doing. Matt saw battered faces, meticulously concealed with just a bit too much rouge, and couldn't help but see Richard Strom's hands around Kitty's neck, the son of a bitch forcing himself on her.
Every mother working against the odds to care for her family and protect her children became Kitty, and Matt did his best to give them their space and lend his support in equal measure. They were strong and fiercely protective, making them loathe to ask for help but also allowing them to recognize when asking for it would save their families when they couldn't. And Matt couldn't help but remember how Kitty stood up to any threat that menaced the Longbranch and those she loved like they were her own flesh and blood. He couldn't help but remember young Thad….
Every woman going it alone, stubborn and proud, or waiting for her man to come back or mourning the death of a loved one became Kitty, and Matt kept an eye on them, feeling a strange mix of pride and responsibility and guilt. Life had broken them down—but not defeated them—or made them harder, given them stories to tell or secrets to keep. And while Matt marveled at the resiliency of women, he couldn't help but think he should've done more, been more, and he couldn't help but fear Kitty would be one of those women one day or decide she already was. Alone.
Matt moved closer to her, closer to Doc who couldn't take his eyes off Kitty either, and if he hadn't loved that face, that body, Kitty so long, he might've been able to look away. But he couldn't—wouldn't—and as things stood, he was barely able to convince himself she was only resting—beaten and bruised, but nothing more.
"How'd it happen, Doc?" Matt couldn't seem to do anything other than whisper, too devastated, too blindsided by Kitty's appearance to do anything else.
"He shot her. He just…deliberately shot her down."
He'd heard all the vile stories about Bonner, but his cold-blooded violence somehow took Matt by surprise once again, and he took off his hat just to give himself a moment's pause. "How is she?"
"She's alive. That's just about all. The wound…it's bad, awful bad, but, Matt, they abused her. They…." Doc's voice was strangled, and they both regretted the question, but, God help them, it was necessary. "They treated her just somethin' terrible. They…they broke her down." Matt knew what Doc was implying, what he couldn't find the crude words to say, and he swallowed back bile. And then—"I don't think she wants to live…."—his heart seized in his chest.
Oh, God…Kitty….
"I've done all I can…."
One day, suddenly, Matt realized every woman had become Kitty, and it had changed the way he approached his job. For better or worse.
Matt heard the office door close behind him—he'd barely noticed Sam and Festus in the office earlier—and felt the weight of Doc's presence still in the room, but his eyes had only briefly left Kitty from the moment he entered the office. He slowly eased down on one knee and knelt by her side, and gently, reverently, Matt grasped her hand—the only unbruised skin he'd seen on her so far—and willed her to wake up, to heal, to defy those bastards. To live.
"Kitty…."
It took a moment, and Matt squeezed her hand just the slightest bit, but then she struggled to consciousness and painstakingly turned her head to look at him. And he didn't know if he had ever been more relieved or more devastated to look into those expressive blue eyes.
It nearly overwhelmed him, but he would be damned if he gave her even the smallest reason to doubt him, so he nodded, hoping it was reassuring, hoping she could see the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that had always been so hard for him to share. "I need you, Kitty…."
The look she gave him shattered his already broken heart.
One day, suddenly, every woman had become Kitty, and Matt could save every woman but the one that actually mattered the most to him.
"I need you."