After she gets the text, staring and staring and staring until she can fit the letters into words, Nicole is still. For just a moment, she thinks, but when she looks away from the wall it is dusky night outside her window. She feels nauseous, sick, like cold little hands are reaching up in her throat and choking her from the inside out. Tries again to link this text to the Waverly in her head, her Waverly, all smiles and dimples and glow. She needs desperately to see her. Her heart is thudding horribly, dread seeping and spilling over her skin. She wonders, just for a moment, what life would be like without her. If this is really so awful as it feels. Trembling, she grabs her keys and leaves the apartment, letting the door crash shut behind her.
All the way to the Homestead that feverish dread grows. She thinks that if someone could see into her chest they'd see the dread first, a oily stretching thing, heavy and solid. Nicole wonders if she should be driving. She wants to pull over and run her shaking fingers through her hair or be sick among the ditch weeds. She does neither, dutifully turning on her headlights and watching for rabbits. She does not turn on the radio. She can still hear her heart in her ears, throwing itself frantically against her ribcage. Everything is quiet, it seems, except for that.
When she pulls up outside the house is dark. The Jeep is out front. She turns the car off, sits for just a minute while her blood rushes through her veins, and then steps outside. She does not bother to ring the doorbell. It's a Friday, and if Wynonna is home she's probably collapsed on the sofa already, a bottle of beer in her loose grip. Instead she lets herself in, looking around at the dark-softened house. Sure enough a shapeless heap is gathered on the couch, gentle snores emanating from it. She tries to be quiet as she pads up the stairs.
Waverly's room is empty, the bed cold. It feels like someone has snatched the wind from within her lungs. Thumping back down the stairs, not bothering to be stealthy this time, she shakes Wynonna awake. Nicole can deal with Wynonna's irritation at being woken, even her anger about the fight, but she can't deal with Waverly gone and Waverly angry because even now bile is building up in the back of her throat and her thoughts clatter wildly against each other.
"Where is she?" she says, voice so steady, not even a hint of a tremor. "I need to talk to her."
Wynonna, looking up at her, sighs heavily and takes another swig from the beer bottle. Her eyes look tired, sadness clouding up in them. It takes a minute for her to answer.
"Her and Rosita headed out of town. A spa trip, or something. I told her to call you, but she was real angry, Haughtstuff." Grimacing a little. "She feels pretty betrayed. Just give it some time."
Nicole does not want to give it some time. Everything seems crystalline and she is so so scared, breath coming shallow and slow. She dazedly says goodbye to Wynonna, drives back to her silent apartment. Calamity Jane is nowhere to be found. She paces for a while, tries to read, even shuffles through the stack of case files on her kitchen table. She is painfully aware of her phone on the table beside the couch. The sky lightens, bands of rose and gold slicing over the table and Nicole's face, frozen as it is when she returned to staring at the wall early this morning. Once her alarm goes off in the other room she gets up, gets dressed. Feeds the cat and makes some breakfast, trying to hold herself together. It's her day off. She thinks of going to the Homestead again, or going to the bar, or even driving into the city but it all feels so impossible. What she really wants to do is wrap herself up in Waverly, her comforting presence and warm company. Her love.
By midmorning she has decided to go grocery shopping, get her mind off the situation. Or try. But then her doorbell rings and joy floods through her, lighting up every corner of her being and all she can feel is moths fluttering through her. Nicole wrenches the door open, her name bounding off her lips, but everything is wrong and Mercedes is there, dressed in black with a rotting wound spread over her forehead. She barely feels the collision when she hits the ground. Mercedes shrieks about a seal and bands her ringed fingers tight around Nicole's neck. She tries to go for her gun but the Widow has her down again and everything seems dulled a bit when the door smashes open again and suddenly Waverly is there.
Everything seems to come back into sharp focus. She doesn't know why Waverly's here but she doesn't question it, going back to the gun as her girlfriend batters Mercedes with a broken staff. She is almost to it, can practically feel the cool metal in her palm when a splintering crack resounds behind her and Waverly is groaning amid the wreckage of the coffee table, the Widow already trying to paralyze her with her poisoned breath. Nicole thinks about how she thought she had lost her, maybe she still has, and a strength surges through her legs. She vaults the couch and grabs the Widow from behind. She is strangling her, doing a good job too, when an excruciating pain slams into her arm and she pulls away with a hoarse scream.
She's dizzy, so tired all of the sudden, listening to Mercedes shriek in a detached sort of way as she clutches her arm in a patch of sun. Waverly has gotten to her gun, stumbles back in looking around frantically but the Widow is gone. Nicole does not think she sees her move but the next minute Waverly is holding her up, warmth so close she wants to spool it into her cells. Waverly seems almost hysterical but Nicole is just too tired and as she lets her eyes slip shut she doesn't even feel the pain, just the warmth, pulling her down. Right before she lets go entirely she feels that buzz of happiness she always gets when Waverly says her name.
Nicole.
