Epilogue #1
Okay, in the spirit of "Proposals," which I plan to add to little by little, is a series of epilogues to various interpretations of the Walt and Vic story. Since we don't have a clue yet where Season #4 is headed, we are still free to ship and imagine without AU considerations. These may become moot at some point, but the shippers among us may enjoy these as stand-alone snippets. I'm not asking for contributions as I did with "Proposals." There has been a little interest but as yet no contributions for "Proposals," and I know everybody is busy and writing their own ideas. Enjoy the following prospective visions, and although some may end up *not* in strict shipper HEA accordance, enjoy at least this one, which is just that.
It was late May, an almost cloudless day with shirt-sleeve weather at the foot of the Bighorns. More than four years had passed since Janine Reynold's wedding. Walt let Little Henry ride on his shoulders while they walked to the Durant Municipal Park playground, only to be stopped by one of the now-elderly ladies who used to attend Martha's church. He couldn't remember her name right off, but she had always been pleasant to Martha. She stopped him with a smile, and he wondered if she would have the gall to try and pinch Henry's cheek.
"Sheriff, don't tell me you finally have a grandson!"
No, and no, were the correct answers. He was no longer Sheriff, and Henry was not his grandson. Cady had a little girl due in a few months, but silver-tongued devil Henry answered for him better than he might have. Henry had the benefit of being a tall, sturdy toddler with a mop of dark hair he had inherited from his mother's side of the family, and large hazel, almost golden eyes with blue-green flecks in them. He had always thought Henry a really handsome little guy, even if as Henry's dad, he was on the prejudiced side of things.
"No, Mommy's Sheriff! Daddy's Acting." He spoke with all the gravitas a slightly grubby three-year-old could muster. It was a little beyond Henry's grasp yet to understand the concept of his daddy temporarily shifting from Consulting Deputy to Acting Sheriff.
"That's right, Henry," he said, hoisting him down from shoulders to hip, giving the woman full benefit of one of his best, 'aw, shucks, ma'am,' grins for effect. "I'm officially retired, but stayed on as Consulting Deputy the last couple of years to assist with the more troubling cases. I'll be shifting to Acting Sheriff for just a few months, now, to give the current sheriff a little time off."
"Oh!" said the lady. He squinted a little, thinking. Was she Mary Pratt? That sounded right.
He could not tell whether Mrs. Pratt, who was probably only fifteen years older than Martha, was appalled or amazed at this astonishing revelation. They were, all of them, getting older, he thought.
Henry, a wiggly bundle, twisted around and exclaimed, "There's Mommy!"
Walking, or possibly waddling would be a closer approximation, across the street was his heart, the duly Appointed Sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming since his retirement at the beginning of his term, more than two years ago. He had chosen to take early retirement to stay home with Henry, and in less than a month, that would also include the new baby. Retirement to house-husband status had been one of the greatest joys of his life.
With a plethora of local babysitters available, he'd finally been able to occasionally go fishing with Henry Standing Bear, work on the cabin, do a little hunting, and ride Horse to his content. He also had the benefit of the greatest joy, being dad to a son, an entirely unexpected twist in his path after a long life in law enforcement. As Lucian had said once, a sheriff was actually a Wanted Man to all the perpetrators he had put away over his career. He had thought he would never make it to retirement, especially with some of the often-stupid chances he had taken after Martha's death, like the duel with Chance Gilbert. Lucian, 'Uncle Loosh-en' to Henry, was maybe most stupefied of everybody.
And there was Vic. He had never for a million years had thought he would be so lucky as to win Vic for his own. Not a public theist, he thanked God for every day he had with her.
Vic had lost none of her allure, but she had certainly lost her waistline, and wore her uniform shirt open over a black tank stretching over her belly, black capris and soft ballet flats. He knew her tactical boots were no longer comfortable over swelling feet. She did not wear her Glock at her waist in deference to lack of said waistline, but instead wore a shoulder holster. It wasn't exactly acceptable Absaroka SD uniform guidelines, but a week ago she had temporarily abdicated to her Consulting Deputy from that lofty perch so he could become Acting Sheriff as she went on maternity leave. Since the holding cells were currently empty during a momentary lull in business, she was in the office today, but only doing personnel work and research in preparation for her longer absence, hence her half-uniformed state.
"Hello, Sheriff Longmire," she said with a fond look, even as Henry launched himself at her. "Mmmm, you're getting SO BIG!" she said, hugging him tight and perching him on her hip, in an obviously often repeated ritual.
"You mean, Acting, Mommy. Daddy's Acting. You're the real sheriff!"
Walt leaned in, gave her a more-than-dutiful kiss, and a wry grin. "Out of the mouth of babes," he said, and then for her ears only, "Hullo, Sheriff Mama."
He turned back to introduce her to Mary Pratt, only to see Mrs. Pratt's mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"This is my wife, Vic, Mrs. Pratt, more often addressed as Sheriff Moretti. She's just taking a few months off to, um…"
"Sounds like?" she asked, always helpful when he was squirming in public.
"Ah, have our baby," he said a little sheepishly.
"That'll work," she said, nuzzling Henry to laughter.
Mrs. Pratt now looked more on the appalled than amazed side of things. So much for approving the virility of retired sheriffs, he thought. Mrs. Pratt looked to his mind as if she thought he was more of an Old Perv than husband and dad.
"How—wonderful for you!" she exclaimed with that false cheer from the department of awkwardness department. He suspected she might be thinking of Martha, and could more easily understand her conflicted feelings, if that was the case.
"Yep, it is" agreed Walt, ignoring Mrs. Pratt's discomfort, for Henry was now leaning toward the objective of their visit, the swings. He reached out, plucking Henry from Vic's arms and swung him high. "Am I a swing?" he asked, making the motions.
"No! Want those swings! The high ones!" declared Henry and pointed, with all the force of three-year-old determination behind the statement.
"Well, okay, then," Walt said, and deposited Henry to the sidewalk even as his little legs churned toward the swings. He turned back and tipped his hat to Mrs. Pratt. "Nice to see you, ma'am," he said, but looked meaningfully over to Vic.
His love, his life, quickly prompted by his pointed look, said, "It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Pratt." She was still learning to court the constituency during the remainder of his term, in preparation for her first solo election, with Ferg continuing on as Undersheriff. She was also learning to curb her tongue, although she did well around Henry so far.
Mrs. Pratt, "Yes, congratulations, Sheriff, and, er, Sheriff." She nodded her head once and walked on.
He caught Vic's hand in his large one.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Henry was the one who told her I was the sheriff?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Good boy, I'll make him my Campaign Manager. I hate that fucking stuff."
"I know, but I'll help you. I won a lot of elections. We can do it together."
"You did as little as possible, yet won the last election," she pointed out, "but I may have a chance with the Bear's help, and I'm counting on you, Bear, Little Henry, and Baby Longmire. People love babies, especially politicians' babies."
He grinned. "And the old man who's knocked out two babies in three years…"
She wrinkled her nose in flushed delight. He loved seeing her look a little flustered. "Well, maybe you get some credit, but it certainly wasn't for a lack of cooperation!"
He squeezed her hand, but his eyes flitted over to the swings in an automatic Dad Check, where Henry was chasing another little boy around before both throwing themselves across the seats of the swings. It was about time to join Henry as Designated Swing Pusher.
A hand on his sleeve drew his attention back to her.
"Ah, a bit of business before you go, about the Densham case, I need to ask if you and Ferg could serve the warrant later this afternoon. I think maybe Henry and I will go home and read Cat in the Hat about 20 times. I feel a nap coming on."
"Good luck convincing Henry of that."
"I could always drop him off with Sissy later, if I get serious about the nap for me," she said. Cady had become Sissy to Little Henry almost as soon as he could speak.
Maybe Ferg and I'll serve the warrant, leave things in his capable hands, and join you both. Acting Sheriff perk. Old man worn out from making babies, you know."
"Oh, really? Where in the employee handbook, is that perk, pray tell?" He loved it that she still flirted with him after all this time. He hoped she would never stop.
"Under L," he said without hesitation.
"For Longmire?" she asked skeptically.
"For Love."
