A Good Night's Sleep is Hard to Find

Timeframe: A continuation of "A Good Death is Hard to Find" which is at the end of Season 2.

This was supposed to be a quick little romp, but I didn't know how to end it, so it wound up in a different place than intended.

Craig Johnson writes his books in first person, from Walt's point of view, so I thought it would be fun to let Vic have her say.

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"There's nothing going on between me and Vic. Nothing."

"Oh, Walt … of course there is." Lizzie slammed the screen door as she left, looking frustrated. I sympathized with her. Trying to connect with Walt Longmire on anything other than a professional level was maddening. The times he let down his guard and showed his more human side were few and unpredictable, coming when you least expected.

Take today, for example. I didn't want to tell him that my crazy ex, and former boss, Ed Gorski was basically stalking me. I didn't want to tell him about my past mistakes. Didn't want to tell him how much I hated myself for the terrible decisions I'd made in the past. Didn't want to admit how stupid I'd been. I didn't even want to admit all this to myself, much less to the one man whose opinion mattered to me most. And I really didn't want to tell him how scared I was.

Once Lizzie closed the door behind her, I unconsciously avoided eye contact, not knowing what to say. As usual, he didn't say a thing, but he looked uncomfortable as he turned and headed back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I turned off the lights and crawled under the blankets, trying to get warm despite the fact I was shivering, not from the cold, but from my stress over Ed and the encounter with Lizzie. Walt's voice kept replaying in my head and I couldn't shut it off—couldn't stop obsessing over how the deep, rumbling sound echoed into my throat and chest and stayed there, bouncing around, continually distracting me.

"Don't go home tonight. You can stay at my cabin until we can figure this out."

I could hear the quiet voice and see the intense stare like he was still standing right in front of me. He had stepped toward me and touched my arm. The unflinching eye contact held me still. It was one of those moments when he let down his detached, sheriff attitude and let his compassion show. I could see how much he cared, and it stopped my heart. His presence was still threatening, not toward me, but toward the person who was trying to hurt me.

"I spent many a night on that couch. Extra blankets in the cabinet."

Instead of getting up and getting more blankets, all I could do was imagine all of Walt Longmire's six feet and five inches stretched out on the couch I was now laying on. Trying to distract myself from thinking about Ed or Sean, I focused on the image of Walt on the couch. I could easily see the stubble on his chin, the messy, graying hair, and now, thanks to Lizzie, I had a vividly clear image of his chest and shoulders. That image in particular was troubling, since it allowed me to imagine my fingers in his chest hair or my hands massaging his shoulders and biceps.

Okay, girl, stop it. You are a married woman. When is the last time you thought about your husband this way?

I could beat myself up all I wanted, but the truth is that Sean and I were no more than roommates. In fact, I was pretty sure he'd talked to a lawyer. I wasn't surprised, since we'd been a mess since before moving to Durant. I chose Sean because he was steady, faithful, and predictable. The problem is that I was never in love with him. Loved him, yes. But in love with him? No, not really. Not the way I'd always dreamed of. I tried to make the right choice, tried to make it work, but the reality was that I'd failed and I'd lost him. I knew the minute he started talking about the job in Australia. I knew he wasn't doing it for me. He was doing it to get away from me. So here I was, two thousand miles away from a home I couldn't go back to, and obsessed with a man who insisted on keeping a professional detachment. Good job, Vic. You've sure done a great job with your life decisions.

Then today, for just a moment, things seemed to improve. Walt let down his guard and I could see in his eyes that he cares for me. Maybe as much as I care for him. Just maybe.

But of course, as soon as I start to think things are improving, life kicks me back to my place. Making myself at home on Walt's couch and thinking about waking up in his house was more happiness than I'm allowed, so that's when Lizzie showed up.

Lizzie—with her Myley Cyrus voice and unbuttoned see-through blouse. Seriously? This is what I get to deal with? Girl, I know that trick. Do you think that something so basic will work on Walt Longmire?

I didn't know what to do when she barged into the house. Replaying the scene in my head, I take comfort in Walt's reaction. "What are you doing here?" He didn't show her any regard or compassion like I'd seen directed at me earlier in the day, only annoyance.

"Excuse me?"

Of course he reacted with ignorance and innocence when she accused him of being involved with me. For one reason, he really was innocent. For the other, I was pretty sure he wanted it to stay that way.

All the introspection must have worn me out, since I finally drifted off to sleep.

"Vic? Vic! What's wrong?"

I opened my eyes from a fitful sleep to see Walt's facing looming over mine. His hand was on my shoulder, and he looked concerned. "What?" I managed to ask. "What do you mean, 'what's wrong'?"

"You're crying. I could hear it from the other room." He really did look concerned.

I swept my fingers across my face. Sure enough, tears. I didn't remember crying, but I did remember a lot of self-loathing while trying to fall asleep. "I'm not crying,' I responded feebly. "I'm shivering. I'm just cold, that's all."

He didn't look terribly convinced, but was kind enough not to argue with me. He stood and headed back to his bedroom. In just a moment, he was back, bringing with him a heavy wool blanket. He took my hand and tugged gently, leading me to sit up.

"Sit up a second," he said softly, while I dreamily complied. As I moved to sit on the edge of the couch, he sat next to me and managed to lie down, stretching his long legs behind me. Throwing the blanket over us, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. "Come here," he mumbled, as he settled down, turned on his side, and adjusted the pillow. Not entirely sure what else to do, I lay down with my back to him, resting my head on his arm and snuggling into his chest. "Better?" he asked.

Laying next to Walt Longmire, feeling his warmth radiate through me, and his breath tickling my ear, was everything I'd imagined. And yes, I'd imagined quite a lot. I concentrated on relaxing, letting the tension leak out of me, and soaking up the closeness he was offering. Surprisingly, it wasn't long before I drifted into a restful, contented sleep.

I woke when the first rays of sunlight began to sneak into the room. Walt was now laying on his back, snoring contentedly. I was on my side, facing him, an arm and leg thrown over him, barely teetering on the edge of the sofa. I couldn't help but smile. He'd sacrificed his comfort to keep me warm and safe, but once asleep, I was the one clinging to him.

I couldn't possibly fall back to sleep now. Instead, I reveled in everything that was Walt. My head on his chest, I could feel the rise and fall of his breath. I was overcome with his particular scent—something I was all-too-familiar with from spending so much time in close proximity to him over the past few years. His left hand rested on my hip, his right on my arm that was lying across his chest. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, being this close to him. I hoped the relaxed way he slept indicated that he was comfortable with me being there. I dreaded the moment he'd wake up.

A "seize the moment" thought was taking over my brain. Dare I kiss him? What if he pushed me away? Just then, he stirred, his arms hugging me even tighter. His hands roamed over my skin ever so much. That must have been just enough to jar him into reality, because his eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times while taking in his surroundings. When he remembered where he was and how he'd gotten there, he turned his head to lock his eyes on mine.

"Hey," I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a smile from my face. He smiled back, thankfully, and didn't look like he wanted to get away. I leaned up on my elbow so I could better see him. Without thinking, I touched his face, running my fingers over his jaw line, feeling the stubble and weathered skin. "Thanks," I managed to say. "Thanks for keeping me warm. And safe."

He didn't answer, just continued to scan my face with his eyes, and let his fingers play on my arm. I saw a flicker of a thought play across his eyes, but wasn't sure what it meant. He must have been weighing the situation in his mind. I held my breath, expecting him to push me away at any second. Instead, his hands moved to my sides, and pulled me closer while raising his head to touch his lips to mine.

You know those moments you dream about, when the world stands still, your breath stops, and everything is silent? I'd never experienced one of those before. Walt Longmire was kissing me. His lips were on mine, his hands gripped my sides, and time stopped. It wasn't long before I stopped worrying and let my instincts take over. I moved so I was over him, letting my chest touch his and leaned in to the kiss. My breath caught just a bit when my breasts made contact with his chest, with only my tank top separating us. He took that moment to deepen the kiss and let his tongue play over mine. My heart beat crazily and there was ringing in my ears. I thought feeling lightheaded from a kiss was a silly notion, but it was silly no more. My world reeled, and I held on tighter, grasping his shoulders in my hands, and tightening my legs to feel more of him. He responded by moving his hips against mine, a move that sent electricity through my entire body. I wanted more of him. I wanted no more barriers between us. I sat up so I could remove my shirt. I intended to lean back down to press my chest to his, but as soon as the shirt was off, he moved a hand to my breast, squeezing it and running his thumb over my nipple. His other hand reached for the back of my neck and pulled me back to him, hungrily kissing me again. I let my body respond as it wished and moved my hips against his, feeling his erection through our clothes. His hands went to my hips, pushing my shorts away. At the same moment, he sat up and I stood. Once my shorts fell to the floor, I reached for his, removing them before I sat back down, straddling his lap. His hands moved my hips toward him, his lips and tongue landing on my throat, one hand again going to a breast.

Now that there was no fabric in the way, I grasped his length in one hand and teasingly moved the tip against my entrance, spreading my moisture over it. He locked eyes with me again, with an intensity I'd never imagined. I continued to play with him, enjoying the affect I was having on him, watching him breathe heavier and feeling a hand tighten on my hip. As he pulled me in for a kiss, I couldn't wait any longer and lowered myself onto him, taking in his full length. We both gasped at the sensation, drinking in each other's breath. I began to move, as slowly as I could manage, reveling in the feel of him filling me, electric with the feel of his hands on my breast and back.

I don't know how long we stayed that way, touching, feeling, caressing, enjoying each other. Just before the intensity became too much, he pushed me up, stood, and led me to the bed, where he covered me with his body and we began again. I had never felt more beautiful as he touched every inch of my skin, devoured my breasts, ran his fingers over my center, and started all over to do it again. After paying particular attention to my clit, I found myself gasping his name, begging him to fill me. I was transfixed by those blue eyes as he entered me fully, filling every part of my body and soul. The release was powerful, and once spent, he remained in me, letting my muscles twitch around him as they slowly relaxed. The feeling of him still filling me, relaxing with me after the intensity, was an intimacy I'd never experienced. We stayed that way for as long as our legs would allow, slowly letting muscles relax, trailing fingers over skin, touching, breathing, listening to slowing heartbeats.

When he finally moved, he stretched out his full length and rested his head on my shoulder, letting me caress his back and shoulders. I didn't dare speak, afraid to break the spell and rejoin the real world. Just when I thought he'd drifted off to sleep, he raised up on an elbow and leaned in to kiss my forehead.

"Victoria Moretti," he stated, as if reading my name off a list. He let his eyes and hands wander over me. Maybe he was making sure it was all real and not something he'd imagined.

"Walt Longmire …" I responded, with a bit of a question at the end. "Are you okay?"

Thankfully, he replied with a sly smile while he lightly brushed the hair from my forehead. "Yup. You?"

"Yup," I responded, not able to hide my amusement. "You seem a little surprised to find yourself in bed with me. Second thoughts?"

"Nope."

He's always careful with his words, so I waited while he considered what to say. He finally continued, speaking softly, yet confidently. "I guess I saw this coming, from the first time I saw you—swearing at a job application and storming out of my office. I knew I'd follow you. I think I knew I'd follow you anywhere. I was glad to see a different last name listed as your emergency contact, and disappointed to see "husband" written next to it. But I wanted you around anyway. Even if you were married, even if you were my deputy, I wanted you in my life. I convinced myself to be content with you at a distance, but I always wanted this." He stopped for a moment, considering his next words. "I never wanted to interfere with your marriage, Vic, I swear."

"You didn't!" I quickly interrupted. "You didn't. Sean and me, we've been a mess for a long time, since long before I met you. I hate to say this now—it sounds like an excuse—but I'm pretty sure he's already seen an attorney. I know he's decided to leave. He's already rented a place in Queensland, without even talking to me about it. I… if I'm married right now, I don't think I will be much longer." I finished feebly, ashamed to be discussing my sad life immediately after such a wonderful night.

"I know," he said softly. "I'd heard as much. Small town, you know." He looked genuinely sad for me.

"Well." I said confidently. "That settles that. You are not now, nor have you ever been, interfering in my so-called marriage. Now, how about the deputy thing? Have you gotten over that hurdle? Because I'm here to tell you, Walt … I want to be with you. Not just right now, not just every now and then. I …" I choked. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I loved him. Couldn't tell him I'd been in love with him since the day he showed up on my doorstep with that half-finished, wrinkled job application in his hand, asking me if I wanted the job, not listening when I told him 'no.' Luckily for me, he understood.

"I know, Vic. I understand. I don't think either of us are half-way kind of people." He stopped and considered again. "I guess we'll figure it out. People will talk. They'll say terrible things. It will cause problems with the other deputies. They'll assume favoritism."

"They already do, Walt. All of that. We're already dealing with that. We might as well deserve it, right?" I tried to make light of it, but I knew he was concerned. "Listen, Walt, I know you take your job, and people's trust, seriously. I know this will be hard on you." I had to pause and gather my resolve. All or nothing. "I'm not playing with you, Walt. I would never put you or your position in jeopardy over nothing. I'm in this for the long haul. I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you. I want you with me. I think we can figure this out. And if the county can't deal with that … you know what I'm going to say, right?"

"Fuck 'em!" we said in unison.

Luckily, he smiled. The look on his face gave me courage, and I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "I love you, Walter Longmire. I know you may not want to hear that. I know I've annoyed you with my impulses and feelings, but I can't hide it. I have no poker face and I'm a terrible liar. So there it is. I love you. I want to be with you. For as long as you can stand me, if not longer."

I suddenly ran out of things to say. I held my breath as he looked at me. Ever so slowly, he leaned over me, once again placing a hand behind my neck, he moved to kiss me. Just before his lips met mine, he stopped.

"I love you too, Victoria Moretti."