oOo oOo oOo

His eyes burned with weariness as he struggled to find some way to ease the intense pain in his ankles and wrists. Henry was dehydrated and helpless in the middle of a reservation somewhere.

"Help!" His screams were muffled and raw, it was as if someone had poured boiling water down his throat. The pain was nothing compared to the terror he had each time his captors returned. Anything the ropes were doing to his joints would pale in comparison to what the kidnappers had in store for him. Through all of the utter horror and sickening degradation he was experiencing he had a sobering and comforting thought, today was his best friend's birthday; and even though they were still at odds since their fight, Henry longed to give Walt a hug and have a cold Reiner with him. His body was stiff from the stationary position he had been in for so long, 'how long had he been here?' An even greater question, 'where was here?' He recognized the smell and the shrubbery, but it seemed like any time he turned his head; all he saw was flat, smoldering, and unforgiving terrain. An intense weariness began to overtake him and he simply couldn't fight it. Shivering and helpless, Henry promised himself he would wake up again, at least for a moment.

oOo oOo oOo

Vic stared at the manila envelope on her desk just taunting her, the information inside could ruin some lives, specifically Walt's. If Walt's life was destroyed by the DNA evidence on the gun she found, it would change everything. "Ruby, when did the lab contact you on the DNA results?" Ruby's eyes met hers and she quickly responded.

"The lab called around 5:30 am this morning, and I happened to be in at the time. Then I called you a minute later to verify and get your consent because you are the one handling the evidence."

"Okay, thank you, Ruby, I appreciate your help with this." The seasoned receptionist (and everything else the Sheriff's office needed) simply smiled back and nodded her head. Vic was sure that she heard Walt walking up behind her and she swiveled quickly to find an empty doorway. Playing it off she got up and reached for the coffee, then she remembered she had already had today's max amount. The doctor had given her a checklist of things not to eat, drink, or do, none of them were ideal, but all of them were worthwhile sacrifices. The baby was getting bigger, she knew that by the tighter fit of her already tight jeans, she would have to go shopping soon. She turned to find Ferg and Ruby looking at her, so she quickly responded to them. "I have to go out, I'll be back soon. I'm taking an early lunch." She glanced up at the clock, it was only 10:00 am, "or a brunch if you want to call it that." Vic smiled as both her co-workers and friends watched her grab her coat and keys to leave. "Call if anything comes up and I will hurry right over, otherwise; I'll be back in an hour." She turned to go but then quickly realized that she needed the evidence on the gun, she turned only to find a confused looking Walt staring down at her; his face alive with questions.

"You got some place more important to be?" His lips were tight with concern, as his inquiry stilled hung in the air. "Last time I checked you were on the payroll, which means you go when I give the okay."

Her cheeks burned with an intense irritation, who did he think he was?! "I have got some errands to finish up and I'll just eat my lunch on the run." It will only be an hour and then I'll be here to help with whatever needs to be done. I'll clock out if you want me to."

Walt's face was lined with genuine regret, he didn't have to go and accuse her of being lazy to keep her close to him, he was just worried for her safety and he wanted her to be okay. "That's alright, just hurry back and make sure you call if you need anything." He gave a smile and turned to walk back to his office, hand on his holster he sauntered back to the lonely room at the back of the Sheriff's Office.

"Okay, I will," Vic answered sensing the awkwardness radiating from Ferg and Ruby, she spun on her heels and gave a quick nod before stepping out into the foyer. She had to deal with this evidence in a way that would keep Walt out of trouble, he just didn't deserve to be accused, she was going to solidify his innocence. She knew what she had to do, bury the gun where no one would ever find it again. Talk with the labs about a faulty delivery, and that the results never arrived. She would think up some fib about the uselessness of a copy due to an inconclusive DNA match on the firearm. She knew it was protocol for the labs to simply relay the DNA evidence, and to refrain from studying and memorizing it themselves. Her forehead was damp with sweat as she quickly left the office, her heart was pounding out of her chest.

"Did she say anything about where she was going?" Walt's strong and baritone voice echoed through the office.

"No, just that she would be back in an hour, and that she would call if she needed anything." Ferg's words stuck in the air for what seemed like far too long, then Walt responded.

"Well she won't be calling us on her cell," Walt held the device up in his hand, "and her holster is laying on the back of her chair?" It was normal for Vic to lighten her load when in office, but she would never leave without her phone and gun on any other day. "I'll run them out to her, you all stay busy here, I'll be right back." Walt hurried out of the office Vic's things in hand.

"This is the stupidest idea I have ever had," Vic said as she backed out of her parking spot. Driving away she sensed she had forgotten something, her gun holster, and her cell phone, no way she was going back to get them, Walt had already tried to keep her there and the later she put this off the more of a threat it was to Walt. After grabbing the gun from the evidence lab, she just drove, having no idea where she was going she just drove further out in reservation territory, she knew the risks, but to her … it was worth it. Getting Chance Gilbert what he deserved was not worth Walt's reputation and well-being. She pulled off the barely beaten dirt drive and went about a mile before finally stopping. As she got out she heard a strange sound from a distance away, reaching for her gun she realized she was unarmed, but she had grabbed her rifle that morning and it was in the back of her truck. She quickly turned to get the shovel and grab some extra shells, this was it. She was about to break Federal Law and risk her livelihood to protect the man she loved, this was really, really not smart. She dug a very deep hole and rolled the gun up in a towel before beginning the already initiated process of becoming a criminal. She had almost finished filling the hole when she heard the same noise she had heard just twenty minutes earlier.

"Hello?" Her word hung in the air, and she felt an uneasiness as she opened the door of her truck and placed the shovel inside. The rifle remained at her side as she felt the intense curiosity take over, she was really making unwise decisions today. A white sheriff's deputy on an Indian reservation alone. Not to mention, a pregnant one! Still, she kept walking, and then after walking about eighty feet, she saw him. She rushed up to Henry, who looked half dead, his eyelids fluttering as if he was having some kind of seizure. His skin was blistered by the sun and she could barely keep herself composed.

"Henry!?" Her heart was pounding in her chest and the sweat forming on her brow began to fall, landing on the dry sand of the arid Wyoming landscape. "It's okay, it's Vic, I am going to get you out of here, it is going to be okay." Vic struggled with the knots and quickly remembered the gutting knife in her glove department. She rushed to her truck and ran back to his side. Kneeling down she began to cut the rope as quickly as she possibly could. Henry was mumbling something that she couldn't understand. She tried to ignore the burning pain in her lower back, the hole she had dug took a lot out of her, being pregnant was no picnic, but she had to help Henry. "Okay, I am almost done," she spoke to a nearly unresponsive Henry, he was dying, she had been around death enough to know its scent, its face, she had to hurry. He smelled like urine and fecal matter and she wondered how long he had been out here. Right now the two of them were sitting ducks, she finished slicing the rope and tried to drag him toward her truck. Very quickly, eighty feet seemed to become a thousand as she struggled to drag Henry's dead weight on her own.

"Ohhhhh," Henry's painful groans spilled into the air, "No, no, no," he muttered. He was traumatized, whoever had done this to him really did a good job. He began to flail ever so slightly, but it wasn't enough to loosen Vic's grip. Her hands held tight under his arms as she tugged him toward the truck. With every pull, her back pain intensified and her lungs began to burn.

"It's okay Henry, I got you, it's okay." The reassurance seemed to calm him and he stopped struggling, then Vic placed him down gently realizing her idiotic mistake. Why had she not just taken the truck key and driven up to Henry? She rushed to the truck and turned the key. As she drove over, her radio hissed to life. Pulling up as close as she could get, Vic put the truck in park.

"Vic, you there Vic?" At Walt's voice, she grabbed the radio and just as she was about to let him know about Henry, the sound of a gun being cocked stopped her dead in her tracks. "Vic!" Walt's frantic voice sounded from her radio, he was clearly trying to contact her because he was worried, now she wished she had just talked to him. Turning to see a swollen faced man with beady eyes, Vic just raised her arms and stepped out of the truck. Henry lay on the ground a few feet away, still appearing to be dead.

"What is a pretty deputy such as yourself doing way out here on reservation property?" Vic's throat was dry and her eyes were blurred with tears from the choking heat and dust she had inhaled. The gun in her face reminded her of her baby and the maternal instinct in her reacted so fast she scarcely had time to process what she was saying, she simply raised her hands higher over her head and then she spoke.

"I was just going for a quick stroll through the Wyoming wasteland," Vic answered. The man at the other end of the barrel smiled at her, revealing quite a few missing teeth.

"I don't suppose you were trying to take this Indian back with you," he spat, nodding down toward Henry. The answer to his question was obvious to both of them, she had no choice but to fight the robust man with the 12 gauge shotgun in his hands. Her quick reaction caught him off guard as she swept his left leg out from underneath him, and he came smashing to the ground. She quickly grabbed his shotgun and turned to look at Henry, he was in rough shape. Turning back and aiming the gun at her attacker she was startled to realize he had pulled a concealed firearm from his leg strap and before she could react … he fired. The shot rang out into the air and an intense pain ran through her right shoulder and out of her back. Her breath caught in her lungs. It felt like someone had stabbed her with a smoldering hot cattle prod.

"Ahhhhh!" She screamed in pain then fired back instantaneously, but she didn't miss her target, it was a fatal shot. He died a few seconds later splayed out on the ground. She dropped the shot gun and winced at the pain as she fell just outside of her truck. Vic tried to breathe as the pain became more and more intense, she saw Henry's lifeless form just a few feet from her and she tried to will herself to move, but for some reason, her entire body seemed to be paralyzed. Sitting there she tried to assess the damage. She hadn't realized how bad the gunshot wound was. The back of her uniform was sticky with warm blood and she looked down to see it spread out on the dirt where she sat. Her vision began to blur, and all she heard before losing consciousness was the dull hum of her truck engine and the faint buzz of radio waves.