An extra day off and some cold weather helped this along much quicker than expected. Thank you for your patience and for your reviews :-)
"Why, Eamon?"
He picks up the fabricated rifle tucking the stock between his cheekbone and his shoulder. The bill of his new cap scrapes the back of his neck. He closes his eye though years of training have taught him not to but he does it his way. Another target falls and he looks over at her as she aims and fires. Her target falls.
She looks up, through her smoky Aviators, assessing.
"Convenience."
They reload and they repeat their routine. Their targets fall in surrender to the pellets striking them in the center of their red noses. She's not used to seeing him like this; faded soft blue jeans and a black cotton ribbed t-shirt. The conspicuously large coat absent. His tanned arms and muscles exposed to the afternoon sun. After the last target falls, he lifts off his new camouflage Broncos hat, and pulls all five fingers through his hair while arching his neck and repositions it perfectly with the snitched orange B facing the downed clowns.
He looks and smiles at her and points at their damage, "We tied."
"You owe me a beer."
"Yup"
The carnival worker smirks but is annoyed at his losses. He points to the top rack of overstuffed animals.
"Your choice. You're grand prize winners."
Walt laughs but his chest puffs out, "I'll take that one. The pink one." He watches the attendant's tatty hands pull down the huge puppy dog with gargantuan floppy ears.
"Miss, which one would you like?"
"Hmmmm, let's see. The pony. I'll take the blue pony."
They both turn away from the booth and Walt hugs the puppy onto his hip while Vic positions the stuffed blue pony into a proper headlock under her right arm.
"Cotton candy?"
He looks around and pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his Roman nose and slides his hand down his clean shaven face.
"How about kettle corn?"
"Ooooh, that sounds good."
"Let's do both." He offers.
"You're on."
They find a random empty wood slat bench and sit and share their confections. The puppy and the pony sit together on the bench becoming fairly well acquainted.
"Why Donna?"
She asks without missing a pull from the multicolored swirl of cotton candy.
"I wanted to get laid."
She laughs and it's loud. He looks over at her and he smiles and says, "What?"
"Nothing. I just wasn't expecting that answer."
"I'm just a man, Vic."
"I always thought it was more than that."
He pulls a piece of the candy and lets it melt on his tongue.
"She wasn't you."
"That's fucked up, Walt."
His hand glances her knee and he holds it there for a moment to get her attention then he returns it to the red and white paper container of kettle corn. He scoops a half a handful and pours it into his mouth. He chews and speaks with his mouth full beginning to feel the effects of the massive amount of sugar he's pouring into his body.
"I've always known, you know, that we could never be casual." He confirms what she has always believed about them.
She looks away and notices the odd shapes and sizes of people walking past them oblivious of their crafted yet life altering conversation.
He's looking at her. "I guess this makes me an asshole."
They have stopped chewing, holding their respective candies, and they look at each other gauging the veracity of their words. He touches her knee again.
"Do you think I'm an asshole?"
"You can be an asshole, Walt."
"You know what I mean."
She turns and folds her knee onto the bench facing him.
"No, I don't think wanting to get laid makes you an asshole."
She pushes back her bangs as she faces him. She can't read his expression as he looks at her waiting for the rest.
"I think there's other stuff that makes you an asshole."
His face is receptive and he grips the back of the bench, extending his arm, his fingers wrap around the black iron rod framing.
"Like what?" He asks like he really wants to know.
"It's what you said or didn't say. You just dismissed me like we weren't friends, we weren't partners anymore."
"I resented you."
"What?" Her voice finds its higher registry and it is distinctively feminine.
"I thought you moved on without me because I was too slow. It all made sense to me at the time."
He looks past her shoulder and smiles as a family of four runs by screaming with joy.
"Why couldn't you just talk to me?"
"Like you said, I'm an asshole."
"Not all of the time but those times you definitely are."
She touches his stretched out forearm feeling the warmth of his skin and his hair melts beneath her fingertips.
"You can't do that anymore, Walt."
"I know."
"No, I mean, I won't let you treat me that way, ever. It hurt for a long time."
"I'm sorry, Vic. I don't ever want to hurt you."
"I'm sorry, too. I wish I had been better but I was in a bad place."
"We could have been better to each other."
"We could have."
His fingertips stroke the side of her arm. He takes off his sunglasses and folds them into the neck of his t-shirt. She notices a few hairs being forced out of the way but she refrains from being further distracted as he licks his lips.
"Did you know?" She asks, her voice is warm and full.
"I suspected." His lips purse like he's remembering and he's embarrassed.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's ok, really."
"Vic." He waits until she looks at him.
"I didn't want to see it. I chose not to see it. I wasn't confused. I wasn't hurt. I wanted to move on. I didn't want forever and I justified it in my head."
"If anyone understands that I suppose I do." She says referring to Ed Gorski.
He reaches out and whisks a strand of hair that has fallen over her sunglasses. She takes them off and holds them in her fingers next to the kettle corn. Their eyes are open and exposed and naked.
"Relationship." He says and her eyes become hyper focused. "That's what you called it."
She keeps his hold, "It never really was. He's not a bad guy, Walt. He was a distraction."
"From me?"
"It's not all about you."
His eyes fill, "Ok, Vic."
Her fingers trace his forearm again and she says, "There was a lot going on but yes you were a part of it but not all of it."
He nods, "It's over, With Eamon, I mean, is it over between you two?"
She shakes her head but she's not ashamed she is just confirming what he suspects. They sit there without saying anything and she leaves her hand on his forearm and his fingers press against hers. It's perfectly natural what they feel for each other. The intensity grows as they both question where they are and what they are doing.
"You know why I got the pink puppy don't you?" He asks.
"No."
"I got him for you. I think deep down inside you probably really like pink but you'll never tell anyone and he can take care of you when I'm not around." His eyes stay locked on hers. He feels safe with her.
"Do you like him?"
"He's cute but he's no blue pony." She says.
He tries to read her eyes, "Besides I know you like blue and we all know ponies have a special affinity for you."
They smile, at each other, as his fingers wrap around her arm, "They seem to be getting on."
She looks over at the stuffed pair and her hair swings over her shoulder. When she turns back around his face is serious and a little closer. She reaches up and smooths her thumb under his full lower lip.
"You can trust me, you know." He says, his brilliant blue eyes shining in the sunlight.
"I do trust you."
"No, I mean you can trust me with anything, Vic."
She searches his eyes and she knows that he knows and this is the moment.
"Don't ask me, Walt." She says shaking her head back and forth.
He turns his body to face hers, his knee folded and pressed against her, "Can you tell me if you're alright?"
She nods.
"Is Cady alright?"
She stares at him.
"Vic." His face turns hard.
"Has Cady talked to you?"
"Of course she talks to me."
"Has she talked to you, Walt." She says it slower.
She knows him well enough to understand that his calmness is about to brew into something heinous.
"Walt, I think you should talk to her."
"Can't you tell me what is going on?"
"I promised."
"You promised what?"
"I promised her I wouldn't tell you."
He clinches his jaw. He searches through their conversations, the conversations with Cady, and he can't find a single clue.
"Is that why you wanted to go somewhere today? You wanted to know what's going on with Cady."
'I wanted to spend some time with you when I asked."
"What changed? I mean if you haven't talked to her why would you think something is wrong?"
He underestimates her once again but unlike their shared past he tells her the complete unfiltered truth about the night he spent parked outside of their home.
She stands up and tosses the paper container of kettle corn in the trash and turns to him and says, "I can find my way home."
Vic starts to walk away but he is there beside her and asks her to stop. When she looks at him her face is like thunder.
"Walt, I can't do this with you. I won't do this with you or anyone else."
"Vic, it wasn't like that."
"It wasn't like you were parked outside watching the house? It wasn't like, what, some sort of weird stalker possessive behavior?"
"No, it wasn't like that. I just needed to make sure you were safe. That Cady is safe. That is my right."
"No, Walt. No, you don't have the right." She puts her hands on her hips bows her head and takes a deep breath.
"Listen, I'm really glad you told me the truth. I just, I've been through too many bad turns, to ignore the warning signs, Walt."
"Vic, it's not why I was there."
"Why were you there?"
He steps into her space and touches her waist just above her belt noticing how beautiful she is, "I think about you all of the time and it's not just those kind of thoughts. I worry about you. I worry about Cady but it's a different kind of worry except that I need to know that both of you are out of harm's way."
"Why did you want me to move in with her in the first place?"
"You needed someplace to stay."
"I could have stayed with you."
"You know what would have happened."
"That was such a revolting idea to you?"
He steps closer, their bodies touching, "Is that what you think?"
"I think it's what I know."
He shakes his head, "We would have ripped each other apart and you know it. Fuck."
Her eyes widen at his response.
"So having me stay with your daughter, what, makes it easy for you? You just have to stakeout one house instead of two."
"Vic." His voice nearly fails him. He closes his eyes. His fingers tighten around her shirt. "I can't help but worry about you."
"You don't need to worry about me, ever."
"Yes, I do."
They stand facing each other, the pony and the puppy sitting on the bench behind them keeping each other company and witnessing the truth unfolding before their plastic button eyes.
"You can't protect everyone, Walt. That's not your job."
"It is my job to protect the people I love."
"I'm not listening to this shit." She says and turns to walk away from him again.
"Vic, stop."
A few strangers turn to look at them but neither notices. He takes two long strides and catches up to her.
"You just don't get how your behavior is not okay. Not with me."
"Vic, let me take you home, especially now."
She knows he is right and that makes her furious and it stirs up memories of hurt feelings, shame, and anger. Feelings she isn't past.
"Fuck you, Walt."
She leaves him standing there ten feet away from two obscenely large stuffed animals and a fist full of cotton candy.