"It's cliché but there's nothing for us to do except wait for the next 48 hours." Doc Bloomfield studies Vic's face relaying the obvious. "It will give us an idea of what we're dealing with."
"Was it just buckshot, Doc?" She asks faking normalcy.
"Will Branch's previous gunshot exacerbate his condition?" Walt's voice comes from behind before the old salt can answer and she feels her shoulders rise and the tension grow in her neck. Vic chooses to ignore the life altering confession that passed her ears a few moments before. The disclosure of truth and character is seeping into her consciousness and she cannot fathom the ramifications which, in a perverted way, make her thankful for the horror on the other side of the linen curtain because it serves as a violent distorted distraction.
The seasoned doctor explains, "Of course, Walt we have to be cautious but like I was telling Vic here we won't know for another 48 hours."
"What about Barlow?" He steps closer, standing in her shadow as he has done for the past four years as if nothing has exchanged between them.
"Can either one of them make a statement?"
She asks, this time she cuts off the doctor before he can reply and he looks at both of them with a have you not been listening stare, "No." Doc Bloomfield confirms.
Vic jots her notes in her leather clad notebook and turns, finding a quiet corner, to call Ferg with an update and in the deliberate move completely ignores Walt's presence.
He stands in the voided space between the hallway and the waiting room looking at her, examining her, expecting a redress but when he doesn't receive it much less a sympathetic eye he begins to realize that he is a man alone for the first time in his life and it scares the shit out of him.
She hangs up the phone and they are both trapped by their isolated surroundings and Walt, thinking it is by design, looks at her hoping that he has been mistaken in reading her judgment of him.
"Vic."
"I really can't speak to you right now."
He wasn't wrong.
Neither one of them gives an inch in their real estate which exacerbates the emotional distance between them as he draws his hand to his lips reflecting on the confession that passed through them he regrets nothing and the gulf widens though he desperately wants to stop it.
"We have to talk." He says.
He's taken her for granted. The desperation of the situation grows with her silence and he turns away from her moving toward the exit but after a few steps he stops and turns back.
"Vic, we have to work this case. You can do whatever you want afterward but I need your help right now." He's piqued in his response. His hands trying to make his case.
Her anger grows because he's making his demands as if he has the authority to offer her a choice after what he has confessed.
"What does it look like I'm doing here, Walt?" Her voice is firm as she stares at him, daring him to deny it.
Risking it, he steps forward eclipsing the physical space between them and the rest of the world.
"Vic." His voice is quiet and soft like he's trying not to wake their imaginary children but her face frowns and he lifts his hand, his palm parallel to the ground and his hip trying to quell her rebuttal.
"Vic, just wait a second."
"I thought I knew you."
"You do know me."
"No." She says shaking her head, "No, I don't know who the hell you are." Her arms fold across her chest as a protective barrier, "What happened to you, to your wife, it is fucked up Walt but the man I know may flex the law, may get angry, may do a lot of things, but I never thought you were capable of murder."
"Wouldn't you want me to do the same for you?"
"That's a bullshit thing to say."
She shakes her head clearing the confusion, "Don't do this, Walt. Don't manipulate me."
He moves closer, "I'm not manipulating you." He wants her to understand, needs her to understand.
"I don't know how to even begin to forgive you. I can't ever forget this, Walt. I can't."
"I didn't protect her Vic. What kind of man does that make me?"
They are standing close and for the first time in their time together neither is cognizant of their proximity to each other.
She shakes her head and her eyes are locked on his, "It makes you human."
"This doesn't make me human?" His voice is trembling and she tries to discern if it's sadness or anger or both.
"It makes you selfish." She matches his emotion and his brow knits because he's wants her to know how he feels and what he feels but words leave him impotent.
Walt reaches out with his hand on instinct and suddenly when his flesh touches hers he retreats but the drive to endure overrides his fear.
"Don't shut me out, Vic. Please, don't. Not now."
"You're asking too much."
"I know I am."
"But you're asking anyway."
"I can't lose you."
"You weren't thinking about that before?"
"No."
"How am I supposed to respond to that?"
"I don't know."
Their eyes lock, the space between them is nonexistent, and his flesh melds into hers. If not for the reality of his actions and of this situation we would falsely and selfishly think we were witnessing a love scene but we would be mistaking a shiny penny for the sun.
They continue like this, faking their way through a once kindred friendship, at times both of them thought it could be something more, something sacred, but the penalty of choice of choosing the dead over the living have pulled back the curtain and revealed the hidden monsters that will never be satisfied gorging on pain they are only satiated with the obliteration of their prey. The trouble is we knew the monsters were there and we placated them with the nightlight until the bulb grew too dim to keep them at bay and now that we are alone with them in the dark we too must face them and pray we do not see our reflections in their faces.
You all know I love Walt and Vic and as much as I want them together I just can't see my way there with the little tidbits we have so far for season four. This is how I see them, right now, as I finish this piece.
Thank you ALL for your reviews and your PM's. You are awesome and I can't wait to read what everyone will write once season 4 is launched!
COMPLETE