AN: The next installment, from Walt's POV.

Ch 3

"I was in a dark place, Vic. It was my fault. I should have protected her. She was my wife and I failed her."

He couldn't believe he just let those words slip unguarded past his lips.

"It's not your fault."

He was so tired of hearing that every time his wife's death came up. None of them knew. None of them understood. He got up from the couch, back turned to Vic and tried to get his emotions under control. Both hands on the desk, he hung his head. Apparently she got up, because her hand found his shoulder again. He was trembling with emotion and with that one touch, he snapped. Spinning around he got right in her face.

"The hell it isn't. She was murdered, Vic. Murdered! And I wasn't there to protect her."

Seeing her flinch, he wondered if it was because of what he said or because of his demeanor. Her reaction deflated his anger. He shouldn't be yelling at her. He retreated to the desk and sat up on it, holding on to the edge trying to regain control of his emotions.

"Wait…what?"

Head hung in defeat, he quietly relayed the story he hadn't told anyone. Not even Henry.

"She was murdered. In Denver. She died in the hospital shortly after I arrived. I was…I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to protect her. God damnit, I'm a sheriff."

He had long ago learned to stifle his will to cry, but he felt the tears fall in spite of everything. He figured this would forever change Vic's view of him as man, but he had reached his breaking point apparently.

He watched her halting steps until he saw her stop in front of him. He wished for the shield of his hat, but instead scrubbed his hand over his face not wanting to see the disappointment on Vic's face. Despite the man she married, it was clear she didn't like weak men. He started to move off the desk.

"Sorry."

Small hands on his shoulders stopped his movement. They trailed down his arms and took his hands briefly.

"Don't fucking apologize, Walt. Just don't. Why would you, anyway?"

She firmly socked him in the shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her and saw no pity. No disappointment. No repulsion. She produced a white handkerchief out of nowhere and handed it to him. She looked down and shifted her weight, giving him a moment to sort himself out. He tucked it in his shirt pocket and cleared his throat. Her eyes shone with curiosity and tenderness.

"I uh. I'm not used to having this kind of outburst in public."

"Last time I checked, it was just you and me here. Not the Absaroka electorate."

He closed his eyes, as she briefly held her palm to his cheek and swiped at a stray tear. When he opened them, she spoke.

"I'm sorry about your wife, Walt."

Searching her eyes, he saw understanding of his pain. For the first time he didn't feel resentful hearing those words.

"I was supposed to be there. I was going to go with her, but got called at the last minute to handle a missing person's case. I wanted to call in a favor, but she insisted I stay since it involved a child. I knew it was the right thing to do, and so did she, but it still made me feel like a disappointment to her. When I got the call that she was in a hospital in Denver after a mugging, I couldn't get a hold of Henry. I had just wrapped up the case and was about to leave the station. The drive was so long, I thought I'd never get there. I thought I wouldn't get to see her before she…"

She was still standing in front of him, arms crossed in front of her. He gently tugged on one of her hands so she would unfold her arms and brought it to his lap, turning it over and caressing it with his own. He needed the connection with her to continue.

"I made it to the hospital, but I really don't know how I made it safely. I sat by her bedside and she looked at me with tears in her eyes and begged me not to tell Cady what happened. With the cancer, she wasn't strong enough for surgery. There was nothing they could do to help her. She made me promise, Vic. Promise to not make her legacy a murder victim. Promise to lie to my daughter and everyone else. Promise to keep it buried in my soul along with all my other pain and anger. I readily agreed, assuring her that her final wish would be honored. It was a few minutes later that she died in my arms."

He continued to stroke the planes of her hand and fingers with his own, a strange calm settling over him as he relayed Martha's final request.

"Do you think that Cady is the only reason she wanted you to keep all this a secret?"

His eyes snapped up to hers. Why would Vic question the motives of his wife? He didn't know how to feel about that. She didn't have the right to do so. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to the punch.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. This is your story, your family, and not a case. Consider it stricken from the record."

She had both hands up in a surrendering posture before letting them down and taking a step back from him. He searched her eyes looking for some hint of accusation, of judgement. Some reason why she would say that. He never questioned Martha's reasoning, completely agreeing it would be the best thing for their daughter. Instead of trying to figure all this out, he decided he should follow the instincts that brought him here and trust her. He reached out with his arm and encircled her wrist to pull her back to him. He pulled just hard enough to move her arm in the direction he wanted her to go without forcing her to do so. She immediately complied and stood before him once again. Letting his hand slip down to take hers, he continued.

"I kept after the detective in charge of her case, but there was no progress made after more than a month, so I went to Henry and we did our own investigation. I got hurt and Henry got me medical help off the books and back home. With the death being so recent and my leave from work, no one noticed. It was shortly after that Cady showed up in Wyoming again, moving back from the east coast."

Walt paused and stared at their hands. Such a contrast between the size of her hands and his own. So much smaller than his, yet full of strength.

"Since then, another detective took over the case load of the man he replaced and became very interested when the man who murdered Martha turned up dead too. He's in town asking questions. He told Cady the truth about her mother's death and I found her at my cabin. Devastated, angry, wailing in her sorrow. Bone deep, gut wrenching sobs. Everything her mom didn't want. Everything I shielded her from. She threw those insensitive words I said to her right back at me. I told her I would never be relieved of that burden, but she just drove off."

"Shit."

"I don't want to fight with Cady, but I'm not sorry about keeping it from her. I hate that she found out from a stranger, but it was the right thing to do for our daughter."

He dropped down off the desk.

"Come on. Let's sit."

He gestured to the couch while he grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge and some aspirin for his aching head. Handing her a bottle, he opened his and downed the aspirin. He sat down next to her, turning his body to face hers tucked in the corner of the couch. He waited a moment in the quiet calm of her presence before speaking.

"Vic?"

He gazed at her, wanting her attention before he spoke.

"Tell me.

She shifted a bit, but she didn't move from her position.

"I was wrong to say anything. My mouth seldom waits for my brain to catch up."

"You said it wasn't a case, but that's exactly what it is. That's how I've been treating it. It's in our nature to do so. Tell me."

"I really don't think it was my place to say anything. Who am I to presume to know what she was thinking?

Not surprised by her avoidance, the same thoughts had crossed his mind. But she is a woman, a wife and a cop, giving her an insight to their relationship that few others had. Her husband isn't a cop, but she certainly knows what it's like to be one. He softened his tone.

"I'd really like to know, Vic. You're the only one I've shared this with."

"But Henry…"

"Henry only knows what happened and that I kept it quiet. He doesn't know why, although he's made assumptions. Cady now knows that her mom wanted to keep it from her and that I did it. You're the only one I've shared the whole story with."

"Walt…"

Her voice had dropped to a whisper. He could see the gears turning as she processed the new information.

"Please Vic.

"I was thinking about what she wanted and why. It makes some sense, I guess, to protect Cady. Mothers want to protect their children from heartache, but Cady was a grown woman and a lawyer at the time. She could've dealt with it."

She paused and he implored her to continue with his eyes.

"All I'm saying is if it were me in that hospital bed, knowing I was going to die. Knowing that the love of my life was going to be left behind with so much guilt and anger. Knowing that I wouldn't be there to help him through it. Knowing what kind of man he is. Knowing all that, I would've done the same thing. I don't think she was protecting Cady, Walt, I think she was protecting you. I think she was trying to save you the only way she knew how.

"Why? What was she saving me from? Keeping this secret has been slowly destroying me, one piece at a time. Why?"

"Because she knew you. She knew you wouldn't stop, wouldn't rest, wouldn't ever give up until you found the man who killed her. Brought him to justice. Perhaps she thought you might even kill him. I'm not her. I didn't know her. I don't know you as well as she did. It just seems like she was trying to protect you from yourself. Afraid that without her you may lose your way and seek justice on your own terms."

"Yeah."

He couldn't deny it. He'd thought about it constantly. Dreamt about it. Fantasized about it. What he would do to the man. If he had the strength to only have him arrested. He knew how to make a man disappear. He was almost disappointed that the man ended up dead at someone else's hand rather than his own. He certainly didn't feel at peace about it.

Now his understanding of Martha's final wish has been turned upside down. Did she really just want to protect Cady or was it just a ruse to keep him in check. This deception had kept him pinned in a box; unable to grieve properly, unable to investigate overtly, unable to heal emotionally. It kept the tension between him and his daughter at an emotionally charged high. Unable to communicate his true feelings because he was lying to her, he just shut down completely. He lied to everyone and now with the detective from Denver poking around it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. Would they still trust him as sheriff when it came out? Would he be forced into a choice between retirement, relocating like Vic had to or working for Sheriff Connally. None of those options were acceptable in his mind.

Now what? Despite his conflicted thoughts, he knew he made the right decision calling Vic. Knowledge is power and he now thought he had a better understanding of what happened although he was still trying to come to terms with it. His eyes took in the object of his thoughts as she gazed out the window.

"I think maybe you're right."

Walt, emotionally drained, lowered himself to lay on the couch and rested his head on Vic's thigh. He brought his arm over his eyes and breathed out a sigh. He felt Vic's thigh muscle briefly tense at the contact, then relax. Her fingers made their way to his scalp, brushing lightly through his hair in a calming gesture. Pleased with her easy acceptance of his new position on the couch, he mumbled the obvious to her.

"Talking too much gives me a headache."

TBC