The moon doesn't mind that I'm left all alone
How had they wound up here?
Both of them, nearly broken by forces that threatened their existence.
Walt sat in the chair across from his couch watching her sleep. It was morning, but the dark still held them in within its grasp. That felt appropriate in more ways than one.
Vic lay on his couch as she had all night. He sat in the chair as he had all night. Keeping watch. It was the absolute least he could do for her. Of all the ways he might have imagined her spending the night with him, this was never one that presented itself.
Yet, here they were.
Of course, it wasn't the first night she spent on his couch. There was one night that felt like a lifetime ago. But, she had been married then. That was a line that he would not cross. He didn't believe that Vic would either. It was hard to reconcile who they were then, and where they had each been both professionally and personally, to the wreckage that encased them now.
Vic cried with her head in his lap until she didn't have any tears left. Walt spent the time stroking her hair with one hand and rubbing her shoulder and back with the other until he felt her body ease with sleep. He had nothing to offer her except a safe harbor in which to finally collapse under the burden that she was carrying. It felt paltry in comparison with what she had given him over the course of their relationship. What that relationship truly was proved difficult for Walt to define now.
From the day that he hired her, she offered him nearly unconditional loyalty. That wasn't to say that she followed him blindly. She called him out when she found it necessary. She questioned his motives from time to time. But, she never turned on him. That was more than he could say for anyone else in his life.
Cady was working for Nighthorse.
He wasn't entirely sure what was going on with Henry, but that his friend of four decades had not been honest with him.
Branch was gone.
Ferg was coming into his own and Walt didn't know where that was headed. There was a new maturity to his youngest deputy, an edge that hadn't existed before. He hoped it was something the young man could manage properly.
His circle was so small and left him feeling alone. He was facing the consequences of his own actions.
Then there was Vic.
Vic was always there. Even when he pushed her away so ruthlessly that it shamed him to think about it now. Even when she avoided him and things between them felt tense enough to grasp with your hands. Even when he attempted to force a relationship with a woman that he did not love in an attempt to prove that he did not need her, or want her.
She was always there.
He suspected she didn't always like him, but she very clearly cared for him on a level that he was unable, more likely unwilling, to truly accept.
She was the one person who expressed clear faith in him in the wake of this damn lawsuit.
And, what had her loyalty and faith in him gotten her.
Divorced.
Pulled into dangerous vendettas that should have been his alone.
Shot.
Of course, he didn't pull the trigger. Nor did he willingly put her in the line of fire. But, for a span of time, he essentially abandoned her and the friendship they had cultivated. She hadn't felt that she could come to him with her pregnancy. It was not a topic they had broached, maybe they never would. That didn't make him any less aware of his culpability in all of this. If she felt like she could talk to him, if she hadn't been mired down in an isolation of his creation, this all may have ended differently.
She might still have her baby.
There was no way to know that. And, Walt was well aware of the futility that accompanied a trip down the "what-if" rabbit hole. He just couldn't help himself. If he were being entirely honest with himself, he had treated Cady and Henry much the same way. He pushed them away, kept things from them. He fractured what should have been whole.
Now, he was the one who was isolated.
Except that Vic was still here.
By some twist of fate, some unseen hand or miracle, she lived when she should have died.
He had been given a second chance. He recognized that now. She was still here and her leg would heal. Walt knew the mental and emotional wounds would be much more complicated, much slower to heal. It was a topic on which he considered himself an expert.
He was determined that he would not squander this opportunity. It would be different this time around. He would be the man that Vic believed him to be. He would be there for her the way she had always been there for him. Or, tried to be.
Not that he allowed it.
He sat with her in the hospital until he was sure that she was going to be fine. Dr. Weston telling him was not adequate. He wanted to see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He wanted to see her beautiful eyes open. He wanted to feel her hand responsive in his. He wanted to hear her voice.
This night hadn't been all that different from the hours he spent watching over her in the hospital waiting for her to wake up. She slept. He waited. Sure, he dozed off. Never for very long, though. He wanted, he needed for her to know that he was there and that he would continue to be there for her.
All the things he should have done before that could have kept them both out of the darkness in which they were now enmeshed.
He was due in court this morning and hadn't really slept very much at all. He barely even thought about it. He simply watched her. Vic's well being was paramount in his mind. Everything else would take a backseat.
He owed her that much.
Moving her RV hadn't been a preplanned move. He fully intended to take her home, make her comfortable, and give her space. But, fear welled up in him. Fear that this might not be over just because Chance was dead. There was still the potential for danger and he could not leave her vulnerable to it.
He would not.
So, he drove her RV to his place. In her exhaustion, Vic slept through it. At his cabin, she could still have space in her RV if she wanted it. She could have privacy if she needed it. He could watch her. He could protect her.
He would not fail her again.
There was no way for him to know what was next for her. He knew the road would be long and treacherous. Last night was a harbinger of what was to come. It was not a situation that would resolve easily or quickly. He didn't even know what his own future held. He was about to start a court battle that could cost him his job and his home.
But, for now, for this solitary moment, she was here and he was here.
She was battered, maybe even a little broken. He was caught up in a wave that was beyond his control. Neither of them knew what waited around the next turn.
There was so much uncertainty clouding both of their lives, he grasped what he knew to be true with both hands. She was alive. He was alive. They would both survive what awaited them. He would be there for her regardless of his own situation. He would not abandon her again.
To the contrary, Walt felt as though his eyes had been opened in the last forty-eight or so hours. He was finally willing to accept that which he had known to be true for some time now. Denial was no longer an option. Denial had nearly destroyed them both.
He held onto one truth.
He loved her.
He didn't know what that would mean for them later on. Maybe nothing. She might wake up and leave his cabin, or his life. He wouldn't blame her at all if that was the route she chose to take. He could only guarantee that he would show her what he was unable to vocalize.
The rest would have to fall into its own place in its own time.
The only aspect of this he could control was himself.
Through the windows, the smallest slivers of light were starting to creep in. The cocoon of night that held them here was giving way to a day that could change their trajectory again. He needed to get up and shower. He needed to dress for court.
Like that night in the hospital, though, he wanted to see this through. He wanted her to see him when she opened her eyes. He wanted her to know that he was here.
She was not alone.
So, for now, he would sit.
He would wait. For as long as it took.