Ch. 16
Scars
Set post Series
"What happened?"
His tone is serious. It's the closest she's seen him come to Sheriff mode in quite some time. Retirement has mostly agreed with him. He reads a lot. He's done a lot of work to the cabin to make it less of a reclusive bachelor type place and more of a home for two people sharing a life. He rides his horse and goes fishing with Henry. On occasion, she joins him. They've managed to find a heathy balance. For the most part, their life together is peaceful and healthy. She goes to work every day and comes home to him in the evenings. Those are their favorite times. Quiet evenings together that sometimes turn into something else entirely when they go to bed.
That's not to say their life is perfect. No one's is. They are both hard headed and stubborn people with their own ideas. They've always had moments where they clashed. All the way back to the beginning. But, that's the natural ebb and flow of life. She knows, from experience, it's healthier to get it out. To not hold things in.
But now, he's looking at her sternly and with concern.
"It's nothing, Walt."
She says it with a sigh.
He takes her wrist gently and extends her arm. Her forearm is wrapped in gauze. The gauze is clean and fresh. But, he knows what it hides. Blood. Her blood. He hates the sight of it. He always has. It's covered his hands and his shirt. It's the stuff of his darkest nightmares. It reminds him that her job is still life or death sometimes. For all her early fears about his safety, his concern for her is just as strong. He's just better at managing it. The gift of experience.
"This isn't nothing, Vic."
She pulls her arm away from his grasp and winces slightly. She walks by him and sits on the couch, still in her uniform. The area around her sleeve has traces of dried up blood. It doesn't escape his notice. He follows her and lowers himself next to her.
"What happened?"
He repeats his original question. She looks down at her bandaged arm.
"It was a fight."
"A fight?"
"Yeah, at the Red Pony."
His brows furrows as he digests the information.
"Were you there by yourself?"
"What difference does that make? You and I have both gone on those kinds of calls alone dozens of times, Walt. Don't blame Cady or anyone else."
He looks at her arm again.
"Tell me."
His tone has softened but leaves little room for her to argue.
"I went to break up a fight. By the time I got there, it was mostly over. But…you know how that goes. One of the jackasses got started up again and decided to go after the other one. I was between them and he pulled a knife."
"So he wasn't trying to cut you?"
"As drunk as he was, I'm not sure he even knew."
He frowns.
"There were less fights when Henry was there every night."
She nods her head in agreement.
"That's true. There were also less fights before that casino opened and attracted some of these lowlifes. But, what's done is done."
"Doc Weston stitch you up?"
"Yes, I got stiches, antibiotics, and a lecture. I'm good."
He still looks apprehensive.
"Walt, it's really not that bad. It barely even hurts right now."
"It could've been worse."
"It could always be worse. Don't go there."
That's hard for him. He's carried her while her body steadily pumped the blood from her veins. He's held his own hand over a wound trying to keep her alive. Most of the time, he's fine with it. But, every once in a while, it creeps up on him and catches him off guard. He told her the truth back when he told her that he survived his greatest loss and she could, too. What he never gave voice to was his doubts that he could do it a second time. Losing her would, no doubt, finish the job losing Martha had started.
These are the things they don't say.
"He in jail?"
"Yeah, he's in jail. Zach was right behind me."
His eyes darken. This is what he dislikes the most about his retirement. He can't be with her. Can't watch her back. But, who's he kidding? She got shot on his watch. It's not like he was always the best at keeping her safe.
"You should've called me."
She scowls.
"You would've rushed to the hospital and you know it. It's just a cut."
She's never liked to be hovered over. They're alike that way.
He takes her hand and tugs her arm lightly in his direction. He swipes his thumb over the gauze. Her stance softens farther when she places one of her hands over his.
"I'm fine, Walt. The doctor did say it may leave a small scar."
She already has one of those. It's small now and innocuous looking. Someone who didn't know the story would never know it nearly took her away from him. Before he ever really had her. He views if differently than his own scars. He both loves it and dreads it. On one hand, it serves as a reminder that she's a survivor. That she made it through and healed. Her healing is much like her scar. It's flawed and beautiful all at the same time. On the other hand, it serves as a reminder of how close she came. How close they both came.
Her voice breaks through his thoughts.
"If it makes you feel any better, I took tomorrow off."
He nods. That does make him feel better. She knew it would.
"Good."
She smiles at him then and lifts her hand to his face. The softness of her palm is in stark contrast to the roughness of his two day old stubble.
"We can sleep late."
He has no choice but to return her smile. As much as he enjoys taking care of her, and he does, he also doesn't mind her reciprocation of that care. It's not traditional. They're not traditional. But, it's her. It's so very much her. To him, that makes it exactly what he needs.
"Sounds good."
They both know how that will play out. He'll make her breakfast. That's his thing. He'll want to look at her arm and change her bandage. He'll do it with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior. He's always gentle with her when she's hurt or sick. And she will let him. Despite everything. She'll push aside her independent streak and her instinct to take care of herself. Because she knows that's what he needs. To take care of her in moments like that. That's how she takes care of him. Meets his needs. And, he knows his gentle concern is what she needs. Not demands that she be more careful or quit such a dangerous profession. But him offering quiet support and love that doesn't have conditions. She hates for him to make a fuss. But, he knows she likes it when he goes about it quietly. Just the two of them. Then, she doesn't mind so much. They'll spend most of the day in bed. They both already know that. Their smiles tell that truth. They don't always get a lot of time together. But, when they do, that's how they prefer it. She's the only person he's met whose intensity can match his own.
Her hand falls away from his face and she stands up. His eyes follow her.
"I'm gonna get a shower."
He nods.
"Okay. Tired?"
"Kind of."
She feels better now. So does he. It won't be the last time this scenario plays out.
They both know that.
But, this time, they're okay.