Ch. 18: Inferno
Cain knew they were looking for him. He was watching when the police car rolled up and the deputy went into the motel office. It didn't surprise him. He had known this moment was coming. Now, they would be after him for murdering the Indian bartender. That wasn't in his plans, but the man came at him and left him little choice. Anyone who got in his way would suffer a similar fate.
He pulled out the knife and looked at the blade. There was still blood on it. Her blood, and the Indian's. His intent had been to bury it deep into her leg and cripple her. Make her unable to fight back. But, in the heat of the moment, he underestimated her. That was on him. He accepted that. He tilted the blade and studied it. The blood was dry now, streaking across the blade like paint running off a wall before it dried.
Maybe he would get another chance at her. Or maybe he would simply have to focus on Walt. They would find the truck. He knew that. He wasn't stupid. He left it where it would be found. He knew his time was limited. Now that he had actually killed someone, they might call in more help. He fully expected Walt to come for him now. Lines had been drawn. Blood had been spilled. He knew how Walt would react. He wouldn't make Walt look for him.
This confrontation was decades in the making.
Getting another vehicle was easy enough. It was a matter of getting some poor sucker to pull over under the guise that he was stranded in the snow. Beyond that, it was just a matter of brandishing his knife and forcing the man out. He didn't know the man. He didn't kill the man. It would take the heavy-set man some time to find help. By then, he would be where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.
He tried to get into Walt's mind. They were connected. Whether they liked it or not, they were inextricably bound by what happened years ago. That one moment in time that changed them both. Walt had beaten him that time. But this go round, he would have the element of surprise. This time, he was ready.
And he was determined.
His own life meant little to him at this point. Whether he lived tonight or died tonight didn't affect him or the choices he made. As long as he lived long enough to see the end of Longmire, the rest held no bearing over him at all. He was fully prepared for this to be his last night alive. He only wanted one thing first.
To see this through.
He knew the police would be searching around the motel. He was familiar enough with protocol. Until they got some word that he might be on the move again, they would be searching at the motel and where he abandoned the truck. That would keep them occupied. Everything depended on Walt's next move. What Walt was able to figure out on his own. What action he took.
He would be waiting and he hoped that he would not be disappointed.
xxx
There was a chance that she would not be able to forgive him. Walt knew that when he closed the cell door and locked her in. He felt an incredible amount of guilt when she realized what was happening. Her face was a mixture of fear, confusion, and anger. It wasn't an easy choice. But to him, it was the right choice. He knew from experience that sometimes protecting someone meant taking a risk that their anger would be insurmountable. To keep her alive and away from Cain, it was a risk he was willing to take.
What was it she had said to him once? A lifetime ago or so it seemed. They were sitting in an unfamiliar bar in an unfamiliar place. Arizona. She showed him a piece of herself that night. His confident, capable deputy sat beside him. But, in a quick flash, he could see the misunderstood teenager she once was. The scene flashed through his mind like a scene from a movie.
Good girls ask for permission. Bad girls ask for forgiveness.
It wasn't just girls. He knew that. It was the path he had chosen when he pulled that cell door closed. The clang of the lock engaging echoed through him and left him feeling hollow. He would have to ask her for forgiveness. Beg for it maybe.
If he lived.
But, all he could focus on was keeping her alive. His own life meant nothing if she wasn't there. He knew that. Recovering from Martha's death was something he didn't think possible. But, he did it. With help. Henry and Cady. Vic. They refused to let him drown in his own grief. Vic may have walked into the situation late, but she was a fast learner. And for whatever reason, she steadfastly refused to let him self destruct. She reeled him in with her quick smile and her even quicker eye rolls. She was brash and willing to throw caution to the wind.
That much about her hadn't changed.
Neither had her willingness to follow him into anything. It was that particular trait that frightened him the most where she was concerned. He was willing to put his own life on the line. But, not Vic's. Never Vic's.
I would never put your life at risk.
He steered the Bronco over the road. The night was dark, quiet and icy. This needed to end tonight. He needed to be the one to end it. That was what Cain wanted. Him. He wasn't willing for anyone else to become collateral damage in a war that was aimed at him.
Too much had already been lost.
He was working on a hunch. He felt like Will was calling out to him. Daring him. Challenging him. Just like that night years ago in a high school bathroom. It was possible that he was mistaken, but he didn't think he was. If Cain was waiting for him, it would be in a place Walt would know to look. A place the police had already looked and might not think of again.
Not right now with everything that was happening.
By morning, he intended for this to be over. Hopefully, when the sun came up and spread light around, there would be a different kind of light. One that meant Will Cain was no longer a threat. The only question in his mind beyond that was simple
Would he be alive to see that sunrise?
xxx
The anger passed. She was absolutely exhausted once the initial adrenaline rush subsided. She knew what he was doing. He was going after Cain. It was what she knew from the beginning that he would eventually do. She had tried to curb it, to keep him with her. But, that moment was gone and so was Walt.
It was a twist she had been desperate to avoid, but it was not altogether shocking.
Once the door closed behind him, her anger peaked. As long as her mind was hot, she couldn't think straight. Once he was out of her sight, she started to come back to herself a little at a time. Her mind began to clear and the cop in her began to take over. The key was out of reach in Ferg's desk. Cady and Ferg were out searching for Cain and she had no way of knowing when they would be back.
Zach was a wildcard, having left to check on his mother. She didn't even know where he was or when he planned to return to work. Certainly not in the middle of the night. Not unless Cady called him and asked him to come. By then, it might be too late.
This was something Walt had clearly given some thought too. It was premeditated to some degree. His suggestion that she lay down was a way to get her where he needed her to be. Where he wanted her. If she thought on it too long, anger still burned hot inside her. It was a calculated move. She could see that with the benefit of hindsight.
But, even the best made mistakes. He knew she couldn't get herself out. He made sure that she was in a position to not beat him to the door. He had been so calm. But, one small detail had slipped his mind.
Her cell phone was still in her back pocket where she always carried it.
In the moment, he must have forgotten that. It took her a few minutes to think about it herself. She stood at the cell door, still gripping the bars so hard that her knuckles turned white. Finally, she dropped her hands away, her eyes still on the door he had walked out of. Before he left her here to go and get himself killed.
Vic swallowed and stepped back from the bars. Her mind started to work again. She knew she needed to be calm to assess her situation. For a few more minutes, her eyes roamed the office trying to come up with a plan. Then, her hand had moved to her back pocket and came to rest on her phone.
Slipping it free, she turned it on and looked at the screen. She needed to call someone who would understand what was at stake. Someone who could get her what she needed and get her out of here. Swiping her thumb over the screen, she went directly to her contacts and her eyes fell on the name she was looking for.
Henry.
Pressing his name, she brought the phone to her ear and waited for his familiar voice to answer his phone. She felt a surge of hope rise up in her when he answered on the third ring.
"Hey, Henry. I need some help."
xxx
Henry walked into the office with a face full of questions. He looked around as he entered and his eyes fell on the cell where Vic was. He raised an eyebrow at the situation as she approached the bars.
"The key is in the little desk right there. Top drawer."
With a nod, he pulled the drawer open and lifted out the key.
"Would you like to tell me what happened?"
He met her gaze as he turned around, his dark eyes serious.
"Walt locked me in here."
He paused.
"Walt?"
"Yes."
Henry unlocked the door and it swung open. Vic stepped out and gave him a grateful look.
"Thanks. You get the bag?"
He nodded at a small duffel bag he had set on her desk.
"Yes. You were short over the phone. Why did Walt lock you up?"
Vic unzipped the bag and pulled out her holster.
"He's going after Cain."
Henry looked rightfully alarmed.
"By himself?"
Vic nodded as she pulled her gun free from the holster and checked the clip.
"Yep."
Sliding it back in, she slid the holster onto her pants and pulled her badge from the bag, along with her handcuffs. Attaching everything to her belt like normal, she reached for her coat. Henry watched her movements.
"Where is Cady?"
"Looking for Cain."
"What makes Walt think he can find him first?"
Vic huffed out a sarcastic almost laugh.
"You've met him, right."
Henry dipped his head a little.
"Right. So, what? Now, you are going after Walt or Cain?"
Vic zipped up her duty jacket and pushed her hair out of her face.
"Both."
"You do not know where either of them went."
Vic stilled.
"Walt mentioned a place where Cain lived. Do you know where that is?"
Henry nodded.
"I do. You think that is where they are?"
"Yeah, I do. I think he knows Cain will be waiting there for him. Leaving the truck was a little too heavy handed and this guy's not stupid. He's sending a message."
Henry gave her a worried look.
"Call Cady and send her."
Vic shook her head.
"No time. She and Ferg are searching on foot. Can you call her for me?"
Henry hesitated.
"Vic, this is dangerous."
Vic shrugged.
"I know that. That's why I'm going."
She could see him relent.
"Fine. I will call Cady and let her know where you think Walt is. You need to be careful, Vic. Walt will not forgive me if I let you go and you get hurt. He will not like you going off on your own."
Vic rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Besides, I'm not going off on my own."
"You are not?"
She shook her head and gave him the most barely there smile.
"Nope. Asshole slashed my tires and Walt has the Bronco. Know what that means?"
Henry winced.
"I do not think that I am going to like this."
Vic shrugged.
"I need a ride."
xxx
Walt parked the Bronco out by the road. He knew that Cain would be waiting for him, but there was no reason to announce his arrival to the world. He would do better approaching on foot. Walt couldn't guarantee that Cain would be here, but it seemed like a more than fair chance. Cain's actions over the last day were more brazen. He was done playing games. That was fine with Walt. He didn't like games and this needed to be over.
One way or another.
He walked slowly down the dirt driveway that led to the houses on the property. His boots crunching over snow and loose rocks seemed to echo louder than normal through the night. He pulled his gun from its holster and assured that he was ready to use it if and when he needed it.
He knew better than to go rushing in. In that moment, he was using everything he would have used as Sheriff. Step by step and quiet. It was imperative that he not loose his grip on his temper. That would be what Cain wanted. For him to be rash and careless. There was too much at stake for that.
The main house came into view. Walt stopped and looked around. He didn't see anyone. He did see a car parked off to the side. He didn't recognize it. Maybe one that Cain used after he left his truck to be found. Walt approached the car slowly and peered inside. It was empty. He straightened up and looked towards the house.
With the same cautious manner, he approached the house. In that moment, he was wishing for his old rifle. He would have felt better with it in his hands. Walt walked around the side of the house and paused. Cocking his head, he listened. He didn't hear anything. Not the creak of footsteps on old floors or the squeak of a rusty door hinge. The place was quiet.
He pushed open the door and entered. Room by room, hear searched the house as though he were still Sheriff and after some fugitive. He would have felt more comfortable with someone covering his back.
Vic.
His boots scuffled softly over the floor as he walked back towards the front door. He was confident that Cain was not in the house. He would've show himself by now.
He didn't expect Cain would kill him immediately. Cain was a gloater. He liked to brag. He was that way in their youth. He would want to rub Walt's face in everything that he had done. Killing Tom. Injuring Vic with this knife. Those were all things that Cain would see as a victory. Something to hold over Walt right up until he killed him. Hopefully, that would be the man's downfall.
Walt walked back outside and started for the second, smaller house that was on the old property. He thought he remembered an uncle or something living in it when they were kids. It was less than half a mile from the larger one. The walk seemed long in the dark. He didn't want to risk a light, so he made the trek using his senses.
Henry would appreciate that.
He noticed almost immediately that the front door was ajar. Walt stopped and looked around. There was also a partially open window. He started for the house and then stopped. He was almost certain that he heard movement inside the house. He tightened his grip on his gun and pressed on.
There was no point in putting off the inevitable.
Walt slowly moved up onto the porch. He stopped twice to listen for anything that might tell him where Cain was. He needed any advantage that he could get. Standing on the porch, Walt took two steps towards the door and paused again. He glanced to each side and then started for the door. It creaked once. He heard the clatter of footsteps and then everything spun around.
xxx
"Could you go a little faster?"
Henry shook his head.
"I am going as fast as I dare. My truck is not built for speed and the roads are not in good condition."
Vic looked out the window. She felt tense. Restless. She had no idea how far behind Walt they were, since she wasn't entirely sure of every move he made since he left her at the jail. It was entirely possible that she was too late and it would all be over by the time she got there.
But, she couldn't go down that road. Not just yet.
For a moment, she thought of the Gilbert compound. The car driving away. Hearing the crack of gunshots shatter the night. Not knowing which bullet met its intended target. The same fear that welled up in her that night was threatening to overtake her now. She closed her eyes and forced it back down.
Now wasn't the time.
"Vic?"
Her eyes opened and she saw Henry give her a quick look.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
She nodded and lied.
"Fine. Were you saying something?"
He gave her another wary look before nodding.
"Yes, are familiar with this property?"
Vic shook her head.
"No."
Henry sighed.
"There are two houses. There is one just off the driveway. That is the bigger house. Cain's grandparents lived there. About a half mile away, there is a smaller house. The driveway will take you to it."
"Okay. Did you get Cady?"
Henry shook his head.
"No, she may not have a signal where she is. I will keep trying."
Vic nodded.
"I tried Ferg, but he's not answering either."
She saw Henry adjust his hands on the wheel. Even in the dark, she could sense that he was nervous. Worried. Vic took a deep breath, trying to steady her own nerves. The anger she felt towards Walt for locking her up had ebbed some as her concern for him came to the forefront of her mind. Right now, all she wanted was for him to be safe.
Everything else could wait. It would have to.
"This is it."
Henry pulled off the road. Vic pointed.
"The Bronco."
Henry's eyes followed her line of sight.
"You were right."
Vic pulled the door handle and Henry reached out to grab her arm. Vic stopped and looked his way.
"I will come with you."
Vic shook her head at him.
"You're not armed. Besides…"
She held up her cell phone.
"…there's no signal here either. Drive up the road and see if you can get through to Cady or Ferg."
He looked like was going to argue until he nodded.
"I will be back as fast as I can. Be careful."
Vic nodded and slid from the truck. Pulling her 9mm, she started down the driveway following the deep tracks in the snow that she knew belonged to Walt.
xxx
The impact knocked Walt off the porch and sent his gun flying. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed up on his hands. The snow stung at his skin. His hat had been knocked off his head. Walt looked around, trying to get his bearings. For a second, he thought maybe he had been shot. But he hadn't. Except for hitting the ground, there was no pain to speak of. He hadn't been shot, he'd been tackled. He scuttled to his feet.
"Walt."
Turning, he saw Will Cain standing behind him. Walt's eyes ran over the man and took him in. He straightened up. His body tensing, preapring.
"Will."
Cain smiled at him.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Walt. I knew you would know where to come. You've always been quick like that."
Walt kept his eyes on the man in front of him. Someone he called a friend once upon a time. But, that was a long time ago. The Will standing in front of him now had changed. And, time had not been kind to him. The thing that struck Walt the most was the hatred he saw burning in the man's eyes. A hatred that was directed at him.
"Glad I didn't let you down."
He didn't see any signs of a gun. But in the dark, it was hard to tell. He held his ground while Cain shuffled around, kicking at the snow with his boots. Walt gave a hurried look around for his own gun, but couldn't find it.
Cain tilted his head at Walt.
"What's wrong? Scared to face me without a gun?"
Walt shook his head.
"No."
Cain grinned at him, showing his dirty teeth.
"Confident, huh. The last time we got into a fight, you came up behind me. Unfair advantage. This time, the odds will be a little more on my side."
He reached behind him and pulled out a knife. Walt's eyes flicked to the blade and back to Cain's face.
"This is the knife that killed your Indian friend. The knife I cut your girl with. Or…"
He gestured with the knife at Walt's left hand.
"…should I say wife? You get married? Damn, Walt, that's impressive."
Walt didn't answer, but the weight of his wedding ring felt unusually heavy around his finger. Cain took a step closer.
"Too bad she's gonna wind up a widow. But…you know what that that's like, don't you?"
Walt shook his head.
"You talk too much. You always did."
The smile faded from Cain's face.
"You always were so damn self-righteous. Always thought you were better than me."
"I never thought I was better than you, Will. You were the one who made bad choices."
Cain shook his head.
"My choices don't bother me, Walt. They never have. But, what about your choices? How do you feel about letting Vic down? I gotta admit, I'm a little disappointed. I really wanted to kill her first so that you could see it."
Walt felt a cold chill run down his spine. The man talked about death so casually. Taking lives meant nothing to him. That made him the most dangerous kind of person.
"By the way, if you think that you're saving her by coming here alone, you're not. When I'm done with you, I'm gonna go find her. That score isn't settled yet. But, it will be."
Cain held up the knife.
"Her blood is still on the blade. Didn't bother to clean it. Won't bother. This is what I'll kill you with and then her."
Walt shook his head.
"I won't let you do that, Will."
Will rolled his eyes at him.
"Then stop me."
For several eternal seconds, the two men stood in a standoff. Cain didn't speak again. He simply held the knife out, the handle loose in his hand. He was obviously comfortable with the weapon. Walt readied himself. He hadn't imagined it coming down to an actual fight, but that looked like what Cain wanted. Cain started to move, taking small steps in what would've been a circle had he completed it. Walt kept his eyes on the man, his moves countering Cain's. With Cain armed, he couldn't afford to be caught off guard.
Walt heard Cain inhale and braced himself as the silence between them shattered and the standoff came to an end.
xxx
Henry slowed his truck and tried Cady's number again. He listened to the ringing on the other end and willed Cady to pick up. His phone was finally showing a workable signal. On the third ring, Cady picked up sounding out of breath.
"Henry?"
A silent prayer of thanks crossed through his mind.
"Cady, you need to come to the old Cain home?"
The connection between them sounded tenuous and full of static.
"The what? Why?"
Henry knew time was of the essence.
"Walt has gone after Cain. You need to come now."
He heard Cady's breath catch and she spoke to someone in the background. That would be Ferg. When she spoke again, he could tell that her movement had increased. She was jogging, her feet hitting the snow with each step.
"We're on the way. Ferg knows where it is. Where's Vic?"
Henry shook his head and sighed.
"She has gone after Walt."
The rest of that story could wait until later. All that mattered right now were the most important details.
"Damn it!"
Cady sounded like she might have tripped.
"Okay. It's gonna take us about fifteen minutes to get there."
Henry closed his eyes. Whatever was going to happen, it would be over by the time Cady got there. He knew that much for certain.
xxx
Walt knew he landed a hit. He felt his fist meet solid body as Cain slammed against him, swinging the knife. Losing his balance, the two of them stumbled backwards into the snow. Walt grabbed at Cain, but his hands met with empty air. Cain rolled out of the way and started to get up on his feet. Before Cain was able to steady himself, Walt charged him, butting into his midsection and trying to force him back down.
Cain's arms wrapped around him and they went down again in a heap. A blast of pain shot through Walt when he felt Cain bring up his fist and pound it against Walt's back. Walt's hand reached out and grasped the wrist of the hand that held the knife. He pushed Cain down on the ground and managed to scramble on top of him.
Raising his fist, he hit Cain square in the face. He lifted his arm and brought his fist down again, hitting Cain a second time. He heard the crack of Cain's nose as it broke under the force of the blow. Cain managed to bring his free hand up and catch Walt in the side of the head with it. The blow created sparks in his head and he momentarily was lost in dizziness.
Taking advantage of the brief lapse, Cain shoved hard at Walt's bulk. Walt outweighed him but Cain brought his legs up at the same time and managed to roll Walt partially off of him. Cain pulled at the wrist that Walt was still gripping, trying to free the knife. Walt's hand tightened on the joint and Cain landed another blow to the side of Walt's head.
That blow did loosen Walt's grasp and Cain slid his wrist free of Walt's grasp. Bringing the knife up, he slid the blade along Walt's arm, opening up a wound through his clothes. Walt felt the sharp pain of the blade and the warmth of blood as it started to seep out and onto his shirt. The heat of his blood on his skin contrasted noticeably with the cold of the air and snow that surrounded them. He grunted in pain and flung his hand at the knife, sending it silently into the snow.
Cain pulled away from Walt and grabbed for the knife. Walt pulled him back and managed to land a hit to his back, sending Cain face first into the icy pack. Cain elbowed him and kicked at Walt with his boots. He reached again and his hand closed around the handle of the knife. Whirling, he swung the knife at Walt and missed. Another swing was deflected by Walt's forearm rising up with a quick flash of movement.
Kicking out, Cain managed to thrust Walt off balance and send him into the ground hard. Cain scrambled on top of Walt just as he managed to turn onto his back. Cain held the knife tightly in his hand and looked into Walt's eyes before he made any more movements. The knife hovered in Walt's vision. Cain was giving him time to think about what was about to happen.
Walt struggled to avoid the knife, but Cain was straddling him now. He prepared himself for the blade as Cain raised it over him. Their eyes met once more and Cain started to bring the knife down towards Walt.
There was a crack and a scream.
xxx
Vic started down the driveway at a quick walk. The prints in the snow had to be Walt's. They led from the road where the Bronco was parked. She kept her gun ready as she tried to move quietly. The house appeared to be empty and quiet. Vic paused at the front door. It was partially open. Extending her hand, she pushed on it. The hinges protested loudly and Vic winced at the sound. She started into the house when she stopped.
Turning, she heard something. It was a sound she couldn't quite identify. Vic walked down off the porch and listened. She cocked her head and listened. She definitely heard something. It sounds like some sort of commotion. She could see more tracks leading away from the house and down the driveway.
Vic started off in the direction they went. The more ground she covered, the louder the commotion became. By the time the second house came into view, she knew exactly what she was hearing.
A fight.
Vic started to run, gun still in her hand. She came around the smaller house and saw them. Relief flooded her when she realized Walt was alive. She considered calling out, but that might distract Walt. She closed the distance between herself and the two men who were rolling around in the snow. Twice Vic stopped and raised her gun, but she had no clear shot.
Neither of them had even noticed her presence. She stopped again as Cain managed to find a way on top of Walt. At this closer proximity, she could see that both men were bloody to some degree. She saw the knife in Cain's hand. It was the same knife he had used on her and on Tom.
She could see what he was about to do. Vic raised her gun and took aim steadily. She tried to get a clear view of Cain, but he was hunched over Walt. That made it nearly impossible for her to tell where Cain ended and Walt started. The night was doing her no favors.
Then, Cain raised his arm, knife in hand.
Vic fired.
xxx
The world was moving in slow motion. Everything seemed to freeze. Cain was still over him, but everything seemed to have screeched to an unexpected halt. One second the knife was in his hand. The next, Cain let out a scream. His hand jerked away and the knife was carelessly flung away from them both, landing harmlessly in the snow. In that frozen moment, Cain looked as confused as Walt felt. He looked up and around, his attention temporarily leaving Walt. Walt wasn't sure what had happened.
Then Cain seemed to come back to himself and remembered that Walt was right there. He grabbed for the fallen knife, but Walt was faster. Walt reached with one big push and his hand closed around the handle of the knife. Without hesitating, he brought it up between them.
With a grunt, the knife slid into Cain's chest. He grabbed Walt's arm with his hand and squeezed tightly. Time seemed to stop as he stared at Walt and his mouth opened partially. No sound came out. No cry. No words. There was only the deathly stare and a rush of air as his breath left his lungs.
It seemed like the moment went on forever and then Cain's grip on Walt loosened. The two men's eyes stayed locked on one another as Walt sat up and pushed Cain slowly off of him. The man landed on his back with a silent whoosh over the snow. Walt hovered over him, taking in the scene that was unfolding before him. Cain swallowed and blinked. His hand closed over the handle of the knife that was still buried inside of him.
He attempted to pull it free, but his hand slowly slid away and dropped uselessly and silently onto the snow. Walt's eyes ran over the man. His other hand was partially gone and a mess of blood and tissue. Cain again attempted to speak, but no sound escaped lips. His eyes were glazing over. Walt had seen it enough times in his career to know what was happening.
Will Cain was dying.
His breathing became shallow and his still useable hand flopped around on the snow as though it were looking for something. Walt slid back away from him and rose up on his knees. The pain in his arm was coming back into his mind as he came to his senses and the world around him started to exist again. With one final raspy breath, Cain stopped moving completely.
"Walt."
Her voice came to him softly. For a moment, he wondered when she had spoken to him like that before. He knew she had, but he couldn't place the moment. His head was whirring and he felt dizzy. Walt raised his eyes from Cain and saw Vic standing there, gun in hand. Her face was as white as the snow around them.
She was sharp in his focus, but the world around her was blurry.
He started to stand and nearly fell. She said something else. He was sure of it, but he couldn't process the words. Then her hand was on his uninjured arm and she was pulling in an attempt to help him to his feet. Walt leaned into her. She felt warm. He wanted nothing more than to pull Vic to him and bury his face in her hair, her neck. Anything really.
He wanted to feel her. To smell her. To taste her. Anything that would concrete in his mind that she was here. They both were.
"Vic."
He forced the word out, but was met with her shaking her head.
"Ssshh. Get over here and sit down."
She helped him stumble over to the house and onto the stairs. Then, she was pushing at his coat and muttering about his arm. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of other vehicles approaching. There were lights flashing in the darkness.
His eyes moved to Cain's lifeless body. The knife was still sticking out of him. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.
xxx
"Did you need a matching set as well?"
Walt lifted his head to Weston's admonishment, realizing he hadn't been listening to the doctor.
"What?"
His head was still swimming. Weston paused and eyed him.
"Now, you also have a bullet wound and a knife wound on the same arm. Couldn't let your wife have all the fun?"
At the mention of Vic, Walt's eyes shifted to the doorway where she was standing. Her arms were folded over her chest as she watched the doctor clean and stitch up his wound. Her coat was off and her shirt and jeans were streaked with blood.
His blood.
Her eyes were on him, but she was quiet. Maybe as quiet as he had ever seen her. Weston stepped back and looked over Walt's arm.
"Alright, stitches are done. I feel like a broken record with you two. Keep it clean."
He turned to Vic.
"He took some pretty serious blows to the head so…watch him please."
She nodded, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Weston gave Walt one final look and pulled off the gloves he was wearing.
"Come back if you have any issues."
With that, he dropped the gloves into the trash. Vic stepped to the side to allow him by. Once he was gone, she turned her eyes back to Walt. He saw her breathe in and out as she dropped her arms to her sides. She walked over and picked up his coat, offering it to him without a word. Walt took it as he stood. He winced with the movement. It seemed like everything hurt. If Vic noticed, she didn't say anything.
"Cady wants to see you first thing in the morning."
It was the first time she had spoken directly to him since the doctor showed up in the room. He pulled on his coat and nodded. Vic passed him his hat, which didn't seem any worse for the wear. He ran his hands over it and then put it on as Vic pulled her duty jacket on and zipped it up. Walt trailed her from the room. His head was pounding in his skull.
She walked out to the Bronco and pulled the keys from her pocket.
"Get in."
He complied without argument. It was clear she had no intention of letting him drive. Vic started the engine and then sat with both hands on the wheel. She looked his way and he thought she was going to say something, but she didn't.
The ride was quiet. Walt looked out the window, his head still thumping. It was close to morning. It had to be by now. He didn't bother to look at the dash clock. The time didn't seem to matter. Slowly, he turned his head and looked Vic's way. She was tense with both hands on the wheel and her jaw set tightly.
He nearly asked her where they were going, but opted for silence. It became obvious soon enough, anyway. It was Cady's driveway she pulled into and parked. Cady wasn't home. He knew she would still be dealing with the fallout of the night's events. It would be messy with too much paperwork. The part of the job he always hated.
Vic slid from the Bronco and Walt followed along slowly and quietly. The guest bedroom was a welcome sight as Walt started to shed his coat. His whole body hurt. He looked up to find Vic watching with an expression he was unable to decode in his current frame of mind. Tossing her own jacket aside, she sighed and walked up to him.
Lifting her hands, she pushed his jacket off and tossed it aside. It would need to be cleaned. Again. Not meeting his eyes, she started to unbutton his shirt. Walt's hands wavered uncertainly near hers, not touching.
"I can do it."
His voice sounded raspy. She stopped, but her hands stayed where they were. Lifting her eyes to his, she stared into them as the clock ticked away the seconds.
"Do you want me to go?"
Walt frowned. It seemed like an odd question. Why would he want her to go? Where would she even go? Did she mean out of the room? Or out of the house?
Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind, but he seemed unable to vocalize any of them. So, he merely shook his head. Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she continued to unbutton his shirt. She discarded it on the floor and her eyes were drawn to the stitched up place on his arm where Cain's knife has sliced into his flesh.
Bringing her hand up, she traced her finger near the spot, never really touching it and looked into his face again. He expected her to say something. He wanted her to. But, she merely dropped her eyes from his and started to undo his belt and pants. Walt carefully stepped out of them. They were also tossed carelessly aside. Leaving him in his underwear, she left the room and walked into the bathroom. He heard the shower sputter to life.
When Vic returned, she gestured for him. She stopped at the bathroom door.
"Get cleaned up."
He nodded and started to close the door. Vic's hand reached up and her palm pressed flat on the door.
"Leave it open. If you need me, call me."
Walt swallowed and watched her walk off towards the living room.
He showered carefully, trying his best to keep the sore spot on his arm dry as he scrubbed himself clean. It was a scenario he was far too familiar with. While he was showering, Vic must've laid clean clothes on the vanity. When he stepped out, wrapped in a towel, they were there waiting for him.
He found her in the living room. She was standing. Walt walked up slowly behind her.
"Why don't you sit?"
She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards him. She indicated her clothes.
"Because I don't want to get blood all over Cady's furniture."
The comment seemed directed at him. She started by him. Walt reached out and took her arm. Vic stopped and looked down at his hand.
"I need a shower."
That was it. So, he released her arm and she walked away without another look. He heard her go into the bathroom and start the water back up. Walt wandered into the bedroom to wait.
xxx
Conflicted.
That was the best word to describe how she felt. It was also far too simplistic. She was an impossible combination of angry, exhausted, relieved, and a handful of other emotions she didn't have a name for.
At least he was doing her the courtesy of acting sorry.
He was sorry. She knew that.
He had mumbled it to her several times after he killed Cain and she tried to direct him to the Bronco so that she could take him to the hospital. She didn't doubt the sincerity behind the words or the lost look on his face.
But, that didn't necessarily make her feel better.
She wanted to be angrier at him than she was. And, she was angry. Some of it was at Walt. But, some of it was with herself.
She knew it would come to this. Yet, she refused to face it before the fact. She knew that Walt would take extreme measures if he thought them necessary. God knew he had done it before.
But, so had she.
In a traitorous twist of fate, her mind sent her back to a night that seemed longer ago than it really was. A night she offered her keys to Travis Murphy and asked him to check on her RV when she had no intention of going in it.
A night she made one decision that sent her on a collision course that would change her forever.
Walt had told her to stay clear then. Ordered her.
She was mad at him that night, too. But, her anger took a backseat to her determination. Her determination to finish what Chance Gilbert and his baseball bat started. She knew that she would not have peace as long as Chance Gilbert was free.
Or alive.
That one choice cost her dearly. But, it had also altered the course that both she and Walt were on. It set in motion the series of events that would ultimately bring them together.
Completely.
She hadn't understood then why Walt wasn't mad at her. She hated herself. She wanted him to be mad. To yell at her. To tell her that everything was her own fault. To say all the things that she was saying to herself.
But, he hadn't.
He wasn't angry with her at all.
Instead, he offered her the one thing she was unable to offer herself. Absolution. Forgiveness that she never asked him for because she didn't feel like she deserved it. She hadn't understood it then.
It wasn't until later than she began to see the picture more clearly.
He wasn't mad at her. He didn't hate her.
He was relieved that she was alive.
Because, he cared about her.
He loved her.
Of course, he hadn't come out and said it. She was in far too fragile a frame of mind and Walt had problems of his own. But, he had shown her in the way he knew how.
By moving her RV to his cabin. By holding her when she finally broke down. By worrying about her more than he worried about his own problems. By offering her meals and laying a blanket over her when she fell asleep on his couch.
Walt wasn't good with words. He showed his love with action.
Which was what he had done that night when he went to confront Cain. He was keeping her safe the only way that he knew how. By meeting the threat head on in hopes of eliminating it. In hopes of keeping her safe.
So, how could she not offer him what he had so willingly offered her in spite of everything?
Forgiveness.