I have been bumming around on a beach vacation all week, but I still managed to get this written! Apologies for the delay, and a special shout-out to Shelly Stanley (say *that* ten times fast LOL) for having the amazing prescience to beg for an update today! Ask and ye shall receive. ;D
There will be an epilogue just to tie all this up, which should be ready to post in a few days.
Moving Day
Part IV
They had come through so much to arrive at this moment and Walt wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was finally the right time for them.
As he dragged Vic closer his free hand came up to trace a line from the bridge of her nose to the edge of her cheekbone, reminded of the pain he had so recklessly inflicted while aiming for Nighthorse. That day seemed so long ago, when in reality it was barely two weeks. It felt like a lifetime. He had lost control of his emotions and she had paid the price. Was this the same? Were they running the risk of hurting each other more?
Maybe Vic could sense his uncertainty. One of her hands slid up to cover his, smooth fingers holding his hand against her face. Walt leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers and feeling the connection. Vic's right arm slid around his waist and they stayed for a long moment in that unmoving embrace.
He thought about it, realizing that he had probably been trying not to fall in love with Vic since the day they met. There had been too many reasons why they couldn't be together and his heart was too battered, not strong enough to offer to another person after everything that had happened.
And yet she had been one of the things that had healed him. She was there every step of the way, knowing when to push and when to leave him be. There were times where she was stubborn, yes, but he only gained courage from her intractable knack for propelling him forward.
There had been a day, though, when Walt realized he had fallen hard and should probably quit lying to himself. He'd been a man in love long before Lizzie Ambrose had, somewhat rightfully, up and thrown it in his face. No, it had been Omar— of all people— who could be thanked for stripping his feelings bare.
x
It had been a bad day for absolutely everyone involved. Murder in the mountains was a lot more glamorous on television than it was in real life, or so Walt had surmised.
The weather was fortunately clear but extremely cold, and there was no way they would be able to drive in far enough to safely recover the body on foot. The conversation with Omar regarding the use of his helicopter had been brief and filled with grumbles about not being paid, but the prospect of an adventure featuring a certain feisty blonde deputy seemed to provide sufficient enticement.
After less than an hour of traversing the rocky and snow-covered landscape, they had found the deceased exactly where the surprisingly civic minded out-of-town hiker had reported they would. They cased the scene, took photographs, and gathered what evidence they could before disturbing the frosty tableau in order to take the body with them. The dead guy was a heavy son of a gun, but they were managing well enough with the makeshift stretcher between the three of them right up until they were about two hundred yards from the clearing where they'd landed the helicopter.
There was an outcropping of rocks that had been partly hidden by the snow, and it seemed to have escaped Vic's notice as she marched along beside them with the pack containing evidence and the victim's belongings slung over one shoulder and the camera hanging around her neck.
Vic wasn't typically the type of woman who complained over minor injuries. She was a tough cookie, always carrying on with the job at hand. And so it followed that when Walt heard her pained yelp and turned his head to see her crumpled on the ground and holding onto her ankle, he could feel the alarm build in the pit of his stomach and creep up to settle at the back of his throat.
"Shit," Vic whimpered out through gritted teeth.
Her eyes were watering, and Walt wasn't sure if it was from the frigid air or the pain she seemed to be experiencing. Regardless, he never wanted to see her in tears. It was his responsibility to protect her, and he found himself going to great lengths to remember that this was a duty that fell to him only in his capacity as her superior officer.
The two men set down their burden, and Omar reached Vic's side first. He dropped to his knees beside her, and Walt could hear him murmuring in a comforting tone. Omar touched Vic's shoulder and Walt unaccountably bristled. He was clearly trying to be helpful, but Walt couldn't help suspecting an ulterior motive. This was Omar after all— Walt shot the other man a warning look that appeared to be casually disregarded as he crouched down on Vic's other side.
Taking slow, deliberate breaths, Vic attempted to rotate her ankle and winced in reaction. Her foot had become wedged between two rocks and twisted around as she fell. Her boot had provided some small amount of protection, and she seemed sure it wasn't broken. On the other hand, she admitted that it 'hurt like a bitch.'
Of course he wanted to examine the injury, but it was blindingly cold and Vic flat-out refused to remove her boot and heavy sock. Treatment would have to wait until they made their way back to civilization, a situation that didn't please Walt one bit. Still, she had a point. The longer they stayed here the colder it seemed to get— there wasn't much any of them could do other than bandage the injury, and the benefit would have been minimal.
Omar reached down to help Vic stand on her uninjured leg. "Come on, darlin.' Lean on me and we'll get you back in one piece."
She managed a short chuckle, adjusting her wool hat as Omar slid an arm behind her back. "Remind me never to date you, Omar. I end up in the hospital every damn time you come around."
The panic Walt had been feeling was beginning to change form, morphing into a hot ball of rage at the sight of Omar acting so familiar with her. What was happening to him? The other man was being uncharacteristically compassionate by Omar standards, and probably wasn't even trying to cop a feel. And yet? The mere idea of Omar's hands on his deputy—
"Yeah but just imagine how excitin' the sex would be." He winked.
Scarcely concealed anger spurred Walt into action. Jerking his neck, he motioned to Omar. "Out of the way."
The other man tried to protest but Walt took no notice, stepping in and sweeping Vic up into his arms bridal-style. She gasped softly in surprise, arms shooting up to lock around his neck as he steadied her against him. She wasn't heavy, but he cradled her cautiously to avoid jostling her injured ankle.
Walt spoke to Omar in clipped tones. "I'll take Vic to the helicopter. You grab her things and wait here with the body— I'll be back in a few minutes to help you."
Omar shrugged, regarding sheriff and deputy with a raised eyebrow as they turned away from him.
Her body was warm against him even through their layers of outerwear, and Walt swallowed heavily as he felt her head drop onto his shoulder. The distance wasn't far, but the silence stretched between them like a canyon. Walt made the mistake of looking down to check on Vic, only to find her peering up at him with an expression of confused longing very similar to what he felt himself. Her face was so close, he could see the changeable specks of color in her eyes.
Walt knew, beyond a doubt, that he was in serious trouble.
After getting her settled and employing a couple extra emergency blankets to make sure she was warm and comfortable, Walt trudged back up the slight rise to where Omar and the murder victim were awaiting him. Omar was sitting on a rock, forearms perched casually over his knees. At the sight of Walt he rose from his resting place, regarding him with some degree of amusement.
"Didn't mean to step on your toes there, sheriff."
"What are you talkin' about, Omar?" Walt avoided eye contact as the two of them prepared to resume the task of carrying the frozen body.
Omar's smirk was a bit too knowing. "You and Deputy Moretti. I didn't realize she was your main squeeze, Walt. Thought you'd been datin' that divorced southern gal, Lizzie Whatserface."
Walt frowned, ignoring the comments about Lizzie. "Vic's not my anything, Omar. She's married, remember?"
Omar replied with a short laugh. "Bet her husband just loves you…"
He doesn't, Walt thought to himself, and perhaps rightly so. "There's nothing going on between us."
Throwing up his hands, palms out, the hunter shook his head. "Tell it to the judge, Walt. You don't have to explain yourself to me!"
Any hopes that Walt may have had that Omar was done sharing his two cents were quickly dashed.
"…you might wanna let Vicky know, though, if that's the case. 'Cause the way she was lookin' at you back there?" Omar released a slow whistle. "She might not be as married as you think."
Walt chose not to dignify Omar's suggestive statements with a response, instead narrowing his eyes and redirecting his attention to the task at hand. Inside, his emotions were reeling. He knew he had feelings for his deputy, strong ones, but he'd done his damnedest to keep them under wraps. The mere idea that Vic could possibly feel the same, the recollection of the way she felt in his arms and how she had been looking at him mere minutes ago? In an abject betrayal of all things reasonable, his heart began to hope.
x
Vic's face tilted upward, seeking the contact that they both seemed to crave, but Walt knew he couldn't let this go any further until everything was out in the open. Her lips feathered against the line of his jaw as he drew away, and he gently gripped her shoulders.
"We need to talk about this."
He was afraid she would argue or that his hesitation would hurt her, but she proved once again why she had become his rock. With a slow look she nodded, taking one of his hands in hers and leading him to the sofa.
Once there, he found himself at a loss. There were so many things he needed to say, wanted her to understand, questions he needed to ask. He wasn't good at talking, everybody knew that. More important, however, was the fact that she knew him.
"I can't believe Walt Longmire wants to talk." Vic quirked a brief grin, leaving a small amount of distance between them and obviously trying to set him at ease. "I know this isn't your forte, so why don't I start?"
Walt tilted his head in acquiescence, curious to hear her words.
"I thought about leaving, you know? When Sean beat me to the punch and filed for divorce."
He must have reacted badly to the statement. She reached out to regain her hold on his hand, stroking her thumb over his knuckles.
"For a while I had myself convinced that moving out here was a colossal mistake, and that I should just go the hell back to Philly and leave the bad memories behind." Her eyebrows scrunched thoughtfully. "There were a few days where I thought that was what you wanted, too."
Walt couldn't let that one pass. "No, I—"
She held up a hand. "I know. I know you wanted me to stay, and that helped. But I needed to square it with myself. Needed to have my own reason. It was keeping me up at night, and I don't think I totally understood until the day you punched me."
"I never meant to hurt you." He couldn't stop himself from touching her cheek again, running his fingers over the now unblemished skin.
Turning her face into his hand, she kissed the base of his thumb as it drifted away. "I wasn't kidding when I said that was the best thing to happen to me that week. It was a bad week, Walt."
They were both smiling then, though he wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was just the simple fact that they had survived those days together.
Hesitating for a moment, she raised her eyes to meet his. They were sparkling slightly, the faintest sheen of moisture highlighting the green and gold patches. "In the end it was way easier than I thought, figuring it out."
He waited, heart hammering in his chest.
"There's one reason why I decided to stay here— just one. And it's not because the Absaroka County Fair is home to Wyoming's most prestigious livestock competition."
She moved just a little closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "I stayed because this is where you are, Walt. And where you are is where I want to be."
As they slid into a loose embrace, he pressed his lips to her forehead and held her against his side. Trust her to find a way to say it, exactly what he felt. How could he explain it any better than that?
"You know I don't find this easy, talking about things. But it's important to me. You're important."
Her arm was draped across his torso as she nestled into him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. It seemed she even knew that it would help him get the words out if she wasn't staring at him— she supported him with her touch, and he had hopes they would do a lot more communicating via this method in days to come.
"I've had feelings for you for a long time. Longer than you probably realize— but I can't do this halfway."
She squeezed him a bit tighter, scooting up so that her head was level with his. "You never do anything half-assed, Walt. It's one of the things I love most about you."
There eyes met and he was fairly certain they simultaneously realized that the L-word was now being thrown around. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to do more than that. He wanted to marry her and have ten babies- maybe even a cat and a dog- and never let her leave his side for as long as he lived, but not until they were finished having this talk.
"You know, for a long time I didn't think there would ever be someone else after Martha died. But then there you were, and I was in trouble from day one. When I met you at the station and you made that dismissive comment about the bullet casings, I was dazzled. Have been ever since."
Walt looked down, somewhat embarrassed at the string of words. He raised his head at the feeling of Vic climbing into his lap, straddling his legs and leaning back so she could peer straight at him.
"Don't clam up now, this is just getting good." The delivery was light, but her expression was tender and serious.
The next part was especially difficult. "If sex is all you want, this has to stop."
Vic slid forward. "That's not all I want."
"I can deal with my feelings as they are. But if I give you everything… there's no going back for me, Vic."
Both of her hands came up to frame his face as she perched in his lap. She was close, but not too close for her intent gaze to lose its focus. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "If you love me as much as I love you, that shouldn't be a problem."
His hands were shaking as he reached out to fold his arms around her. Their lips brushed together as he returned the oath, eyes drifting shut. "I love you so much, sometimes I can barely breathe."
Then, they were kissing. It was fierce, heated, salty— he wasn't sure if they were her tears or his own but they were definitely somebody's, flavoring the kiss with the life-changing nature of their declarations as she pressed against him and their hands began to wander. They broke apart for air and she smiled at him, full-on sunshine, and Walt realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her do that. The only thing he could think to do was kiss her again, so he did.
He kissed her chin, the side of her neck, and the soft skin of her earlobe before capturing her mouth once more. One of her hands traveled over his scratchy cheek and into his hair while the fingers of the other traced along the collar of his t-shirt. Pulling her even closer, one of his own hands brushed against the hem of her top and traced a line along her lower back where it met the black material of her pants.
Vic inhaled sharply as he slid his hand up the back of her shirt, and she wriggled her hips over the growing hardness inside his favorite pair of jeans. Her actions drew a rumbling groan from his throat, and she gripped his shoulder tightly as they rubbed against each other.
"Walt…"
His name, whispered straight into his mouth, imbued him with a strength that was sudden and powerful. He managed to yank Vic towards him while pushing himself up from the sofa at the same time, and she kissed him again as her legs wrapped around his waist. Without hesitation, he carried her toward the bedroom.
Vic raised a teasingly inquisitive eyebrow as he strode past the pizza that had been left untouched on the counter. "Sure you aren't hungry? Shame to waste all of that…"
Walt felt her weight shift, body hot and eager against him. "I'm hungry, but not for food. Pizza tastes better cold, anyway."
xxxxx
That's that! I'll be wrapping it up, as mentioned, with an epilogue very soon. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter— remember, I'm still new around here and would certainly appreciate the feedback! :)
