I'd like to confirm that Vic's neighbours are based on my own personal experiences with neighbours… It can be rather annoying and frustrating, especially if you're having a dry spell. ;)
As you might have noticed this story contradicts season three in places because I started writing this before I'd seen more than an episode of season three.
I don't own the characters, only the so called plot is from my head.
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Her recovery was driving her insane she decided. It had been four days since she was released from the hospital and sitting around at home all day was not making her feel any better. The almost constant loud music and the impressively frequent sounds of overly enthusiastic sex were not doing anything to improve her temper. She decided that enough was enough and if anyone at work questioned why she sometimes had to grab hold of anything within arm's reach to stop from falling into a heap on the floor and the fact that she could really only walk for ten minutes before the world started to shift and distort in disturbing ways that threatened to make her loose what little food she had managed down, she'd smack them across the face. And then probably fall flat on hers.
Cursing the bastard who shot her, she carefully pulled on her uniform shirt and dug around her living room for her car keys. Walt had dropped her car around a couple days previously, but they hadn't had a chance to talk any more as a call came through for him to meet Ferg at a crime scene. Climbing up to the driver's seat jostled her broken ribs but she gritted her teeth until she was sitting behind the wheel.
The drive to the sheriff's station was short and the traffic was slow so she was parked outside in no time. Gingerly climbing out of the cab, she made her way to the door and looked up the stairs that seemed to go on forever. Reaching the top she staggered to the door and leaned on it for a moment or two before drawing in a deep breath and pushing it open. The station was empty. There was no Ferg conscientiously shifting through piles and piles of reports or other paperwork. No Branch with his heels on his desk, tossing a ball against the ceiling while on hold with one agency or another. No Ruby doing internet searches, answering complaints of dogs running loose or for sightings of wild animals on yards. No Walt sitting in his office reading through one case file or another.
She glanced at the clock and realised it was lunch time. Ruby was probably fetching something to eat and the rest of the crew were on calls. Glad to postpone the lecture on resting after being injured, she staggered to her chair and gratefully settled down. She had just grabbed the papers for the case she had been working on before they'd had the break in the drug dealer case when Ruby appeared through the door.
"Oh goodness, you gave me a fright." She visibly jumped at the sight of Vic sitting in her chair, shuffling papers and pressed a hand to her chest.
"Sorry Ruby. Didn't mean to scare you." Looking up from her work Vic could see Ruby looking at her with a shrewd expression and her hands on her hips.
"Shouldn't you be at home, resting up?" Ruby approached Vic's table, looking at her from head to toes. Clearly noting the cautious movement when reaching for another pile of papers, the dark circles around her eyes and the deepened lines on the younger woman's face. Uncomfortable with Ruby's inspection, Vic looked back down at the papers and replied as casually as possible:
"I'm fine. Been resting too much, I needed to get out of the house. I'm just going to be doing paperwork, nothing more taxing than that. Besides it looks like you could use the help." She pleaded, adding the last in the end to make Ruby realise that she could be useful despite her wobbly state.
The older woman scrutinised her further until she simply nodded and turned back to her own desk. Vic let out a sigh of relief and hoped that the rest of the crew would be so easy to persuade.
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To her relief both Branch and Ferg seemed to be nothing but glad to have her back, probably so that they could delegate some of the tedious paperwork to her. Vic didn't really care, at least she wasn't at home lying on the sofa wondering when there would be a moment of quiet from next door. She was already well into the pile of stuff she'd been working on before the shooting when Walt walked in through the door. He paused for a nearly imperceptible moment when he saw Vic sitting on her usual seat, before continuing to his office, commanding over his shoulder;
"Vic, my office. Now." Both the boys looked at her with expressions of mingled pity and hilarity at the amount of trouble they thought she was in. Carefully she pushed herself out of her chair and made her way through the doors to Walt's office, being sure to close the door behind her. No matter what he wanted to talk to her about, it wasn't something she wanted everyone to hear.
Having decided that asking what was wrong, was the wrong approach in this case, she turned from the closed door and faced Walt, making sure to take a few steps into the room so he could see that she could stand fully upright without support. He was standing behind his desk, hands on his hips, providing a very impressive figure against the wood panelled walls and the massive desk. Keeping her silence she took the moment to appreciate the rugged man in front of her and wonder about the fact that he had basically asked her out.
"How're you feeling?" the suddenness of his voice jerked her out of her appreciation of him.
"I'm ok. Not the best, but not bad." She went with honesty, since Walt wouldn't have bought 'I'm fine' on the best of days, let alone on her first day back from getting shot.
"Good. Don't overdo it, okay?" she nodded her reply and he moved from behind the table, the official part of her visit obviously done, judging by his relaxed stance. She didn't move as he approached and reached for her hand, taking it into his carefully. His hand was big and warm on hers, his fingers and palms calloused in places, rough against the thin skin on the top of her hand. She shivered.
"I'm glad you're ok." He almost whispered, still holding her hand gently in his, his thumb rubbing circles and figure eights on the underside of her wrist, the contact making her pulse go haywire. Looking up into his eyes she saw the fear and pain of losing Martha, but also the fear that he might lose again.
"It's ok Walt. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." She reached out with the hand not held by his and laid it against the scruff of his cheek, her other hand tightening around his. He nodded weakly, leaning his face against her hand and she smiled at him. This version of Walt, the one that allowed his feelings to the surface was new to her and had she thought about it earlier the concept would have shaken her. The idea that Sheriff Walter Longmire wasn't always unflappable and imperturbable might have rocked her faith in him, but seeing how much he cared made her want to hold him and never let go.
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Walt was not prepared for the sight of Vic sitting there at her desk like nothing had happened. He was not unhappy to see her, on the contrary, for days now her empty seat had mocked him, constantly reminding him how close he had come to never seeing her again. The sight of her where she should be made his heart leap with joy, despite the unusual slump to her shoulders and the dark circles around her eyes. She was alive. He kept his words and tone curt to conceal the emotions raging inside of him and when he heard the door shut behind her he turned around to face her, his hands on his hips to contain the urge to touch her. When she looked up from the door her face was all consternation and annoyance at his tone and he could tell she was waiting for him to start.
He went with the platitude, rather than confess that there was no sight more likely to make his heart roar and his blood sing than to see her standing there, blonde hair brushed into a no nonsense ponytail, uniform shirt just a smidge too tight and one too many buttons undone. She was a vision and as she relaxed and let herself smile, he couldn't help it anymore but walked around the table he'd purposefully placed between them and took her hand in his. It was strong, smooth and warm in his, he could feel the slight callouses at the base of her fingers as his fingers studied her skin. Her shiver was his undoing and he couldn't keep the depth of his relief to himself anymore. She reassured him as always, her other hand ending up on his cheek and he thought his heart was going to explode.
Eventually they had to move and get back to the business of protecting the people of Absaroka County. Even though he loathed to let go of her hand, he released it, taking a few steps back to lean against the edge of his table. He filled her in to everything important that had happened while she was gone while filling himself with the sight of her. Soon she went back to the main office and he sat back behind his desk. Everything was as it used to be and everything was different. Life was good.
