So this is written from Waverly's viewpoint... the story is still on the same timeline it just decided to tread a slightly different path. As always thanks for the comments and taking the time to read this.
She's walking into Nicole's room from the shower, a towel wrapped around her, hair trickling uneven drops onto her skin. Late last night, she had crawled into bed sore and exhausted, following her adventures of yesterday. Dolls had dropped her off, Nicole meeting her outside the apartment, dressed in shorts that showed off her long legs and a simple t-shirt, worry creasing her brow. Seeing that she was very obviously dead on her feet, as soon as Dolls had turned around, Nicole had taken her by the hand, leading her to the bed where she sat her down and proceeded to take her off her shoes. Nicole then found her pyjamas and gave them to her, leaving the room to return not two minutes later with a covered plate and glasses of milk for both of them. After procuring approval when they had both gotten into bed, Nicole's warm and sympathetic hands had investigated the damage from the bullet.
Nicole seemed to just fit wherever and whenever she was needed. She was kind and caring beyond anything I have ever experienced. Even when Nicole had been the one to be hurt, it didn't hold her back from helping me.
She reaches the drawer Nicole had insisted that she put her clothes into because she's pretty much living here at this point and took out an outfit for the day. She had settled into a routine, dividing what time she didn't spend here, between the black badge activities and the ranch.
At least I don't work in Shorty's anymore, I wouldn't have time to sleep!
A routine which usually had her leaving the apartment in the early morning, waking Nicole up for painkillers and to swipe a few kisses before facing the day. She popped in for lunch if she could. If things were quiet she'd get back late afternoon, but usually they weren't and she'd get back late in the evening.
She always makes sure that the fridge is well stocked and there's a couple of frozen dinners in the freezer. When Nicole had found out about them, Waverly almost thought Nicole was going to cry but instead just gave her a hug murmuring thanks you in her ear.
I know how to look after someone, I had plenty of practice with Wynonna... I just wish I had gotten my driving license.
Because of this, on occasion, the transit was a bit problematic. It was close enough to the station that she could walk when the weather was good. If it wasn't or she was travelling to or from the ranch, she usually cajoled Wynonna into giving her a lift. Sometimes Dolls would drop her off and even the Sheriff had offered twice and she took him up on it, without another choice.
The rides with the sheriff were a bit awkward but compared to that one terrifying journey with Doc before he left town, they were easy as falling off a log.
When Wynonna had asked why she was staying over so often with Nicole, she replied with excuses, skirting the issue, saying that Nicole was a good friend and that she had no family nearby. She remembers Willa being there too, in the background, and how she had waited on the usual detached snobbish comment from her. But it didn't come, Willa had just stared towards her with a calculated expression on her features, hands on her hips. The second time Wynonna had asked, Waverly told her that she could relate to having no one to turn to in a time of trouble and had looked pointedly at her favourite sister. She didn't ask again after that.
She hisses as the towel catches against her bandaged wound, disturbing her reflections.
She had finally built up the courage to approach the subject of Nicole, (and the encompassing material), with Wynonna yesterday when she was dressing the presently stinging wound. With the day that was in it, Waverly had felt a bit fearless and had figured the retaliation couldn't possibly be any worse than getting shot. But her heart had raced anyway and her practiced bullet points were on loop in her head. Wynonna had given her the perfect opportunity when she had mentioned that dudes dig scars. When she had responded with the unscripted question, "Do chicks?" a look had flickered across Wynonna's face, like she was seeing her in a different but still positive light. And then Dolls had interrupted and subsequently Willa and she was not prepared to out herself to everyone just yet.
Not before I tell Wynonna first.
If Wynonna stood by her, she's sure that she will but a tiny niggle in her stomach begged to differ, no one elses opinion really mattered that much to her.
Well except for Gus' but I think she definitely knows already.
She still doesn't know if Wynonna really understood what she had been trying to tell her, but it was a start and she had felt a little lighter since. After their group conversation finished yesterday, she had snuck into the bathroom to ring Nicole, swearing to her that she was okay and promising that she'd see her that night.
Nicole's pyjamas catches her eye, neatly folded on one of the pillows, causing what she knows is a dreamy but goofy grin to appear on her face.
Nicole had compared her to a storm, connected to the weather and nature but Nicole was like the earth itself...
...maybe that wasn't the most romantic metaphor for Nicole but it fit perfectly.
She was as solid as the mountains themselves, as patient as the rocks forming. Even when she was going through her own recovery, she was the constant in Waverly's life, keeping her sane and grounded despite all the crazy shit going on around her.
More beautiful then the diamonds that formed beneath the surface and as layered as the planet itself.
She slips further into this stream of thoughts, imagining the two of them as if they were the very elements and the earth themselves, the complimenting and contrasting sides of nature. Images flash through her head - The ground meeting the sky where lightening hit the surface, wind roaring at the top of snowy muscular mountain peaks but gently playful in the valleys, waves bursting onto the shore, mingling water with sand - different aspects of nature conjoining and coexisting.
She shakes her head to stop herself losing the entire morning to daydreaming. It's futile as her mind wanders back to the subject who's currently downstairs.
