A/N: I write here for reviews. They are my motivation for continuing existing and future stories, so please let me know if I'm doing or writing anything you like or just can't stomach. I am here to read your opinions, and hopefully, to entertain. This looks like it will be 9 chapters, now. BTW, I am having fun over on the FB closed Vic-Wic group. WIC shippers welcome! Over on FB, just message moderator for an invitation!

Chapter 5

While Vic remained in the hospital and refused his company, he made sure someone checked in with her frequently, or sat with her while she was asleep. He acknowledged that especially right now she was far easier to take when asleep. He had sat with her himself earlier that morning after she had drifted off, then quietly stole away as she stirred.

She stole his heart even when she wasn't trying, and now, he felt particularly chastened by trying to keep the department running at her expense. She had been in charge while he read and woodworked, although God knew he had needed a vacation. She had taken everything in stride, even announced she would lie for him. He knew she had loved him. He only hoped he had not so sufficiently screwed things up that he couldn't put them right. With her, he knew it might take a long while, or never. Her resignation letter burned like a coal in his desk drawer.

While she healed, he took the time to try and regroup at his station, and hopefully restore some semblance of sanity. After lunch he requested Zach in to the office. He was in his authority chair to give a measure of professionalism.

Zach walked in almost tentatively. He didn't blame the younger man. He had been out of line firing him so pre-emptively.

"You probably saved both Donna's and my lives. We both owe you one, and your willingness to deputize for the county." He didn't actually say, thank you. That was one of Henry's simple specialties, not one which came to him easily.

Zach looked down, as though he was examining the floor and found it wanting. "Once I figured out something wasn't right with Monte, I couldn't just let him wander, especially after he armed up. That wall in the hotel…"

"Yep," Walt agreed, his lips pushed together. It was a wall of as resplendent terror as any serial killer's he had ever read about or encountered in his entire law enforcement career.

"Poor guy, just another veteran she compromised but refused to diagnose because he refused to help her steal meds. I wasn't a veteran, but I think she felt sorry for me, for losing my brother. That may have been the difference, but I wasn't comfortable with it. Or her."

"The whole thing is a tragedy," Walt acknowledged. His profound disappointment with Donna lay buried further down. Martha, she was not. He would let the District Attorney and AMA have their way with her future. She still had not called him, and he realized that he no longer really cared. His deputy had almost lost her life because Vic had directed her backup to the cabin. He wasn't willing to address it as a poor decision made for the wrong reasons, yet.

"Well, thanks for letting me help out, and glad it turned out okay for you." Zach turned to go.

"Zach, we can't have incidents of aggression right now."

He turned back. "I get it, I get it, thanks anyway for giving me the opportunity. I…felt at home, here."

"If you're available, you can have that home here given the complications and increased service needs from the casino. You will have to attend counseling, however. Dr. Monaghan was right about one thing, she did give us a good reference who checked out for treating PTSD-related aggression. The assault with you and your brother was not your fault, but any future actions will be, if we don't get them headed off, tai-chi or not."

"She thought you were aggressive?" he asked, his forehead creasing.

"No, not me," Walt said with a chuckle, for neither Zach nor Donna were aware of his dark temper, but had seem to hone in on Vic without provocation, "and she was right, but wrong, too."

The creases on Zach's forehead did not disappear. "Sheriff…"

He didn't blame Zach if he were confused by that.

"So—return to work Monday morning, see Ruby about the paperwork, and the Ferg and I will have a duty roster complete with a therapy sessions twice a week for the near future…if you're game."

"I'm…I'm game. I don't know what to say."

Walt felt the younger man's awkward shyness as though it was his own. Hell, it was his own, thirty years ago…He let his gaze settle on the younger man. "For this department, this past few months has been about second chances, and it seems like a couple of us given them have pretty much blown them away." He looked up, met Zach's questioning eyes. "I hope we can all do better. After all, that's the most anyone can ask."

"Sure, I'll be here Monday. Um, when does Vic return?"

He forced himself to smile. It came out a grimace. "Not sure yet."

"And is Eamonn going permanent?"

"Again, not sure. I'm bringing Vic in on that one."

"Oh. Okay, Sheriff, I sure appreciate this."

"Don't make me regret it."

Walt stuck out his hand, and Zach took it. Walt had the odd feeling he was looking at himself thirty years back, when Lucian had conducted the job interview in the Euskadi bar…not much had changed with the retired sheriff since then, and evidently, he hadn't changed much, either.

XXX

Later that afternoon, Ferg walked in to his office, his mouth in a pucker. He didn't need more to know that it was bad.

"What is it, Ferg?" he asked, expecting a set-back in one of the Browning or other cases, or equally serious news.

"What did you do to Vic, Walt? I mean, was it Dr. Monaghan?"

He took a quick breath. "What makes you think I did anything to Vic?"

"She won't let anyone from the department sit with her, including me, and says she's leaving as soon as they release her from the hospital. Anyway…" he turned on his heel to leave, giving up. Message sent.

Walt pushed his lips in. He couldn't leave it like that. "I'll take care of it. Oh, and Ferg—" he paused as the younger man turned back to him, "—you did right, with Zach. He said you tried to stop him. Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I don't know," said Ferg. "I tried, but you didn't want to hear anything from me."

"Okay." He suddenly realized that the same could be said for him with Vic.

Ferg persisted. "And about Vic?"

He took another breath. "I'll take care of it." Ferg nodded and left, apparently mollified.

He had no confidence he could allay Ferg's concerns, but wished he could have dismissed the County Board or his own attorney with such impunity. That he even needed an attorney was difficult enough.

The County Board had been much more difficult to appease when the Wrongful Death suit came against the department. Headed by the mayor, but populated by one judge, one district attorney, one Chamber of Commerce member, it was pretty much the only thing which could control actions. They regarded the Wrongful Death suit as a stain against their community and possibly a liability in the end costing them a pretty penny.

"You should consider consulting legal representation," suggested the Judge, when apprised of the Wrongful Death suit. Those were words which made his heart run cold.

XXX

Jim Bishop came from behind his desk to shake Walt's hand. He removed his hat and sat across from Jim. He tried not to squirm. No matter how inviting the office, he would always be uncomfortable in the client chair.

"It's not that I'm not glad to see you, but not glad to see you here for this," said Jim.

He was a smaller man with a slight build and thinning graying hair, but the tenacity of a bulldog. Walt had reason to know, years back when Jim had been a prosecutor, he had helped him out on countless cases. Fortunately, as sheriff, he had never caught Jim's prosecutorial eye and had pretty much walked the straight and narrow until after Martha died, so he hadn't needed Jim for much but deeds and the like. Well, he might be making up for that, now.

"So, I have not yet been able to ascertain who has standing in this case, the identity is being protected. My sense of it is, they are using corporations which had financial transactions to create this case. If they were damaged by Barlow's death, they still want their money. If that is the basis, the case will likely be dismissed, because corporations do not have standing."

Walt tipped his head. "Barlow said something about me having all the land and not letting them develop it before he died. It's like he's after me from beyond the grave."

"That would be unique, him setting up the suit himself before he died. But who would be his next of kin?"

Walt pressed his lips together. "The only one I know is Lucian Connally, but I don't think he would do this to me. I suppose there could be someone else."

Jim said, "I've been Lucian's attorney for a good while, and I would agree with your assessment, although he was not an inheritor to Barlow's fortune…the probate is taking forever, but he was not mentioned anywhere in the will. It is a very…bizarre will. Mind you," he said, adjusting his glasses, "I'm not telling you what's in it, only what's not."

"I don't think he's doing this, unless someone has put his name on the documents, like on his behalf, or something."

"Well. Whoever is doing this, we can't give them fuel, or it might tip the balance and allow to suit to move forward, and cost both the county and you plenty of money until it can all be sorted out."

This was it. This was what he'd been afraid of since he'd been served the paperwork. He waited to be told he would have to pull his punches until the suit was past. He was not disappointed.

"Here's the strategy: keep your nose clean, and see to your department. No bar fights, no sex scandals, no heavy drinking, drugs, aggression on the job, no questionable co-horts, you know the drill."

So that was that. He sighed, his lips smacked in resignation. "I already do that, and I'll speak to the rest of the department."

"Good," Jim said firmly, and stood up. They shook hands again. "At least until we get more paperwork, or see what they present at the hearing, that will have to do. I'll have Mary see you out."

"No need," said Walt, standing with him, already trying to figure out how to reconcile his personal feelings with the needs of the near-future.

That had been almost two months, now. In the duration, he had dreamed of Martha with Donna's face, had begun to tentatively unload some of the baggage overburdening him, and then at the cabin had approached the Donna he thought of as a safe and comforting Martha, where all hell had suddenly broken loose.

The hell which had broken loose was now marginally contained, but at what expense? What to do now?

He sighed. The weight of the world which had temporarily lifted at Henry's release and Barlow's death was now back in full force, and he no longer could use Donna to absorb it. He was really sorry that heavy drinking was off the menu for the near future.

And what was he to do if Vic left the department? He was afraid if she left he'd have to keep Eamonn on more than a temporary basis, but that would just make his heart ache with loss every day. He wasn't sure he could survive that on top of everything else. In his heart he knew it would probably be better for her to go, he could offer her nothing, literally nothing, if for some reason he lost the suit.

All he would have left was his very beat-up self and bruised heart, and she could do far better in a city with a real police force where she could utilize all her skills. The bench was also far deeper, there, and he was pretty certain she would eventually want a man again. In his heart, he knew she longed to be loved and accepted, and he had completely failed to let her know that he felt either of those for her.

He had been alternately elated and terrified she wanted him after she'd signed her divorce papers, but after Branch's death, he had endured the sudden epiphany that he could no longer risk hers, which might be a loss worse for him even than Martha's. After his visit with Jim, it was more than that, because Vic was law enforcement, employee and younger, all which would fan the flames flouting the rules of perception in Durant, Wyoming. He had to play within the boundaries, and apparently, it seemed, keep to himself, not even sneaking peeks at pictures on Ruby's computer, anymore.

What a catastrophic mistake Donna had been, his one tentative foray since Lizzie. She had, for a few minutes, made him feel like a man, but now, he felt more than ever like he had just after Martha's death, and then to a much less extent after Lizzie, a pariah doomed to wander the rest of his life alone.

Unfortunately, although he played nice, now, his feelings had not changed. Donna had merely been a palliative toward healing, but he had chosen so wrong, even in that. He didn't need a second chance, he needed one chance…but Vic's choice of future was still unknown…