Ashes to Ashes –we didn't see a lot of Vic in the episode but what we did spoke volumes. I hope you enjoy this last installment for season 3. See you for season 4 when we continue Vic's and Walt's emotional journey. Thank you for sticking with these fics over the weeks. You are all awesome.
To say I slept well would be a lie. I tossed and turned on Walt's office couch as I waited, locked inside, for him to return to me. At times, I would close my eyes and will him back, praying for his safety. Of course, I couldn't know what was happening but I knew he was on a rendezvous with a proven killer and as much as I wanted to help I also knew I would be a distraction. Walt, would be so worried about me, he wouldn't focus on what he needed to do. To survive.
We stand at the window like three little kids waiting for Dad to come home from the war and in a way that is what he did, he survived the war, with David Ridges. The prodigal son was left in the cold, in the middle of the street, and the wounded warrior breaches the doorway. Counting coup. Yes, he did. I'm stunned by the sight of him, partly relieved, partly angry, mainly concerned. It doesn't escape me, that Walt plays down his pain, another injury, more bleeding and sacrifice to protect us. He is so strong and resilient. His overprotection is something new and slightly embarrassing but it is also warm and inviting.
All I could think is Walt is going to fucking lose it, man! Smack, the roundhouse nearly breaks my nose, but it was worth Walt not going to jail himself for assault under the color of authority. It's a shot I will take every time. I know the battle with Bridges had to be bad, not just from the blood and the ripped jacket, but because Walt wants a drink. Walt, never wants a drink, ever. He doesn't talk about it, doesn't give me the details as we head to the Red Pony, and I don't ask. I don't need to. I can imagine what he has done. I can imagine how strong he is, how smart he is, and that he can handle anything. He doesn't need to tell me. The real one's never have to because they don't tell they just do.
Standing at the bar I forget that I am Deputy Moretti and I do what comes naturally as a woman. I take care of my man. Cleaning the blood and tending to the cut near his ear was my main concern. Yet, another wound to heal, more pain to endure. My desire is to comfort him and the surroundings don't matter because he isn't Sheriff Longmire he is Walt and Walt is someone I love and cherish. He doesn't resist and he doesn't acknowledge my presence, my closeness or my touch. He doesn't have too because it feels natural this closeness we have. It's us like it's been us from the beginning. The moment of realization clicks as our eyes meet but he makes no attempt to dissuade me. Our subconscious and conscious minds collide recognizing the bond that cannot be broken by time or circumstance.
My prayer can only be that our destiny is fulfilled in it's own time at it's own pace taking comfort in knowing that what I feel is unadulterated love. To be close with this man is joy unimaginable. Who would have thought I would find it in Durant, Wyoming in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and with a renaissance cowboy? Certainly, not I, but I am glad I did.