Hey all! Sorry for the delay with this update. December was exceptionally busy for me, which was somewhat expected but always seems to sneak up nonetheless. I've been working on this one in fits and starts for a while, so I hope the components gel effectively. :)

Thanks as always for all of your feedback; hearing your thoughts is entertaining, thought-provoking, and always motivational. I haven't had a ton of time for replies, but I'm getting to them slowly. Please know that the reviews and PMs are greatly appreciated!

Dreamcatcher
Part VIII

They didn't hold hands on the ride to the hospital.

They were professionals, so of course they wouldn't do something so ridiculous. It wouldn't be appropriate or particularly characteristic of their normal behavior, and they needed to stay focused on the situation at hand. Vic knew all of these things, so why did the lack of any gesture differentiating their relationship from what it had been at this time yesterday bother her so much?

There was nothing unusual about the way Walt was driving. His right hand was on the steering wheel, the left pressed snugly against the driver's side window. It was a sunny morning, so he'd donned his Ray Bans just like she had. Paired with his neutral expression, however, the covered eyes made him appear oddly closed off from her. It was probably all in her mind, but that was the place where she existed, and in the silence her worries held form.

The slightly open collar of Walt's shirt peeking out from his jacket had a surprisingly evocative effect, and Vic found herself replaying some of the juicier moments from last night as the familiar landscape rolled past outside her window. The first time his lips brushed the most sensitive spot on her neck. The sight of his shoulders shrugging out of that black shirt as he stood next to the bed with his jeans hanging open and a wild glow in those blue eyes. The incredible heat of his body bearing down, wrapping around her, touch gentle but unyielding as he pinned her to the mattress.

It all gave her tingles in places she shouldn't be thinking about during the work day. Rolling her neck, Vic pressed her palms together and slid them between her denim-clad knees.

Thankfully Walt totally misread her body language, inclining his head toward her as the flat road straightened ahead of them. "You cold? I could turn the heat up…"

That's the last fucking thing I need, Vic thought to herself. She answered with a rapid head shake as Walt tentatively reached for the temperature controls. "I'm fine."

"Okay then."

God, they both sucked at this talking thing. Vic thought about Walt's awkward attempts over breakfast, and her own reluctance to hear whatever rationalizations or reversals he might have cooked up in his brain while she had been busy rummaging for extra vegetables to put in their omelette with the secret irrational hope of keeping his strength up for another round.

"I— well, I was thinking we should probably talk about this. Shouldn't we?"

This is the part where he was going to say that it was a mistake, that he doesn't want you to get the wrong impression.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just thought— well, there are a lot of things we need to clear up."

Here's where he only fucked you so that you wouldn't leave, but it can never happen again. He might even find a way to make his actions sound noble, it's the kind of verbal feat he seems capable of achieving.

"We'd better get moving."

As opposed to staying still, wasting time in an awkward 'morning after' bubble.

Was this it for them? Walt had made a physical play in response to what was basically an ultimatum she had issued. And his tactic had worked— after all, she was still here. Vic wanted to think that last night was more than just an attempt on his part to mollify her, but she was all too aware that one night stands were by no means entirely outside of Walt Longmire's sexual vocabulary.

Vic tamped down her unease as they navigated the hospital corridor stride for stride, masking a sharp inhale when they arrived at Zachary's vacated room and Walt's hand fell to the small of her back to usher her through the door. Did that effortless, natural gesture mean something now, the way she used to think it did before… everything? He hadn't touched her in that casual man-to-woman manner in so long, it was almost more of a shock to the system than the reality of last night's sexual interlude. It filled Vic with a floaty feminine longing that had absolutely no right existing at a crime scene.

She forced herself to pay attention as Walt's fingertips drifted away, maybe a bit slower than they should. Walt seemed to be experiencing no such difficulty, perching his hands on his hips and surveying the small space.

"What does it look like, Ferg?"

The younger deputy began to lay out his findings and it was all business from there, at least for a time.

There was evidence of foul play, if you knew what to look for.

As an expert-level hospital escape artist, Walt was uniquely qualified to comment. Vic had observed with interest as he inspected the IV and monitor hookups, reasoning that Zachary could have managed to disconnect himself from the machines. What was less likely was for him to have accidentally ripped all the institutional coverings loose from the bed in the process, particularly the bottom edges of the bedding and the tightly fitted sheet beneath. Head bent down beside the disheveled pillows, Walt muttered that they were called 'hospital corners' for a reason.

Watching Walt work, something Vic would admit she hadn't done with much care in quite a while, she was struck by his focus and quiet intensity. It was a strange thing, how a man who couldn't ordinarily be bothered to spend two minutes examining the menu at the Busy Bee could approach other matters with such fierce concentration. The back of Vic's neck flushed hot, remembering how it had felt for her body to be the object of Walt's single-minded attention.

Squinting, Walt ran his fingers over the slightly rumpled bed sheet, pinching with thumb and index and slowly extracting one long blonde hair.

"I don't think this is Zachary's." He tilted his head to examine the strand in full light.

Vic pressed in beside his shoulder to get a closer look, pointedly ignoring the solidity of his bicep against her jacketed arm. "It could be mine? From earlier yesterday…"

Walt shook his head, peering down at the crown of Vic's. "Doubt it. You had your hair pulled back, and the color is a bit darker at the roots. This one is uniform all the way through."

"Gee, thanks for noticing I need a touch up." Vic wasn't sure if she was teasing or fishing for compliments, the confusion of how to act in this new version of reality twisting in the bottom of her stomach.

The corner of Walt's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly, his sideways glance a tad speculative. "Looks fine to me. Bet you'd look great as a brunette, too."

Ferg cleared his throat, tactfully attempting to ignore the moment of outright flirtation without being too overt. "Maybe Dr. Monaghan was here and they had an argument?"

Shoulders tensing, Walt scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Ferg, you head over to Zachary's place. See if he's there, or if it looks like he has been. Meet us back at the station."

The younger deputy nodded and took his leave, clearly accustomed to the sheriff's cryptic habits. Vic turned so that she was face to face with Walt, proffering a small plastic evidence bag to accommodate the strand of hair.

"What are you thinking?"

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as Walt's large fingers gently made their deposit.

"I'm thinking it's about time I finally read Dr. Monaghan's statement."

Vic's lips parted in surprise. She had assumed Walt must have read the document before following her to Cady's. "You didn't look at it last night?"

"My mind was on something else." His blue gaze was steady, meaningful, head absently shaking in the negative.

For a few short moments as she stared back, Vic felt like the most important woman in the world. It was a powerful feeling, knowing that at least this one time she had ranked first in his eyes.

"Alright. Let's go."

He asked her to read it too, and she knew it was both an apology and a deeper sign of trust. It still made Vic's skin crawl, regardless of Walt's good intentions.

Needless to say, the 'good' doctor's statement was full of clinical terms, professional denials, and absolutely nothing about her careful cultivation of Zachary's paranoia with both medication and unethical subconscious tactics. Also absent were any mentions of the more inappropriate aspects of their relationship which were hinted at by Zachary and apparently evidenced by Donna's own hysterical behavior at Walt's cabin. That incident was still a bit of a mental no-fly zone for Vic, who curiously felt even less capable of contemplating the idea of Walt in another woman's arms now that she'd had him in her own.

The sky outside had darkened to a steely grey after the brightness of the morning wore away, with the possibility of a cold autumn rain in the offing. Ferg radioed in to say he was headed over to Zachary's place, and Ruby had nipped out to do some necessary errands while the station was manned— and woman-ed, in this particular case. Sheriff and deputy had shut themselves in Walt's office, Vic leaning against the desk on the same side as Walt's chair.

"This woman has a fucking terrible track record with patients, doesn't she? We never did find out who torched her van…" Vic didn't want to think about that part of what had been a very bad day either, but her investigative drive was a powerful motivator.

Walt leaned back and swiveled slightly, hands folded atop his torso. His jean-clad knee nudged against Vic's leg, a gesture that felt way more sexual than it should. "I think we know."

Placing the green folder back on the desk, Vic raised an incredulous eyebrow. "We do?"

"Yep," he chewed his bottom lip and blinked slowly. "She did."

"What? You're saying she blew up her own shit?" It seemed so outlandish that Vic almost wanted to laugh, but Walt was obviously serious.

"Yep."

"But… why?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and Vic could see the wheels of thought turning behind his faraway eyes. "To get my attention. I hadn't been returning her calls for a couple days, so." He shrugged.

"…so she set her own vehicle on fire? Doesn't that seem a bit excessive?"

Walt sat straighter, scooting his chair toward Vic and placing one hand on the desk beside her hip so that she was sandwiched between him and the furniture. She wondered whether she was projecting her deeply rooted desire to run from the rest of this conversation.

Averting his eyes, Walt seemed almost embarrassed at his next admission. "It wouldn't be the first time a woman abused the 911 system to get a date with me."

"That's a piss poor excuse for a joke even by your standards."

He started, as if waking from a trance. "She needed to get me alone and I played right into it. I was all knotted up and I missed the clues… the only thing I can't figure out is what she was trying to accomplish."

He'd been knotted up? After their so-called conversation in the alley Vic had been so emotionally volatile, she would almost have believed it if someone said she had blown up Donna's van with some kind of insane pyrokinesis like the kid from Firestarter. Walt, though? He had stonewalled her with so little effort, such a total lack of reaction.

Hadn't he?

Vic's brain pulled a mental rewind and fixated on one peculiar piece of information. "You hadn't been returning her calls?"

His thumb stroked the edge of her jean pocket, long fingers splayed at her hip. "Nope."

"Why not?" She slid closer, one of her legs pressed between both of his.

"Something didn't feel right. Too many things at once, really, but I couldn't handle any of it."

Frowning, Vic stiffened under Walt's light touch. "But… you were with her. At the cabin. I don't understand any of this, Walt."

He reached for both her hands, pulling her in to stand between his legs. "That was after."

"After what?"

"You and Eamonn."

This time, she actually did laugh. "There was no 'me and Eamonn,' Walt."

Encircling her with long arms and enveloping warmth, he pressed his forehead against her abdomen. "I think I know that now. But then…"

Arms draped over Walt's shoulders, Vic spoke to the top of his head. "It was once. Just once. After the hospital. I wanted to make you jealous."

"When I went back to get you they said your husband picked you up. I thought you were rubbing my face in it, and I was angry."

Threading her fingers into his hair, Vic tilted Walt's head up for direct eye contact. "What the fuck did we do to each other?"

"I don't know. We really messed up, but it looks like we've got another chance."

Vic trembled as Walt's hands traveled over her curves and urged her body into his lap. It didn't seem like the chair should be big enough for both of them, but he held her close and her knees wedged at either side of his hips. They fit so well, a fact she was keenly aware of after last night. His lips brushed that perfect, sensitive spot at the edge of her jaw beneath her earlobe.

She gasped at the touch of his mouth and the soft scratch of his stubble against her neck. "What if we fuck it up this time, too?"

They breathed each other's air, Vic's fingers flexing against Walt's open shirt collar. The moment of sensual anxiety was broken by the rumble of his voice as the banked fire of attraction and repressed emotion engulfed them. "I won't let that happen."

It was so like Walt, to imply that he could make everything right through sheer force of will. To Vic on the other hand, as she fell into the contact and capitulated to the wild sensation of his tongue snaking into her mouth to dance with her own, it felt like they had less control over this thing between them than ever before and could all too easily drag each other straight over the edge to disaster.

Hmm. Well, they sort of talked! Kind of. They DO suck at it, and I doubt that would change overnight. Oops, lol. At least a few topics got aired, but there's still an awful lot hanging in the balance.

Would love to hear some thoughts about this chapter! What happened to Zachary? Is Donna involved, or perhaps a victim herself? Can Walt and Vic move past their issues and build a lasting relationship, or will things get worse before they get better?

The new year is just days away, so reviews will be rewarded with classic and dependable bubbly! ;D