Hi All! Been working on this update for a few weeks now, bit by bit. Sorry the chapters are taking so long; hopefully that doesn't detract from continued enjoyment of the story! There's a bit of mature content in this installment, not that I expect that will bother anyone... :)

Thanks as always to all who have taken the time to leave reviews. The feedback is always greatly appreciated and highly motivational!

Dreamcatcher
Part X

She told him everything was alright, even though the sounds and sights of his evident terror struck a surprising amount of fear into her heart.

He'd always been so strong, or at least he'd seemed it, and seeing Walt thrash and whimper on the utilitarian office sofa shook her fragile understanding of their rapidly evolving world. Vic's failure to ascertain the full scale of his humanity made her feel for a moment like maybe she didn't know Walt at all— that maybe every thing she's ever thought about him has been wrong or incomplete on some deeply basic level. Even the perceptions that took her perilously close to the edge of hating him these past painful months were blurring at the edges, and through the uncertainty she's drawn to him just the same.

It had seemed like the right thing, the only thing to do, to wake him up from the nightmare and offer what support she could. The fact that he was receptive was a surprise, and she'd honestly been shocked when he pulled her into his arms. The only other time she could remember trying to comfort him in such a way was at the hospital after Cady's accident, and although he had seemed to accept her touch she knew that she hadn't had the right to give him that or especially anything more. It had caused a pain that was almost physical, wanting so much to be there for him but knowing that she simply couldn't. At least, not like that— she'd done what she could in her own way. Vic hadn't even realized back then how far she had already fallen.

There wasn't time for further musing on the subject, as it turned out.

"Vic, I—"

Trailing off, Walt sighed and shifted his weight. Pulling her further into his lap, one of his arms slid down to rest at the swerve of her waist. The fingers of that hand slipped beneath the hem of her undershirt, and at first she assumed it was by accident. But then his lips brushed the hollow of her throat and moved slowly up the side of her neck on a meandering but nonetheless purposeful mission to press against her own.

Her hand that had been administering a soothing touch along his shirt collar found a new purpose, winding into the hair at the base of his skull as he instigated a warm and melting kiss. Testing the waters, Walt's fingers flexed beneath the stretchy cotton of her tank top. Vic's breath hitched when his palm flattened against her side and his fingertips trailed up her ribcage. Their lips parted with her gasp, and his eyelids fluttered open to reveal wide black pupils ringed by a flash of midnight blue. That look made her hot all over, and it seemed the feeling was mutual as a low moan escaped Walt's throat upon renewed meeting of their mouths. Vic eagerly swallowed that noise, sliding her tongue between his bottom lip and his teeth before tilting her head to deepen the contact.

What had started out as comfort was rapidly spiraling down into something entirely else, something hungry and instinctive and unrepentantly erotic. Walt's touch was no longer hesitant, the rough warmth of his hands sending Vic higher as he grasped and stroked bare skin wherever he could find it. Her senses reeled, thoughts tumbling tail over tea kettle while her hands fell to his chest and pushed the parted fabric of his shirt collar aside to access the unashamedly masculine delights within. Walt responded by slumping downward and twisting his hips, grasping the top of her thigh and yanking it alongside his own so that her knees were nestled on either side of his body and she could feel his straining erection pressing against her increasingly heated center.

There were a thousand things Vic could have said right then, about not solving problems with sex or about engaging in such activities while technically on duty— a taboo that loomed large in the darker reaches of her personal history— but all she could manage was a breathless "Fuck, you feel so good," as Walt rocked himself up into the cradle of her thighs. Soon they were tugging at each other's clothing, creating new strategies and innovative logistics to remove only what was necessary and reach the point of connection they were both so desperate to make. They'd always had a knack for teamwork, and this was no exception.

Vic's jeans and panties were still hanging from one calf, uniform shirt discarded and sleeveless black tank top yanked askew as she sank smoothly onto Walt. He released another purring groan, neck stretching so the back of his head rested against the top of the middle couch cushion. His hands found their way to her waist, steadying, as she grasped the open sides of his shirt front and gave an experimental roll of her hips. The angle was so perfect with Walt seated but slouched down, a choked whimper escaped Vic's lips as she leaned further into him.

All she could do was put away her doubts and give in to the powerful compulsion of his body. If this was what he wanted, needed, she couldn't deny him— she wasn't about to lie and say she didn't want this just as much. She adopted a slow rhythm, rubbing herself against him with both hands gliding beneath his shirt to clench at the bare skin of his shoulders. Walt bit back a curse and held her eyes with his own, running steady fingers over her curves and tracing the side of his thumb along the exposed lacy edge of her bra where it peeked out from beneath her twisted undershirt. He pushed upward just as she ground down and Vic knew she was lost— maybe for good, but definitely to the heat of this moment.

Walt was really getting into it and that turned her on more than anything else. There were grunts of effort and sharply indrawn breaths until the tight circling of Vic's pelvis got him riled up to the breaking point and she found herself suddenly flat on her back with one leg pulled around his waist and his elbow propped next to her head to give him better leverage. The leather of the sofa creaked and the frame protested under the vigorous movements of its occupants, their limbs entwining restlessly as Walt put more of his weight into the rapidly accelerating thrusts.

Fingertips digging into the flesh of Walt's broad back, Vic stifled a cry of pleasure and buried her face into the warm junction of his shoulder and neck while every muscle in her body tightened and released. Their torsos were fused as he shuddered above her, hair falling into his eyes and lower body jerking sensuously in time with her uncontrolled flutters. Vic's arms were clasped around Walt, drawing him down as he reached and thoroughly conquered unvisited depths within her. They were both gasping for air, clutching desperately as the aftershocks continued to roll through them like a powerful wave slowly dragging away from the shore.

The floating moments that followed existed outside of time, and through the blissful haze of perception could have been seconds, minutes, or hours. Walt had rolled sideways so that his back was against the couch and his arms were looped around Vic, their chests pressed together and his legs still wedged between her own.

"Wow," she breathed, running her hand over his bicep which was half-covered by the sleeve of his shirt.

He nuzzled the side of her face, trailing the bridge of his nose along the skin behind her earlobe before placing a soft kiss there. "Yeah," he gruffed in a similarly dazed tone.

Vic shifted slightly and Walt squeezed tighter, as if he feared she was drawing away. Part of her thought she probably should, but she was intoxicated by his solid warmth all around her and the heady sensation of simply being held— there'd been so little tenderness near the end of her marriage to Sean and countless lonely nights since. She could admit that Walt had been on her mind both before her divorce and after, but she had never had the foresight or the courage to imagine a scenario like this. Something frozen inside of her thawed, and she allowed her body to relax completely for what felt like the first time in forever as she slumped against him.

Large fingers stroked the soft hairs on the back of her neck as they lay entangled, her smaller body cradled and enveloped by Walt's larger frame. His breath tickled her ear as he exhaled slowly, breathing out one quiet but characteristically cryptic word. "Thanks."

What was he thanking her for? For not getting up? For waking him from whatever nightmare he'd been having? For fucking him on the office couch?

Raising her head from where it was cradled in the crook of Walt's neck seemed like a supreme effort, but it was worth it to see how he was looking at her. Vic suddenly felt like the scope of his gratitude might encompass things far beyond a quickie and a cuddle, and they were moments and millimeters away from falling into each other again when she heard the distinctive swing and click of the downstairs door.

"Shit, that must be Ferg…"

They scrambled back into their clothing, which took significantly more effort for Vic than it did for Walt. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her as she shimmied into her jeans, and she couldn't fight the urge to trail her own gaze up the seam of his shirt to where he was hurrying to fasten the snaps with a surprisingly deft touch.

In one fleeting moment inside the charged wire of eye contact that flared between them, a new thought passed unbidden through Vic's mind. As she watched Walt attempt to right his tousled appearance, partly a result of his fitful slumber and partly due to their enthusiastic coupling, she thought of him as her man for the very first time. She'd never had the right before, never even had the inkling, but the lingering endorphins and the ball of messy emotions she'd been carrying for what felt like forever had formed themselves into a mass of possessive affection that she had absolutely no clue how to handle.

There was movement in the outer station room, the sound of a chair being pulled out, and she could visualize Ferg draping his well-worn Carhartt jacket over the wooden chair back. Vic moved toward the door of Walt's private office, slightly ajar but still providing privacy. She jumped at the sensation of Walt's hand wrapping gently around her forearm, dragging her toward him as his other hand wound up to cradle her face. He leaned in, kissing her none too gently, sucking on her bottom lip as he drew back and briefly pressed his forehead against hers. With one last enigmatic look Walt released her, reaching past to pull the door open and guide her through it.

It was hard to imagine that they didn't look like they'd done exactly what they'd just done— her skin was still singing with the memory of his touch— but their sudden appearance didn't seem to phase the younger deputy, who was busily fiddling with his phone and logging into Ruby's computer. Vic was glad as hell that it was dark so that Ferg couldn't see the flush she knew must be suffusing her face.

"Oh good, you're here!"

Someone was certainly in a perky mood…

"You've gotta see— I got this message from a number I've never seen before."

Vic crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah? That happens to me like every other day, it's usually telemarketers from Nevada or some shit."

Shaking his head, Ferg shot her a pointed do-you-think-I'm-stupid look. "It's from a 307 area code. I'm pretty sure—" He toggled something on the computer screen, clicking through the menus to find whatever he was looking for. "—I think it's from Zachary."

Walt always had a knack for asking the important questions. "Why do you think that?"

"Because of what it says. Look." Ferg dragged his finger over the screen of his smartphone a few times before turning the screen toward them and releasing the device into Walt's waiting hand. On the screen were two concise if somewhat puzzling sentences.

Tell Walt I'm sorry. Don't look for me.

The sheriff and two deputies looked at each other for a few long moments before Vic broke the silence.

"He does know that saying 'don't look for me' means we're gonna look even harder, right?"

Ferg's jaw set into an even more determined line, the affirmation plain in his features. "I'm gonna pull up the county phone database and see if the number is registered to anyone local. Beats flipping through the phone book…"

Walt crooked a fleeting half-grin. "They still make those?"

Raising an eyebrow, Vic responded. "Yeah, they're mainly used as ineffective doorstops and really fucking boring bathroom reading." She looked Walt up and down, trying like hell not to openly admire his long frame in front of Ferg. "I've already got Zachary's records out. You wanna help me check through them to see if the number pops up anywhere?"

"Seems unlikely, but we have to start somewhere."

He settled beside her at the desk, just close enough that she could feel the ever-present comforting heat radiating from his arm, and they got straight down to work like the partners they had always been.

Bit of a transitional chapter, this one. I've been doing some mapping for the rest of the story, so the plot should be moving along in the near future. There's still a few kinks (not like that, get your mind out of the gutter!) for Walt and Vic to work out in their budding relationship, too... raise your hand if you can't wait for them to have their first fight! *puts a nice refreshing drink in each hand that is raised*

Please let me know what you think, or even just pop by to say whether you've been enjoying the story!