Disclaimer: The characters of Longmire do not belong to me.
A/N: Trigger warning-a kidnapper slaps a small child in the face in this chapter, once.
The little girl sitting in the corner of the bar in the Red Pony was not an uncommon sight. Henry checked on her once more as he wiped down the counter, smiling when he found her still working on whatever masterpiece was inside the notebook in front of her. Rory picked up another crayon, worn down almost a nub, and Henry wrapped up what he was doing. He checked the clock and sighed, then walked down to the end of the bar. Rory looked up and smiled, her one missing tooth making her look ridiculously cute even when she wasn't trying to be.
"Hey, kiddo. You okay?"
"Yeah."
"I think it's about time to move you to my office. What do you think?"
Rory's smile dropped. "Daddy's not coming, is he?"
"He'll be here." Henry said, though he wished he could believe it himself. Hoping to lift Rory's spirits, Henry said, "Besides, is it so bad to spend time with your favorite uncle?"
Rory's frown deepened slightly, before she started to gather her crayons into their case and put her books into her bag.
"Hey." Henry said, reaching a hand out to Rory's arm. "He'll be here. He might be late, but he'll be here."
Rory nodded, her grin coming back slowly. "Can I have a cookie?"
Henry laughed. "You may have one. Any over that amount and you are on your own if your father finds out. Deal?"
"If I find out about what?"
Rory turned and nearly jumped out of the bar seat into her father's arms. "Daddy!"
"Hey, Runt."
"Walt. She was getting worried you weren't coming." Henry said.
"Sorry I'm late, Runt." Walt apologized, ruffling Rory's hair a bit.
Rory giggled slightly and asked, "Were you catching bad guys?"
"Always. You ready to go, kiddo?"
"We're still going in the morning, right?" Rory asked hopefully.
"You do your homework?"
"All done. Uncle Henry checked it for me." Rory said proudly.
"Then I guess we're on. Go on, get your backpack and hug your uncle bye."
The ride back to the cabin was as it had been a thousand other times. Rory talked, about any and everything she could think of, while Walt halfway listened, nodding in all the right places. She was still talking when the two of them walked into the cabin, where Walt told her to put her things away and put her pjs on. Half an hour later, Rory was yawning and ready for bed.
"Okay, Runt. Bedtime."
"But it's early!"
"And we're leaving early in the morning." Walt reminded her patiently. "You don't want to be grouchy and sleepy in the morning, do you?"
Rory considered what her father said and decided, begrudgingly, that he was right. "Bedtime story?"
Walt tried to hide a smile. "One."
"Three."
"Two."
"Two and I get first cast in the morning."
Walt finally chuckled. "Deal. Go on and pick 'em out."
The two stories stretched into three, and Walt could hear his wife's voice in the back of his head. Yeah, she's not spoiled one bit, Martha would've said with a grin. Walt remembered himself being slightly stricter with Cady as she grew up, though he knew Martha would've argued that point with him too. When Rory yawned again, Walt knew it was time.
"Okay, kiddo. It's time."
"'Kay." Rory said with a yawn.
Walt stood up, placing the battered children's books he'd read to Rory on her end table. He followed the same routine with Rory every single night he was home to put her to bed. He'd done it ever since she was a baby. Read a story, turn off her lamp, turn on her nightlight, tuck her in, and kiss her goodnight. It was something that Walt treasured, a way for him to escape the sometimes gruesome realities of his job and life outside of his home.
"Night, Runt."
"Night, Daddy."
"Love you."
"Love you more." Rory said with another yawn. She held up her teddy bear, battered with age but cared for with love by Rory. "Don't forget Mr. Giggles."
"Good night, Mr. Giggles. Both of you get some sleep."
"Daddy?" Rory asked cautiously, poking at Mr. Giggles' fur. "I had another dream last night."
Walt stopped in surprise. "About Mommy?"
Rory nodded.
"Why didn't you come get me?"
"Sometimes if I wait…" Rory said, picking more at Mr. Giggles' fur, before her thoughts seemed to trail off and she looked away.
Walt waited patiently before asking, "Sometimes what, Runt?"
"Sometimes if I wait, it feels like Mommy's here with me. And if I get up…"
"She'll go away." Walt said knowingly.
"Yeah."
Walt sighed deeply, trying to rid himself of the sharp pain that still went through his heart every time someone mentioned his wife. With almost everyone else, he was able to push that pain aside by changing the subject or walking away. But with Rory, things were different. Rory had only been six years old when Walt had come home to tell her about Martha, and he didn't think he'd ever forget the conversation. It had been the hardest family notification he'd ever had to make. The platitudes he'd given to Rory that night had sounded insincere and fake to him then, but they seemed to have given Rory some degree of comfort.
Mommy loved you, baby.
She didn't want to go, but she just couldn't fight anymore.
She's in heaven, baby, but she'll always be with you.
Rory started to wipe a tear away and squeeze Mr. Giggles, giving Walt an idea. He promised Rory he'd be right back, then walked into his own room and pulled the box Cady had wrapped for him out of his closet.
"What's that?" Rory asked as he walked back into her room.
Walt handed her the brightly wrapped box and smiled. "Open it."
"But my birthday's not for another two weeks."
"I know. But you need this now. Go ahead. Open it."
Rory took the package carefully, feeling it with her hands before opening it up. Walt wanted to tell her that it was something her mother used to do, but didn't trust himself to say it without causing himself or Rory to cry. Finally, Rory opened the package and stared in shock at her present.
Rory had always loved elephants. Her present was a stuffed elephant, soft and plush like every other animal she had in her room. But this one was different. In the center of the elephant was a laminated picture of herself, her father, her sister, and her mother. Rory stared at it, running her fingers down her mother's face.
"You remember that day?"
"Yeah. It was Mommy's birthday."
"That's right. You know what Mommy told me right before your uncle took that picture?"
"What?" Rory asked, not taking her eyes off the picture.
"She told me that she didn't need anything for her birthday, because she had the best present she could ever have."
"What was it?"
Walt grabbed her chin and gently pulled it up to look her in the eye. "You, kiddo. You and Cady."
Rory smiled and hugged the elephant close to her.
"But there's one more surprise. See that little red spot on his foot? Press it."
Rory turned the elephant over and found the spot Walt was talking about. She pressed it and gasped.
"Hi, Monkey. It's Mommy. I love you so much, baby."
Walt sat down on Rory's bed again. "Your mom made that for you when she got sick. Told me to give it to you if she ever went away and couldn't be there for you. You like it?"
Rory nodded. "Yeah."
"You can still come get me or call me if you have a bad dream. But if you wake up and want Mommy…"
"She's right here." Rory said, squeezing the elephant again.
"She's right there." Walt agreed. "Go on, kiddo. Get some sleep."
Walt tried to push the conversation with Rory out of his head, going over and over the list for their fishing trip in the morning. Walt was looking forward to it as much as Rory was. He felt bad constantly leaving Rory at his office or with babysitters, and the thought of spending time with her one on one was too good to pass up. An hour later, as Walt was climbing into bed himself, he took a look over at the photo on his nightstand. It was a copy of the same one he'd given to Rory.
"We miss you, sweetheart. All of us. Aurora especially. She needs you, baby. Cady does too, but she's all grown up. How am I supposed to raise a little girl all by myself?"
Everything'll be fine, Walt. Trust me. Mommy knows.
It was a whisper, one that he'd heard many times before when Martha was alive. She of course had worried about Rory, but was better at hiding it than he was. Martha had made it her mission to make everyone else in the family feel better. When Rory had gone into the hospital at age two with a bad case of the flu, Martha had started saying it not just to Rory, but to Walt as well. It had become a mantra that calmed everyone in the family. Just like it did now.
"Alright, baby. I'll trust you on this one."
Walt finally turned off the lamp next to his bed. Before laying down, he checked his bedroom door. He fully expected Rory to wake up sometime in the night and come looking for him. Even if she didn't, he wanted her to know she could. After struggling for what felt to him like hours, Walt finally fell into a slightly restless sleep.
Rory was running around the front of the cabin. Her daddy was running behind her, trying to catch her, while her mommy was hanging clothes on the line to dry. Mommy watched them, laughing when Rory got away from Daddy and helping her hide from him by pulling Rory behind her legs.
"Sorry, Daddy. I guess Rory got so good at hiding we can't find her anymore."
"Yeah, I guess so." Daddy said.
Rory giggled and held on tighter to Mommy's leg. Mommy glanced down and winked, running a hand through Rory's long hair. Daddy walked over and kissed Mommy, which was when Rory took her chance.
"Boo!"
Rory's eyes opened slowly, and she reached over to grab her comforter and pull it closer to her. She'd been dreaming about her mommy all night, but this time they were good dreams. Happy ones. She wanted to lay down again and see if she could have some more good dreams.
But she was cold. Really cold.
Rory tried to cuddle into her blanket again, but she realized she couldn't find it. Rory's eyes opened, and at first she thought that Daddy had picked her up and brought her out to the fishing hole in the middle of the night. He did that sometimes when he couldn't sleep. He would bundle Rory up, put her in her seat, and drive around with her. Rory usually stayed asleep, but she sometimes woke up in a different place than where she went to sleep. Rory yawned and rubbed her eyes as she sat up.
"Daddy? I'm cold, where's my blankey?"
"I'm building a fire, you don't need a blanket."
Rory suddenly realized why she didn't know where she was. Daddy wasn't around. She was in a strange house, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Rory tried to get up and run away, but she was still drowsy and tripped over her own feet. The woman who had told Rory she was building a fire knelt down and stared at Rory. Rory tried not to cry, but she couldn't stop herself from shaking.
"Who are you? Where's my Daddy?"
"We're gonna talk about where your daddy is. Before we do that, though, do you need to go to the bathroom?"
The odd question made Rory squint her eyes in confusion. "What?"
"Do you have to use the bathroom? My son always did as soon as he woke up."
"No. I'm fine. But who are you? Did you take me?"
The woman sighed and nodded, smiling in a way that was meant to be comforting but just made Rory even more afraid. "Well, sweetie, I'm your grandmother."
"No you're not. I seen pictures of my grandma. She died a long time ago."
"I know that's what you think, but that's not right. Don't worry, I'll tell you the truth. But in the meantime, let's eat some breakfast."
"NO!" Rory suddenly shouted. She was trying to be brave like her daddy. "No. I want my Daddy and I want him now."
The smile the woman had given Rory just a few seconds before melted away. Before Rory knew what had hit her, the woman had raised her hand and delivered a sharp, stinging smack to Rory's cheek. Rory had been swatted on her butt a few times by her mommy and daddy before, but neither one had ever hit her in the face. It hurt, hurt bad, and Rory found that she could no longer hold in the tears she'd been trying to hide to make herself seem brave.
"I'm going to tell you this once, and only once. Walt Longmire is not your father. I will tell you about your daddy, and eventually I'll take you to him. But you will not refer to that man as your father."
"Who are you?" Rory said, still rubbing her cheek. "What do you want with me?"
"Well, sweetie," the woman reached out and touched the cheek she'd just slapped, making Rory wince, "I am your grandma."