Walt slowed his truck to a stop in front of his cabin. Staring out his window, he took in the visitor sitting on his front steps, a 6-pack of longnecks between her feet. He slowly stepped out of the vehicle, not moving his eyes from her as he did. He closed the door and paused, his hand still on the door handle. She looked exhausted. And something else was there, as she looked back at him, but he couldn't tell what it was. He released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

Vic broke eye contact first, and glanced out at the open land before her. "If I had a view like this, I would sit out here every day. You should get one of those porch swings. You could just rock back and forth, viewing every sunrise with a cup of coffee and every sunset with a cold one." She stopped, and the silence engulfed them once again. Vic continued to look straight forward, but Walt hadn't removed his eyes from her once.

Slowly Walt began to walk towards the cabin. Without pause, he removed his hat, climbed the few steps, and sat down a couple feet from Vic's left side. She had not looked up at him yet, and he now looked at his hat, as he rotated it in his hands between his knees. She handed him a beer, which he accepted.

"I stopped by the hospital but they told me you had checked yourself out," he said after a few sips, not looking up. He said it as a statement, but Vic responded as if it were a question.

"They kept us overnight for observation, but by morning I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't be…cooped up any longer. Confined. I'd had enough of that."

Walt nodded in understanding, still looking at the hat and beer in his hands. After a pause he said "I stopped by your place next, but no one was home." Again a statement. Again a response.

"I tried to get some sleep, but it was too bright, with it being daytime. Plus my house was too quiet. And my thoughts were too noisy. All stirred up."

Another pause. "I thought you might have gone to the Red Pony for some food. You probably haven't had a lot to eat in the past 36 hours."

"Thought about it, but I didn't want everyone seeing the condition of my face, and asking questions they have no right to be asking. Questions I didn't feel up to answering."

Pause. "I checked the station, thinking you might have wanted to distract yourself with work."

"Thought about that as well. But I didn't think I could handle seeing Chance's picture up on your wall. Or dealing with Branch, Ferg or Ruby, and their prying or their pity."

"I tried to call your cell, but no answer."

"Jeez, were you trying to stalk me Walt?" she said with a brief laugh, followed by silence.

"My cell died, and I left it at home on the charger," she quickly added, not intending to make Walt uncomfortable. "I came out here because I thought you might be home, and would be up for joining me for a Rainier. And if you weren't, I could sit on your porch for a bit. It seemed like the one place that would help quiet my mind."

Walt finally looked up and turned his head towards her.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly, his voice low, his eyes seeking out her face, taking in the cuts and bruises.

"I'm fine."

"Vic, with what you went through, you're not fine."

"I've got a concussion. A lot of bruises. A ripped up wrist from where the handcuffs cut into me. But nothing's broken. No stiches needed."

"And Sean? How's he doing?"

A slight pause. "Pretty much the same as me. Concussion. Bruises. They messed him up quite a bit before they first brought him into the house, but he didn't end up needing stiches either."

She still hadn't looked up, staring at the bottle in her hand.

"Where's Sean now?"

"He went into the Newett office."

"To work?"

"No, to sign some papers," she responded. "I'm glad you finally put these steps in," she said, looking around at anything but Walt, and doing her best to change the topic.

Walt put down his beer on the step beside him, reached out and touched the bandages on her wrist, and then the cut above her eye, causing her to stop and finally look at him.

"How are you really doing?" he asked, his eyes focused on her. His concern genuine.

She stared at him, and swallowed hard. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but stopped herself. She turned back to looking out at the view instead of at him.

"I'm reeling," she finally said. "But I'm dealing."

"I'm not trying to pry. And I don't pity you."

Walt saw her eyes start to water a bit, but then she started to blink, shake her head, jut out her chin, as if to push any potential tears away.

After some hesitation, her jumbled thoughts just seemed to pour out of her. "I keep seeing these images and hearing these sounds whenever I close my eyes. The crazy, intense look in Chance's eyes every time he leaned over me. The look in Sean's eyes. Fear. Then determination. And finally dismay...acceptance. The claustrophobic and helpless feeling when they put those motorcycle helmets on us. The look of that bat, coming crashing down on Sean. The awful crack of the bat as it made contact. That heart-stopping thud of the body bag hitting the floor. The realization that the body wasn't…" she suddenly stopped. Closed her eyes for a moment, an invisible wall going up. "Gorski walking out of the brush to be our escort. You, outside, stating terms for our release that you shouldn't be committing to."

"I keep thinking about what I could have done differently so as not to put any of us in that position I put us in. I keep asking these what ifs. What if I had turned down Sean's suggestion to go away for the weekend, and we just spent it from the comfort of our home? What if I had insisted that Sean put up the roof of the car? I wouldn't have been so cold and complaining about it, and Sean would have kept his eyes on the road and would have seen the bear and not crashed. What if I had ensured my cell phone battery was fully charged before leaving, and made more of an effort to find a spot where the phone got reception, instead of immediately trudging off to the nearest house to ask to use their phone? What if I had been more observant, and seen how Chance had rigged up the outside of his house? What if I had been more alert when they first invited me in, and noticed that there wasn't a phone, or seen all those pictures of you and the rest of the department up on the wall or recognized Chance sooner from the picture you have hanging at work, and got out before anything happened? And what if you weren't the man that you are, Walt? Would any other man have figured out how to reason with Chance to let us go, or have been brave enough to sacrifice himself by challenging Chance to a duel?"

Walt put down his beer and reached out again, putting his hand on her arm, just above her wrist. "You shouldn't be putting any of the blame on yourself, Vic. It was just bad luck and bad timing. And if anyone is to blame it's me. I started all of this. I killed his brother, and riled him up by going out to see him a couple weeks back in my investigation of Martha's murder."

Vic finally looked up. Their eyes both held each other's for a moment. Walt released his hold on her arm.

"Why is Sean signing papers at the office on a Saturday?" he asked, his eyes and hands now both occupied by his hat.

She took a deep breath. "He's taking that job in Australia. They asked him to come in to complete some paperwork," she responded.

Walt stopped turning the hat in his hands, and looked up, not at Vic, but out at the stretch of land in front of him. He breathed in deeply, his eyes unblinking, taking in Vic's statement.

"When are you two leaving?"

A pause. An exhale of breath. "I'm not going with him," she finally said.

Walt looked over at her, saying nothing.

"Sean and I, we haven't worked for a long time," she said as she began to peel the label of the bottle in her hands. "We thought that coming out here might enable us to start over. But our problems couldn't be solved by just moving away. Neither of us were invested enough to really solve what wasn't working between us. I initially didn't want to be here, in Wyoming, which didn't help. And Sean's work travel and my work schedule gave us excuses not to be with each other. We grew even more apart. Plus, Sean wasn't around enough to form an attachment to this place, but Absaroka County has grown on me," she paused. "And its people too," she said looking up at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips for a fleeting moment.

"Sean knew I wouldn't be up for going with him to Australia, and leaving…all this…behind. I like my job here, and I think I'm good at it. And he knew, probably even before I would admit it to myself, that we were over. So we're separating. He's heading to Australia this week. And I'm not."

They both lapsed into silence, sitting side-by-side on the top step. Two feet of space between them, but feeling closely connected in that moment.

"Thanks for looking for me Walt," Vic whispered, acknowledging more than just his recent search for her whereabouts.

Walt reached into the 6-pack and pulled two fresh bottles out. He opened one and handed it to Vic, and then opened another for himself.

"The next weeks, maybe months, are going to be hard, Vic, but you will get through it. Come sit on my porch anytime you need to."