Robust gray clouds descend upon the open plain antagonizing those below with an impending punishment of rain. I finish splitting a fair portion of wood to store with the half-cord already prepared for the promise of winter. The melodic strokes of the axe trick my mind into tranquility allowing the haunting burden of my decisions to come crashing down, intruding on the pleasantries, and making a mockery of my solitude.

I bear the burdens of a man alone that seeks refuge in the interpretations of my imagination. My journey for justice now complete, I am left with the prospect of living within myself; alone and lonely. I sink my axe into the tree stump and make my way back to my cabin. The steps look just a bit out of place because I haven't gotten used to them being there but I admit they are nice to have. I ease into the new side chair next to the matching table that Cady bought for me a few months back. She joins me, on occasion, and we just sit, usually with my coffee and her tea. Today, as my bones settle in the chair, I somberly admit I do not want to continue my journey alone.

Is today, the day, is today the day I broach the topic outright instead of skirting around the tango that Vic and I have created? The road to Vic is full of landmines but all of the roads I travel lead me back to her for she is also my refuge. I found the strength to encourage her to stay but my hesitation is obvious and I need to tell her she guides my collective imagination as I find a safe place to rest my mind and my soul. The ease and comfort between us is transparent and surprising. I look for her offbeat glances and attempt to reassure her silently to wait for me but today I know I am there and I want her to meet me here at the crossroads.

I stare at the phone and methodically dial her number while silently rehearsing in my mind but I hang-up before pressing the last number. No, it's not supposed to be this way. I don't know which way, but this isn't right, not for us. Just let it happen I say to myself. Thus, I resign and retreat to the safety and security of the recesses of my mind's eye.

After showering and dressing, I roll into town and stride up the stairs of the station. I hit the desk bay and say a generic, "Mornin'." Ferg is back at his little boy desk and Branch's desk remains empty as we sort through all that transpired. The point being, that it's still his desk, and he is still my deputy. Ruby lets me know the coffee is fresh and no calls are holding that demand my immediate attention.

As I stride past Vic, I look down and turn the corners of my mouth giving the slightest smile good morning. She acknowledges in kind. I no sooner get my hat off when Vic darkens my doorway.

"Hey, Walt I have a doctor's appointment at 10 could you give me a ride and wait for me? I hate to ask but Ferg has traffic court."

"Everything, ok?"

"Think so, just a follow-up at the ophthalmologist. They have to dilate my eyes, checking for any long term trauma from the bat in the head, from crazy fuck's house."

Our eyes hold and we say so much to each other in the silence. How sorry I am that she was there because of me, the loss of her marriage, the physical trauma she survived and the underlying revelation of my love for her.

"Sure."

Vic walks back to her desk and I complete more administrative paperwork for Branch. Eventually, we head to the doc and the cab of the Bullet becomes our private sanctuary.

"You still getting headaches?"

"They come and go."

"Maybe I shouldn't ask but are you still going to see the psychologist?"

"Fuck no. Just once was enough, Walt."

She is like me in more ways than I imagine. Even the bad ways.

"Besides, I know you won't like this.,,,ummm… what I'm about to say but you know just kinda being with you is therapy for me."

I look over my shoulder at her. I know what she means. That's how I feel with her. We don't need to talk about it. It is what it is and we both accept it but I suppose deep down inside if I were really being honest I know we need to talk about it and that I need to talk about it.

"I thought I was going to lose you."

Vic turns back and meets my eyes. She looks away and holds the silence permeating the palpable air between us.

I tick off the mile marker posts as we pass them occupying my mind with anything except the non-conversation we are having.

"I thought Chance killed you. He dropped the body bag into the basement and I thought it was you. I freaked out. No, I fuckin' lost it is what happened." Her hand goes up and wicks away a tear. She refuses to look over at me so I keep driving down the highway headed toward the last reminder of what happened.

Her admission confirms my suspicions that the horrors of that night served as the final notice on her already troubled marriage. I felt a ping of guilt for having a non-active role in the dissolution. A part of me wants to reassure her that no man would have left standing if she had been killed. No man. I don't say a word but I think she knows.

"You hear from Sean?"

"No, not since the property and money was split. It's better this way, anyway."

"I'm real sorry, Vic."

"Don't be. Our marriage was dead. Chance buried it is all."

We fall silent, again.

"What would you have done if Chance hadn't agreed to let us go?"

"Killed him."

"But he would have probably killed you, Walt."

"Maybe"

"I know we are partners and that's what we sort of accept in this job and I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you."

"Yup, just part of the job, Vic" but it wasn't, she wasn't, just part of the job. I would have acted the same for any of my deputies but I wouldn't have felt the same.

"Am I just part of the job to you?" Her question was surprising and to the point. The exact point.

"Nope"

That's all the pathetic response I can muster because I'm not really sure what to say or what I feel except for the overwhelming desire to protect her, to have her with me, to share these moments when no one else is around cluttering our thoughts.

"k" Vic's response or non-response.