DISCLAIMER: The Longmire characters are the property of Shephard/Robin Company and The Warner Horizon Television.  The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2014 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

Crossfire Hurricane

 

by Djinn

 

 

You press the accelerator down as you turn into the driveway, and the truck slides and for a moment you think it might tip, but then it's back and moving forward, as you head to the crazy house, back to where Walt might be—

 

No, damn it, you will not think of that again.  You've lived through that once already today, and you destroyed your marriage in the process.  Sean's face said it all because your face and your voice and your tangled, incoherent scream had said it all for him:  you thought Walt Longmire was dead and in that body bag, and it had nearly killed you.

 

You hope you don't find him lying dead on the grass.  But if you do, that psycho son-of-a-bitch Chance better shoot you quick or you'll rip him apart with your bare hands.

 

Like you tried to for Sean.  Only you'll do better this time.  It's just you and Chance, not a bunch of his asshat disciples.

 

You come closer to the house; the lights are blinding, and you slam on your brakes, and the truck skids to a halt.

 

Walt looks up at you.  He's kneeling by the body. 

 

You're slamming the gear into "Park" and jumping out of the truck before you can even think too hard about it.  He's shielding his eyes and you realize the truck's lights are blinding him.

 

But then he sees you and his smile is one of relief and concern and damn it all, thatŐs love.  That's love for you that you see.

 

And you're in his arms and he's kissing you and it's frantic and messy and it hurts because your head is killing you.  But you hold on for the ride because this man is what you want and what you need, and you're not going to think what the world would be like without him.

 

And then you are pulling away from him because you don't want your first kiss to be accompanied by you vomiting all over him, and he holds your hair back while you throw up.

 

"We gotta get you to a hospital, Vic."  He rubs your back.  "Sean, too."  It's an afterthought, thinking of Sean, but he's probably thinking of him more than you are at this point.  "Where is Sean?"

 

"I left him in the Granada."

 

"Gorski?"

 

"He left me in the Granada.  I think for good.  You were working with him?"

 

"I was.  I know he's a messed-up man but I gotta tell you, I was glad he was on my side."

 

"Are you saying you like him?"

 

"I'm saying I don't hate him."

 

"Weird."  You think you're done throwing up so you stand, gingerly, and walk over to Chance's body.  "Can I kick him?  I really want to kick him."  Maybe put a helmet on him and beat the living shit out of him.

 

"I wouldn't.  We have enough problems right now."

 

We.  You like that.  Not I.  Not you.  We.

 

"I probably shouldn't have kissed you.  I mean with your husband just down the road and all."

 

"I probably shouldn't have left him just down the road and all."  You start to laugh but it hurts and you stagger a little.  Suddenly, Walt's trying to pick you up, so you bat him away and say, "Walt, I can walk.  I'm not the little woman."

 

And he laughs and says, "I know, but I'm still gonna take care of you."

 

"If you pick me up, I am likely to throw up on you."

 

He lets go of you and gets you headed to the car.  "You can walk, I guess."  But he keeps an eye on you as you make it to the passenger side, and he makes sure you're belted in and comfortable before he walks around and gets in the driver's side.

 

"Someone should stay here," you say.

 

"Yeah, someone should.  Not gonna be me, not when you need to get to the hospital." 

 

"We probably should pick Sean up, too."

 

"I was thinking that."

 

Suddenly there are lights coming down the road.  Branch's "penis car with a siren" comes into view.  He stops and rolls down the window.  "Looks like I missed all the fun."

 

"He looks like shit," you say.  And you have no room to talk, but at least you look like you got beat up because you did.

 

Walt reaches over and squeezes your knee, and it's a very intimate way to tell you to shut the hell up.

 

"Got a dead body up the way.  We dueled.  Long story.  Anyway, can you watch it till I get back?  Also, our missing census guy is in a freezer."

 

"And the trooper," you say.  "He's in the bunker we were in."

 

"Right and a trooper.  It's a big mess."

 

"Chance shot a trooper?"

 

"Yep."

 

"So we should be looking for him?" 

 

"Nope.  He's the body up the way."

 

"So, why am I staying here?"  Branch sounds more annoyed than focused. 

 

"Tell him David Ridges is in the goddamn freezer, too.  Then he'll stay."

 

Walt squeezes harder so you shut up.

 

"Just do it.  I gotta get Vic to the hospital.  And her husband needs help, too."

 

"Yeah.  Saw him.  I moved the car off the road so he wouldn't get hit."

 

Shit.  You should have done that.  Not just run for the truck.  But you weren't thinking about anything other than Walt.   And Sean probably knows that.  Besides, he could have moved the damn car off the road himself.  Why'd he just sit in the backseat and wait?

 

No.  You can't make Sean the villain in this.  He's not like you or Ed or Walt or even "I'm obsessive, ask me how" Branch.

 

Walt puts the truck in gear and gives Branch one of his hand waves that means basically, "Just do whatever it was I said that you're objecting to."

 

You ride down the road for a moment in silence, and then you say, "I'm really glad you're not dead, Walt."

 

"I'm really glad you're not dead, either."  He moves his hand off your leg and finds your hand, holds it gently, like you're sweethearts, and you want to be that, you want to be his sweetheart and wake up with him and go to sleep with him and give him a rash of shit every morning before he's had his coffee.

 

"I love you," you whisper and wonder if he'll hear it.

 

"I love you, too."

 

 

FIN