wheelsy_sheriff | [[thursday]]

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[[thursday]]

[And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off]

Bill is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of Frosted Flakes, idly sifting through puzzle pieces. Only a small part of the puzzle is on the tabletop in front of him and the pieces are in the open box beside his elbow, his bowl on the other side.

After waking up it'd taken him awhile to get his bearings, and he was surprised when he discovered he'd slept right on through the day and night.

Kate was asleep and he'd been extra careful not to wake her when he slipped out of bed.

The phone was on the floor beside the bed along with the notepad with the messages she'd taken and he'd brought both with him to the kitchen; they're sitting on the table now, being ignored.

He's scooping up another spoonful of flakes when someone knocks. Turning his head towards the front door he glances at the hallway leading to the bedroom and gets up.

The knock sounds again and he picks up his step, moving quicker to get the door before whoever is on the other side wakes up Kate. Pulling it open he's ready to run off a reporter and instead finds himself staring at a deputy.

"Rudy?"

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Don't do this.

She nods and looks away.

"Fine."

Guilt and anger tangle in his chest and he doesn't let himself say anything for a minute.

"I didn't mean it."

He turns away from her and looks towards the back door.

"You never do."

The words are out before she can stop them, and she passes a hand over her eyes.

"I'm sorry -- I'm just tired. I didn't sleep so great, and -- I'm sorry."

He winces at her words, they hurt and he knows he more than deserves them.

"No, Kate, you're right."

Moving to the table he starts brushing the puzzle back into the box.

"Last night.... it's not like there's anything I coulda done if you'd gotten me up anyways. Dave's handlin' it same as I would've so... "

He shakes his head and drops the box on top of the table, glancing back at her.

"I can't be mad about that, an' I ain't. I just... I don't even know."

She doesn't know what to say, either.

Throat tight and eyes burning, she crosses the room and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

He turns to meet her and his arms go around her as soon as she's close. His head bows, cheek resting against her temple, and he frowns as he holds her tightly.

His lips press against her hair as he quietly hangs on.

Her eyes close and she leans into him, not trusting her voice while the caller's words ring in her ears.

At length, she swallows and lets out a shaky breath.

"You can argue all you want, but you did need the rest."

His eyes close and his hand begins the steady motion of smoothing up and down her back.

Not enough to leave you alone.

He's not going to argue, though. Instead he gives a faint smile and a small nod.

"Don't think I woulda slept so long if I didn't."

She nods against his shoulder before tucking her head beneath his chin; her fingers curl at his shoulder blades when his hand reaches the small of her back.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't mean to sleep this late, I -- "

Meant to be up before you. Meant to make coffee for Rudy and Kelly, talk to them about last night.

"I was going to tell you."

He feels a stab of guilt and shakes his head barely.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't've got upset."

It's not really funny but he breathes out a partial laugh.

"I was tryin' not to wake you up. You need rest as much as I did."

Her stomach clenches with guilt at the apology while her arms tighten around him.

"No -- you have every right to be upset, hearing that from Rudy instead of me."

"You were just lookin' out for me."

Like you've been doing this whole time.

"Really it just gets to me that someone would do that, an' you had to be the one to hear it."

She can still hear that voice in her ear, harsh and hateful and slightly slurred.

Better me than you.

"It's just what Dave said -- an idiot friend of the guy's or something," she says, her words muffled by his collarbone. "Nothing's going to happen."

He frowns and hesitates. He doesn't want to tell her what else Rudy said, but if he doesn't, and she finds out anyway...

"Probably."

Beat.

"They called Mrs. Hargrove, too."

She stiffens and pulls back just enough to look at him, her hands slipping to his sides.

"What?"

His eyes move away from hers and the anger creeps back into his voice.

"She got a call sayin' her husband got what he deserved."

There's a helpless feeling trying to settle in and he tries to force it down and ignore it, covering it bitterly.

"They're lookin' into who it was, but it's a private number so they gotta see what the phone company can do an' all of that."

She pales.

Pressure builds behind her eyes, and she closes them to guard against the impending headache; her fingers curl into the soft cotton of his T-shirt just below his ribs.

"Maybe the phone company can help," she says, hating the near-desperate edge in her voice. "Or the department can trace the call."

"We can if they call back."

Part of him wants them to, so they have the chance to catch the bastard. He knows, though, that if the person does call back they'll have to take the threat as more serious.

Something in his thoughts triggers another and his eyes go to the phone on the table and then to Kate.

"I don't want my mom to know."

She's worried enough as it is, hearing about this... it'll only make things harder.

"Okay. That's probably for the best."

She nods, one hand sliding up his torso, and her thumb traces the edge of his collar.

"I, um."

A breath.

"I didn't tell my dad about the calls I got after Marie's part in the attacks went public."

He nods too, grateful to her for agreeing.

On her next words the hand that's been smoothing over her back stills.

"What calls?"

"It's nothing."

She forces away memories of overt threats and chilling promises.

"You ungrateful bitch -- your family needs to leave this country before someone makes you pay."

"Too bad your sister didn't fry you in the desert."

"Terrorists run in the family? Let's hope not, for your sake."

"Just more stupid people, that's all."

"Nothin'," He repeats.

Trying to keep hurt and frustration from his voice he takes a slow breath.

"Were you still gettin' 'em when you left?"

Her eyes fall to his collarbone and she shakes her head.

"There were only a few, and the last one came about a week before I got back to the bar."

He nods, jaw tightening, then asks, "The guy on the phone last night, he say anything like he was threatenin' you?"

"No."

Her voice wavers and she bites the inside of her cheek.

She's not going to cry -- she's not. Bill doesn't need this, doesn't need her falling apart in his arms before his appointment with Dr. Montaño, but god, what that caller said --

She presses her too-hot face into his shoulder.

"Just you."

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