wheelsy_sheriff | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Bill opens the door from Milliways that leads into his bedroom, steps in, then holds it open for Kate.

It's strange to come back after being gone so long and find everything just as it was the morning they left.

He can smell the coffee from the pot in the kitchen that's still on, and the bed is still unmade from when he got up that day.

Giving Kate a small smile, he turns around to open the closet again, this time the door reveals his hanging clothes, and he puts away his dress uniform that he had taken for Doc's wake.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tote bag slung on one shoulder, she feels like she's stepped through the looking-glass.

The smell of fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen, the rumpled sheets, the half-empty bottle of water she left on the nightstand -- everything's just as it was when they left, the house still and silent, holding its breath for their return.

(It's a silly thought, one better suited to a six-year-old, and she banishes it almost immediately.)

She returns Bill's smile; draping her bag on the outer knob of the closet door, she crosses the room to make the bed.

After hanging up the garment bag, Bill stands in the closet a moment and looks at the other uniform hanging there, the one waiting for tomorrow.

It's missing the badge, but he'll get that back at the department in the morning.

Brushing the fabric on the breast where the badge will go with his hand, he steps out of the closet and closes the door.

"Did you want any coffee? I'm gonna go turn off the pot."

She smooths the comforter with her palms and straightens.

"I'm good, thanks."

She reaches for the pillows she discarded a minute ago and nods toward the Christmas gifts he set down just beyond the closet.

"Want any help setting that one up?"

He picks up the coffee maker and grinder and looks them over.

"I'll fiddle with it a bit. I need any help I'll come get you."

A beat, and he smiles.

"You hear any yellin' or cursin' you can come get me."

Taking the two boxes, he heads to the kitchen.

She chuffs a soft laugh and watches him go, her expression softening as she turns back to the task at hand.

It's late morning; in less than twenty-four hours, Bill will pull on the other uniform hanging in the closet, and he'll be officially reinstated.

And her stomach is already knotting with worry that she won't manage a smile for him before he leaves for work.

It's a little hard getting past the odd feeling of being back, but thinking about tomorrow helps make it a little easier.

It's also a little hard figuring out the instructions to the coffee maker, but he's managing. Sort of.

In the morning he'll get his job back; something he's wanted for a long damn time now. He'll go back to work, things will get back to normal, and everything that's been off will fall back into place.

And, if he's lucky, he'll have fresh good coffee to start the day with. If he can just figure out what goes where and which button does what.

She straightens the bedroom, the details of the morning they left (and the party at the lodge the night before) slowly surfacing in soft focus.

Laundry basket balanced on one hip and the pound of whole-bean Guatemalan in her free hand, she pads toward the kitchen.

Bill looks up when she walks in and smiles.

"Hey. I think I've got this worked out, but you might wanna check me before we start usin' this thing."

Lips curving upward, she sets the coffee on the counter; once she's deposited the basket in the laundry room (which smells unmistakably like mustard), she surveys his handiwork.

"Let's see what you've done," she says with a light laugh, stepping closer.

After double-checking her watch and the instruction booklet, she switches the time Bill programmed from "p.m." to "a.m."; otherwise, the machine looks coffee-ready.

"Nice work, sheriff."

He stands by watching her inspection, and his smile widens.

"Piece of cake."

She turns and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

"Think you should give your mom a call, just to check in before tomorrow? And maybe -- "

She can't help a chuckle.

"Maybe Rudy, since he was supposed to be on traffic detail this morning, right?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea, considerin' how he was when we got him home."

Shaking his head he picks up the phone.

"My mom'll probably be wonderin' 'bout all of us. Kinda surprised she ain't called already, way she worries sometimes."

"At least she knew I was behind the wheel," she teases, giving his hip a light bump with hers as she moves past him to toss in a load of laundry.

He gives a short chuckle, flashing briefly to the night when he had been the one driving, then quickly pushing the thought away.

Dialing Rudy's number, he shakes his head when the deputy picks up.

"Rudy, the hell you doin'? Church is goin' without you."

Kate wrinkles her nose at the mustard-stained dish towel and measures out a capful of liquid detergent.

Pieces of Bill's side of the conversation in the kitchen float over the rush of water, but she's half a universe away as she loads the washer.

Edited 2010-01-07 18:36 (UTC)

He's relieved to find out Dave got one of the girls to cover the detail, just as June is relieved that everyone made it home when Bill speaks to her later.

There's something a little off in his mom's voice throughout the conversation, and finally at the end, he asks her about it.

"Mom, is everything okay? Y'feelin' alright?"

Without hesitation she replies with, "I'm fine."

Kate comes in from the back porch, gently discouraging Fatso and Wally as they try to wiggle their way inside.

"No, guys, no, you just had treats," she says, laughing a little before she manages to close the door.

She turns; hearing Mom, she returns to the laundry room to transfer the load to the dryer and give Bill some privacy.

Frowning, he idly picks at the edge of the counter where it's been chipped.

"Y'sure?"

June lets out a short sigh on the end of the line and Bill can tell that she's not okay, and doesn't want to talk about it.

"Bill, I'm just tired. Y'know I don't stay out all that late and that party of yours ran over my bedtime, that's all."

Watching a piece of the counter edge fall to the floor, Bill nods.

"Alright then. I uh, I guess I'll let y'go then. If you need me for help 'round the house or anything just-- "

"I will. Take care of yourself, son."

When she cuts him off his shoulders slump and he moves away from the counter.

"I will. Bye."

After hanging up the phone he stares at it a moment before turning away and heading to the fridge.

She steps across the threshold as the conversation winds down, and she doesn't miss the way his shoulders fall.

"How's June?"

He glances back at Kate before pulling out a carton of orange juice.

"She's fine."

She pushes off from the doorframe with one shoulder and takes two steps to pull a glass from the cabinet for him, and silently leans against the counter.

Standing there with the carton, his eyes are on the glass in her hand as he shakes his head.

"I know somethin' ain't right, but I dunno if she's mad at me, or just upset or what."

He looks at Kate and shrugs helplessly.

"She was fine at the party."

She offers the glass, her expression hovering somewhere between empathy and trepidation.

"She's your mom, Bill," she says gently. "She has to be tied up in knots about you going back."

Kate knows firsthand how upset June is, but telling Bill about that gut-twisting conversation will only hurt all three of them.

He takes the glass and sighs, frustrated and miserable.

"She doesn't need t'be like that. I already told her-- "

Pouring out the juice he sets the carton down, leaning against his palms slat on the counter.

"There's nothin' I can do to fix this. She'll just have to watch, an' see that I can do this, an' I'll be fine."

She places a light hand over his.

"She worries because she loves you so much."

Her fingertips brush his knuckles.

"You're her only son, and you're in law enforcement. There's no magic switch here, sweetheart; she may need some time."