wheelsy_sheriff | (no subject)

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["Have a good day, you two."]

The first five or ten minutes of arriving at the station had been great.

Bill was reinstated, got his badge and his gun back, and received plenty of congratulations and welcome backs from everybody. The excitement and nerves he'd been feeling about this day finally seemed to mellow out, and he just felt great being back where he belonged.

After the initial reception, though, things turned downhill.

Half the day had been consumed by paperwork. Forms he needed to fill out for duty, paperwork Dave didn't (or couldn't) do, requisitions that had been waiting forever, reports, duty roster, messages; all the things that make the job way too tedious for Bill's liking.

After lunch at the diner Bill finally got out of the station with Dave.

Things didn't get much better.

They broke up a shouting match between a couple in the middle of the laundromat; picked up a loose goat and took him back where it belonged, only to find the animal had left something behind on the back seat; and hauled in a disgruntled, and very drunk, old man for public intoxication, which resulted in both Dave and Bill reeking of cheap vodka.

The shift was almost over when the call came in about trouble at Mrs. Freeda's place.

"Great, wonder what it is this time," Bill mutters as he turns the cruiser around and heads for Mrs. Freeda's.

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Dave rolls his eyes heavenward.

"Knowin' her, I'm sure it's somethin' big. Maybe an axe-murderer in the attic."

He rolls down the window for the eighth time since they dropped off that rogue goat.

"Probably a raccoon on her back porch again."

Bill sniffs his collar, wondering if it's him or his uniform that smells like booze and betting by now it's probably both.

"Lady needs to retire already an' move to Florida or somewheres, share her crazy with other old folks."

Pulling in front of Mrs. Freeda's house, Bill steps out and looks around.

"No kids about, probably means it's an animal."

Dave heaves a sigh and hauls himself out of the passenger seat.

"I'll go on around back, see what's what. You hear shots, you know it's a bear."

Adjusting his cap with one hand and pulling his flashlight from his belt with the other, he disappears around the side of the house.

"Yeah, an' if you hear tires squealin' I'm just goin' out for help."

Pulling on his own cap, Bill heads up the front porch steps to the door.

Reaching up, he knocks on the door, surprised when it swings slowly open.

"Mrs. Freeda?"

For a moment nerves rise, and he forces them down, stepping inside.

"Mrs. Freeda, y'alright? It's Bill, got a call down at the station."

The gall of these hooligans, Mrs. Freeda thinks as she steps out of her hiding place behind the door, cast-iron skillet held in both hands like a club.

She swings hard and connects.

"How dare you break into my house?"

Oh, she can't wait to give the sheriff or his deputies a piece of her mind about all this when they get here.

He catches movement, and a brief glimpse of something coming at him from the corner of his eye, before heavy metal collides with the side of his head.

"Shit!"

Distantly he hears a muted K-THANG, then he sees bright stars and is on the floor dazed and disoriented.

Dave's beaming his flashlight beneath the back porch, muttering under his breath about possums and raccoons and batshit old women with nothing but time and overactive imaginations on their hands when he hears the shout.

"What the -- "

The accompanying thud is unmistakable -- he's heard it enough during fistfights at the lodge and domestic violence calls.

He's half-breathless when he clears the threshold to find Mrs. Freeda standing over Bill, clutching a cast-iron skillet.

"What in God's name -- "

"Don't you take the Lord's name in vain!"

Mrs. Freeda brandishes the skillet and Dave ducks out of the way to crouch beside Bill.

"Bill, you all right? Jesus Christ, Bill -- "

"What did I tell you about swearing?"

Dave turns his head to glare at her.

"Mrs. Freeda, look here, it's Dave, you know me, I'm a deputy. You just knocked out Sheriff Pardy."

"I -- "

She lowers the skillet, looking lost and confused, and Dave turns his attention back to Bill.

She's not the only one who's lost. Bill is blinking a lot, gaze wandering around without seeing anything clearly.

Hearing Dave's voice, he turns his head towards him.

"Hey, wh-- what down is it?"

Dave fights down panic -- hospital, right the hell now, concussion likely, call in Kelly to deal with Mrs. Freeda, what the fuck is Kate gonna think, should've gone to the goddamn door myself -- and holds up three fingers.

"Bill, look at me," he says, speaking slowly and clearly. "It's Dave. Can you see how many fingers I'm showin' you?"

"God damn my head fuckin' hurts."

Clumsly, he reaches a hand up to the side of his head.

It takes a moment for him to come back to Dave, and he studies the deputies hand a long minute before turning to look across the room.

"Three."

It could be a count or a guess, but Bill seems more interested in picking himself up, which he tries to do slowly.

"What the hell happened?"

"Take it easy," Dave says, putting a hand on Bill's shoulder. "You just got hit with a fu-- a cast-iron skillet."

"I thought somebody was breakin' in on me." Mrs. Freeda's voice is quaking as she places the skillet on an end table. "You lawmen're supposed to announce yourselves, an' here all you're doin' is spittin' filthy language in my house."

Dave bites back a response and focuses on Bill.

"Listen here, Bill, can you tell me how you're feelin'? You sick to your stomach?"

Everything is fuzzy around the edges, including his thoughts, and he's having a hard time with his coordination. It takes him several tries to put his hand on Dave's arm.

"I been drinkin'? Feel all-- "

He makes a sour face and swallows hard.

"Yeah, I'm a -- I'm a little sick here."

"S'fine," Dave says, stomach twisting, "you're gonna be all right, just took a hard knock is all."

His eyes flick around the room, looking for --

Well.

It'll do.

He sets down the deep cast-iron pan next to Bill just in case, ignoring Mrs. Freeda's protest.

Retrieving his radio from his belt, he tells Nancy to send over Kelly and an ambulance.

"Wh-- where's my helmet?" A beat and he corrects himself. "My hat, what'd I do with my hat?"

He hears Dave on the radio, and after a few moments what's being said processes.

"No, no I ain't goin' to th'hospital. M'fine, just gimme a drink an' some aspirin an' I can have Wally take me home."

"Just a precaution, Bill," Dave says, forcing himself not to react to the mention of Wally. "Just wanna let the doc get a look at you, make sure you're good to go, that's all."

Mrs. Freeda picks up Bill's fallen cap and smooths a hand over its brim.

"Deputy Wally?" She shakes her head. "Lord, it's been -- "

"Mrs. Freeda -- "

"What, right at three years since he was laid to rest with all the others," she continues, as if Dave hadn't spoken.

Dave clenches his jaw.

"Laid t'rest-- " His brows furrow and he frowns, sorting his thoughts, then shakes his head.

"I meant you, Dave, you c'n-- "

He's reaching out for his cap, then turns the other way and retches into the pan on the floor.

"Can I have some water?"

"I'll get it," Mrs. Freeda says, and to her credit, doesn't breathe a word about the mess in her prized cornbread skillet.

Dave pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to Bill; Mrs. Freeda returns a moment later with a glass of water.

An approaching siren sounds in the distance, and Dave tries not to let his relief show.

He thinks about getting up and moving to the chair that's tucked in the corner, but decides to remain sitting on the floor. He drains the water fairly quickly, and sits rubbing the large lump on his head, eyelids starting to droop.

When he hears the sirens he blinks, then looks towards the window.

"Aw, Dave, the hell'd you call them for?"

Dropping his hand, he scowls at the two who walk in the door.

"Just a precaution," Dave repeats, nodding toward the paramedics. "Evenin', Chris. Jay."

The same team worked to save Bill's life the night he was shot.

Outside, the lights wash Mrs. Freeda's house and yard in pulsing red; blue mixes in as Kelly pulls into the driveway.

Dave gives Chris and Jay a two-sentence rundown, and the EMTs approach Bill.

"Sheriff, can you tell us what year it is?"

Bill looks back and forth between the two paramedics.

"I'm alright, I-- " He looks down at his hands, searching his thoughts. "2009."

Jay turns back to Dave.

"Did he lose consciousness at all?"

From the floor Bill holds up his hand.

"Wait, that New Years didn't count. It's eight."

"I dunno," Dave says, stifling a sigh. "I was around back, ran in when I heard a yell an' somebody hit the floor."

Mrs. Freeda hunches her shoulders and purses her lips.

"I'm real sorry I hit Sheriff Pardy, but I thought somebody was breakin' in."

Chris shines a penlight in Bill's eyes while Jay looks toward Mrs. Freeda.

"Ma'am, do you know if he was unconscious for any amount of time, even for just a few seconds?"

A pause, and she shakes her head.

"I don't know, son."

While Chris checks Bill's pupils, he clears his throat.

"Sheriff, what month is it?"

Another long moment passes as Bill thinks about that one, holding still as Chris checks him out.

"Can't you ask me somethin' else?" he says finally with a frustrated sigh. "I been gone an' time's been funny."

The flashing lights on the walls, and the one being held in his eyes hurts, making the pounding in his skull even worse.

"It's summer." He pushes the light away and rubs his eyes. "June, or somethin'."

Kelly comes in and takes in the scene. She looks at Bill sitting on the ground, then approaches Dave.

"How's he doin'?"

"Took a pretty hard hit, from the looks of it," Dave says, keeping his voice soft and low. "Confused some, but at least he's awake an' talkin'."

He nods toward Mrs. Freeda.

"I'm gonna escort the ambulance to the hospital, need you to handle Mrs. Freeda."

"Yeah, 'course I can do that," Kelly says, worry in her eyes as she glances at Bill. "Rudy just got back from a call at the lodge, he's holdin' down the station with Nancy."

Dave winces a little.

"I gotta have him get word to Mrs. Pardy an' Kate, let 'em know what's goin' on."

He looks from Kelly to Jay, who's rolling in a stretcher while Chris continues to talk with Bill.

"S'a good answer, sheriff -- it's June, all right," Chris says, feeling along Bill's scalp for any bumps or abrasions. The paramedic doesn't let his expression change when he finds the knot on Bill's head. "How 'bout what day of the week it is? Can you tell me that?"

"It's Monday, they let me back on duty on-- " He flinches back from the touch, and sees the stretcher.

With a stubborn expression, he shakes his head.

"I don't need that."

"Maybe not, but we gotta be sure, sheriff," Chris says, shifting to help Jay position the stretcher flat next to Bill. "We just need to get you checked over in the ER, an' as soon as you're done there, you can head on home to a real bed."

He is feeling pretty damn tired, and laying down is something he'd really like to do, but the thought of the hospital chills his insides.

"Dave!"

Wincing at his own shout, his arm unconsciously wraps around his side and he shakes his head again.

"I'm sure, I don't need it."

Kelly had stepped to the side to talk with Mrs. Freeda, and pauses a moment to look over her shoulder from Bill to Dave.

Dave's jaw tightens; exchanging looks with Chris and Jay, he walks over and crouches next to Bill.

"Bill, we just wanna make sure you ain't hurt before sendin' you home. C'mon -- the sooner we get goin', the faster it's over."

He eyes Chris and Jay, then shifts his unfocused gaze to Dave.

"Dave, I don't wanna-- "

There's fear and worry in his eyes that he just can't hide right now. Reaching out to grip Dave's shoulder, Bill's voice drops low.

"My momma's gonna freak out 'bout this, Dave. Like last time I got hurt in the head on that touchdown... she won't let me play anymore. Shit, I just got back."

Glancing at the stretcher, he shakes his head.

"If I go, y'can't tell her."

Then he turns to Chris and Jay, voice louder.

"An' I'm not stayin' the night."

Dave opens his mouth, then closes it.

A pause.

"All right."

Dave nods toward Jay and Chris, and the two of them ready the stretcher.

Satisfied, Bill lets go of Dave and reaches for the stretcher.

"I'm gonna need some help."

A beat, and then he adds as an excuse, "Think my leg's gone t'sleep."

The three of them help Bill maneuver onto the stretcher, and Dave can't help but think it should be him they're strapping in.

"I'm gonna lead y'all over there," Dave says, giving Bill a direct, reassuring look. "My ugly face'll be the first thing you see."

He nods to Kelly and takes Bill's cap from Mrs. Freeda, who shoots Bill an apologetic look as he's wheeled out the front door.

Dave squints against the lights and heads for the cruiser, pulling out his cell phone to call Rudy from the road.

As the straps go across his chest, Bill shakes his head, mumbling, "Don't-- not my hands. I don't like that."

"We're just makin' sure you aren't gonna fall off the bed, sheriff. It's okay," Chris assures him, giving Bill's wrist a pat when he's done to show they've left Bill's hands alone.

Bill nods to Dave, then lays his head back against the stretcher, thinking he could probably use a nap real soon.

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