wheelsy_sheriff

["I'm exhausted in a good way for once."]



The room is bright even with the curtains drawn when Bill cracks his eyes open.

He smiles to find Kate in his arm, her back pressed against his chest, her arm over his around her waist.

Tightening his hold on her, he pulls her closer and presses a kiss into her hair.

Breakfast will be ready soon (if they haven't missed it already), but this is a good way to be waking up, and he wants to enjoy it a bit.

["Bill, there's somethin' you should know.]



Bill walks in through the door to Demeter's house with a black garment bag over his arm. Inside is his dress uniform, and in hand he has his cap and shoes to go with it.

Going back to Wheelsy for it had been hard. Not because the door wasn't cooperating, it opened right up to his bedroom, but there things are set to get back to normal. The few minutes it took him to gather up what he needed put him that much closer to returning to work and the life he's wanted back for so long.

He couldn't stay, though, couldn't leave Kate and Boo or Katherine now. So he left that life on hold again and is now back here, to break more bad news to the woman he loves.

Shutting the door quietly, he heads for the bedroom, still trying to figure out how to tell Kate, and already building himself up to be strong for her.

[""Does your mom know yet?"]

June Pardy is out on her front lawn, kneeling in the grass weeding out a flower bed when her son's truck pulls in to the drive.

Standing up she dusts off her pale blue gloves and pulls them off. Pushing back her sunhat with a knuckle she waits as Bill sits in the truck a minute before getting down.

He gives her a shadowed smile that tells her something's the matter before he even says a thing and she schools her own expression not to give her sudden wariness away.

"Hey, Bill." Her tone is light and easy, her smile warm.

"Hey." He's trying to keep his tone just as light but there's a tightness behind his voice that she can pick out. She studies him and his eyes go down to the ground and the flower beds.

"Flowers're lookin' good, mom."

He stops a few feet away and she can see him trying hard not to fidget.

In her mind's eye she can see him as a little boy, antsy with something to tell her, worrying his bottom lip, eyes anywhere but her.

She remembers telling him, "Stop chewin' your lip, Bill, an' get what you gotta say out."

He's broken the one habit, but she can still read him easy enough without him gnawing on his lip.

Taking her gloves into one hand, she rests her fist on her hip and tilts her head up at him.

He grew up so tall.

"You lookin' for gardenin' tips, son?"

Staring at a rose bush he blinks then shakes his head.

"No, I uh, I came t'talk to you."

She nods, working on maintaining her patience.

"Anything in particular?"

His eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens, and she's taken back to when he was eight and trying to tell her how he dented his friend's daddy's truck with a baseball and had to mow the man's lawn every weekend for a month.

"Yeah, actually, I got some news." A beat later he adds, "S'bout work."

Her blood freezes and a knot forms in her belly. Her grip tightens on the gloves and she doesn't say anything, waiting for him to continue; already sure of what he's going to say.

"I'm goin' back. This comin' Monday I uh, I been reinstated."

His eyes finally settle on her and it's the look of fear in them that breaks her. He's worried about her reaction and after the talks they've had on the subject she can't really blame him.

It hurts to see that uncertain, worried look in his eyes, made up of hesitation and doubt, and she knows it'll be even worse to take if she turns it into disappointment or anger if she gives the reaction that she's feeling in her chest.

It's hard, because not only does she see her young son in the man standing in front of her, she sees him laying in that hospital bed with bandages around his middle after the robbery; she sees him slime-covered and bloody when he broke down her door to get to her after the night with the slugs; and she sees him now, ready and wanting to get back to a job that could kill him, and anxious for her reaction.

You didn't even think about or try t'find somethin' else...

She can't say the words or give voice to any of the other thoughts going through her head right now, all of which are disappointed and worried and angry with the helplessness his words have hit her with. So, instead she takes in a slow breath and nods.

"Guess it's that time."

"Yeah. Finally. Been out for months but I'm finally cleared to go back on duty." His voice comes out nervous and eager, and she forces a small smile.

"M'sure they'll be glad t'have you back."

He smiles wide to that and she almost expects him to flash his teeth like he used to when he was younger.

You ain't even thinkin' 'bout what losin' you could do t'me.

She swallows the bitter thoughts and keeps an even expression while she bends down to pick up her gardening tools.

"I expect Kate is happy for you."

His smile falters briefly, but is back in place when she straightens up.

"She congratulated me, yeah."

Holding in a frown she nods.

"Well, I got things t'do an' I'm sure you do, too." Stepping closer she tiptoes to brush her lips against his cheek and remembers a time when she used to have to bend down to kiss his forehead. "Don't get yourself killed."

They share a look, his is hesitantly smiling and hers is soft but guarded, and then she takes her tools and things and heads into the house; closing and locking the door behind her and stubbornly willing her eyes not to water.

*****

Bill watches her head back into the house, trying to puzzle through her reaction.

They didn't argue, which is good, and while he thought he caught some brief flashes of disappointment, she never gave any outright disapproval.

He considers following her and maybe talking more about it, but decides it's better not to push. This ended all right, and she's trying to let him do what he wants so he's not going to press something he doesn't have to.

He's going back to work and she seems okay with that.

Nodding to himself he turns around and heads back to his truck, glad he can tell Kate that things are all right with his mom.

Brett Favre is a cheating bastard.

That's all Bill has to say.

After losing to the Packers three games in a row he gave up the Madden for a couple hours. The mess of puzzle pieces on the coffee table show what he was doing during that time, but then puzzles got boring and he thought he might have worked out a strategy so he's at it again.

All that's left of his bar bake sale goodies is half the chocolate chip muffin (covered in leftover extra icing) and crumbs and chocolate smudges on the table and corner of his mouth a crumpled napkin from the rest.

He's fully focused on the game as Peyton Manning scrambles in the pocket and launches a Hail Mary down the field.

"Catch it. Catch it. Christ, you better catch it..."

["I'm planning on going with you, if that's okay."]


It's been months since he's been in uniform, even longer since he's worn the one he's putting on now.

It's a little tight, but then it always seemed that way to him, and he doesn't have the badge to go with it.

Straightening the jacket he twists his neck, trying to free up room in the collar. Taking a slow breath he stares at his reflection in the mirror a moment then picks up his cap sitting on the counter by the sink.

Leaving the bathroom he heads down the hallway to the bedroom and stands in the doorway.

"Ready?"

-----

It's cold, a dusting of snow on the ground and a cold breeze blowing through the cemetery, whipping the coats of the mourners and the edges of the flag draped over the casket.

His ears and fingers burn red with the cold but Bill stands stoical through the ceremony.

Kate is at his side, and although his eyes shift only between the casket and Mrs. Hargrove standing by, he can feel her presence next him.

It takes a conscious effort but he doesn't flinch when the rifles sound, and when it's over and the crowd breaks he keeps his place instead of leaving quickly, waiting as the rest of the attendees speak with Hargrove's widow.

She says a tearful 'thank you' to the last in line and looks up, eyes locking on Bill's. He walks over and doesn't break her gaze until he's in front of her.

"Mrs. Hargrove, I wanna say I'm sorry for your husband." There's more in his voice than sympathy, it's an apology and the woman before him can hear it.

She shakes her head, chin trembling.

"No... it's not... "

Bill looks up then and the guilt he's been carrying breaks in his eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

Suddenly she closes the distance between them and she's hugging him fiercely, face pressed against his chest.

"It's not your fault, Sheriff, please... Chris loved his job, an' he'd never... he'd never blame you so please... don't-- "

He only hesitates a moment before his arms go around her. He feels her body trembling and holds on a little tighter, nodding to her words, hearing them finally,

"This isn't your fault -- it isn't."

and believing them, finally.

[ "Bill. It's morning" ]


There's a half dozen or so reporters at the Sheriff's department, waiting with cameras and recorders. Dave speaks first, updating them on any information the department has to share as far as their end of things goes and directing the news crowd to the Highway Patrol office for further information.

Then he introduces Bill, who's been standing off to the side looking over the crowd and thinking about what he's written on the piece of paper that he means to say to these people. He steps up, wincing at a couple camera flashes and doing his best to keep the irritation, reluctance and uneasiness he's feeling out of his expression as he clears his throat and starts.

"Good mornin', I'd like to start off by offerin' my deepest condolences to the family of Trooper Christopher Hargrove. My sympathies go out to his wife an' daughter along with thoughts an' prayers. I'm sorry to the both of you for this tragedy."

Working his throat the words on the page blur a moment as he thinks about that little girl and he blinks, then forces himself to continue.

"Trooper Hargrove was a good man killed in the line of duty. He was a hero, an' his death is a great loss to the law enforcement community."

Somehow he keeps his tone even, his voice steady, and manages to bring his eyes up to look at the cameras and faces around him as he speaks.

"In regards to Eric Lawson an' his part in all of this an' his current circumstances; it is not my place or right to judge what has happened to him, I am only glad that he is now in custody and no longer a threat to the community. It is hard to think about the high cost of his apprehension an' we all owe Christopher Hargrove a great debt for his sacrifice. I want to thank him an' his family, an' the rest of the law enforcement community for their dedication to the job. It is the wish of all officers that events like these wouldn't take place but unfortunately that is the nature of the duty. What makes it possible to get through situations like these is the support of those wearin' a badge, their families an' the people that they protect."

Drawing in a slow, unsteady breath Bill folds the paper and looks up at those standing around.

"So, I'd like to thank you all for that, an' for listenin'. Thank you, very much."

He nods and steps back and Dave moves forward as some of the reporters toss out questions. Rudy is standing by and moves with Bill, walking him away from the crowd.

Bill walks fast, head down, and Rudy grabs the car door for him when they reach the cruiser.

"That sounded real good, sheriff."

"Thanks."

The car door closes and Rudy walks around to the other side and gets in.

As Rudy starts the car Bill looks out the window. They're not being followed, which is good, and it looks like most of the reporters are actually packing up to go. Hoping Dave doesn't have to deal with the rest for long Bill looks back at Rudy and nods.

"Get me home."

Back in the therapist's office again.

It's an afternoon appointment but Bill still feels worn around the edges. Last night wasn't one of his better nights.

He and the doctor have been talking awhile but Bill's not really into it today. Tired, and not very into the session, he's been distracting himself with the candy on the table, searching in vain for a toasted marshmallow jelly belly as they talk.

"You look tired today, Bill," Dr. Montaño notes, looking over at Bill from her chair in front of her desk.

Bill's eyes lift from his palm where he was poking through a handful of candy beans then looks down again before replying.

"I am. A little. Bit of trouble sleepin' last night."

"Oh? Do you have trouble sleeping often?"

He nods and shrugs a little, examining one piece of candy then adding it back to the others in his hand.

"Sometimes, I guess. Been kinda restless, lately, an' when I do sleep it... ain't always good."

"It's common to experience, nightmares after tramatic events, Bill."

His hand closes over the candy and he looks up at her.

"I know. Just... wish I could get rid of 'em already."

"Time," She replies gently. "Time and talking about them will help. You're still healing, Bill, and while the dreams may never go away entirely, with the process we're going through now you'll be better able to cope with them."

Bill holds back a sigh and nods. Those things don't really help him any now.

"You said you've also been restless?" She prompts. "Tell me about that."

Finally eating some of the candy his eyes roam around the room and settle on the window.

"Just... restless. Some nights it's hard to get to sleep an' some days I feel... I dunno, stir crazy. I've got a lot a free time an' don't know what to do with myself for a lot of it."

There's only so many matches he can lose to his video game before getting fed up, and only so many times he can watch the same Sportscenter in one day.

"Kate's there an' I love spendin' time with her, but I don't wanna be a pain in the ass or nothin', so I try an' give her her own time an' space. She goes out or does work on her computer or whatever an' I just sorta... do a whole lot of nothin'."

Milliways is a distraction but it doesn't help him pass the day when time is frozen while he's there.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

He shakes his head and finishes the rest of the candy.

"Not really. I go fishin' once in awhile. Just learned to ride a horse again."

"Those are good, but do you have any creative outlets? Hobbies that allow you to express yourself?"

"No." Tilting his head at her he waits to see where this is going.

"I think it might be good for you to find something like that for yourself. It will give you something to do and a medium to express some of your inner feelings and work through some of the frustration you've been feeling."

"Yeah? What kind of hobby?"

"There's plenty out there. Painting, drawing, various crafts; really there are countless options that you could choose from. My suggestion is go to a hobby and craft store and wander around a bit, see if anything appeals to you."

Scratching his chin he considers her suggestion and nods a little, "Yeah, I suppose I could do that."

"Good, we can talk about it next session. How's that sound?"

"All right, I uh, guess I'll see you then."

They both stand and shake hands and Bill heads out not completely convinced but willing to give the idea a try.

[after this]

Stumbling back in from Milliways Bill closes the door softly behind him, determined to fix things with Kate. Seeing the light coming through the crack in the door from the hallway his resolve falters a little.

He's drunk and disheveled, reeking of booze from both drinking and spilling and is swaying on his feet standing in the middle of the room.

"Shit. I can't..."

Realizing he can't go in there as he is he tries to straighten himself up; smoothing his hair with his hand he starts to tuck in his shirt, then changes his mind and decides to get another.

Turning back towards the closet the room tilts, spins, and he's going down before he has time to react.

He hits the floor on his side and all the lights are out.