86. It’s All Your Fault

       Nicole practically smacked the door of her office open after unlocking it. “Wave.” She darted her eyes around, for she could hear her crying but she couldn’t see her. She quickly realized that the couch was pushed off the wall, so she rushed over and moved it forward some more, seeing that she was curled up in a ball, hiding behind it. “Baby . . .” 

       The brunette lifted her head from her arms, only then realizing she was there. She choked back a sob as she lifted her hands toward her, trying to speak, “Cole.” 

       The redhead was quick to step towards her, bending down and wrapping the girl’s arms around her neck before lifting her by the waist as she stood. Her legs squeezed tightly around her hips, almost constricting her ability to move as she walked around the couch and sat them down, hugging her arms around her shaking body. “Shh . . . You’re ok . . . Shh . . .” 

       She gave her several minutes to get it all out, repeating the same things over and over until she calmed down to a point of coming back to the real world. She was still heavily crying, but it seemed that the panicking had passed. Nicole ran her hand through her hair one last time before loosening the grip around her middle and moving her hands up to her arms, pushing them back until she sat up. She cupped her face in her hands, tipping her head up to look at her. 

       Waverly let out a shaky breath, pushing their foreheads together. “. . . I haven’t been so fucking scared since that night, Cole,” she mumbled before opening her eyes to look at her. 

       The redhead swallowed back the fear in her throat, brushing her thumbs across her cheek, eyes sliding down to the marks on her neck for the first time. Fear tightened in her chest as her mouth dropped open. “Waves . . . I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” 

-  -  -

       Waverly arrived at Shorty’s and took her spot behind the bar, walking right over and taking a man’s order. It was already rowdy, and it wasn’t even 3 PM on a Thursday, so she didn’t have a clue what that was all about. 

       She did, though, notice that most of the noise was coming from the group of, who she called, the Adult Jocks, which were just the twenty-something-year-old boy-men that still thought they were teenagers. No shocker there. 

       She continued on as an hour or two ticked away, serving people up at the bar and cleaning tables when she noticed it needed to be done. She seemed to do half the work that needed to be done. Most of the time, the only thing she wasn’t doing was cooking, but it’s not like she hadn’t had to go back there and whip something up for someone before. She didn’t know what was going to happen to the place after she found herself a teaching position, and Lord knew Shorty was going to be lost without her around all the time. She had been working there since she was probably eight years old, legally, though, since she was 16. And she had been back behind the bar since she was of age to be back there. 

       She was going to miss it, though. Some parts, not so much, but most of it she would. She wouldn’t miss the handsy drunk men or the drinks thrown at her. Or the bar fights or times when she had to pull guns on people. 

       Especially not the bathroom that she hadn’t stepped foot in since that night.

       But she’d miss chatting with the locals and all the tips she got when she wore shirts a little tighter than necessary. Hanging out with Shorty all the time and grabbing a free drink whenever she felt like she needed one. 

       And there were the little things, too. Like decorating for the holidays. And hosting trivia night. And hearing about all the talk of the town. And sometimes, sometimes, it wasn’t the worst when she got hit on. It really helped keep her positivity about herself up, especially when a sweeter guy came around, giving her actual compliments. And, from the last year on, all she had to do was raise her arms above the bar to reveal the shiny ring on her finger, and most of the time those boys would be off to bother someone else. 

       Her favorite part, though, was when one would come and start talking her up while Nicole was sitting right in front of her. She found the humor in it most of the time, too, and would start talking her up with them, only to throw out a I sure am lucky or a I can’t wait till we’re married and watch their faces pale.  

       Waverly had gotten so lost in thought as stood out in the back alley to get some peace and quiet during her break that she hadn’t noticed the sound of boots crunching in the snow behind her. And she didn’t notice that said boots were standing right behind her until there was a strong hand on her arm, pulling her to turn around. 

       She let out a shriek and smacked at the arm with the phone in her hand. “Don’t fucking g-” She paused, staring down at the rosary tattoo she knew all too well. Her eyes quickly snapped up, and all of the color left her face as she stared at the last person she expected to see. Her phone slipped from her fingers as she quickly backed up until her back collided with the outside wall. He took a few steps forward with a haunting look in his eye, standing in the only path of exit she had. “C-Champ.” She tried to voice herself in warning, but it came out weak and scared instead. 

       Which was exactly what she was.

       He let out a heavy sigh, a smile pushing onto his face as he planted his hands on either side of the wall around her body, leaning towards her. “Do you know how nice it is to be free from the hell you had me put in? Cause it’s really fucking nice, Waves.” She pushed herself as close to the wall as she could, keeping one hand over her mouth to hide how hard her chest was heaving with every breath as a slow tear carved down her cheek. “Do you know everything I went through in there? Everything I’ve seen? Everything they did to me?” 

       “Get away from me,” she begged with a shake of her head. 

       “It’s all your fault, Waverly!” He smacked his hand against the wood and her eyes snapped closed. “Don’t you get that?!” 

       She slowly raised them to look at him again, more tears running down her face. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out barely above a whisper. 

       He shook his head, turning his eyes away from her for a second. “It’s all because of that stupid fucking fag that you-” His glare suddenly fixed on the rings on the hand over her face. He grabbed it and brought it closer to him in disgust, almost breaking the bones in her hand with the force of his grip. He snapped his eyes back to her, squeezing her hand tighter with a snarl, “Did you marry that dyke?! What the hell is wrong with you!?” He ripped the rings off of her finger and chucked them to the side, sending them scattering across the snow. 

       She dropped her chin to her chest with a sob and took her hand back, closing her eyes as tightly as she could to try and get herself out of the nightmare she was sure she was in. She had imagined many times what would happen the first time she saw him after he got out of prison, and each time she imagined herself being able to stand up to him. But now that it was real? She couldn’t. She could barely look him in the eye, let alone get more than a sentence out of her mouth. 

       Champ pushed her head back up and wrapped his fingers around the area between her neck and jaw to make her look at him. The brunette tried to hold back another sob as she wrapped her hands around his wrist, trying to pull it down. “Champ, please . I- I’m sorry.” 

       “You were normal before you met her, Waverly. We were happy before you met her. But then she came along and all of a sudden I’m the worst guy in the world! I tried to assault you. I tried to rape you. Bullshit! It could have been us - It should have been us! But she’s a fucking freak, and she turned you into one, too! . . .” He shook his head again at her. “I should’ve known in the beginning to never even think that we had a chance of lasting. Everyone was right. You Earps have some serious problems, a-” 

       Waverly let out a shriek at the sound of a gunshot blowing her eardrum, leaving it ringing. Her head snapped to the right, seeing Doc standing at the back exit of the bar with each of his pistols raised, one pointing in the air and the other at Champ’s head. “The only one who has some problems here is you, Son, and if you don’t get your damned meathooks off of her, I’ll kindly add to the list." His upper lip was twitching as he stepped out of the door frame. Champ’s eyes bugged out of his head as he put his hands up and took a couple of quick steps back from the brunette. Doc stalked towards him, holstering one of his weapons while keeping the other aimed at his head. “And if I ever see you near this bar or Waverly again, no one will ever see you again. Do I make myself clear?” He pushed the still-hot tip of the barrel against his forehead.

       “I- I’m going,” the boy-man said with a wince as he tried to back away from him.

       Doc lifted the gun and fired one more shot into the air to make sure his point was across. “You better pray to the heavens that her wife remains of the law because I know she will show you no mercy as she did before when she gets ahold of your sorry ass!” If whatever he had said hadn’t scared him before, the rate at which his feet were carrying him down the alley sure showed that it had now. 

       The gunslinger holstered his weapon and took a couple of quick steps towards Waverly, letting her fall right in his open arms and pushing her head to his chest. “You’re alright now, Darlin’,” he breathed out as she clung tightly to his shirt. 

       He held her in the hug for a few minutes until her breathing started to come in more smoothly. “. . . He didn’t harm ya any, did he?” He questioned as he pushed her back and looked her over, eyes softening as he gently lifted her chin to see the obvious dark red marks left from the force of his fingers pressed into her neck. 

       “H-He threw my rings, Doc,” she sobbed, holding up her hand that also had red marks, purple in some areas, from when he grabbed it. 

       His brow furrowed as he ran his thumb across one of the bruises before sliding it down her ring finger. “Where to?”

       She shrugged helplessly, “That way, I think.” Even more tears spilled down her face as she pointed to the right, and he pulled her into another hug. 

       “Ok, Sweetheart. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna drive ya up to the station so Nicole can look after ya while I scour this lot for your rings.” He tipped her head up with his hands on her cheeks. “I’ll get everyone in Purgatory lookin’ if I need to. Trust me when I tell you I’ll get 'em back to you.” She gave him a little nod and he smiled softly before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and walking her towards his car. 

-  -  -

       “Cole, I don’t know what happened to him in there, b-but he’s not the same Champ as he was before. He’s always been an asshole, but . . . But he had this l-look in his eye, and-” A sob cut the brunette off and she fell forward for the umpteenth time, letting Nicole’s protective arms wrap around her as she pushed her face into her neck. 

       The Sheriff rubbed her thumb across her shoulder soothingly, eyes locked on the wall in front of her as she chewed the insides of her cheeks raw. And, oh, how she could taste blood. 

       Literally and figuratively.

       She reached down to the radio box on her utility belt and twisted the knob a few times before grabbing her radio off her shoulder. “Earp, come in.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm.

       It took a second, but she heard a fizz and some rustling before her voice came through, “Haught? What’s wrong?” They both knew that her radio was only to be used during emergencies, otherwise she was just to contact her on her phone. And she probably would have done that, but her phone was apparently still in her cruiser since she couldn’t find it earlier in the interview room. 

       “Are you at the Homestead?” 

       “Yea, why? What’s going on?” Her voice made it clear that she was on high alert. 

       “I need you to head to our house. Can you do that?” 

       There was a loud huff over the line, “Ok, yea, but what the fuck is going on, you Dickhead?! You’re freaking me out!” 

       Nicole closed her eyes as she ran her hand slowly up and down Waverly’s back. “Wy . . . Look at the date.” 

       “The date? What?” She paused for a second and Nicole assumed she was doing so. “. . . Oh my God .” 

       “Get to the house. We’ll meet you there,” she said, voice wavering for the first time. 

       “Nic . . .” She could feel the fear coming from Wynonna. “Please don’t tell me he got to her.” The redhead closed her eyes, hugging her wife tighter as her body began to shake again. “Nicole.” 

       “. . . Just get there for me, Earp.” Some choice words rolled over as Nicole hooked her radio back on her shirt and slowly got to her feet, boosting Waverly in her arms a little. “Are you ok to go home, Love?” She asked softly. She got a small nod of agreement into her neck. “Alright.” She walked them out the door and turned her head at her name. 

       “Sheriff, what do you want me to do? O’Ryan’s lawyer just got here and is waiting for you,” Pearson said as he walked over to her. 

       “You’re temporary Sheriff until I say different. His file’s on the table in there. It's your case now.” She moved to turn around, but stopped when he began again. 

       “Wh- You want me to?” 

       “Would you prefer if I put Nedley on it instead?” She asked with a bite, although she hadn’t meant to snap at him. 

       The blonde quickly shook his head, “No, Ma’am. I can handle it.” 

       She gave him a nod before making her way to the door. “Thank you.” 

       Outside, she reached down and pulled open the passenger’s side door, gently setting the brunette down after some coaxing to get her to let go. She pushed a soft kiss to her forehead before shutting the door and slowly walking around the cruiser as she pressed the button on her radio again. “Hey, Wynonna?” 

       “I’m on my way over now, what?” 

       “Can you do me a favor when you get there?” 

       Nicole took the drive slow, mostly for the fact that she was trying to look down every single road she passed, but also partly so she knew that Wynonna would be there when they arrived. And it seemed she had timed it just right considering that the brunette’s truck was parked there and she was standing outside, leaning against the tailgate. 

       She parked behind her and looked towards Waverly, her heart shattering for the millionth time. She looked so small curled up on the seat, wrapped around her arm. “I’ll be right back, Honey.” She slowly wiggled her arm free and pushed another kiss to her head before climbing out of the car and sliding her hand through her hair as she walked over to her. 

       She was going to speak, but noticed that Wynonna’s eyes were on her sister through the windshield, “. . . Haught, if I’m seeing choke marks on her neck, I really hope you wanna help me hide a body,” she practically growled out, meeting her eyes. 

       Nicole turned her head, seeing the Waverly had repositioned to lean her head against the window, leaving her neck exposed. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she made her turn and face her. “Hey. She said he was just pinning her head up and that she could breathe the whole time.” 

       The older brunette stared at her incredulously. “I don’t give a fuck what he did, Nicole!” She swung her arm out to point at Waverly. “That that sack of shit had his hand on my baby sister’s throat! In what fucking world is that ok with you?!” 

       Her eyes widened at her. “I never said it was ok with me.”

       “Well, you sure are acting like it is!” 

       Nicole bared her teeth and smacked her palm against the tailgate. “God fucking dammit, Wynonna!” She fisted her hand in the front of her leather jacket and hauled her around to the front of the truck. “I am trying to keep my cool in front of her, ok?! Because if I’m freaking out, it's just going to scare her a million times more than she is already. Trust me, I want to rip him apart with my own hands just as much as you do. But she can’t know that. She’s a fucking wreck, Earp, and the least we can do is be there for her without letting our own feelings get in the way.” 

       The older girl let out a heavy breath, rubbing her hands up and down her face. “. . . Just tell me what he did.” She pulled her hands away and met her eyes. “ All of what he did.” 

       The Sheriff ran her tongue along the holes in her cheeks subconsciously as she dropped her gaze for a second. “You have to keep your cool.” 

       “I will,” she promised. 

       And with the look on her face, Nicole knew she meant it. So she dove right in. 

       “. . . Then Doc drove her to the station, and I found her hiding behind the couch in my office.” 

       Wynonna hadn’t said a word the whole time. She had just paced while looking down at her feet. It took her a few seconds, but she finally slowed to a stop, raising her head to look at her, eyes filled with pure anger and hatred. “. . . Am I staying the night?” 

       That wasn’t quite what she expected to come out of her mouth, but she understood why she was trailing away from the topic. “If all goes well, then yes,” Nicole sighed as they both walked back around the truck. The redhead walked over to the car door and waited for her to sit up off of it before slowly opening it. “C’mon, Love, let’s get you inside.” She held her hand out for her and she took it, easing herself to her feet. Nicole wrapped her arm around her waist and let her lean into her as they walked into the house.

       She got her changed into some comfy pajamas and sat her on the couch to lay on Wynonna, walking over and grabbing the cats before plonking them both on her lap. The brunette let Calamity settle on her legs, but grabbed Geronimo and hugged him to her chest. Nicole kneeled down in front of her, pushing her hand gently through her hair. “I have to go, ok?” 

       Her face saddened. “Why?” She asked softly. 

       Nicole swallowed, “I’m gonna go help Doc out looking for your rings.” 

       “But . . .” 

       “Hey, it’s ok.” She rubbed her thumb down her cheek to hopefully stop the tears from falling like they wanted to. “I just want you to relax tonight, alright?” She slowly nodded, and the redhead gave her a small smile, leaning forward and pushing a kiss to her temple as she stood. “I love you.” 

       “I love you, too,” she mumbled, watching as she turned to the door. The Sheriff gave her one last smile as she pulled it open, but raised her eyes to Wynonna, reading the words in her eyes as she gave her a slow nod. She gave her one back as a promise before pulling the door closed behind her. 

       Nicole walked down the sidewalk, looking back at the house for a second as she let out a slow breath, reaching into the back of Wynonna’s truck and grabbing the black duffle bag she had been left. She pulled it out and walked around, climbing into the front seat and grabbing her keys off the dash. She unzipped the bag and sorted through it, seeing that she had everything she needed.

       Moving it to the seat next to her, she stuck the keys in and started the truck, pulling away from the house with one last glance into the rearview mirror. 

       It was going to be a hell of a night. 

       But she was more than ready for it.

.  .  .

       “Oh, c’mon, Champ!” Pete groaned, throwing a bottle cap at him. “They can’t snipe ya for one damn night if you’re just gonna be here!” 

       “Dude, have you seen my parole officer?! He’s, like, bigger than me! Not a lot of people are bigger than me!” 

       “Are you seriously gonna pussy this one out? We’ve all been drinking, waiting for you to show up all day!” Another one of his long-time buddies shouted at him. 

       Champ chewed on his lip as he looked down at all of the liquor and beer bottles strung across the table. He was well aware that he was prohibited from drinking above the legal limit until he was off parole. Which was stupid in his opinion, but he was way to scared of his macho man parole officer to even try to sneak a shot. “Guys, you don’t know what it was like to just, like, have to listen all the time. I don’t wanna go back there.” He turned and grabbed his jacket off the couch next to Pete and shrugged it on. “I gotta go.” They all shouted at him, some trying to convince him not to, others calling him every other name for coward under the sun. He pulled the door open and turned his head. “Maybe we can all head up to the ranch or something, but . . . I’m not taking any chances with this kind of shit.” 

       He pulled the door closed behind him after he walked out of the York house that the brothers shared. He didn’t have a truck anymore because it wasn’t even his to begin with before he got locked up; it was his grandpa’s. So he walked. And he planned to walk until he figured out how to get a car again. 

       Sure, it was a long walk back to his mom’s house, but it was almost 12 AM and there was no way he’d call her for a ride. She was already a mess as it was and having her finding him on this side of town would make it worse. 

       He shoved his cold hands into his pockets after zipping his jacket up, crossing the street so he could turn onto the highway. He stopped at the corner to wait for the couple of cars to pass and was about to jog across, but he was jerked backward by an arm around his neck and a gloved hand over his mouth. He let out a yell into it as he tried to wiggle free, but the glove absorbed the noise. His vision went blurry within seconds and his ability to pull at the arm became weaker and weaker until the tunnel vision closed and he went limp. 

       His unconscious body was quickly dragged down the sidewalk a few steps before he was propped up on the end of a certain truck’s tailgate and shoved in it. There was a quick piece of duct tape over his mouth and another piece wrapped around his ankles before finally, a pair of police-issued handcuffs locked his wrists behind him. 

.  .  . 

       Waverly’s eyes opened, narrowing slightly at the door when the knocking on it awoke her. She let out a whined groan, pushing her face back into her sister’s chest, “Get it.” 

       The older brunette let out a grumble as she rolled her and the two cats off of her, standing up with a stretch before stumbling over to the door and pulling it open to reveal a tired-looking, but smiling, Doc Holliday. “Hey,” she mumbled, stepping out of the way so he could come in. 

       He tipped his hat at her as he walked in before removing it altogether and setting it on the coffee table as he took a seat at the end of the couch, looking towards Waverly. “I picked you up one of those froppy drinks I know you have a liking for,” he said gently as he held out the McDonald’s cup. 

       She took it with a little smile, leaning her head against the couch. “Frappe, but close enough.” She took a drink of it, taking into account that he was holding a half-empty one for himself on his lap along with the bag of food. 

       “And you didn’t get me anything?” Wynonna huffed as she dropped down onto the recliner. “That’s fucking rude.” He threw her a look before reaching into the bag and proceeding to toss not two, not four, but six breakfast burritos at her, ending with a handful of sauces and three hash browns. She looked up at him with a small smirk. “Why, thank you.” 

       “Mhm.” He set the bag in front of Waverly. “I, uhm, I didn’t know if you’d have much of an appetite, but if you did, I hadn’t a clue what to get you, so I just picked up a bunch of different things.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled a baggie out. “I’m sure you want these, though.” He poured the two rings out into his hand, placing them in her own. Her eyes widened slightly at him, but she quickly shoved her cup between her thighs as she looked them over. “The only major damage I saw was a missing little diamond on the wedding ring besides the scuffs on each, but we’ll be sure to get 'em fixed.”

       She swallowed back the tears in her eyes as she pushed them both back on her finger and moved the bag and cup to the floor before scooting towards him and wrapping him in a hug. “. . . Thank you, Doc,” she mumbled into his shoulder. 

       “It was the least I could do,” he said as she pulled away. 

       She looked back down at her hand, rolling them around on her finger. “How long’d it take you?” 

       “Uh . . .” She raised her eyes to him and he knew he’d be a stupid man to lie to that face. “I didn’t find the wedding ring ‘til this mornin’.” 

       Her face softened. “Doc . . . You were out there all night?”

       He looked down at the cup in his hands. “I made a promise to you that I’d find them, Waverly.” He raised his eyes with a shake of his head. “I’m not one to break a promise.” 

       “But . . .” Her thought slipped away as another came to her. “Where’s Nic? Wasn’t she with you?” 

       His brow furrowed, but Wynonna roughly popped the feet up on the recliner and he turned his head to look at her. She nodded, tipping her head with a look. The gunslinger looked back to Waverly. “She was. But she had some . . . work business to go attend this morning to.” His lie was pure word vomit, and he was sure she hadn’t bought it. 

       Waverly looked between the two, not liking the glance they shared with one another. “One of you needs to tell me where my wife is,” she said with a shaky voice.

       Wynonna swallowed, “Babygirl . . .”

       All of their heads turned towards the door at the sound of it opening, mouths falling open as just the woman in question walked through it. Nicole took a few steps forward and dropped the duffle bag in her hand by the wall, tossing the black beanie in her other hand on top of it. 

       The brunette traced her eyes up and down her body, seeing that she had a black zip-up jacket hanging on her unzipped and a dark grey bandana tied around her neck. The only thing under the jacket was a blue sports bra, but her eyes did not seize to widen as they continued down her body. She had on a pair of black jeans and her work boots, but that’s not what she was worried about. What had caught her eye was the white boxing wraps on each hand, not because they were there, but that they were obviously bloodied. 

       Waverly slowly pushed herself up off the couch and walked over to her as she entered the kitchen, pressing her foot on the trash can pedal and unwrapping her hands. She dropped them each into it, but turned when the brunette grabbed her arm. Waverly could see now at this distance that there was more blood, some small dots of splatter on her stomach and chest and some smears on her face. She looked down, taking her hands in her’s and seeing the redness and bruising along her knuckles on both hands.

       She raised her eyes back to her’s, seeing nothing but cold hatred in them. She squeezed her hands, feeling the warmth where they were swollen, “Cole . . . What did you do?”