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The flashing red and blue lights filled Waverly with a familiar dread, but she pushed on, manoeuvring her truck carefully through the crowded street. It reminded her of that night, the night Willa was taken, the night so much was taken from her. She could still remember the flashing police cars, Nedley’s grim face as he removed Wynonna from the property, and her own tears as Gus took her away from the scene.
But tonight was not about her, not at all, and so Waverly set her jaw and drove on, trying to find a good place to leave the truck. Of course it was frigid outside, of course it had to be Purgatory in February, and the crunch of the packed snow under her tires sounded impossibly loud next to the endless hum of sirens in the air. When she finally did stop the truck, she carefully planted her feet on the icy ground, grateful that she’d at least had time to grab her boots and parka before fleeing the Homestead. Still, it had been a long drive, an excruciatingly long drive, and it took everything she had not to sprint down the road towards the yellow police tape.
“Waverly, you can’t be here,” Andy, Purgatory’s newest rookie said when the youngest Earp sibling finally reached the scene.
“Andy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way? You let me through. Hard way? I write a super long, mean-spirited, very accurate review and…”
“Okay, fine.” She could see the anxiety on Andy’s face despite the darkness and with a reassuring pat to his shoulder, Waverly ducked under the tape and went looking for her wife.
There were two ambulances parked and too many police cars to count, but finding Nicole was easy. Amidst the flashing lights and the mix of police officers and paramedics, Waverly could just make out a set of long legs sprawled in the street. Nicole sat on the curb, head bowed low, hat in her hands, but Waverly could only feel relief. That Nicole was breathing. That she was there. Solid and alive and not one of the people lying dead in the back of an ambulance.
“Nicole?” she said softly, crouching down in front of the seated woman, and her presence must have surprised the officer because Nicole gasped, whipping her head up and staring at Waverly with those impossibly big, brown eyes.
“Wave? You shouldn’t be here!” It was a reproach, a lame one, as Nicole’s cracked voice gave away her fear. Not to mention the tear-filled eyes. Her eyes could hide nothing. They were her greatest strength and her greatest weakness.
“You know, people keep saying that and I’m starting to get real offended.”
“The roads are icy and you just had the baby and…”
“And I got a phone call that my wife had been involved in a shooting so, yah, I’m here. Deal with it.” Waverly reached out then, resting her hands on Nicole’s shoulders. It was so cold outside, too cold, and Waverly desperately wanted to scoop her wife into a blanket and take her away.
“Wyatt?” Nicole asked, her expression unconvinced of Waverly’s logic despite the way her body leaned forward, seeking Waverly’s warmth.
“Sleeping like an angel.”
“And Willa?”
“With Wynonna.”
“You left our two-week old with your sister?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
It was a running joke in the Haught-Earp family because Wynonna and Nicole were good friends and no one on the planet would protect Waverly’s babies with more ferocity than Wynonna Earp. The familiarity of the exchange made Nicole exhale and some of the stress in her shoulders seemed to dissipate.
“So, what do you say Officer Haught, can I take you home now?”
Nicole looked around for a minute, her brow furrowed in confusion before she nodded solemnly and stood. Waverly didn’t say anything when Nicole wrapped an around her in support, nor did she interrupt when Nicole spoke lowly to a few fellow cops on the scene. Instead, she leaned into her wife, hoping that her presence provided some comfort, or, at the very least, some warmth.
“I’m driving,” Nicole broke their silence, reaching her shaking hand out for the keys.
“Oh, no, you are not.”
“Waverly, you are in no -- ”
“If you finish that sentence with “condition” I’m going to run you over. Now get your beautiful ass in the truck,” Waverly huffed, hoping for some levity. It seemed to work because Nicole obeyed, climbing into the passenger seat with not another word.
They drove mostly in silence, which made Waverly nervous because Nicole was the one that was good with feelings. She always knew what she wanted, how she felt, and it was Waverly that stumbled along, trying to articulate the storm inside with words and gestures. Nicole was always patient with her, offering her small grins or confused eyebrows, until they both managed to reach whatever conclusion it was that they were meant to reach. They were each other’s push and pull, a give and take, and it was that balance that made them Waverly and Nicole. Nicole and Waverly.
“You can talk to me, if you want,” Waverly said, resting her gloved hand against Nicole’s thigh. The highways was dark and only the truck’s headlights illuminated the way. It was icy and dangerous, but with Nicole next to her, Waverly felt brave. She always did.
“Nedley’s dead and I killed someone. I don’t know what to say about that yet.”
Waverly could remember the sickening crunch of scissors piercing a skull. The thud of a body hitting the floor. The rush of adrenaline followed by the sinking feelings. So she said nothing. Just squeezed the cold thigh beneath her hand and drove on into the night. They would make it home together.
~*~
Wyatt was sprawled out on his stomach in the bed, his arms and legs stretched out like a starfish, and Waverly thought it was just about the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. Despite the darkness in the room, the small nightlight in the corner was enough to reveal his red hair and she stroked it gently, letting her fingers weave through the short, auburn locks. She was rewarded with the tiniest hint of a smile, the same small smile Nicole sometimes had when Waverly caressed her hair while she slept. And despite the seriousness of the evening, despite Waverly’s own feelings of unease, her son calmed her and slowed her racing heart.
The kitchen light was on by the time Waverly descended the stairs and she could just make out two voices, low and serious. It was wrong to eavesdrop, it really, really was, but she found herself hiding slightly behind a wall. From her vantage point she could see Wynonna sitting at the table, two glasses of whiskey in front of her, and Nicole with her back to the door, body crouched in the tell-tale position of someone holding a baby in one hand and a bottle in the other.
“I know you were no fan of Nedley,” Nicole said, never taking her eyes off the infant in her arms. Wynonna shrugged in response, the look on her face enough to say that Nicole’s words were an understatement.
“You should drink that, Haught, it’s the good stuff,” was what came out instead, but Nicole shook her head and Wynonna reached out and downed the extra glass.
“How do you do it? And live with it?”
“Do what?”
“Kill people.” Waverly had to lean in slightly to catch her wife’s words, but her chest ached. Nicole Haught was an upstanding officer of the law. She served her community with pride and she’d faced down everything from revenants to vampires to a stray werewolf. But this? This was different.
“Drink a lot. Sleep with the wrong people. You know, the usual.” Wynonna’s nonchalance was a cover, a gift to Nicole, an opportunity to speak without the pressure of questions or concern and Waverly resisted the urge to barrel into the room and hug her sister.
“Yah, well, I don’t wanna do either of those things.”
“Good. Because if you hurt my baby sister I’d have to take you out back and put you down, Haught.”
Nicole’s lips quirked up at this, Waverly could just make out the beginning of a dimple, and she was about to interrupt the two women when Wynonna started speaking again.
“Honestly, I just remember why I’m doing what I’m doing,” she said, leaning forward on the table with her elbows.
“And why is that?”
“For a lot of reasons, I guess,” Wynonna mumbled, reaching forward to let the baby curl one hand around her finger. “Revenge. Destiny. But, most of all, I do it for Waverly.”
“Waverly?”
“She lost Willa and daddy. She lost me. She’s not losing anything else. Not on my watch.”
Nicole seemed to nod slowly and Waverly chose that moment to make her entrance.
“Tell me you didn’t take my baby to the bar tonight.” Waverly wrapped her arms around Wynonna’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Her sister leaned back and winked, but her smile was soft and kind.
“She just had the one pint. Wyatt had two, because he’s four now.”
As if sensing that her parents and her aunt were talking about her, the infant in Nicole’s arms coughed softly and looked up with wide, blue eyes. She seemed to take in her mama’s face for a moment before screwing up her own tiny features and releasing a shockingly loud fart.
“Well excuse you, Ms. Willa!” Waverly laughed, as did Nicole, but Wynonna darted her arms forward and carefully grabbed the baby from its mother.
“This is my kid. I swear.”
It was true that Willa favoured Wynonna with her silky darky hair and big blue eyes, but Waverly loved the strong resemblance between her daughter and her sister. Especially as Wynonna manoeuvred Willa onto her shoulder and started gently patting her back. Two dark heads nestled together and Wynonna rubbed her cheek against the back of Willa’s skull, all the while gently, but firmly, tapping the baby’s back. The tiny burps that followed each earned another laugh from the small gathering.
“Tell you what, Waves. I’m going to steal your baby and I’ll be on Wyatt duty so you and Officer Haught can get some sleep.” Wynonna’s grin was pure evil, but again, it was her way of offering Nicole an out. There were no questions, no worried are you okays. Just Wynonna quietly offering support in the way only she could.
“Thanks, Wynonna,” Waverly said, taking Nicole’s hand. She was about to pull her wife up the stairs when Wynonna called out again.
“Hey, Nicole?”
“Yah?”
“Just remember why you do it. Same reason as me.”
The last they heard of the Earp heir was a tiny cheer as Willa continued burping into the darkness of the evening.
~*~
The snow came down in heavy, white flakes, blanketing the Homestead for miles around. It looked like waves, like an eggshell ocean, and Waverly knew it would close the roads for at least a day. She loved when it snowed like this, she felt protected and warm knowing that the Homestead was full and cozy, her babies were safe, her sister was just downstairs, and her wife, well her wife was alive. And for that she wanted to scream her thanks to the misty sky and the full moon and the silent, white powder dusting her windowsill.
Nicole sat on the bed, still fully dressed, her hands limp between her knees. She was obviously caught in thought and Waverly was hesitant to interrupt, so she bent down and started untying one of the heavy black boots, pulling the shoe from Nicole’s foot, followed by the sock.
“Oh, babe, your feet are like ice,” she mumbled, turning to the other foot, tossing the left boot behind her to reveal long toes, tipped with blue from the cold.
“It was just a robbery. Petty crime at best.” Nicole’s voice could be so light, so airy, like wind chimes in a summer breeze, and it startled Waverly to hear it in the quiet of their room. She stood up and started unbuttoning Nicole’s uniform.
“Nedley didn’t even call backup, didn’t think he needed any. Just the corner grocery store, that’s all.”
With the shirt and bra on the floor, Waverly guided Nicole to lean back on her elbows so she could start on the wide belt. She unbuckled it quickly and mumbled “scooch,” and her wife shifted her weight to her elbows, allowing Waverly to pull the remains of her uniform down a set of long legs.
“I didn’t want to shoot the guy. But he’d already shot Nedley and he was aimin’ at me and Andy…”
“You didn’t have a choice, sweetie,” Waverly said, standing in front of her naked wife. She reached behind the officer’s head and started carefully loosening the tight braid.
“I didn’t want to do it.”
“I know.”
“Waverly, I killed someone.”
Red hair fell around Nicole’s shoulders and Waverly allowed herself the luxury of touching it, running her fingers through it. It was always so soft and warm and she slid her hands forward, cupping two cold cheeks and tilting Nicole’s face up.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I’m sorry this happened.”
“What are we gonna tell Wyatt?” Her accent came out thick when she was stressed and her eyes were so wide and scared, it made Waverly want to somehow go back in time, start the night over, erase the glint of sadness in her wife’s eyes that would likely be permanent.
“We don’t have to tell him anything tonight.”
“Nedley always gave him a lollypop and now…”
“And now Wyatt is asleep. He’s going to march in here at 6AM demanding juice, you know he will, so tell me what you need, sweetheart, what do you need to make it through this night?”
Waverly quickly disrobed as she spoke, throwing her own clothing on the floor next to Nicole’s uniform. She was a little hesitant to do it, still not quite comfortable with her post-pregnancy body, but the way Nicole was looking at her made her feel brazen, brazen enough to step forward and take Nicole’s face in her hands again.
“Can I hold you?” Nicole asked and it made Waverly warm all over, the way this woman still asked for permission, the way she still looked at Waverly like she was a miracle, like the honour of touching her was a sacred right. Waverly accepted Nicole’s hand in aid and soon they were seated facing each other in the middle of the bed, Waverly sitting comfortably on Nicole’s crossed legs. It was intimate, as intimate as they’d been in a long time given Waverly’s difficulty in the last trimester of pregnancy and both women sighed at the feel of skin on skin.
Nicole snuggled her face into Waverly’s neck, leaving soft, reverent kisses on the skin and it made Waverly inhale deeply, the softness, the affection. Their breasts brushed together and Nicole’s hands were slow and deliberate on Waverly’s back, tracing patterns and love letters with each pass.
“Take what you need,” Waverly whispered, running her fingers through Nicole’s hair and down, across prominent shoulder blades and then the dimpled lower back that she so loved to kiss.
“We can’t, sweetheart, it’s only been two weeks since Willa.”
“Give me your hand.”
Nicole obeyed, letting Waverly hold her wrist. She guided Nicole’s hand down, past the little belly she still had from pregnancy, the little belly that made Nicole whisper “perfect” as her knuckles brushed it. And then with as much delicacy as she could muster, Waverly gently let Nicole’s fingers rest over her clit. Their eyes met and Waverly shifted slightly, releasing Nicole’s wrist to wrap her arm over her wife’s shoulders.
“Take what you need, baby.”
There was a pause, as if Nicole was thinking, but all Waverly could feel was fingers where she so wanted there to be fingers. She knew this woman, she knew what Nicole wanted, maybe even what she needed, but there had always been a respect between then. No one gave without asking first. No one received without consent.
“I took a life today,” Nicole said, never looking away from Waverly’s face. “I made a heart stop beatin’, made it slow down and stop. So I need to hear your heart now, strong and loud, and the breath in your lungs. I need to feel your life, Waverly, I need to hold it and protect it and I want you to do the same for me.”
They kissed then, soft and warm, lips sliding against lips, and Nicole started to move her fingers, slow, so agonizingly slow. It was going to be one of those nights, one of those hot nights despite the snow outside, and Waverly found herself already breathing deeply, arching her body against Nicole’s. She ran her tongue carefully over Nicole’s lips, tracing them, and it earned her a sharp gasp like she knew it would, an exhale into her mouth that made her own hips thrust forward.
Nicole lowered her head then, peppering Waverly’s shoulder with kisses and her collarbone. With her free hand, she traced the path up Waverly’s rib cage and then carefully circled one breast, cautious of the sensitive nipple. Waverly could hardly stand it anymore and releasing her grasp on Nicole’s back, she reached down between then, tugging on the trimmed hair she found between Nicole’s legs.
“God, Waverly,” her wife moaned, leaning her head against Waverly’s shoulder as nimble fingers pinched her clit hard. They rocked against each other, pushed so tightly together by grasping hands and arching bodies. Waverly knew she was leaving crescent moon scratches on Nicole’s back, but each mark said I’m here and I’m okay and you’re mine and I love you. She could feel how wet her wife was, she wanted more, she wanted to go inside and take all of the woman in front of her, but she never wanted to leave Nicole’s lap, never wanted to stop the brush of hard nipples against her own.
It had been a long time for both of them, Waverly knew it would be fast, but she let herself feel her wife’s fingers, feel how they circled and pressed and touched her just right. She gave into it, how safe she felt, how good Nicole felt, and allowed herself the luxury or her senses. Because Nicole’s gasps were in her ear, and Nicole’s taste was in her mouth, and Nicole was all she could see. The skin beneath her grasping fingertips was soft and smooth and the skin between Nicole’s legs was slick and silk and her wife smelled like sweat and snow and everything Waverly had ever wanted in the world.
Nicole’s mouth was hard against her shoulder and her fingers were relentless against her clit and it took all of Waverly’s will to keep her own fingers moving, to continue stroking and squeezing the swollen clit that she so desperately wanted in her mouth. But then Nicole’s teeth teased her collarbone, the sudden flash of pain jolted her hard, hard enough to send her spinning backwards, to make her thrust relentlessly against the wide hips beneath her, to make her gasp and call out and see stars and galaxies and Nicole’s face always, always that face.
She felt Nicole strong arm behind her, holding her up, and seconds later her wife’s body arched hard against her, her own name falling from those lips, her name wrapped in ancient wonder. And then they were panting against each other, holding on tight, and Waverly felt Nicole shake under her hands, as hot tears splashed against her shoulder.
“Sshhh,” she whispered soothingly, rubbing Nicole’s back while pressing soft kisses to her hairline.
“I was scared. I was scared that man was going to take me away from you.”
“Well, he didn’t now did he?”
Waverly felt Nicole shake her head fiercely against her and it made her grin. Wyatt did the same thing after he got in trouble.
“I’m not sure anything could take you away from me, Nicole Haught. You know I’d track you down with my big brain and that flamethrower Wynonna stashed in the barn.”
This garnered a laugh, a genuine laugh, and Waverly knew at that moment that no matter how difficult the next few days were going to be, Nicole was going to be okay.
Her wife lay back then, pulling Waverly on top of her and holding her there.
“Too heavy?” Waverly asked, looking up to find Nicole looking exhausted.
“Never,” came the response. Waverly stayed watching Nicole long after she’d fallen asleep, but no nightmares came. Instead, Waverly reached up and gently brushed some hair from Nicole’s brow. It earned her a grin, just like Wyatt.
Resting her face snuggly against Nicole’s chest, Waverly listened to the reassuring sound of her wife’s heartbeat before letting herself sleep. It was solid and strong. It was safe. And Wyatt would need juice in four hours. And Willa milk an hour after that. Waverly smiled against Nicole’s skin and closed her eyes, her last waking thoughts of the sunrise and Nicole’s mouth and the snow holding them all safely in its grasp.