Work Text:
Your phone rings.
You sit up from your spot on the couch where you were half asleep with a beer in your hand, swinging your legs over the couch as you grab your phone and glance at the screen.
Unknown Number.
You answer and bring it to your ear.
The woman on the other line starts talking, but once the news hits, her condolences are muffled and suddenly the word’s too big. You cut her off mid sentence by hanging up the phone. You’d been informed your husband, Roderick Nelson, had been in Joe Carroll’s cult, and was deceased. Shot and killed by Joe’s people.
Next thing you knew you were at the hospital, demanding you see your deceased husband. They deny you. Over and over again. No matter the scene you caused.
You’re in tears as you yell at the lady at the front desk who seems tired. You don’t even know what you’re saying, it’s spilling out like water. That’s when two officers walk in, they know you. You know them. They feel almost equally betrayed by the sheriff. Kodie and Mark. You knew them and their wives. The come up to you, you being in the middle of an insult when you’re cut off by Kodie grabbing your shoulder.
“(Name)! (Name), calm down. There’s nothing they can do, and screaming at them won’t make them do anything besides ask you to be arrested.” Kodie says, his grip on your shoulder tight and grounding.
You snap out of your haze, you realize you’re a mess. Tears. Snot. You’re trembling. When you finally take notice and the adrenaline rush slows your legs give way and next thing you know, you’re on your knees, plopped against the counter you were earlier half climbing over. You’re embarrassed. But more so you’re overwhelmed, overwhelmed by the betrayal, grief and embarrassment. So many emotions.
Mark and Kodie kneel and help you up, grabbing your arms and shoulders and putting you back on your feet. You barely manage to hold your weight. Mark wraps an arm under your shoulders and him along with Kodie help you out of the hospital and out to their car.
They set your sniffling, trembling form in the back of their cruiser. They make sure you don’t hit your head on the way in and make sure your feet and hands are out of the way when they shut the door. You slump against said door after it’s shut. You can’t think. You’re thinking too much. That’s when you start crying again. Your shoulders shake and you bring your knees up to your chest. Mark and Kodie hop in the front of the cruiser, Kodie in driver, Mark in passenger.
The officers look at each other when they hear you sniffle, their hearts ache for you along with for themselves. They’re betrayed aswell. Roderick was important to them. They can’t even imagine how you feel, though.
Kodie starts the cruiser and pulls out into the night, driving toward your apartment. You don’t even realize you’re picking at your fingers until Mark looks back and realizes you’re bleeding. They’re nearly to your apartment so the just let you be till they pull in from of your complex. Then they hop out and Mark is at your side with a bandaid in an instant. He puts the bandage on your finger and the boys escort you up to your apartment. As soon as you’re inside, you shut the door on them.
The two officers pause for a moment, glancing at each other before Kodie speaks to you through the door.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll check on you in the morning. Get some sleep.”
The two wait for a moment and are met with a weak “mhm” from you, just enough for them to leave you alone.
Within an hour you’re drunk. And pissed. You’re crying.
You’re stumbling around the kitchen when you look over at the news report happening on the TV you turned on earlier. It’s about Joe’s cult. You grab the closest thing to you, which happens to be your toaster, and go to the living room and, with all your drunken might, throw the toaster at the tv. Effectively breaking it. The shatter and clatter is deafening. You slump onto the couch and start crying again. You promptly pass out soon enough.
Four grueling days of being unable to get out of bed, getting drunk and crying go by. It’s 11pm. You’re half asleep, unsurprisingly completely wasted. There’s a knock on the door. You groan.
“Go the fuck away I don’t want your sympathy casserole.” You slur. “I fucking hate casserole.” You add.
There’s a pause, then a muffled chuckle from outside the door, if you knew any better, you’d say it’s Roderick. Then there’s the voice.
“I know, sugar.” You must somehow also be high because that sounds like your Roderick.
“…who is it.?” You sit up, swaying.
“You’re drunk. Open the door, honey.”
You furrow your eyebrows. When you go to get up, you spill your beer. Your grumble before getting up and stumbling to the door, managing to open it but nearly falling on your ass.
You must be dreaming.
When you open the door you see your late husband. It’s Roderick.
“Who the fuck are you..?” You slur, not believing it’s him.
“Wow. It’s been four days. You really don’t recognize your own husband? Darlin’..” he says, a cocky smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest as he stands there dressed in jeans and a black t shirt you don’t recognize.
“..He’s dead..”
“He’s standing right here.”
…
You start crying.
“Oh darlin’..” his face softens in a way only you’ve seen.
“I hate you.” You whimper.
“Good. But let me at least get you cleaned up and in bed, and in the morning you can kill me.” He says.
You sway, nearly falling over and would have if he didn’t grab you and hold you up. You hug him. He hugs you back tightly.
“M’so sorry.”
He helps you inside and shuts the door behind him, he brings you to the room you used to share. You collapse on the bed. He sits you up and plucks the beer from your hand then removes your shirt that’s covered in spilt beer. He sighs and looks you over at the new bandages on you. You have a bad habit of picking at your skin when you’re overwhelmed and or anxious. You used to rarely make yourself bleed. Now every finger’s bandaged and your lips are scabbed over from being picked and bitten at. He leans forward and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying you down and tucking you in.
“I’m so sorry, sugar..”
You’re already passed out.
He gets up and turns off the light before sitting next to you.
“Goodnight, love.”