Work Text:
The kettle whistles and Waverly quickly pulls it away from the glowing burner. She grabs one mug for herself, then another for Chrissy, trying to give her hopefully-just-sprained wrist some rest.
She remembers, for the first time this morning, that she has the lunch shift at Shorty’s later — how is she going to get through it with only one good hand? She licks her lips and tries to lift one of the empty mugs up with her left hand, but immediately winces at the small amount of weight bearing effort.
There’s no way she can do her shift.
She’ll just tell Gus she slipped into n the ice and landed on it wrong. Who cares how many lies get piled onto this day at this point, anyway?
The party was an absolute disaster.
Waverly’s accepted that the whole reason she threw the party in the first place was so she could keep lying to herself — that the curse wasn’t changing her, that she could still be exactly who she’s always been, even with the demons.
She was wrong.
The truth had reared its ugly head, despite Waverly’s best efforts and now Stephanie and the Blacksmith are both dead. She feels the bubble of laughter creep up her throat and knows she’s still in a bit of shock — she’ll be glad for the day, if it ever comes, when she can just cry but she knows it’s unlikely to happen.
She pours the hot water into the two mugs, trying to bring her focus forward and be present for her friend that’s still alive.
Waverly tries to ask Chrissy, who’s in the other room, if she’d like to pick what kind of tea she’d like, but her voice makes no sound.
For once in your life, be smarter than you look and shut up!
She feels empty and heavy, surrounded by regrettable last words. She looks down at the mugs of water and closes her eyes to avoid her own reflection.
How could she have said those things?
Waverly knows and has always really known, that there was a falseness to her friendship with Stephanie. It’s easy to lie to yourself, though, when its reward is likability.
Spending time with Wynonna and breaking up with Champ were pretty much the nails in Waverly’s coffin as far as Stephanie was concerned. She knows this. Stephanie was rude and single-minded, and hurtful, but she didn’t deserve to die — and her death didn’t deserve the story that Wynonna had made up for her.
And it was all Waverly’s fault.
After Constance Clootie drove away, Wynonna took in the scene and asked — demanded, really — to know what happened. Doc made himself scarce, so Waverly divulged the evening’s events as quickly as she could so they could get out of the cold.
Constance’s cronies — were they human before? Had Waverly killed a human? It’s likely she would never know — they were to be buried off of Mattie’s it land, unmarked. Their deaths, Wynonna said, didn’t matter — Waverly’s stomach turns remembering how she hadn’t even argued.
She hadn’t done anything.
She simply agreed that she would tell Chrissy that Doc had Wynonna come and take the body of ‘the stripper’ back to the authorities and fill out all of the necessary paperwork; it gave the perfect reason as to why the cops couldn’t come out to the property immediately.
Wynonna made it sound so easy.
Since Chrissy was in the house still, the police would eventually have to come, and Chrissy had witnessed Waverly kill the first guy, so his story was easiest — but there couldn’t be any more dead bodies that on Earp property when Nedley did show up.
Waverly doesn’t remember if she even asked if there was an easier, better option; it all seems like a blur — but she does remember the slight strain in Wynonna’s voice, every ounce of her patience stretching to cover the frustration of Waverly’s mistakes.
Mattie, the Blacksmith, would be placed in her barn to ‘be found’ later. Doc and Wynonna put the blacksmith and the two men in the bed of Wynonna’s truck, covered in a tarp, and Wynonna moved the truck to the barn so they could take care of Stephanie first — Stephanie was the one that the town of Purgatory would have the most concern for.
Waverly couldn’t bring herself to watch any of it happen, she just made sure that Chrissy was occupied — so she couldn’t bear witness either, while Doc and Wynonna put Stephanie back in her own driver’s seat in order to stage a drunk driving accident off a dark, quiet road before sunrise.
Waverly hasn’t been able to look toward the barn since — even though Doc and Wynonna left for the Blacksmith’s property two hours ago, bodies in tow, leaving Waverly with nothing but her own reflection to haunt her. L
She hasn’t been able to look at herself since then either.
Doc and Wynonna certainly bore the brunt of the cold and the heavy lifting, while Waverly convinced Chrissy to watch a movie — loudly — and call it a night, but Waverly carries all of the guilt.
Doc probably should, but Waverly doesn’t think he’s capable anymore. Even with his almost sincere apology, she’s still furious with him. Had Doc played his part as he was meant to, Stephanie wouldn’t be dead. Stephanie wouldn’t be dead and Waverly wouldn’t bear the guilt of knowing that the most honest thing she’s ever said to Stephanie, in her entire life, lead to her walking right into a trap and to her death.
All that for a moment of honesty.
The honest truth, Waverly knows, is that none of this would have happened had she just stayed in her lane — with Champ, and her group of friends, and her job at Shorty’s.
Though, her only role now is to omit all truth — like she’s done for years, and make sure that Chrissy thinks Wynonna took care of the fake stripper and spent the majority of the evening filling out the correct paperwork with the Purgatory Police and Black Badge.
She feels like she should be upset that she’s been given the least important task — again, but it’s been hard enough to just get through the night, so she can’t find it in herself to care right now.
Just keep lying.
That’s the plan.
Waverly had told Chrissy, before her friend went to sleep, that their statements would be taken early in the morning, since the already small police department had their hands full. Chrissy had sleepily obliged — never asking about the skull she saw Waverly pull out of a vent in the wall — leaving Waverly to her thoughts.
Waverly never made it to sleep, though, and two separate ‘check-ins’ from Doc and Wynonna later, the sun is rising and Chrissy is awake, and the cops will be called to the homestead soon.
Waverly can’t hide in her own pity anymore — she just has to keep lying for a little while longer. The smile she practices on her face feels grim, so she decides to play the tired card instead and walk into the living room where Chrissy is.
She just needs to keep a level voice.
Chrissy is folding up a blanket when Waverly walks in, and startles slightly to the sound of Waverly’s voice, “Do you want to pick out any tea? Sorry to scare you.”
“It’s okay, Waves. Is there any tea made for a stiff neck?” Chrissy rubs her neck as she chuckles lightly.
Waverly can tell her friend is trying to make light of their grim moods, but an apology slips out nonetheless, “Sorry, I should have offered my bed, but y-“
“Waverly, I was making a silly joke. I’m glad you offered to let me stay — I don’t think I would have wanted either of us to be alone after last night.” Chrissy says, touching Waverly’s shoulder reassuringly.
Waverly is grateful for Chrissy’s awareness — and thinks she could learn from her friend’s ability to know when to press the subject and when to let very little say a lot. All those years as the sheriff’s daughter probably gave her tons of first-hand experience in subtlety.
“I’m glad you stayed, too.” She knows her smile is sad, but Waverly hopes it looks as genuine as she feels. “I have a few different teas in the box on the counter. You’re more than welcome to pick any that you’d like. Do you want any breakfast?”
Chrissy thanks her and heads into the kitchen to sift through the variety of tea available. “I think I’m alright on breakfast, but thanks Waves.” She grabs her bag of tea and looks back at Waverly, gesturing that the box is hers to sort through. “Do you know when Officer Haught will be getting here? I’m a little nervous to give my statement to someone that’s not my dad, you know? I have no idea what kind of questions she’ll ask.”
“Officer Haught?” Waverly hears the surprise in her voice and tries to focus on the tea she’s sifting through, although she finds herself incapable of focusing on any words. She thought, for sure it would be Nedley, he’s always dealt with anything Earp related; Waverly finds herself nervous now too.
What will Officer Haught — will Nicole — think of this?
Will Waverly have to lie to her too?
Chrissy’s voice pulls Waverly out of her potential spiral, “Yeah, my dad’s new deputy. He’s in the middle of his days off right now. Officer Haught is really nice though — we’ll at least outside of work.”
“Yeah, I’ve m-“ Waverly starts, but the front door bursts open and Wynonna comes in. Waverly didn’t even hear the car roll up.
“Cops are here, let’s go Chrissy.” Wynonna says, gesturing Chrissy out the door and glancing over to Waverly briefly, expression unreadable.
“Oh, I um — let me grab my shoes and jacket I guess.” Chrissy says, putting her tea down. Waverly realizes suddenly that they’re both still in last night’s clothes, and feels bad that she didn’t even offer Chrissy something more comfortable as she watches her friend slip back into her heels.
She senses that her sister is looking at her and Waverly looks up to meet her eyes, not sure of what to expect. She’s surprised to see a look more tender than she’s used to seeing from Wynonna, and stands up a little taller — a weak smile crossing her lips.
Waverly recognizes that she’s subconsciously covered up whatever vulnerability Wynonna must have seen in her, and this last lie threatens to break her, and tears actually well in her eyes.
Tears.
“Thanks, Wynonna.” Chrissy says as she walks through the door being held for her. Waverly blinks away the welled tears, not letting them fall.
The front door closes and silence fills the small living room, while Wynonna silently assesses Waverly.
“Did it all go well?” Waverly asks as the silence becomes unbearable, and Wynonna’s silent scrutiny to uncomfortable for Waverly to sit through.
“Well — an interesting word to use.” Wynonna responds, not breaking eye contact.
“Wynonna, please.” The exhaustion is so present in her voice that Waverly almost regrets it.
“Waves, you don’t have to keep hiding. I can see it all on your face, so don’t ask me bullshit questions.” Wynonna’s face is stern, but her eyes practically plead with Waverly.
“It’s been a long night,” Waverly says, she sees Wynonna’s eyes fill with disappointment, her shoulders sinking slightly. “It’s a lot of lying, and now I have to go out and lie to N-Officer Haught.”
Realization hits Waverly in the pit of her stomach, but Wynonna, for once, doesn’t seem to see it, and doesn’t allow any silence to fall over them again, jumping on the end of Waverly’s sentence in the protective tone that she’s come to recognize, “You’re not talking to the cops.”
Waverly’s confusion is clearly read on her face because Wynonna doesn’t let her respond, “Baby girl, I know that tonight was — a lot. I don’t need to watch some cop ask questions she doesn’t know about. Just,” Wynonna puts her hands on Waverly’s arms, and Waverly sees her sister give her another ounce of her patience, “please trust me. Stay here. Get rest.”
Waverly pulls Wynonna in for a hug and knows it’s surprised her. There aren’t any words that Waverly can think to say, but she whispers her thanks into her sister's shoulder and feels Wynonna squeeze a little harder.
“We’ll talk later, okay? Get the sheriff’s daughter out of here and go to sleep.” Wynonna puts on her indifferent voice again, clearly done with her own vulnerability for the time being, and exits the house without another word.
Waverly stands in the silent room for a moment and realizes she’s alone for the first time since before the party.
The house feels much different now.
The exhaustion has seeped all the way into her bones, but Waverly knows she needs to make sure Chrissy gets home before her job is really done. She’s glad she doesn’t have to give a statement.
She doesn’t have to lie anymore.
She is, though, a little disappointed that she doesn’t get to speak to Nicole.
Absentmindedly, Waverly grabs a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Maybe she could at least see Nicole; she won’t even leave the porch.
She’ll just smile and wave.