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Walker fic: Die young, stay pretty

When I saw episode 1.17 of Walker, “Dig,” I knew I needed a version with more whump. So here it is.

~~~

Emily was right, as usual.

“I wouldn’t ever dig my own grave.” Cordell had said that once, years ago. They were watching some forgettable movie (was it about cowboys? or maybe gangsters?) with a man being forced to dig a shallow grave at gunpoint. “If I’m gonna get shot anyway, why would I go through all that first? I’d just say no and let them shoot me then and there. Let the goons dig the hole.”

“But what if you wanted to use that time to think?” Emily had said. “To come up with a plan? Or to give someone else time to come rescue you?”

He’d laughed and pulled her closer. ”I’m the cavalry, sweetheart. No one’s gonna rescue me. I do the rescuing. Nah, I’d just call his bluff and say go ahead and shoot me, you dumbass goon. And keep in mind, you’re gonna have to dig a hell of a big hole if you wanna hide all this.”

But she had been right, as she always was. Because now he’s being held at gunpoint by a couple of - a couple of goons, the only word for them is goons - and he’s digging a hole that is surely meant to be his grave. And he’s watching and waiting for his opening. After all, he was right about one thing: no one’s going to rescue him.

Goon #1 is closer. Goon #2 is distracted, watching for someone, rifle slung over his shoulder, but Goon #1 is focused. Cordell’s knee buckles and he pauses for a moment to lean the shovel against the edge of the pit, to sweep the sweat out of his eyes and breathe for a little bit. Partly to stall for time but mostly because he’s fucking exhausted and everything hurts. After the truck rollover, the forced hike to this clearing, and digging the pit at gunpoint, he feels like someone spent an hour beating the crap out of him.

Goon #1 narrows his eyes at him, then leans over and rests the barrel of his gun against Cordell’s temple. The metal is cold, even in the stifling Austin heat, and Cordell can feel his pulse pounding against it. He holds his hands up in surrender and picks up the shovel again.

When the person Goon #2 is watching for does show up, Cordell isn’t surprised that it’s Stan. Half of him has been hoping Mendoza was mistaken, or lying. That it was all a misunderstanding that could be explained away as easily as Geri’s connection to the money was explained away. But the other half of him recognized immediately that Mendoza was telling the truth. And that half is ready to finally get revenge, to finally look into the eyes of the person responsible for Emily’s death as he wraps his hands around their throat.

The biggest surprise, though, is when Stan drags a body out of his truck. Any remaining hope Cordell has about his old friend being innocent vanishes completely. He continues pushing the shovel into the ground, one eye trained on Goon #1.

Stan doesn’t speak to him. Doesn’t even look at him, really, and that’s a bad goddamn sign. Because if you’re going to kill a longtime family friend, murder him in cold blood and leave him in a shallow grave, it’s going to be hard to look him in the eye. Instead, Stan starts yelling at Goon #2 about plans gone wrong and needing time to think.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cordell watches Goon #1’s revolver dip lower as he’s distracted by the argument. When Goon #2 angrily shoves his rifle at Stan, Cordell makes his move. He swings the shovel into Goon #1’s solar plexus, knocking him into the pit. He grabs the guy’s gun with one hand and his neck with the other, pulls him in close, and pushes the barrel into his chest. One shot and Goon #1 is down.

He wheels toward Stan and Goon #2. The goon is running toward him, so Cordell takes him out with a shot to the core. Then his right arm explodes in a white hot flash of pain and the gun drops from his numb fingers. Stan is looking down at him from the edge of the pit, rifle trained on him.

“Sorry, son. I’m gonna need you to put your hands behind your head.”

“I’m kinda defenseless here, Stan.” Cordell’s right arm hangs limp and useless at his side. Blood runs down his fingertips, pattering onto the broken earth. He nods toward the body lying next to Stan’s truck. “What about that guy? Was he defenseless too? When you killed him?”

“That was an accident.”

“And Emily? Was she an accident?”

Stan sighs. "I didn't want anything to happen to Emily. You have to know that, Cordell. I never would have hurt her if I had a choice, not for the world. But there was nothing I could do. She saw something they didn’t want anyone to see, and that was that. If I had tried to save her, they would have killed me and her. I couldn’t save her.”

“Sure,” Cordell says. He somehow manages to sound calm, even though everything inside of him is screaming. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Stan is still pointing the rifle at his chest. So this is it, then. Stan killed Emily and he’s about to kill Cordell and no one’s ever going to know. He wishes he’d told someone about his suspicions before he went running off on his own. He wishes he’d had a chance to hug his kids one more time, to say goodbye to his parents and his brother. He wishes a lot of things.

“I’m sorry it has to end like this,” Stan says. “I hate to do this. I really do.”

“Well, I’m sure it gets easier every time,” Cordell snaps. Time stretches out. He hears his own labored breathing, and the gentle drip of his blood hitting the dirt. He can almost hear his own heartbeat.

Then Stan’s mouth twitches into something that’s part smile, part grimace. “No,” he says quietly, “I don't believe it does.”

(I’m sorry, Em. I tried.)

There’s another bright burst of pain, and a thump in his chest like he’s been kicked by a horse. Cordell slumps against the side of the pit and then slips down into darkness.

~~~

“Hey, cowboy.”

They’re lying in a big bed. Not their bed, not their house. There are wooden beams running overhead and gauzy white curtains covering a glass door that opens onto a balcony. He can hear sounds from outside, music and happy voices floating up into their room. Emily’s head is on his shoulder, he’s running his fingers through her hair, and they’re barely paying attention to the television. There’s a movie on, gangsters or cowboys or something.

“You remember this place?” she asks.

He does. “That hotel in San Antonio, on the riverwalk. We came here for our anniversary. This is where we saw the movie, the one where the guy was digging his own grave, and I said I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did. And it didn’t matter. I didn’t come up with a plan and nobody rescued me.” He puts a finger on her chin and tilts her head up for a kiss. “It’s okay, though. At least I get to be here with you.”

Emily looks at him with sad dark eyes and doesn’t say anything.

~~~

Liam Walker spends his entire life watching his brother defy death. Cordell is always climbing things he shouldn't climb, taunting animals he shouldn't taunt, swimming in the pond on the south forty acres even though Daddy had warned them about snakes, inventing insane games with Hoyt Rawlins like truck surfing and rake jousting and chicken played against an angry bull. Die young, stay pretty, he always says. And if you survive, chicks dig scars, Hoyt always responds. Cordi considers himself invincible, and every day Liam fears he’ll be proven wrong.

But it isn't until Liam is ten years old that he starts seriously expecting his brother to die. Cordell gets arrested for something stupid, some ridiculous prank that involves breaking and entering and a fire and God knows what else, and their father lets him stew in the county jail overnight before bailing him out. The next day, Daddy is furious. Mama is horrified. And Liam stands in the hallway, listening unnoticed as they both light into his brother. “You're a goddamned idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed!” Cordell stands there and takes it, head bowed, but when he heads back to his room he winks at Liam and says "Die young, stay pretty, right?"

It doesn’t stop when Cordell graduates from high school; the stakes just get higher. Liam spends years waiting for his brother to return from Afghanistan in a flag-draped box. And then the undercover shitshow that almost feels like a passive suicide attempt, like some kind of subconscious mission to follow Emily into the dark. And the silent months at the end of it waiting for the phone call saying he'd done it; he'd died young.

All of this is to say that when Micki calls and says Cordell's truck has been found, wrecked and empty, Liam's second thought is he obviously got out, so he's just walking around somewhere in a daze; we'll find him and he'll be fine. But his first thought is maybe this is the day; maybe he finally did it.

Micki tells them all to stay home and let the proper authorities take care of it. Liam and his father ignore her. Abilene says she’ll stay at the house with Stella and Augie. "Someone needs to be here in case he comes home," she tells them. "You know how your daddy is. He'll get a ride from a friend and come strolling up here asking what's for dinner." And she might even believe it. But Liam can see on Stella’s face that her thoughts mirror his own. No, that's not how he is. How he is, is that he goes out and does something reckless, something crazy, something dangerous, and disappears, and you just sit and wait for someone to come tell you he's dead.

“He’s fine,” Liam tells her. He puts on his best everything will be okay expression, the one he wore for the kids so frequently when Cordell was gone. “We’ll find him. He’s fine.”

He almost believes it himself.

~~~

When Liam and Bonham pull up at the scene of the wreck, Micki greets them with an eyeroll. "Someday, one of the Walker boys is gonna do what I tell him to do."

"Maybe someday," says Bonham. "But not today."

The truck is a mess. Liam can’t imagine Cordell calmly getting out and walking away. "His phone's buried in here somewhere," Micki says. "I can hear it ringing when I call him. Things go flying around in a rollover. So it's possible he couldn't find it and he just started walking."

"But you don't think that's what happened," says Liam.

She pauses, as if considering how much to tell him. “Well, there’s this.” Micki motions them over to the driver's side and points to a scrape of grey paint. "Has he been in a wreck lately? Because this looks like he was hit by another car."

Bonham clenches his fists. "This is new. Someone did this? You think someone ran him off the road on purpose?"

"We don't know," Micki says. "It's entirely possible that it was an accident, and the other driver gave him a ride, maybe took him to the hospital. But no one has heard from him and he hasn't shown up in any local hospitals or walk-in clinics yet, so I think we're going to assume that isn't what happened. If it turns out I'm wrong, we'll just be pleasantly surprised. Right now we're calling in a search team and setting up a grid." She keeps talking, something about APBs and grey vehicles with red paint, but Liam is distracted by something on the ground. A long line scratched through the grass, as if gouged into the dirt by someone’s boot heel. It points away from the wreck, off into a line of trees about a hundred yards away.

"He went this way!"

Bonham and Micki turn to him, confused.

"Here, look. He used to do this when we'd play hide and seek, when I was little. He always left me a clue.” It took a long time for Liam to realize his big brother was doing it on purpose. For years, he just took pride in his observation skills. “He made this same mark for me. He pointed me in the right direction."

“All right then,” Bonham says. “We go that way.”

Micki puts a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. We’ll have a search team here in just a minute. We should…” She trails off, looking toward the trees. “No. Let’s go find him.”

~~~

They keep their eyes on the ground as they walk, looking for more lines scraped into the dirt. After five minutes or so, Liam is afraid it wasn’t an intentional signal after all, but Bonham spots the next one. Cordell is out here somewhere. Out here and signaling for help.

Micki stops to answer a radio call from the search team when they arrive on the scene, and Bonham slows down after several minutes of walking, so Liam is the one who crests a ridge first and sees it. A clearing. And in that clearing, a large mound of dirt that looks too much like a grave. He yells something. Later he won’t remember what it was, Cordell or Daddy or fuck, or something else. All he remembers later is that he’s screaming when he runs, is still screaming when he falls to his knees at the edge of the pile of dirt, when he sees the hand.

It isn’t Cordi’s hand. The fingers are too short and the hair on the back is too heavy, too dark. But it’s a man’s hand sticking out of this makeshift grave. Liam grabs it and pulls, but the rest of the man doesn’t budge. He starts frantically scooping away the loose dirt with his hands, revealing an arm and then a chest. Then he feels someone hit the ground next to him.

His father’s voice. “Oh God. That’s not -“

“No! Help me dig!”

In a moment Micki is there on her radio, giving coordinates and talking about shovels and an ambulance. Liam and Bonham manage to uncover the man’s upper body. His face has the grey cast of someone who’s been dead a few hours. Liam has no idea who he is, and honestly doesn’t care, because it’s not Cordell. He leans over to grab one arm and Bonham grabs the other. They’re finally able to pull the dead man out of the dirt, and Liam hears his father’s quick intake of breath as they see what was underneath the body. Who was underneath the body.

Cordell is leaning against the side of the pit as if he’d been seated and then slumped over in sleep. The body on top of him apparently shielded him from much of the dirt. He’s covered in dirt and what looks like blood, but the soil that was shoveled into this godforsaken hole didn’t cover his face. There was air there, at least for a while, if he was alive to breathe it.

They dump the dead man unceremoniously at the edge of the pit. Liam jumps into the hole and kneels next to his brother, putting his fingers against his throat. The man they just pulled out was cold, but Cordell’s skin is still warm. And there, against his fingertips - a flutter of movement. And then another, and another.

“He’s alive!” he yells. “Daddy, he’s still alive!”

Bonham had been moving slow and stiff, but he jumps into the pit with the agility of a decades-younger man. Together they frantically shove dirt away from Cordell. Micki’s there now, warning them to be careful, to wait for EMS, but Liam and his father know one thing - they’re getting Cordell out of this goddamn hole. Once they’ve cleared enough of the dirt away, Bonham grabs his legs and Liam bends Cordi’s torso forward so he can slide behind him. He grabs his arms and tries to get into position to lift his brother out of the pit. But when he lifts, Cordell wakes with a gasp of pain.

Liam eases him back as gently as he can, kneeling next to him. “Cordi,” he says. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Cordell’s eyes flicker open for a moment. “Liam?” His voice is faint and hoarse.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.” Which is a lie. Cordell is not okay. He’s not as grey as the body they pulled off of him, but his face is pale and his lips are faintly blue.

“Micki!” Bonham yells. “Where’s the ambulance?”

Micki doesn’t answer, but Liam looks up to see her several yards away, at the top of the ridge, facing away from them. She’s waving her arms to catch the ambulance driver’s attention. It must be close (please, God, let it be close).

Liam turns back to his brother. “Tell me what happened. Where are you hurt? Who did this?”

Cordell coughs wetly. “Stan. It was Stan Morrison.”

”Stan Morrison? What the - why? Why would he do this to you?”

Cordell opens his eyes and grasps at Liam. “He killed Emily. Tell Cap…” He stops and tries to take a deep breath. It triggers another wet cough. “Make sure James knows. He confessed. Stan killed Emily.”

Liam looks up and meets his father’s eyes to make sure they heard the same thing. Because that can’t be true. It can’t possibly be true.

“If I don’t make it…” Cordell coughs again. Blood splatters onto his lips, and bloody foam trickles from the side of his mouth. “Tell him. Tell him to talk to Mendoza. She was a witness, so Stan killed her. Promise, Liam. Make him talk to Mendoza.”

“Shut up. You can tell him yourself.” But Cordell’s eyes close and he goes silent.

The EMTs arrive and Micki pulls him away from his brother. “Let them do their job. He’ll be okay.” And then more officers are there and there are phone calls to be made and a statement to be taken (what do you need? I dug my not-quite-dead brother out of a grave and he says a family friend did it and also murdered his wife, for fuck’s sake, that’s all I know) and suddenly Liam looks up and sees the ambulance bouncing back toward the road. Bonham watches with him as it moves over the ridge and out of their sight, then slumps against a squad car. He looks pale and wiped out.

“Micki?” Liam says. “You think someone could give my dad a ride back to his truck?”

“I don’t need a ride!” Bonham snaps. “I’m fine.”

But Micki sees it too. “Mr. Walker,” she says, “They’re taking Cordell to Dell Seton hospital. I’m sure you want to get back to your family as soon as possible and get everyone over there. Let one of the guys here give you a head start by driving you to your truck.”

He acquiesces. “Yeah, yeah, okay. You coming?”

“I, ah.” Liam turns to Micki. “I’ll meet you there, if Micki doesn't mind giving me a ride. I need to call Larry James.” And this is true, but it’s equally true that he needs to drop the everything will be okay expression for just a bit.

~~~

By the time they all get to the hospital, Cordell is already in surgery. He's fine, the surgeon tells them afterward. He’s going to be fine. He had a couple of bullet wounds, a punctured lung, broken ribs, damage to his shoulder that shouldn't be permanent. Lost a lot of blood. But he’s going to be fine.

This time, anyway.

~~~

Only two visitors at a time are allowed into Cordell's room, so Stella and Augie go in first. Liam paces. Bonham retreats to the end of the hall to make a call. Abilene sits alone on the ugly burnt-orange vinyl bench. She's the toughest woman Liam knows, but right now she looks like a broken baby bird. She digs in her purse for a tissue, and Liam realizes tears are streaming down her cheeks. He sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulder. “Mama, he's gonna be fine. There's no reason to cry.”

“Oh, Liam,” she sighs. Her voice is shaky. “I just don’t know why this family has to go through so much. After Emily, and you, and Cordi and Hoyt. I don’t like my babies being hurt. I can’t stand it.”

Liam resists the impulse to reach up and touch the scar where Stella cauterized his gunshot wound. “Well, maybe this is it. Maybe we’ve used up all our bad luck, and there’s nothing but good times ahead.”

Abilene laughs a shaky little laugh. “Maybe so. It would only be fair.” She wipes her eyes and puts on her own everything is okay face as Stella and Augie step out of the room.

Daddy must have been watching, because he ends his call quickly and takes Mama's hand to escort her into Cordell's room. Liam puts his arms up and the kids snuggle next to him, one under each arm, like they used to do when they were worried about their dad. When Liam was pretending not to be worried about him too.

"The guy who shot him is still out there," Stella says, and Liam suddenly realizes he doesn't know what they've been told, if they know an old family friend murdered their mother and then tried to kill their father. No one talked about Stan in the waiting room, and these kids are used to their father being a target. It's so fucking unfair. They shouldn't all have to spend their lives waiting for something horrible to happen.

"It's okay," he says. "I'm going to stay here tonight to keep guard. No one's going to hurt him."

~~~

Mama and Daddy take the kids home, and Liam finally opens the door to Cordell's room. It's dim - all the lights are off except a light over the sink - but he can see his brother well enough. The blood and dirt have been washed off, revealing cuts and bruises to his face. His chest and right arm are heavily bandaged, with a wound drain snaking out from his bandaged chest. An oxygen canula is taped under his nose.

"Hey, Stinker," Cordell says. "You all right?"

"Am I all right? Jesus, Cordi." Liam sits in the small side chair and angles it so he can see his brother's face. "How do you feel?"

Cordell tries to speak again, but falls into a coughing fit. Liam grabs the plastic water mug on the bedside table and holds the straw up to his lips. Cordell presses one hand against his chest incision and takes a small sip of water. "You talked to Larry James?" he says.

"I did. But I didn't know much. He said he'd send someone to talk to Mendoza, and he'll be up in the morning to get your statement. What the hell, Cordell? You said she was a witness?"

"Yeah. Stan was involved in some shit. Emily saw it." He closes his eyes and sighs. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. I'm kinda..."

"Yeah, no, sure. I'll hear it in the morning anyway. I'm going to stay here tonight."

"What do you mean, stay here? Go on home, man. You look like crap."

"Yeah, I don't think so. There's a man out there who wants to kill you. Think I'll hang around and make sure he doesn't."

"For fuck's sake, Liam. There's no reason to think he's going to come up here and finish me off."

Liam stands. His pulse pounds hot against his branded scar. "And yesterday there was no reason to think he was going to shoot you and bury you in a mass grave. But he did it, Cordell. And I'm not giving him the opportunity to do it again!"

"Liam -"

"No." Too loud, he's in a hospital and he's too damn loud. "Could you, just once in your life," he hisses, "stop trying to die?"

Cordell blinks in shock. "Okay," he says softly. "Okay. Stay here, if it makes you feel better."

"It does." Liam sits again, a little embarrassed, a lot relieved."You know, you can give up on that whole die young, stay pretty plan,” he says. “It's too late. You're old."

Something painful flickers across Cordell's face, and Liam immediately regrets whatever memory he unintentionally dredged up. Emily, Hoyt, their whole lives ahead of them. But then his brother smiles a faded ghost of a smile. "Maybe so," Cordell says. "But I'm still pretty."

Liam pats his ankle. "Yeah, I guess. For such an old guy."

(Maybe, just maybe, he’ll actually get old. Maybe Liam can make that happen.)

~~~

Please note that, though I’m posting this after s4, I actually wrote the vast majority of it during s1. In other words, I buried him first.