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spookysteddie · 11 months ago

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I'll Take Care Of You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ Minors DNI

cw: SPOILERS FOR FARGO EPISODE 9, angst / hurt / comfort, Roy being a fucking dick, talks of eyes, medical talk, blood, violence, sad boy!gator, kidnapping, marriage. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.6k

a/n: look... I am holding out hope our favorite Sheriff will be able to see. I dunno I'm delulu as fuck okay? Anyway, this is a little sad but I have no shame and love how I ended it. I hope y'all do too!

...

You feel like you’re going to be sick as you stand there staring at the man in front of you.

His eyes are covered and all you can see is blood, his hand tied behind his back and the rope around his neck being used as a fucking leash. You’re back far enough that Munch can’t see you, but you can see him and you can see Roy standing there like a fucking idiot.

Gator is shaking and it isn’t from the bitter winter. No, it’s fear, pure unadulterated fucking fear. You watch his chest rise shakily. He’s crying, his sobs reaching you, your heart breaking. You place your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your own sobs. You can’t be seen, you can’t risk not being able to help Gator.

He’s been gone for a little over a day, no one seeing him after he went to talk to Dot. You had gone to work, having told Gator you’d be back by four. But when you got home his cruiser wasn’t in the driveway. You’d called everyone asking if they’d seen your fiance. Even going as far as asking Karen if she knew where he was or what happened that day. Besides Roy being embarrassed at the debate, she said everything was normal. Roy had made Gator stay back to keep watch over Dot. You thought it was fucking stupid, singeling him out per usual.

By the time Roy gets home, asking you if you’d seen Gator and accusing you of covering for him. Typical Roy behavior, he doesn’t even seem to be worried that his fucking only son is missing, instead telling Karen to get dinner ready because he’s hungry. You want to scream, you want to shake him and tell him how much of a shitty father he is. But you don’t, instead you go to you and Gators shared room, wrap yourself up in one of his shirts and keep calling around. You have no luck and instead, cry yourself to sleep.

By the time morning rolls around, you being woken up by Roys stupid fucking freedom fighters banging around inside the house, Gator still hasn’t been found. Roys head is so far up his own ass that when you ask if he’s heard anything, he shrugs.

You’re close enough to hear what they’re saying, Munch speaking in rhymes as usual and Gator gasping for breath every time Munch tugs on the rope around Gators neck. You have a sickening feeling there are two missing pieces of Gator behind that burlap blindfold. Your stomach turns again, bile raising in the back of your throat.

Then, Munch shoves Gator into Roy, knocking them both to the ground. Your eyes close out of fear but when you open them again, Munch is nowhere to be found. But you don’t get up, scared Roy will shoot you on accident (or on purpose).

Gator cries as he rolls over, probably onto his broken arm, “daddy?” His pained cry reaches you, making tears fall faster.

Roy sits up and looks around, definitely looking for Much. “Quiet,” he says. His tone is stern and cold, not giving a single fuck that his son is back and that his son in clearly hurt. It makes your blood boil.

“Daddy? Daddy, I’m scared.” He sits up, arms still tied behind his back.

Roy sighs, standing up, “I said shut up.” Gator lets out a little sob, a little boy who is terrified and just needs his dad to show him an ounce of comfort. “If there ever was a point to you, it’s gone now.”

You swear you can see Gators heart crack in his chest as the words cut through his soul. He’s speechless as Roy walks away, leaving his son still bound on the cold, snowy ground. “Dad?” But he isn’t going to get an answer.

You decide you can make your move, Roy far out of sight. Gator hangs his head, sobs wracking him. He needs comfort.

You try and hold back your tears, clearing your throat. It doesn’t do any good, “Gator? Hey, sweetheart.” His head jerks up, blindly looking around.

“Baby?! Bunny, is-is that you?” He’s panting, anxiety mixing with his fright. He’s in fight or flight and you need to calm him down. You also have to get him somewhere safer to look over any injuries he has.

You smile, even though he can't see it, just hoping it translates in your voice. It doesn’t, adrenaline overpowering everything. Your hands shake as you carefully lift his chin. “I’m here, my love. Oh, I missed you so much. Let’s get you untied, yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t let it go,” he sobs while you take the rope off from around his neck, being careful not to touch near his eyes.

“Baby, you don’t have to be sorry. You and I both know that you were damned if you did let it go and damned if you didn’t.” It was true. There was no winning with Roy. Never. “I’m gonna go behind you and untie your hands okay. I’m gonna use my knife.”

“The pink one I got you?” He’s trying to distract himself, trying to keep his mind going.

You smile wider, “of course, my love. I always keep it on me. Never know when you're gonna need to stab someone.”

He doesn’t laugh.

When you finally get his hands free, they fall to his sides limply. His cast touching the ground. He just sighs deeply and you know it’s coming.

“I’m useless now,” his voice cracks and he sniffles. “I’m a loser and I’ll never be able to prove myself.”

You can feel your body heat with sadness and anger. Anger for the little boy who grew up without his mom. Anger for the little boy who wasn’t given a fair chance. Sadness for the little boy who just wanted his father to love him. Sadness for Gator Tillman who tried to be good, who wanted to be good, but whose father corrupted him and snuffed out his light before he turned five.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not useless. Do you hear me?” Your voice cracks at the end, unable to hold it in.

Gator shakes his head, reaching out to feel for you. You drop to your knees in front of him, grabbing his good hand. His cast hand reaches out and fiddles with the beautiful diamond he put on your finger five months ago.

“I am. Dad told me just now that he has no purpose for me anymore. I tried. I tried so hard. Why was it never enough? Why was I never enough?”

You carefully hug him, wanting to hold him tighter but knowing that’d be a bad idea. “Listen to me right now. You, Gator Tillman, are enough. You always have been. Your father is an asshole. A corrupt motherfucker who took his hatred for his mother out on you. It has never been fair.

“But you are good, Gator. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You tried your hardest and Roy kicked you over and over again. I will not do that. It’s you and me forever. Got it?”

All he does is nod and you take it as your cue to get him inside.

“I wanna look over your injuries and we’ll go to the hospital if we need to okay?”

You help him up, wrapping his good arm around you and letting him lean on you, walking towards the house. “I ain’t going to no the hospital. They’ll ask questions.”

“Gator, you might need to go to the hospital. I don’t even know what’s wrong with your eyes.”

He doesn’t answer, just silently walks inside with you. You give him time, letting him feel around for the railing so he can make it up to his room. You open the door, noticing the duffel bag of money sitting on his bed, which means Roy found it. It also means Roy was snooping around in here.

You shut and lock his door after settling him on the bed, making sure to grab the first aid kit from his bathroom. His chest still shakes a little here and there and your heart continues to break. You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t terrified of what you’ll find under that blindfold. There were few possibilities and you were prepared for the worst but hoping for the best.

You set everything up beside him taking a deep breath.

“Okay, my love. I’m gonna take this off okay? It might hurt but you can trust me okay?”

Gator nods.

You grab the scissors and start snipping by his ears, doing your best to not tug the fabric. Once it’s free you gently pull it back, swallowing the bile in your throat as you reveal his eyes.

“Oh, Gator…”

The cut runs from just above his eyebrow to his cheek. It cuts right through his lids so even as he closes his eyes, you’d still see his eyeballs. You wonder how Munch didn’t knick his eyeballs, he must’ve done it slowly, dragging out the pain.

You can’t stop the choked cry that flies up your throat. “Can-can you see me?”

He shakes his head, “I kinda can. But s’blurry and my eyes really hurt.”

You can tell that his eyelid and sewn together haphazardly, clearly Munch underestimated how much the eyes can bleed. You also can tell he’s burnt.

“Did he use something hot?” You ask as you start to clean the blood and dirt off of him. It’ll be no short of a miracle if he doesn’t get an infection.

“Mhm. Some kinda hot knife thing. I was awake for it. Hurt real bad.”

You know what you’re about to say isn’t going to go over well. But you try regardless, “you need to go to a hospital, Gator. I’m worried you’ll get an infection, not to mention tetanus.”

You watch him freeze, “we can’t. They asked me a ton of questions when Munch broke my fuckin’ arm. I don’t wanna answer their bullshit questions.”

“Gator, listen to me, I am not a doctor and I am worried that if we don’t help you that you’ll lose your vision.”

He tips his head to the ceiling, sighing deeply, “m’scared. I’m so scared. What if I don’t get my sight back? We’re supposed to get married.”

You clean down his neck, sighing at the bruise there. “Well for one, we’re getting married even if you can’t see me. I still love you all the same. And two, the sooner we get you there, the more likely it is they’ll save your vision. Okay?”

You can see his lips wobble even though he does his best to hide it. “Please don’t leave me,” it comes out in the softest whisper and any remaining pieces of your heart shatter.

“Never, Gator. Never. You’re stuck with me for life.”

…

Six months later

It’s been a very, very long six months.

After you took Gator to the hospital, avoiding any questions that went further than the basics. You gave them the short and sweet answer, making up a few details as you went. You called in some of Gators co-workers, ones you know are on Roy's payroll to inform them about Munch.

Needless to say, Munch didn’t live past three days after the incident. You were more than fine with that, making sure to watch them place him in the grave on the farm to know he’s dead. For your sake and Gators.

Gator had to have a lot of surgeries on his eyes. His eyes were, like you suspected, burnt. It took a good month and a half to heal them. It was painful and you silently cried most nights as Gator groaned and cried in his sleep. When he slept, which was rare.

His nightmares of the situation causes him to wake up screaming, grabbing his chest as he pants. The first time it happened, you grabbed the gun from under his pillow, looking around for this unknown terror. Then you remembered Gator couldn’t see. He told you about his nightmare and you made sure to hold him tighter at night.

It was rare that you slept as well.

You spent a lot of time in church, praying to God that Gator would see again. You didn’t even believe in God, but you were willing to try anything if it meant Gator would be okay.

By month three they had, somehow, restored Gators sight in one of his eyes, the other one just blurry but he could semi see. It was nothing short of a miracle.

By the fourth month, he was back at work. On desk duty of course but it didn’t really matter to him. Well, it did but he knew it was more of a risk for him to be out arresting people at this time. The issue with small towns is people talk. You weren’t sure how, but people knew Roy had practically disowned Gator. They knew when he moved out of the house after you bought one for you two.

What they didn’t know was the conversation had between you and Roy. Conversation wasn’t the right word, actually. No one ever just had a conversation with Roy Tillman. It started with you telling him you were here to pack up Gators room. Of course, he gave you shit, telling you Gator wasn’t allowed to move out, saying he needed Gator close to check up on his health.

You’d never laughed so hard in your life. It ended with you screaming at him, telling him he was a piece of shit for leaving his hurt son in the dirt, tied up and crying. Roy just said he was weak and needed to be taught a lesson. But the time you left Roy had a bloody lip and a broken nose.

Now, at month six, Gator is doing well. He can see for the most part, going to therapy and back out in the field. You’ve never seen him so happy. Roy hasn’t attempted to contact either of you, Karen calling here and there in secret to check on Gator.

The only person who calls every other day is Dot. Dot is the one who came to visit Gator in the hospital, holding his hand while he apologized for not helping her and telling her he hopes she dies there. He didn’t mean it and she knew it. Dot accepted his apology and told him how proud she is of him, how much she’s always loved him. How she knows all he’s wanted was to be good. Gator cried then, hugging her so tightly.

Dot fixes your hair, smiling at you through the mirror.

You’re getting married today, deciding with Gator that this union needed to happen immediately. You needed him to be yours for the rest of your life and he wanted no one but you to have a say over his life.

So, you stand in your white dress, fingers wrapped around beautiful flowers. Gator stands at the end of the makeshift aisle in the field of your own ranch, the scar on his face slowly fading, less red than it was months ago, and tears falling from his eyes.

Gator’s daddy isn’t there and neither is Karen. But Dot and her husband are front and center, their daughter being your ring bearer and the wedding being paid for – though you argued about it – by Waynes mother.

And as you hand your flowers to your sister before taking Gator’s shaking hands in yours, Gator realizes that, for once, he’s safe with you and your love.

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