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It took a while before she even really had time to think about it, after everything. What with the vision and the widows and the dying and the sudden change from 'I really like Dolls but this clearly isn't ever happening' to having 'Okay, no, you really, really need to call me Xavier' in her bed, warm and solid and affectionate. He hadn't really left yet.

He'd had one moment of getting spooked, the morning after. Talking about how he hadn't meant to barge his way into her bed, it had just been late and she'd been so exhausted and asked him to stay, and he knew it didn't mean—and her being pregnant with Doc's kid and how he shouldn't be intruding—

She'd impulsively halted the ramble by grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him to her for a kiss.

"Dude, no take-backsies?" it had come out more of a plea than she'd intended, anxiety suddenly clenching at her gut. She let go of his face and dropped her forehead against his shoulder, mumbling "I want you here."

For a moment he'd backed away, her heart sinking, but then he turned her sideways a little and embraced her tightly, belly less in the way. The warm press of his lips against her temple made her smile.

"I really want to be here, so that works out nicely," he said, voice a little less composed that unusual.


That night they were curled up together, her belly awkward in between them. It was hard to get comfortable, and his broad hand sweeping soothing warm passes over her back was helping, finally relaxing enough to let her mind idle.  

She'd already told him what she'd learned about the curse, but here, in the peace of this quiet moment, her mind went back to Robert Svane.

"I discovered something weird, in my vision," she said against Xavier's chest.

He hummed a question, shifting just slightly so her voice wasn't muffled.

"I told you about Robert Svane, right?"

"Wyatt Earp's friend? You said Clootie used him as shield and he told Wyatt Earp to shoot through him." His voice was a low rumble.

"Yeah. He got caught up in the curse too, became a Revenant." She burrowed a little closer into him.

"Hmm, you'd think somebody like that would be a target to the others. Maybe he's staying away." After a long moment he prompted, "what about him?"

"Bobo del Rey," she blurted, still feeling the same surprise as the first moment she'd seen it.

Xavier jolted in surprise. "What? Are you saying he was Robert Svane—you're sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"I gotta... I need a moment to wrap my brain around that."

"Right? I'm still working on it."

Wynonna slipped her hand up to the back of his head, rubbing gentle little circles at his scalp. She smiled against his chest when he made a rumbly little sound of pleasure.

She remembered Whiskey Jim telling her about a conflict in the old days.

Lou had a very sadistic streak he'd said, comparing him to Bobo. She'd scoffed, said something about Bobo subsidising a daycare. It had seemed ridiculous to imagine Bobo the less sadistic in any comparison. Now she'd seen him, the man he had been. Robert Svane. A kind man. Selfless, even.

That man wouldn't have lasted a week amidst revenants if he'd have tried to stay that way. A lot of the things Bobo had done she could—well not forgive , absolutely not, but maybe understand better now she understood who he had needed to become to live amidst what had been his enemies.

It was disorienting, that after so long seeing Bobo as the main enemy, the final target, the worst of the people Wyatt Earp had brought to justice, she'd discovered that he hadn't been a criminal at all, had been Wyatt Earp's friend. That he had been screwed over by the demon Clootie just as much as the Earps had.

Was that why her father had—talked to him? Had apparently even made some sort of pact? She still hated the thought of that, but since Bobo's death it had also become apparent that rather than cause it, as she used to believe, Bobo'd actually played a significant role in keeping Revenant related misery under control. Certainly since she'd sent him back to hell, the problems in Purgatory had far from disappeared.

"I, like... I just don't know what to do with this information," she said finally, lightly running her nails down his back. "So I thought I'd share."

"Yeah, it's—he's dead. Not like it matters anymore," Xavier said, but he didn't shrug or sound dismissive, he had that same puzzled tone she'd been feeling.

He shivered at the light rake of her nails over his side, and she got distracted with kissing his throat, the line of his collarbone. He made a delicious little noise when she sucked a kiss at the join of his neck and shoulder, and she lingered there for a while, exploring what other sounds she could draw out of him. It wasn't exactly chaste, but neither of them were ready to take things further right now, and Wynonna was rediscovering that making out was a joy all of its own.   

"We should do this all the time," she whispered into his shoulder, smiling against his skin.

"Maybe not 24/7," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head, "but I'm on board with the sentiment."


Later, when he was making coffee—and tea for her, damn it—he was suddenly chuckling.

"What's funny?"

"Just a memory. Bobo was pissing people off to the end." He passed her her cup, grinning. "Should have seen Lucado's face when she found his coat in the back of the truck and realised that was all she had."