A/N. Warning for child abuse.

Chapter 10: Insomnia

"How did she do?" Will asked Halt when the two almost collided in the hallway.

"Will, I want you to watch her. Carefully. She seems to trust you, at least to an extent, so she may be more open with you than any of the rest of us."

Will nodded slowly. "Am I watching for anything in particular?"

"Just any signs that she could be a threat to us."

"I'm guessing she cleared the BS detector."

"Yes, she did, but she is still a very dangerous person and needs to be watched." Halt decided that it would not be wise to mention to Will the fact that the girl had been involved in the death of one of their operatives. It would jeopardize his rapport with her and might make her suspicious.

The two had been walking and talking and, by this point, they were standing outside of the interrogation room. Halt added some instructions. "I'll be finished with her in a few minutes. Wait here. I'll have something to tell both of you."

Halt burst into the interrogation room and Taylor's head whirled around to face him. "I have one more question for you," the Ranger said.

"Fire away," the girl replied.

"Are you under orders right now? Is anyone paying you to be here?"

The girl looked at him, blue-grey eyes meeting deep dark blue eyes that could almost be mistaken for being black. "I am here because I am on the run from the Genovesans and whoever else might be and is currently trying to kill me. I am not under orders. At the moment, this is my best option until I get to the point where I can walk again." Wisely, she decided to ignore the fact that his one question had actually been two questions.

Halt held her gaze for a few moments. "Okay," he said, finally breaking the long silence. He gestured to the technician. "Exit through that door when you can get up." He then left, leaving the technician to release Taylor from the tangle of wires.

"Get some sleep," Halt said when she finally made her way out of the room. He had been sitting on a bench against the wall opposite the interrogation room. Will was with him. "You'll need it and Will tells me that you haven't slept in several days."

Taylor looked around. "Where can I sleep?"

The right corner of Halt's mouth twitched as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"I can sleep in any corner you give me," the former Genovesan continued.

"There are no empty rooms and someone needs to keep an eye on you. You can bunk with Will for tonight," Halt resolved.

Taylor and Will glanced at each other. Both understood that this was a particularly awkward situation.

"Is there no one else with an empty bed or room or something?" Will asked.

"No one. Since you brought Evanlyn here, Will, you will be responsible for her. That includes keeping an eye on her and taking care of her."

Will cast a sidelong glance at the lean girl in front of him. "Alright then, come on." He stood, stretched, shouldered her field bag (a quick glance revealed that it had been searched), and made his way down the hallway.

"Where am I?" the girl asked tentatively.

"Gathering Grounds. It's essentially a mansion built on the site of the traditional Ranger meeting place. A few hundred years ago, some of the older Rangers decided that they were tired of sleeping in rows of tents every time they came to visit each other, so they built something a little more permanent."

"How big is this place?"

"Four stories above ground, at least that many below it."

"You don't know?"

"Never had a reason to go down that far."

"What floor are we on right now?"

"First one underground. Relax, there's a service elevator, so you don't have to climb stairs."

She nodded. "That's good. I'm too tired to even think about stairs."

Will lead her around a few more corners to an old-style elevator. Taylor took a second to pause outside the elevator before she joined Will inside it. I wonder what Marisi would think if he knew where I am right now. Would he be proud of me for finally doing the right thing? Or would he think that I'm selling him out? The second though horrified her. While she wanted to leave the Genovesans, turning in the people that she loved like brothers was an utterly appalling concept. It was only in hindsight that they both realized that they were each breaking a rule.

Will's room was on the second floor of the mansion. The elevator let them out near the top of the stairs. The hall seemed infinite and it had many doors. He stopped in front of one relatively close to the close end of the hall.

"This is it," he said as he held the door open for her. The room was roughly fifteen by fifteen feet with minimal furnishings: a bed, a chest of drawers for clothes, a desk with a laptop and various other papers and books resting on top of it, and a bookshelf laden down with both fiction and nonfiction selections. The majority of the nonfiction was on either weapons, fighting, or various other things of a spy's practical nature. Taylor's keen eyes could spot at least one concealed weapon. A window was located next to the desk, blinds that were currently closed allowing the occupant of the room to control how much light entered through the window.

"I'll take the floor," Taylor said, as Will put her bag in a corner.

"No, you won't."

Taylor turned to face Will. "This is your room. I'm intruding. I'll sleep on the floor."

"My room, I'm in charge. I will sleep on the floor. It is part of Halt's idea of me 'keeping an eye on you'."

Taylor pondered this for a moment. "Fine." She balanced on one crutch while she stripped the top blanket and one of the two pillows off of Will's bed. "Here," she said, tossing the blanket and pillow to Will. Unfortunately for him, the blanket landed first, covering his head and then the pillow hit him in his blanket-obscured face.

"Thanks," Will commented sarcastically, pulling the blanket off his head, static electricity making his hair stand up on end.

As well trained as she was, Taylor couldn't help but burst out laughing. After a few moments, Will smiled and started chuckling as well.

Eventually, their laughing subsided and Taylor found the breath to ask a question. "Is there anywhere that I can get a shower?"

Will pointed to a door leading off his room. "There's a bathroom in there. Make sure that you lock the door because I have to share with the guy next door." He then took a moment to consider her crutch-wielding state. "Do you need any help?" The moment that those words left his mouth, he reddened, as did she, realizing the awkward implications that his offer of help had created.

"No, I think I can manage. Thank you, though."

Taylor hobbled over and got a change of clothes and the toothbrush that she had neglected to tell Will that she had out of her field bag and headed into the bathroom. The hot shower felt fabulous after spending what felt like ages on the run. Her hair, which had gone for a while without being washed, was grateful as well. Once she got out, she changed into the extra pair of clothes: a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. Then, she quickly dried her hair and put it in a loose braid. Pulling her toothbrush out, she thoroughly brushed her teeth, another hygiene ritual that she had neglected recently.

Will had changed clothes while she was in the shower. Instead of the grey hoodie and black cargo pants he had been wearing, he had changed into a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. Taylor threw her bundle of dirty clothes into her field bag.

"All good?" Will asked.

She nodded in response, while stashing the Glock she had pulled out of her bag behind her back. Out of habit, she slept with a gun under her pillow. "Don't you need to shower?"

"It's about nine in the morning now, but Halt has given me the day off to catch up on my sleep. I'll shower tomorrow morning or sometime tonight." Will helped her climb into his bed and then he put her crutches against the wall within easy reach.

"Will?" She was sitting upright in his bed.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for being so nice to me. I really don't deserve it."

"You would do the same for me if our roles were reversed."

Yeah, I would actually. Now that I know you, anyways. "How do you know that?"

"Cause I know that you are a decent person. This is what decent people do."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. How is your foot doing?"

"Better. I might try to walk on it tomorrow."

Will looked like he was going to try to reply, but, instead, he let out a massive yawn. "I just realized that I am really tired."

"So am I. Good morning, Will."

"Night."

Will turned off the lights as she slid down into the twin size bed and then he crawled into the nest-like bundle of blanket and pillow on the floor. He was sleeping lightly within a few minutes.

Taylor stayed awake a little longer. Even without the top blanket, Will's bed was warm and it smelled good. The pillow smelled like Will and Will smelled like a combination of cut grass, wood smoke, bar soap, and the really nice smell of fresh tilled earth. Marisi and Will might like each other. They're a lot alike. Both are gentlemen in the age of men acting like children. The thought surprised her for a moment, but it shouldn't have. She had been through a lot with Will over the course of the past thirty-six hours and he had treated her very well, especially when she was injured. I think that he's a gentleman because he is a gentleman. I know that Marisi is a gentleman because we have been partners for years and he has always treated me nicely. Her mind began chasing her thoughts in circles until she could no longer keep her eyes open. I haven't been this tired in a long time. The last thing that she saw was Will sprawled out in the floor, some of his messy hair flopping into his face.

About three in the morning, the sound of a quiet scream followed by crying made Will bolt upright, ready to fight. Looking around, he ascertained that there was no immediate threat. The search revealed that it was the girl, Evanlyn as he was supposed to be calling her, crying, obviously having a nightmare, and a bad one at that. The blankets were twisted tightly, like a cocoon, around her legs, one hand was raised as if to wield off a blow, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks. He couldn't see her other hand as it was tucked under the pillow. Even though he had only known her for less than three days, it was obvious that she was not the kind of person that would cry over something trivial, especially while she was sleeping. There was no one else that could help the girl, no one else who might possess even a smidgen of her trust, so Will felt that it was his responsibility to help her. He hefted himself off the floor and walked over to her. "Evanlyn," he said as he approached. The name had no effect. "Evanlyn," he repeated, louder. Still no effect. "Taylor."

It was at the sound of her name that she jerked upright and the hand that had been under the pillow now pointed a gun at the speaker.

Will's first reaction was one of shock. He thought he could trust the girl and now she was pointing a gun at him. Did she simply do all of that so that she could kill me? Then rationality kicked in. She's just been awoken from a nightmare. She doesn't recognize where she is and, for a second, she won't recognize who I am. Then, she will put down the gun and everything will be fine. Another thought struck him. How did she get that gun in here? Halt said that her bag was searched.

Taylor had jerked awake at the sound of a voice. Pointing the gun she had in her hand at the speaker was merely a reflex. She had been having a nightmare and her breathing was fast and hard, coming in gasps as if she had just run a marathon, and the residual fear was threatening to consume her. Forcing her eyes open, she saw just who she had been about to shoot.

"Will?" she asked, her hard breathing making her voice sound strange. She quickly put the gun back under the pillow and forced herself to sit upright.

"Yeah," he replied.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay. I get guns pointed at me all the time. Are you okay?" he sat down in seiza next to her.

"No, not really. But it's not your problem. Go back to sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."

"Is there anything that I can do?"

"No."

Will was silent for a moment, wondering if he should intrude upon what she would view as cursed ground. "What was the nightmare about?"

"It's none of your business."

"You woke me up screaming. I'm making it my business." It was a slight stretch of the truth, but Will now needed to know.

This time it was Taylor who paused for a moment. The question to which Will wanted an answer would involve revealing one of her deepest, darkest memories. But maybe it was time that was brought to light.

"I need to swear you to secrecy on this. No one hears about it."

"I promise."

"It was about my old hand to hand instructor, a demon from the very depths of Hell by the name of Eric Manson. He was a sadist and a control freak to the extreme. As you know from your time as Darrel Stone, there are serious penalties in the Academy for insubordination. It was even more extreme when I was in the Academy, at least with this particular instructor. If you even hesitated to follow one of his orders, he would break one of your bones. If you got a technique wrong a certain amount of time after it was taught, then one of your bones would be broken. Failure was not an option." She looked contemplative for a moment. "He hated it when I figured out that last one. I tipped off all of the other kids in the class and we would train together late into the night."

Will flinched as she summarized her early childhood. "That's awful."

She nodded. "It was. I personally had every single one of my fingers and toes, both my wrists, and all three of the major bones in my right arm broken at least once. He broke the neck of the boy that I considered to be my brother and he did it right in front of me. I was six years old at the time and the only girl that managed to last in his class."

Will didn't know what he could say. What do you say to someone that had been through that kind of trauma? "What happened to Manson? Things weren't like that at the Academy in the brief time that I was there."

"Manson died," she replied, a cold, hard note of satisfaction in her voice.

"How?"

"He was the first man I ever killed and the only one about which I continue to have a clean conscience. I killed him a week after he broke Carson's neck."

"No wonder you have nightmares about him."

She nodded again, the memories allowing a few fresh tears to escape from her eyes. "The nightmares are nothing new, but they have gotten worse. I've never had one this bad." She chuckled dryly. "It's funny: sometimes, I wake up and think my nightmares are better than reality. In my nightmares, I'm not always responsible for the deaths of more than one hundred people. I'm not the little girl that watched her best friend die right in front of her and was too scared to try to stop it. Sometimes, I'm not who I am in my nightmares. And I like that person better than I like myself."

"I understand. I mean, I can't understand that feeling because I'm not you, but I can see what you're talking about," Will fumbled, looking down at his hands.

It was while he was glancing down at his hands, trying not to fumble his words too badly, that he realized that he had been running his hand up and down Taylor's arm as she'd been telling her story, trying to comfort her, he assumed. He took it away then, but she caught it.

"If you don't mind, please don't stop. I need a connection to reality right now. I'm scared and, for some reason, you're making it better."

The intensity of her voice surprised him. "I can't sit like this all night."

The corner of her mouth twitched, like she was tempted to pout. Or cry again.

"Why don't you grab your pillow and join me on the floor?" the suggestion fled his mouth before he could stop it. Halt and his blasted ideas.

Taylor nodded. "Okay."

Committed, Will made room for her on the floor. He adjusted the pillow he had retained and sat up straight against the wall. Taylor put hers down a little ways down from him, close enough to allow her to grab his arm if she needed to, but far enough away that he could retain his personal space.

"Come on," Will said resignedly, lifting his arm so that she could scoot up next to him. What is going on with me? Halt said that I needed to "keep an eye on her" which essentially means that I need to earn her trust. I need to get to know her. So, she needs to know that she can talk to me. Will mentally kicked himself. She's weak right now. I'm not taking advantage of that in anyway. I'm just doing what any decent human being would do. Taylor gratefully accepted the invitation, leaning against Will and placing her head on his shoulder. He settled his arm around her shoulders. Under his hand, he could feel well toned, solid muscles. Her body was whip cord tough as he had already seen demonstrated.

"Where's your gun?" Will asked, half teasingly.

"Under your mattress, right next to yours." Her voice was tired now, but contented, as if she felt safe from her past, from Manson, from her own mind.

The girl next to him was sleeping lightly within minutes. This time, it was Will that sat awake and watched her. Who are you? Are you Leah, the fearless agent that saved me? Are you Evanlyn, a girl that is broken on the inside but tries to hide it? Or are you Taylor, a girl trying to balance the two? Who are you? And who will you allow yourself to be? It was at that point that Will knew he was too tired for rational thought and he gave himself over to the depths of the oblivion of sleep, allowing his subconscious state of mind to take over.

It was in that position that they awoke at eight thirty the next morning. Taylor had managed to go the rest of the night without any further nightmares, without her past trying to creep up on her in her new "haven".

"I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go." -Neil Gaiman

A/N. I need Will to be able to trust Taylor and vice versa, hence the reason for this little scene. I also need a little more background on Taylor's childhood (reason to be revealed later). This is also to answer the reason why Taylor is so good at fighting and so forth: when she was young, failure was not an option (and, psychologically speaking, the things learned during the first few years of life tend to be the ones that stay with you, like languages and stuff).

Also, seiza is a form of sitting that is used in Japanese martial arts. Essentially, you kneel down and sit on your calves and ankles and feet.