TW for attempted sexual assault in this chapter

It was at the third bar Lorna hit that she noticed the car. Hadn't she seen that one a few blocks down? She decided to be a little concerned about it; if it was Mycroft, she'd regret not being cautious. That didn't stop her from drinking a man's wallet dry once inside, of course. When she'd shook him off - her standards were a little higher than that for actually having fun - she went out the back door and cut through the alley, for caution's sake. And immediately turned around. Three rather addled-looking men were laughing a few meters away in the shadows, and that was a risk that she wasn't armed enough to deal with. When she emerged back out on the street, she looked disgruntled and a little bit drunk. Time to hit the next bar. Maybe there'd be someone worth her time.

He saw her make the car, and knew that it was time to switch tactics. He parked a few blocks away from the next bar she stopped at, and proceeded on foot across rooftops, scope case over his shoulder. Once in place he pulled it out, hidden in the shadows of the roofs, watching her as best he could through the place's windows.

It really took a lot of whiskey to get her to the point where she'd kiss a random stranger in a bar during time that wasn't working hours, but then, this was not her first batch of drinks for the night, and ordering nothing but hard liquor got a person wasted fairly quickly. Still, even through her drunk haze she was disappointed. The bloke had no inherent talent, and it seemed as if he hadn't gotten in a day of practice in his life. Without bothering to explain herself she simply pushed him away and walked out, collapsing onto a bench in the front and leaning her head back against the wall. She had no idea what to do with herself. This wasn't working.

He watched her walk out, but she wasn't the only one. His eyes narrowed as the man she'd spurned began to look angry, and, after ordering another drink, headed outside after Lorna.

By that point, Sebastian was long gone from the roof.

She yelled as the man from inside grabbed onto her collar, pulling her to her feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snarled, although a lot of the effect was probably lost in her flushed cheeks and her slowed reaction time.

"Getting what I deserve, bitch," he snapped, slamming her back into the wall over the bench, leaving her legs pinned uncomfortably between his and the wood. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, she couldn't reach her knife like this. Someone would come along, though, right? They were in the middle of the street!

He was walking as quickly as his injuries allowed, gun in hand. He'd run back to the nearest fire escape and practically jumped down, and was backtracking towards where he'd last seen Lorna.

The man pushed her higher up the wall, leaning forward to kiss her roughly, unknowing and uncaring of the still-healing injuries he was scraping against the wall.

She gasped at the sharp pain lancing through her back, biting down hard on his lip in vengeful retaliation until she tasted blood. He screamed a swear, his hands only pushing into her harder, amplifying the pain she was already feeling, although at least he'd stopped kissing her for the moment. Her victory didn't last long; he reached up to grip onto a handful of her long dark hair, spitting derogatives at her as he yanked her harshly into the alley next to the bar.

He turned the corner, the bar a hundred yards or so down the road, just in time to see two figures disappearing into an alley, one clearly not willing to go. He cursed under his breath but moved into a jog, then a run, gritting his teeth as he felt scabs splitting open. His grip on his gun tightened.

The man slammed her up against the wall, paying little heed to her head as it hit with the same force as the rest of her body, and using her momentary stunned stillness to start ripping at her shirt.

For an agonizing, confusing moment all she saw was blackness, then she was aware of her surroundings again, letting out an angry grunt as she brought her foot down as hard as she could on his instep - and that was it for her shirt. She wouldn't waste the opportunity, though - while he was hobbled and clutching her ruined shirt she made a limping break for the street.

He forgot about his foot, alcohol dulling the pain, and started after her with a snarl-

Three soft pops, and he stumbled back, three clean, reddening holes in his shirt. Sebastian lowered his gun, screwing off the silencer and shoving both into his pocket, before slipping out of his jacket and putting it around Lorna's shoulders. "Let's go. We need to get out of here. The car's not far."

She didn't have the mental capacity to question Sebastian's sudden appearance; she was too filled up with a roiling mix of fear, anger, and desperation. She just nodded, slipping into the jacket properly as she walked stiffly beside him. She could feel blood on her back, but she didn't feel any pain at the moment. Bad sign. "I'm going into shock," she managed quietly, spotting the car she'd seen earlier. Oh.

"I don't doubt that," he said, watching her carefully but being careful not to touch her right now. He pulled open her door, motioning for her to get inside. "Strap in, then put your feet up on the dash. I'll get the heat going," he said calmly.

Lorna did as he said, focusing for the moment on just following the simple directions. Just listening to him and processing what came out of his mouth took longer than it should have. When she was properly in the car she took a halting, shuddering breath, the flush that had been in her face completely gone, leaving her an ashen gray.

He closed the door behind her, walking around quickly and starting the car, immediately jacking the heat all the way up and pulling onto the road. "Alright, Lorna, just keep talking to me, alright? How many have you had, do you know?"

"I... I don't know," she shook her head slightly, looking down at her hands. They were shaking violently. "I just... lost track.. I guess." She was freezing cold. The heat blowing across her face was a relief.

"Okay, that's fine," he said, depressing the accelerator further, though he tried to ease off on the corners so as not to toss her around. "Why don't you tell me what happened the last time you talked to your mum? How is she? How's she doing?"

"She- she berated me for not visiting more often," she got out, her breath hitching slightly. That had really just happened. If he hadn't been there... She didn't even have the thought to hide the sudden tears that spilled over her cheeks, raising a hand to muffle a ragged sob.

"Hey, alright, well, tell you what. I have the day off tomorrow, how about I take you to go visit her?" he said, trying to keep her focus on something else. "What's your mum like? Would she think you having a bodyguard is funny?"

"I can't- I can't see her like this," she shook her head, trying to wipe tears from her cheeks in vain. "She can't see me like this- it'll wreck her. I can't." Lorna shook her head again, reaching to the dash and fumbling to turn off the heat. She was burning, now.

"Okay, take it easy," he said, reaching to turn the heat back up to medium. "We don't have to, that's fine. You said she does work like us, right? What does she do?" He took a hard turn for headquarters.

She took a deep breath before answering, folding her shaking hands together. "N-no. No. My stepfather did, she just... runs numbers. I think..." she trailed off, sniffling and attempting to dry her eyes with the jacket sleeve. She didn't want anyone in HQ to see her like this.

"Okay, well, that's something," he said, finally pulling into the garage. "Let's get you to medical, okay?" he said, getting out of the car and walking around to pull her door open.

She managed to get out without tripping, an amazing feat considering she wasn't certain where exactly her feet were. "I don't want to go to medical. Just.. just take me home," she murmured, pulling his jacket tighter around her.

"That wasn't a suggestion. You're bleeding and in shock with fuck-knows how much alcohol in your system. Medical." He started walking, eyes on her carefully.

She kept pace with him, falling silent for a minute, giving them time to reach the elevator. There was no point in arguing twice, after all. Then she cleared her throat slightly, sniffling. "Don't let them put me out, please. I don't want to sleep in medical. Please."

"I'll do what I can," he said, bringing her into the elevator and punching the appropriate button. "I don't expect they'll need to."

She nodded, swallowing hard and leaning against the cool wall. It felt weird against her hand. "Thank you, Sebastian."

He looked over at her, but just nodded slightly. The elevator doors opened a few moments later, saving him from having to make a response. "Come on, let's get you patched up."

She didn't say anything after that, only shadowing him on the way to medical, mostly zoning out. Things were starting to hurt now, and if she thought too much about it it would only hurt worse.

He spoke quickly to the nurse on call, who didn't question, standing to lead Lorna into an examination room. He started to object to Sebastian following, but Sebastian gave him a long look and he ceased his objections, indicating Lorna should take a seat on the exam table. "Dr. Ferguson is on call, he'll be here in a few minutes," the nurse promised.

She nodded slightly, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn't want to have to explain any of it. What a stupid mistake she'd made. She should have kept her knife more easily accessible, should have been ready for any sort of attack. And she hadn't been. She'd let her guard down and this had happened.

"Can you remove the jacket?" the nurse asked professionally, setting his clipboard aside. "So I can take a look at the damage?"

"Yeah," she said hoarsely, forcing herself to stop clinging to the hem of the thing and slipping it off with a hiss. Yes, yes, there was definitely damage done to her. The bandages around her abdomen from earlier were stained in places with red, and her ribs and head ached fiercely.

The nurse didn't comment, walking forward to gently start removing the bandages. "Can you tell me what ha-"

"Don't," Moran said, his voice cold and commanding. "Any information you need, I can give you later. Ask her what hurts, that's all you need to do your job."

The nurse jumped slightly at Moran's sudden voice, but didn't argue." What hurts?" he asked meekly, turning back to Lorna.

She was extremely relieved that Sebastian intervened on her behalf, taking in a shallow breath before replying to the nurse. "My back, head, and ribs are the worst," she stated quietly, "The rest is minor. Just bruises, I think."

He nodded slightly, finishing unwrapping her bandages, shifting behind her to examine her back carefully. "You have a fair amount of abrasions, and have reopened quite a few of your injuries, but at first glance nothing looks too serious. The doctor will have more to say." He stepped back, picking up a cuff. "I'm going to check your blood pressure. Have you been drinking tonight?"

"Yes," she sighed, "A lot. I'm surprised you can't smell it," she added, muttering. Her defense mechanisms were kicking back in. That wasn't a terrible sign. "Look- just.. just bandage me up and I'll go home. I don't.. I don't want to be here," she shook her head. Any tact she possessed was not at home at the moment.

"I could, which is why I asked," the nurse shot back calmly. "I'm afraid I can't release you quite yet. A few of those gashes need stitches or they'll scar badly, and you'll need to be checked for a concussion. How bad is the pain in your ribs?" he pumped up the cuff and glanced at the clock.

She fought back the urge to fight with the nurse and took a deep breath, trying to assess the pain. She'd broken ribs before, and this didn't feel as bad. She didn't feel like each time she inhaled her bones were constricting around her lungs. "They're okay. Just bruising, I think."

He nodded slightly. "I promise we'll get you out of here as quickly as possible. I need to test your blood alcohol content, and then the doctor will be in, alright?" he opened a drawer and returned with a breathalyzer.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she sighed, breathing into the little machine as instructed and then leaning back, glancing at Moran self-consciously. Enough of her faculties were back to let her know that this was terrible and that if he saw any more of her fractured mental state she'd be thrown into a rubber room.

He nodded, reading the device screen. "Point-two-three," he said, disposing of the cover and returning the machine to its drawer. "Alright. The doctor will be in shortly, just sit tight." He walked out. Sebastian watched her quietly.

"How are you holding up?"

Lorna shrugged slightly, the paper on top of the exam table rustling loudly as she shifted a little. "I'll be okay, eventually. Not the first time something like this has happened. Doesn't make it any less terrifying, though," she murmured, clearing her throat. She couldn't look at him. She felt weak, out of control. Nothing she wanted him to see.

He nodded slightly. "You're staying with me tonight," he said quietly. "You can have my bed. I need you to get a decent amount of sleep, and I don't want you choking on your own vomit if you're as intoxicated as he said."

"That's pointless," she huffed, raising a hand to rub at her eyes wearily. "I'm not going to get decent sleep. This week has been the week from hell and my sleep is going to suffer for it. You don't need that shit. Don't."

"Again, you appear to be treating my orders as if they were suggestions. I thought we'd agreed that wasn't going to happen?"

Before she could respond, the doctor came in. "Hello, Ms. Harrison. I hear you got a bit scraped up. Let's get you cleaned up and out of here, how's that sound?"

Lorna knew that continuing to argue was a terrible idea for many different reasons, so she just gave the doctor a tired smile and nodded. "Yeah, please. Thanks."

She did need stitches, but they were done quickly, and within an hour they were walking out of the medical bay, both of them in fresh bandages (Moran had reopened his fair share of wounds as well.) He headed for the elevator. "Let's get to bed."

She made a sound of acquiescence, fiddling with the hem of his jacket in her fingers as they reached the elevator. It was on their floor already. Lucky. "I'm sorry," she said quietly as they stepped into the lift, biting her lip and once again avoiding looking at him.

He looked over at her sharply, studying her. "What are you apologizing for?"

"For being so.." she made a helpless gesture with her hands, looking for a word that accurately described it. "High maintenance."

He smirked slightly, punching the elevator button. "Remind me to tell you about myself sometime. And by that, I mean I will never tell you, and you will never ask, but you should know that you're fine."

She remained silent, slightly comforted. The elevator ride seemed longer than usual, but that was probably just her warped senses; when she stepped out, she momentarily forgot which door was his and which was hers. She was exhausted, though. He was right about needing sleep.

He watched her consider the hallway in a stupor, touching her shoulder gently as he passed to guide her with him, scanning his thumb to unlock his door and opening it. "Go take a piss and crash, alright? I'll leave a tee shirt you can wear on my bed."

"Okay," she agreed softly, stepping inside. She headed for where she remembered the restroom being, leaving his jacket behind on the couch as she passed. Once she'd relieved herself she stood in the mirror. The extra damage was... unsettling.

He chose a comfortable tee, setting it on the bed, and paused for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing. He shouldn't be helping her like this. Shouldn't be sending mixed signals. Any other agent he would have shouted into the ground and then left to their own devices. She'd been stupid, gotten wasted and let her guard down. But... she was his comrade, now, it felt like. They'd been through hell together. She was struggling, and he was, too, though he would never admit it. So he helped her. He shook his head a little, heading out into the living room to pull out the couch so that he could sleep.

Eventually Lorna made her way back into his bedroom, changing into the (on her) oversized shirt and then slipping under the covers. It felt strange to be taking his bed all alone like this, especially when she could literally smell him there. She sighed, curling up and piling all the sheets she could on top of herself. Maybe the extra comfort would keep her from waking up in the middle of the night, screaming.

"Sleep on your damn side, Harrison," he called from the next room as he threw some sheets and blankets onto the bed and walked into his room to get pajamas. "How drunk are you? Should I sleep on the floor in here?"

"I'm drunk enough that I can't really reason out any of what you're saying," she muttered, burrowing further under the sheets. "I'm not going to vomit, Moran. The alcohol isn't going to be the problem, tonight."

He considered her for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. If you're dead tomorrow morning I'm going to be fucking pissed." He headed into the next room, turning off the light.

She sighed as he left, although she was relieved when the lights went off. Finally, she could fucking sleep. Well. For maybe an hour.

He changed quickly, lying down on the pull-out stiffly. At least he had tomorrow off. He shut his eyes with a sigh.

She fell asleep quickly; physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. Her dreams, of course, quickly became nightmarish. The white room and the near miss earlier in the evening combined. When she woke up, it had been three hours, and she was silent, only a small gasp escaping her. Next time wouldn't be so lucky. She stumbled out of Sebastian's bed with a soft grunt, carefully toeing into the living room and heading for the door. He'd be pissed in the morning, but at least he would get more than a combined five hours of sleep.

He heard a click. There were so many reasons to wake up if one heard a click. A gun cocking clicked. A door latch clicked. A switchblade clicked. He'd learned not to ignore them. His eyes opened quickly, though his breathing didn't change and his body remained still. There was a figure by the door. His hand closed around the handle of his knife, planning. He couldn't move slowly, the bed would creak, so it would have to be all in one movement. He coiled, preparing to jump-

"Lorna," he sighed a few seconds later as the light from the hall illuminated her. "I almost stabbed you. Where are you going?"

"My own flat," she whispered, hand still on the doorknob. "I'm sober enough, it's okay. I'm going to wake you up constantly otherwise and I don't want to do that. Sorry for alarming you."

He sighed, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "I need you sleeping, Harrison. How do we achieve that?"

She shook her head, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. "I don't know. Erase the last week. Wrap me in a straight jacket and lock me in a small room so I can feel safe again. I don't know. I really, really don't. I wish I did."

"When was the last time you slept well?" he asked, standing.

She stayed hovering in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob, torn between listening to him and leaving. "I.. Six days? Seven? Before.. all of this," she mumbled, glancing into the hall again, squinting.

He walked forward slowly, pressing his hand to the door and shutting it. "Come on, Lorna," he said quietly. "Sit."

She drummed her fingers anxiously against her thighs when she was forced to let go of the door, ducking her head in a sharp sort of nod and walking to sit carefully on the edge of the pull-out. She was so, so tired. If only she didn't have such horribly vivid dreams.

He sighed, walking into the kitchen. A few moments later he returned with a glass of water, handing it to her. "Get this into your system while you're up," he murmured, pulling a chair over. "You're going to have to talk about it."

She downed half of it in one go, partially because her throat was dry beyond belief, partially because she really did not want to have this discussion. "I don't know what you expect me to say, Moran," she breathed, giving a tiny lift of her shoulders. "I don't see how that will help."

"It's simple," he said, voice matter-of-fact. "Those nightmares? A lot of it is your mind trying to sort through information. It's trying to process the events which occurred and how they relate to your heightened emotions, and thus those emotions are replayed and escalated. So, logically, the best way to lessen them or make them stop? Actively process the information. Think through each detail, talk through the scenario, and place it in a logical manner in its happy little box... then lock the box and stack a few anvils on top. Alright?"

Lorna sighed, biting the inside of her cheek before nodding reluctantly. She couldn't make herself look at him, though. "Where... where do I start, then."

"The nightmare that just woke you up. What was that about?" He kept his voice calm and unobtrusive.

She grimaced, her grip tightening on the glass and her jaw clenching. "I was- I was in that stupidly clean room. The white one, where Mycroft had us. But you weren't there. It was t-that arsehole from the pub. Fuck, I never even got his fucking name..." she trailed off, drawing in a long breath.

He nodded just slightly, remaining quiet. "He's gone now," he reminded her quietly. "What happened in the pub? Start to finish, like you were briefing me."

"I went in already drunk. Not too bad, but... Anyways, I sat at the bar because that's usually all it takes, and this bloke comes up, starts trying to chat me up, bought me something like four glasses of scotch? He was reasonably attractive, I was bored, I started snogging him." She stopped for a moment, looking disgusted. "He was awful. Really, truly bad at it. So I left. I think you.. saw the rest."

He shook his head. "I didn't. That's when I left to get to you. Talk me through it, Lorna. It's a job, come on. Tell me about him. Analyze the hell out of him. Who was he, what did he want, what did he do? Like you're watching a movie."

"I was just outside. Just.. sitting. Should have been paying more attention. Should have heard him come out. He grabbed my collar, yanked me up, into the wall. He looked furious. He thought that I'd.. violated some agreement. Drinks for sex." She suddenly realized she was pulling the fabric of his t-shirt in her hand and made herself let go, curling her hand into a fist. "When I tried fighting back he pulled me into the alley. Bashed me against the wall.. hard. I heard my shirt r-rip. I stomped on his instep and tried to make a run for it."

He nodded slightly. "Which is where I came in," he said calmly. "I fired three shots, gave you my coat, and we left. Does that sound right?"

"Yes," she confirmed quietly, finishing off the water he'd given her. "Yes, that sounds right."

He nodded a little. "Alright. Anything else you can remember about him? What clothes was he wearing? Was he drunk?"

"He was drunk," she murmured, then shook her head slightly. "I don't remember anything else about him. Just his face. And his voice." She shuddered, clenching her teeth together. She knew she remembered his voice because she'd had to suffer through it in her dream.

He nodded just slightly. "Alright. What about when we were taken? Brief me."

"I've already briefed you, sir," she murmured - she'd told him about meeting Mycroft inside 221, and she'd told him about her interrogation. "Fear of torture is.. inescapable, in our line of work. It could happen again. I know I have to deal with that fact. They somehow bugged my flat and there's no way for me to feel safe anymore. Like he could somehow reach through the walls and.. grab me. I thought getting drunk would- would help somehow," she rambled, working herself up until she cut herself off, closing her eyes.

He sighed, trying to think. "Is that the problem, you think?" he asked after a bit. "You feel unsafe?"

"I guess," she whispered, glad that it was dark in the room. She probably looked as much of a wreck as she felt. "I don't know what to do about that."

He nodded just a little. "Where have you felt the safest over the past few days?"

She didn't respond for a moment, because the answer felt cripplingly, thoroughly embarrassing. She clear her throat, ducking her head slightly. "Here."

He didn't blink. "Then, for now, you stay here. What else makes you feel safe?"

She wasn't going to say what immediately came to mind - he was not a cuddler - so she just shook her head slightly, ignoring the hair that had shifted down into her face. "...Small spaces," she eventually replied. Not a lie.

He nodded just slightly. "Alright." He stood, walking over to the thermostat and turning it down, before walking to his bed and the linen closet. He returned with a heap of blankets. "I don't have small spaces, but I have blankets. Make yourself a small space. Would that help?"

She nodded in return, reaching forward to take them from him gently. "Just the weight will," she said softly, looking sheepishly down at the pile. At least he wasn't making fun of her.

He considered her for a quiet moment. He knew when she had slept best. He sighed, turning back to the thermostat and dropping it a few more notches, before climbing into bed. "Come on, then. I'm tired."

"What?" she asked, startled. She held the blankets perfectly still on the tip of her fingers, like they were something fragile and valuable. "M-Moran, you don't have to do that."

He raised an eyebrow. "You need sleep. I need you to sleep. The last time I remember you sleeping decently was not, in fact, 'six or seven days ago', but the night you slept in my bed. Come on. It's not like I have an objection to sleeping with a beautiful woman in any sense of the word. Jim might object to one sense, but I don't think he gives a rats ass about the other."

Lorna didn't even try to make heads or tails of the part on Jim - she didn't think she'd ever understand their boss, let alone what their boss of thought of them personally - and just climbed into the bed with Moran, leaving half the blankets still folded on the floor and dragging the other half over herself. The extra security wouldn't hurt. "Thank you," she murmured, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I was afraid you'd.. blame me."

He pulled away from her for a moment so he could meet her gaze. "We're criminals, Lorna," he said quietly. "We, more than anyone, know what an attack is, and it is in no goddamn way your fault, alright?"

"I know. I know," she breathed, rubbing at her eyes and willing herself not to tear up again. "There's just.. no accounting for what other people will think, sometimes." There was no accounting for what he could think sometimes. She pulled the blankets up over her shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'll let you sleep, now."

He lay back down, putting an arm over her and pulling up the main blanket. "Sleep, alright?" he sighed softly.

She nodded blearily, relaxing into him and letting her mind quiet a little, comforted by the tiger beside her and the blankets above her. Within a few minutes, she was fast asleep again.

He wrapped himself around her smaller form fairly tightly, drifting off soon afterwards, hoping that she slept. He would never admit it, but he cared.

Playlist: Spoon - The Way We Get By