Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.
A/N: I blame Magnus for this entirely. And you lovely reviewers, of course. :)
Even by Helen's standards, it was a long night.
Whatever demons were stalking Will's slumber, they were relentless. After the third time in as many hours that she found herself waking him up only to calm him back down enough to sleep, she gave in. Transferring everything to a tablet, she and her begged, borrowed, and stolen files took up residence next to him in the bed.
At the least, it seemed to comfort him to some extent. It helped that, with him curled up against her hip, Helen was able to quiet him out of the nightmares before they reached the height necessary to attract attention from the next room.
Still, a long night.
"Magnus?"
At the plaintive murmur, Helen set the tablet on the nightstand again and moved the hand resting on Will's head to card through his hair once more.
"Sh, Will. I'm right here. It's alright." At a little over seven hours since he had first propped himself in the doorway of her office, she was beginning to think that she would be reciting that litany in her sleep. Whenever she next got any.
"What?"
He sounded more confused than alarmed and when he began to push away from her side to sit up, she realized that he had woken up properly for a change.
"How?" he trailed off, looking around the bedroom for a long moment. "I'm in the off-bedroom?"
"Yes," Helen confirmed, running a hand down his back and frowning when he flinched. "You suffered a concussion in your ill-conceived journey home. I thought it best to keep you close enough for neurological checks."
"Oh, right, the train," he muttered absently. She was relieved that he remembered that much at least. The memory loss was probably due to exhaustion then, not the concussion. A small mercy. Sharply, he turned to face her, "But, um, you're… was the concussion that bad? I feel pretty fine."
"Your rest was… unsettled." Helen hesitated in what she should admit to him. Laying out the full story would result in one of two possibilities: either he would explain what had happened to assuage her concern or he would pull back so far that coaxing him out again would be a monumental task. "Staying close was the only thing that seemed to keep you calm enough to sleep." Splitting the difference was always an option.
"Oh," was all he said in a low tone, but the vivid blush that spread over his face said more than enough of his feelings.
"You must still be tired," she glossed over the moment, "A few hours of broken sleep is hardly sufficient given the amount of time that you were awake. Lay back down, Will." Reading his refusal in the slight shake of his head, she offered, "If you like, I'll remove to my office."
"No, it's… I'm not tired," he said, fumbling to rid himself of the bed clothes, his clumsiness and haggard appearance giving the lie to his words.
"Will," Helen sighed, reaching out to catch his arm only to be startled by him practically jumping away from her at the touch. What in heaven's name? Alarmed, she slid off the bed as he managed to stagger to his feet.
"Sorry, sorry," he was already apologizing as she rounded the footboard, "You surprised me."
"By reaching for you?" she said in a purposely disbelieving voice. Will wasn't getting away with such a flimsy excuse and he should know better than that by now. For the moment, though, she would allow the most obvious explanation. "You're jumpy and fatigued, Will. You need sleep."
Before he spoke a word, Helen saw the dismissal in his eyes and acknowledged that she would have to change tactics. Unfortunately, Will was much too like her in at least one way – he had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
"If you're going to remain up, though," she continued, without giving him an opening, "then I should check you over. I want a scan of that head for certain and I'd like to ensure that you're in one piece after suffering a plane crash."
Half-expectantly, she paused, waiting for the inevitable remark about the number of planes they had crashed together. It was a reassuringly annoying predictability. Instead, Will simply ran a hand over his face and nodded in resignation.
"Fine," he agreed shortly, "but I think the worst I got from the crash were some cuts and bruises. Rico set us down pretty gently."
"I've never heard of a gentle plane crash," she scoffed, gesturing towards the door, careful to not touch Will. Helen didn't think she could handle him flinching away from her again. As though she would hurt him - or as though she already had. No, as weary as she felt, it wasn't a reaction to risk. "Rather a contradiction in terms, don't you think?"
"I suppose," he agreed, clearly absent-mindedly, and she noted with concern that he almost slunk by her towards the door, pressing against the side of the bed until he was in open space once more. Helen eyed her tablet from across the bed, hoping that further study would answer the more worrisome questions that were beginning to cross her mind. First, though, she had one nervous young man to coax through the infirmary. Probably breakfast, too, she strategized as she followed Will at a respectable distance from the room. Then somehow getting him back into a bed… it was going to be a long afternoon.
He remained wary as they walked to the infirmary – more so than Helen had seen him even when they were actually in a dangerous situation. She hesitated to call him on it, though, knowing it would simply cause him to hide the reaction. At least this way, she could observe how bad it truly was without fighting it out of him.
The scan went as well as could be imagined, given that Helen suddenly had a patient on her hands that she could barely touch. If nothing else, this was forcing her to realize exactly how much she lowered her 'touch barrier' the minute she crossed into the infirmary. No wonder poor Kate tried to avoid the room whenever she could; the girl was like a feral kitten for being touched.
With Will, though, given that she'd already been allowing herself free range even outside of the med bay with his need for touch – well, it was really quite ridiculous how often she had to restrain herself. The thought of sitting on her hands seriously crossed her mind for a moment when they turned to the physical exam.
"Good lord, Will," she couldn't help but breathe when he was down to his boxers. "This is what you call a 'gentle plane crash'?"
He looked startled by her words, before glancing down at the bruises across his chest and frowning. "Yeah, I guess it was a, a bad… plane crash. Sorry."
Helen frowned herself. She didn't need to be even half as observant as Will to know that something was off in his last statement. He had never lied to her very well, thankfully. Setting the issue to the back of her mind, she slowly approached him from the front, making sure that her hands were in clear view at all times. From the way his body tightened in around itself, this was only a small improvement.
"Will," she waited until he looked up at her, eyes too wide, before she continued, "I just need to make sure that nothing's damaged beneath the bruises, alright?" Helen stepped closer as she maintained eye contact. "Where should I start?" Perhaps giving him some control over the exam would ease a bit of his tension. It could hardly make it worse, she noted acerbically.
He blinked at her for a minute as she waited patiently until, with relief, she saw more of 'her' Will flicker back into his eyes.
"Um," he paused, looking down at his chest, "My ribs are a little sore, I guess."
"Okay," she waited until he looked back up at her before moving closer, hands in front of her. He remained still as Helen lightly placed her hands on his rib cage, but from this distance, she could easily see the pulse pounding at his neck and the uneasy cadence of his breaths.
"Sh," she couldn't help but try to soothe him, "It's just me, Will." Pressing carefully over his ribs, she felt for any breaks. "Hm, looks like you're going to be a bit colorful for a few days, but there's no other damage. How about your back next?"
Patiently, she waited until his eyes met hers again and a few moments longer until they cleared and he silently turned slightly under her hands. Keeping her movements slow, Helen felt the ribs along his back and noted cuts that needed bandaging. Carefully, she pressed down his spine, but aside from a few dark bruises, there was no worrying pain. What was troublesome were the patterns of the cuts and bruising; loathe those she was to admit it a plane crash didn't fit the injuries.
"Were you even wearing a seat belt?" she strove to keep her tone light. Let him have the lie for the moment, Helen. Keep him calm enough to get through this. Good Lord, if he gets any tenser, this tendon will snap. She pressed lightly into the tension running over his shoulders blades.
"Yeah," he mumbled softly. "Guess it – guess it didn't do too much good, huh?"
"Better than the alternative, I would think," Helen tried to say easily. She had picked up the art of subterfuge over the years, but would never like the necessity. Particularly with… colleagues. Or family, her subconscious prodded. She told it to take a flying leap. In more colorful language, of course. It had been her and Nigel's own secret competition, how many languages they could curse volubly in, point's dependent upon creativity and fluency. Even now, she kept a silent tally in her head. This one rated a solid 8, which wasn't bad given her lack of sleep over the past few nights. She felt her way down his arms, lingering on an elbow that felt swollen and warm, before returning to his shoulders. "Not too bad. How about your stomach?"
He nodded and she slid her hands down to his ribs as she helped him lay back on the table. Settled, Helen gave him a moment to adjust to the change before she began to slide her hands down to his stomach. Gentle palpitations provoked a few winces, but nothing that seemed to indicate internal damage, which she reported to Will happily. He nodded, but made no comment. Slowly, she worked her way down his legs, noting cuts and bruises, but no greater injuries, thankfully.
Finished, she carefully leaned against the edge of the table and began to rub circles over his belly. His eyes rose to hers in confusion, but Helen kept her mouth shut and an eye on his shoulders as the tension slowly ratcheted down a few notches. So, a little bent, but not broken, if touch still calms you down. Her eyes strayed over to his pulse point, worriedly marking the cadence, but it had lessened as well. Not enough, given the heart damage from Kali that you refuse to discuss. Let's see if you're more open on this subject, shall we.
Before she decided how to broach the subject of Paraguay, however, Will's hand rose up to catch hers mid-motion. Surprised, she glanced up to find him watching her.
"I, I'm okay, Magnus," he reassured solemnly. "I'm just," his other hand moved to rub over his face, "maybe you're right. Maybe I should head up to bed."
"Or," Helen suggested softly, deciding to press a little given that she had the opening, "maybe you could tell me what happened in Paraguay."
His body immediately froze and the hand on hers tightened almost painfully.
"Paraguay?" he repeated, with an attempt at a laugh that failed completely, "What, you just can't wait for the report?"
Letting go of her hand, Will carefully lifted himself back into a sitting position. She moved her hands slowly to help him up and hid a smile at his confusion when they wound up hip to hip: him sitting on the edge of the table with her arm tucked around his back while she stood at his side. Hadn't he learned by now that she always had a trick up her sleeve?
"Let's say that I can't," she directed his attention back to their conversation without giving him time to dwell on her proximity. "What happened?"
"Nothing exciting," he mumbled to his feet. "I went, we argued, they gave in, it's up and running. I came back."
"I do hope your report has a few more details," Helen remarked drily, mainly to see if she could get a smile out of him at the least.
"One or two," and there was a shade of that cheeky tone at last.
"Quite a relief," tentatively, she let her thumb smooth up and down over his ribs, just enough to remind him of her presence without causing him to pull away. Hopefully.
"It was pretty straight-forward, though," Will said, leaning into her hand almost imperceptibly. "The staff was mostly concerned about working with outside forces which, given their histories, is more than understandable. Once I convinced them that not all outsiders would hurt them and gave them a few defensive tips as a back-up measure, things went much smoother."
Helen let herself combine a proud smile with a slight hug, "I'm sure it was a bit harder than that, Will. I've seen the intake pool and the communication line reports from Paraguay and the improvement has been quite impressive. You did excellently."
He ducked his head in the manner she had half-predicted. For someone so eager that people be recognized for their hard work, Will was surprisingly bad at accepting compliments.
"There's quite a bit left to be done," he admitted. "I think the staff is still half-convinced that they would be better off cutting themselves off from all outside agencies and operating under the cover of darkness." He grimaced and tucked himself into her side slightly. Under his breath, she could hear him whisper, "Some more than others." The hint of a suspicion grew stronger and Helen couldn't help but probe at the point slightly. This might not go well.
"Hm. Anyone in particular we should keep an eye on?" she asked lightly. Suddenly, Will pulled away, sliding off the table gingerly.
"Nah," he answered shortly, "Can the rest of the details keep? My bed's calling me from here. You know how it is, one plane crash and suddenly all I can think of is sleep."
The cavalier tone didn't distract Helen from his distance and the fact that he wouldn't look at her, apparently finding a tray of gleaming surgical instruments fascinating instead.
"It seems I've heard that complaint before," she mused and was rewarded by Will looking up to catch her eye before sharing a tiny smile.
"I do have some data to back up my hypothesis, thanks to you," he said, smile widening slightly.
"I'm not sure why I'm to blame," she protested, gathering a tray of gauze, tape, and antibacterial cream, "You were in those planes as well."
She kept him focused on the light banter as she lightly bandaged his cuts and wrapped his swollen elbow, then ushered him out of the infirmary. Ignoring when he flinched and extending every moment of contact offered, she managed to relax him enough that he was within a normal distance of her before they reached her office.
"Oh," Will said, sounding surprised, "guess I walked you to your office by mistake. I'll just head back now." Smiling sheepishly, he turned before Helen could speak. At her voice, she noted, he stopped, but didn't turn back around.
"I thought you knew," she said, skirting around the edges of the truth. She had hoped he'd guessed, but the lack of protest had pretty much told her that he didn't know, "I want you to stay here tonight, or today rather, so that I can keep an eye on that concussion. The scan was a bit worrying."
Finally turning, Will gave her a narrow stare looking, Helen was fairly certain, for any of those small signs that told him so ably if he could work around her from some angle. She didn't know what those signs were, but tried to project resolution and sheer stubbornness to offset them, if possible.
Perhaps it worked. In any case, he simply sighed before walking back towards her office and she ushered him in ahead of her.
Getting him back into bed was a great deal harder.
Helen wasn't certain if Will didn't want to sleep or didn't want for her to leave but, either way, he couldn't seem to bring himself to tell her the problem. Instead, he first struck up a conversation regarding the goings-on at the Sanctuary while he'd been gone and, once she gave him the highlights and told him she would bring him up to date later, had suddenly decided to take a shower, after which she had to corral him once more to reapply bandages.
After that brief interlude, the only thing that prevented him from bolting for the kitchens instead was the tray that she had arranged with her Old Friend while Will was showering. Not that he ate much, Helen noted with disapproval. He had lost weight down south, a fact that she was personally annoyed by as it had taken her several months of concerted effort to get that weight back on him after the events of last fall. Now, she would have to start all over.
"I'd say that your eggs have been sufficiently subdued, Will," she finally interrupted his half-hearted efforts to pretend that he was eating. If his blinking became any slower, he'd have time for a cat nap between each one.
"What?" Will shook himself from a daze to survey his plate with a hint of disgust. "Oh, right. Sorry."
"Bed," she demanded firmly. Gentle suggestions had been getting her nowhere and her patience, as much as she tried to hide the fact, was extremely limited. Her father had always chided her for her temper – so had James, for that matter. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Helen considered that she should perhaps get some sleep herself if the past was intruding so easily on her mind.
Will shifting uneasily across from her drew her attention back to the present and the small table they were at in a corner of her office.
"I should really get caught up," he temporized, playing with the rim of his glass, "and if I sleep now, it'll take me longer to get back on a proper schedule up here."
"You're concussed and exhausted, Will," keeping her voice from sliding down out of 'stern' to 'iron' with difficulty. Don't frighten him, Helen, he's had enough of that. Strangling him is out, too. Behave. "I expect you to need enough sleep to cover both this afternoon and tonight. Catching up can wait until tomorrow. Besides, that will give the rest of us time to go over your Paraguay notes and collect ours together for you." Helen hesitated for a moment. Should I offer... he would never accept it, normally. Nothing about this is normal, though. At the look of stubbornness crossing Will's face, she tentatively continued, "Would a sedative help?"
"No!" he rejected violently, startling her. "I mean, you know I don't like taking drugs," he smiled weakly, "besides I don't really need any help falling asleep right now, do I?"
"Not in the least," she said, grateful for the opening, "shall we?" Gesturing towards the off-bedroom while rising, Helen simply stared down at Will, trying to give the clear impression that she was waiting for him to join her. Reluctantly, he shuffled to his feet and edged towards the bedroom.
Never had she realized how many objects – papers, books, statues, small pieces of furniture – there were cluttering up her office that could conceivably need to be straightened between the table and the off-bedroom door. Perhaps she should embrace minimalism again, Helen mused, as they finally reached the door and Will slipped over the threshold as though it might snap shut and eat him whole.
Leaving him to lurk by the entrance, she crossed the room herself to turn down the bed clothes. Fluffing the pillows, she tried to pretend that she didn't see her protégé all but sneaking up on a bed.
"In with you," she finally prompted as Will turned to fiddle with the bedside lamp. The fear she caught in his swiftly averted eyes almost broke her heart.
"Come, m'lad," Helen said in softer tones, sympathy overriding the exasperation wrought from her own tiredness and worry, "You're going to fall asleep on your feet soon."
"Actually, I'm feeling more awake," he protested, but sank down onto the bed anyway. His fingers reached out to run over the covers in a nervous motion.
Making certain that he saw her move, Helen reached down slowly and tapped his legs. Will still flinched slightly, but swung himself onto the bed and she swiftly tucked the covers over him.
"I hardly need to be tucked in, Magnus," he chuckled weakly.
"Hm," she didn't disagree outright, "Turn on your side."
After a confused look, which she countered with one raised eyebrow, Will rolled so that his back was to her, although he couldn't seem to help watching her over his shoulder.
Pretending unconcern at the fact, Helen sat behind him and began rubbing circles over his back, careful to avoid spots she'd noticed bruises at earlier. After the initial tension, his muscles started to loosen incrementally. When he turned to bury his face against the pillow, she let herself smile slightly in victory.
It took over half-an-hour before Will's breathing settled into a sleeping rhythm. Even then, Helen only felt secure enough to make a small run for her tablet and a cup of tea, settling back down next to Will with an anxious peek at his pulse and respiration.
Earlier, she'd managed a quick run-through of Will's reports from Paraguay and had constructed a timeline of his activities, noting blank spots. After some thought, she had also gone back and noted where his reports began to change, slowly and subtly, from his usual breezy style to terse, staccato statements. By his last report, Helen had flashbacks to the early days of the telegraph.
Reports settled, she removed those to the back burner, combing through her purloined files for information on the staff and residents at the Rio Paraguay Haven. Particularly the staff – Will's manner had been decidedly reticent when it came to them, in a way that rang alarm bells.
Unfortunately, as she pressed further into the staff backgrounds, Helen found them all much of a piece: sad, haunted, and with good reason to distrust humans and outsiders. As Will had said, they couldn't be blamed for their fear and it was a testament to his abilities that he had managed to persuade them to work so far outside of their comfort zone in such a short period of time. He wouldn't believe her – Will still had that touching faith that she could work miracles – but Helen was fairly certain that she couldn't have accomplished so much herself.
The object of her pride at that moment began to fret, wriggling backwards in the bed until his back was pressed against the side of her leg, trembling.
"Sh," she reached down and let him cling to one hand as she carded through his hair with the other, "It's alright. You're safe now."
He was safe, yes. As Helen glanced back at her tablet, though, the question played insistently across her mind: Safe from what?