A/N: I gave you lots of fluff to get you nice and comfortable… so I could do what I do best… torture you. Welcome to my new story of angsty fun and excitement. :D Sorry, not Sorry. No idea how long this will be, but not one of my CRAZY long ones. And I'll be trying to keep the chapters short and more direct.

Enjoy, my lovely torture victims!

Xoxo!

--

The sound of the door creaking open downstairs yanked Walter out of a restless sleep. He shot up, heart pounding, sweaty. His dreams had been tormented to begin with, but the sound of the door had made reality even more concerning. The clock on his bedside table blinked 2:13am. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fog of drowsiness, but there it was again… quiet, shuffling footsteps in the garage. One of the great things, and terrible things about living in the drafty old place, everything echoed.

Instantly alert, he flung off the covers, got up, moving toward the open door of the loft stealthily in his bare feet, grabbing the nearest thing he could find, an old golf club he and Ralph had used for an experiment on force, and tiptoed toward the noise coming from downstairs. His mind raced. Who the hell would break into the garage? It wasn't exactly a high-risk neighborhood, but wasn't exactly a safe one either, but still, it was the middle of the night, and he hadn't imagined that sound.

As he edged toward the stairs, adrenaline pumping through him, he caught a glimpse of movement over the railing of the stairs heading back under the loft. Being as quick as he could, but quiet as humanly possible, he descended the stairs, following the figure to where the airstream was parked. The street light cast in from the windows was just enough to illuminate the shadowy figure, small and hunched, fumbling as it tried to open the door of the old trailer. Walter raised the club, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, ready to swing. He took another step, ready to confront whoever it was.

Then the figure shifted into a sliver of light, and his whole body locked up.

"Paige?"

The golf club slipped from his grip, clattering loudly on the concrete floor. She flinched at the sound, recoiling as though it was a threat, covering herself.

And then, the light caught her face.

Walter's breath hitched in his throat.

Paige - his Paige - stood before him, but her face was almost unrecognizable. Her right eye was completely swollen shut, the skin around it bruised deep purples and black. A deep cut ran across her lip, and dried blood had smeared across her jawline. There were ugly red scratches along her neck, raw and angry, along with what was a hand print forming in purple. Her blouse which she had worn that day to work, when she had smiled at him, and even sang softly at her desk, was ripped and spotted with blood.

His heart plummeted. The quiet, awkward woman who he had shared so much with, the woman who filled his thoughts more than he would ever admit, the woman who he had been in love with for two years, she looked like she'd been through hell and back, and was possibly still there. Like she'd been beaten and broken.

"Paige… wh-what happened?" Walter's voice cracked. He stepped toward her, hands shaking with a mixture of primal rage and desperate fear. Someone had done this to her. Someone had hurt her, and the thought made his blood boil in ways he didn't know he could experience.

She shook her head violently, stumbling back, her arms coming up as if to protect herself. She was scared… of him.

"Please… please don't." She whimpered, her voice small, shattered. "I-I just… I uh… I didn't know where else to go. I couldn't go home. I can't… I can't…" She choked on her words, tears spilling down her bruised cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"Hey, hey… Paige, it's okay. It's okay." Walter interrupted gently, his heart breaking with every sob that escaped her. He took another step, but stopped short, terrified that any sudden movement might make her retreat further. "You're safe here, okay? You don't have to explain right now."

Her sobs grew louder, more ragged, as if her body couldn't contain all the pain she was feeling. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking, her face a picture of sheer terror. It took everything in Walter not to scream, not to shout, not to storm out and find whoever had done this to her. But right now, Paige needed him to be calm, to be her rock.

"Please…" She whispered through her tears, her voice so broken it sent a knife through his chest. "Can I stay here tonight? I can't go ba-- home. I just… I can't… I can't face... Please, Walter." His name on her lips, sounding so desperate, pleading, horrific, was something he was certain he would never, ever forget.

There was no hesitation in his response.

"Of course, Paige. You can stay as long as you need." He kept his voice as calm as he could, but inside, he was seething. "You don't have to go anywhere. No one's going to touch you again, I promise. You're safe with me."

She looked at him, her one good eye wide with fear and disbelief, as if she couldn't quite trust what he was saying. Then, slowly, she stumbled toward him, her legs trembling beneath her. Walter instinctively opened his arms, and she collapsed into him, her sobs muffled against his chest. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shirt as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He held her as gently as he could, afraid of hurting her, but fierce in his embrace.

"I've got you, Paige. No one's going to hurt you here. I swear."

She trembled against him, her body wracked with sobs, and Walter could do nothing but hold her tighter. His mind raced, thinking about all the things he needed to say, all the ways he wanted to make this right. But he knew that right now, she didn't need his words, she just needed him to be there, solid and unshakable.

And so, he stayed silent, holding her close, his anger simmering beneath the surface as he vowed to keep her safe. Whoever had done this would pay. But for now, all that mattered was Paige, the woman he had loved quietly, from a distance, for so long. She was here, broken and afraid, and he would protect her with everything he had.

No matter what it took.