Between Limestone Ruins

Chapter Eighteen

Hannah and Walker each got three hours of fitful sleep. Walker watched from his pull-out couch as Hannah fell asleep instantly as her head hit the pillow. 

As soon as she fell asleep she was tossing fretfully, getting totally tangled up in the sheets. Walker could only imagine the nightmares she was having; he had far too many of his own. He silently wished he could help her escape from her own imagination.

With a sigh he got up from his couch and walked over to her small frame now lost in the hotel blankets. Luckily the knots of blankets had stopped her thrashing.

He sat down gingerly on the bed next to her.

"Hannah," he murmured softly, touching her shoulder. As if she didn't notice her body continued to shake. 

"Hannah," he whispered, allowing himself to brush the messy bed-head hair away from where it covered her face.

"Mmmm."

She hadn't woken up, but her body was responding to his hand, still fiddling with the ends of her long hair.

He slowly swung his legs into the bed and lay down. Walker kept his body as close to the edge of the bed, hoping maybe his presence could protect her from her own mind. Was it weird? Yes, had Nora forced the same thing on him when his PTSD got too much to bear? Also yes. 

Her breath hit his shoulder and sent shivers through the dress shirt he'd yet to take off, the suit jacket discarded on the street back at the library.

Hannah's one free limb, her left arm, sleepily found Walker's chest, resting lightly atop his navy-paisley tie. Walker covered it with one of his own and drifted off in seconds.

Hannah woke up on Walker's chest, having pressed the imprint of his tie into her cheek. His arm was wrapped around her and her legs were trapped in hotel-blanket prison. When did he...?

His brow was slightly furrowed in sleep, as if he was having a bad dream. Hannah shuddered; her sleep had not been pleasant, she couldn't imagine Walker's was either. The slow rise and fall of Hannah's head, caused by her proximity to Walker breathing began to lose it rhythm, becoming short and panicked. Definitely a nightmare.

Hannah stayed still. Walker seemed like the kind of person who shot his gun first, ask questions later if he was rudely woken up. 

As his body started to convulse under her she reacted instinctively. She wiggled closer, into his side, and caressed his chest slowly with her free hand. How do you soothe the dude who refuses to admit he has any feelings whatsoever?

Instinct was most of what made Hannah so intelligent, and her soothing techniques magically brought Walker's body back to still and his breathing back to slow and peaceful. She was rewarded by the arm wrapped around her tightening and crushing her into his side. 

He was going to be so mad if he woke up to find them cuddling. That or she'd never hear the end of it. She rolled her eyes in spite of herself.

Luckily, as Walker faded back into sleep, his grip relaxed, and Hannah found her way out of his arm, despite her entangled legs. She ended up falling to the floor with a light thud. 

The discarded blankets tossed onto Walker's pull-out, Hannah headed for the bathroom to shower the nasty feeling off her skin that clung to her since they had confirmed she was their killer's end game. 

The shampoo was just rinsing out when she heard Walker's low rumbling voice. He was awake. And it sounded like he was on the phone. Hannah finished and got dressed quickly. Walker was throwing things into his overnight bag as she emerged.