"John...I don't wanna die...no, John."
Breathless murmurs tug him out of his comfortable oblivion. His eyes feel bleary, gritty with want of more sleep, when he forces them open and looks to his left for the source of the noise. She's not thrashing, tonight, unlike the past few nights when the only way he'd known she was dreaming was the knee he had taken to his hip. He'd been frightened by the haunted eyes and the way her mouth opened in a silent scream.
"...don't want to die.."
"Joss," shuffling closer, he reaches up to brush her sweaty hair from her face. "Joss, it's just a dream. Wake up, Joss."
"John?" but, she's not awake. She's asking for the illusion of him her subconscious has formed from her memories. "Stay with me."
"I'm right here, Joss." his thumb rubs along her cheekbone. "I'm here. It's a dream, Joss. I need you to wake up."
He's hovering over her, now, tracing her delicate bone structure and pressing tender kisses into her fevered skin. It takes him several more minutes of calling her name and touching her to bring her back. She wakes with a startled gasp and he presses her back into the mattress.
"Just a dream, Joss." John takes her through a few deep breaths. "Just a dream."
"John?"
"I'm here, Joss."
"Simmons - he - oh God, he - John - " the anxiety is still scorching, "John, he - "
"Simmons is in prison for a long time, Joss." John soothes, thumbing the joint where her shoulder meets her arm. "So are all of the other dirty cops in this city. NYPD is re-hiring, remember? You're helping with the interviews and the background checks? Harold's been running names all week."
Joss settles.
Oh. Right. She'd been calling Harold multiple times a day, giving him names and birthdays, asking him to dig up any dirt on the rookies the NYPD wanted to bring in. So far, Harold Finch was responsible for six cops, fresh out of the academy, getting a job and twelve cops trying to climb ranks getting taken down after connections to HR were found along with gang-related terrorism.
"I'm sorry, John." Jocelyn releases a deep breath, hoping to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out on you."
"It's alright." he rolls off of her and slings an arm across her waist, tugging her closer. "Tell me what you saw?"
She tells him.
Her horrifying dream, the one that had started out with that perfect moment they had shared in front of the station. The one that had transformed into a nightmare when Simmons emerged from the shadows and shot them both in the chest. How he'd held her while she died in his arms, making him promise to look after Taylor.
He reassures her that they are both very much alive and that Simmons' hadn't got to either of them. His soft, sexy voice soothes her and Joss slowly drifts off, cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the dull thud of his heartbeat.
That is most definitely not just a dream.