She had become accustomed to the gentle rhythm of their nights. He typically lay on the left side of the bed, resting on his back with her curled near his chest. His arm used to wrap around her protectively with her arm around him. She would draw lazy circles with her fingertips if she was having trouble sleeping. He could sense her uneasiness and hummed a sweet melody to soothe her back to sleep. Even after the toughest mission, she could be lulled back into a peaceful, usually dreamless sleep. He, too, had uneasy nights sleeping. She would kiss him softly against his jaw line and whisper of a life outside the CIA. The stories became made little sense but it didn't matter. At three-thirty in the morning, the manner of things regarding common sense didn't really matter.
But all of that has changed. Now, he is much colder, refusing to let her sleep against his chest. She has trouble sleeping without the gentle rise and fall of his chest or the warmth of his arm around her. He can't stand the pain of having her on his chest. There isn't a gash there anymore but he still feels the pain. The scar was large but fading with every passing day. He doesn't sleep like he used to. There isn't the calmness and serenity that once inhabited their sleeping. He tosses and turns, gasping for air during the night, screaming through firmly shuteyes. He doesn't hear her soothing noises or feel the gentle kisses she presses into his forehead. He's in a horrible place and there's no way he can escape it.
One particular night, he was tossing and turning like never before. His breath was rapid and he couldn't seem to catch it. He let out a scream against these invisible demons. She was awake, concerned with his well being. "Hey." She cooed softly, sitting up and leaning over to touch his shoulder. He immediately winced and pulled away, gasping even harder for air. "Hey, hey it's me. Vaughn…Vaughn, it's me." Sydney finally was able to wake him from fearful nightmares. She ran her hands over his face and chest, trying to get him to come to a coherent state. Pools of sweat began to form along his brow.
His green eyes fluttered open. "Sydney." He breathed, still struggling to get air.
Sydney sat up further and curled her body around his, cradling his head in her arms. "Vaughn, what's wrong?" She rubbed circles on his exposed shoulder. Her brown eyes carefully examined his face in the early morning light. Neither had slept all night and in a matter of hours, the sun would rise and a new day would start.
He sighed and looked away from her. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."
She pressed a kiss into his temple, "This is killing you. We need to talk about this."
"I've been through debriefing, Syd. There's nothing more that I can do, really."
"But you've been having this dreams for over two months. I know-I see it….you haven't slept in I don't know how long and this is dangerous. I'm worried about you."
"Now isn't the time, Sydney. Go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning." He attempted to turn over but winced as soon as he shifted his weight.
"No." Sydney replied, turning over and flicking on the nightstand light. "No, we're going to do this now. I want to hear everything about what happened…starting from the beginning."