Midnight
When she wakes in the night, the scent of blood and smoke still in her nostrils, it is his hand that finds hers and offers her comfort. It sometimes surprises her that her first reaction is still to reach for him and that his is still to offer her whatever comfort he can.
Turning her hands in the moonlight, Gretel examines the scars that circle her wrist and her forearm, nothing more than silvery echoes of the injuries they had once been but enough to remind her that life is not necessarily a permanent arrangement. Though the wounds have healed and the scars have faded, sometimes she still thinks of the days she was separated from her twin and the fact that they both almost died because of it.
Pushing herself up in the bed, she looks down to where Hansel sleeps undisturbed by the thoughts that plague her. He looks much younger when he sleeps, all the harshness and anger bleeding from his features and leaving behind a man who would have no trouble finding a wife if that was the life he chose to live. The fact that she is the only person who gets to see him this way, still and tranquil and almost vulnerable, is a privilege that she doesn't take lightly. She doesn't understand how sleep can find him curled on his side on the hard floor, a boot and a bunched up shirt beneath his head to form a pillow and only a thin blanket to provide him with warmth but it somehow does. Even though he knows better than most that she is more than able to protect herself, he still refuses to sleep elsewhere, even when he would be more comfortable in another room.
As if he can sense her disquiet he stirs, turning his head towards her and blinking away the exhaustion that fogs his awareness. "You okay?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep. It's easy to forget sometimes that they are merely human and that the condition comes with inherent flaws and fragility. When she sees her brother like this, Gretel remembers that he too is not invulnerable to the pain that their life has handed them.
"Dreams again," she admits, as he pulls her arm into his body and strokes it reassuringly. "Smoke and screaming."
Hansel's hand stills on her arm for a moment before resuming its movement. She know's that he's thinking about her words, making the link to a dozen different memories that ended in a near death experience for one or both of them. She sees it in his eyes when he reaches the memory that plagues her, sees his gaze tick to her scarred wrist.
With a co-ordinated surge he lurches to a sitting position and twines his fingers with her own, bringing their faces closer together. As she traces the familiar callouses of his palm, drawing comfort from the warmth of his skin against her own, he looks at her with an expression that implies he'd like to bear the weight of her troubles and ease her pain. He can't and he shouldn't feel bad for that. They have always shared one another's pain, it's just how they are. Gretel feels the guilt that so often comes over her when his protective nature rises to the surface. It no longer surprises her, they are twins after all and she has always been able to sense his suffering, it's instinct, so it makes sense that he knows how badly shaken by the dreams she really is.
He releases her hand. "Move over," he says quietly. She complies as he climbs to his feet, rubbing his hand through hair that stands off his head as a result of the way he sleeps. He brings his own blanket with him, stretching out alongside her but on top of the covers and although they are almost the same height, she feels as though he envelops her in his strength as he settles beside her. The warmth of his body is immediately soothing, as is the arm that he curls around her waist. "Nothing's going to hurt you Sis," he reassures her, "I won't allow it."
Gretel has never known anything so comforting as the presence of her brother, he is and always has been her best friend, her partner and her protector. She wants to argue with him but the words aren't there, she knows that he is right; nightmares do not have the power to break her if the past could not. Scars show that she survived while the bitch who gave her them has been rotting in her grave for close to two years. After a good night's sleep, everything will seem better and that is so much more likely when he is close.
Within moments Hansel's breathing evens and deepens as he slips back into slumber. It's always been his gift to be able to sleep anywhere and sleep deeply, though she knows better than to believe him when he says he sleeps well. He suffers the same way she does, in more ways actually because he has a physical legacy from the ordeal they survived as children, he just hides it better. He has the same emotional scars that she does, he should, they've been carrying one another's hurts their entire lives. Where she hides her pain from everyone but him, he hides his beneath a quick temper and a ruthless aggression toward witches wherever he may find them.
He lets out a sigh as she curls her arm around his own, barely conscious yet checking in. "I love you my brother," she sighs and closes her eyes in search of sleep.