As Lyla stepped into the darkened bedroom, her heeled boots clicking quietly, she knew something was wrong. The tiny, tinny-sounding radio in the corner was on, softly playing a mournful country tune. Lyla squinted at the bed, just able to make out the outline of Tim's body. She shook her head a minutely and carefully removed her boots. Reaching up as she approached the bed, she tugged on her hair elastic and let her dark ponytail loose.
Tim hadn't moved in hours, but was wide-awake. He ignored the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing, and the noise of Lyla's shoes. He still didn't move when he felt a warm hand on his chest.
"Tim," Lyla murmured in his ear. "Hey."
Tim placed a hand over Lyla's. He kept quiet. Lyla spooned herself against Tim, snuggling against his back, a protective arm wrapped around his body.
"Tim Riggins," she whispered, "What's wrong?"
"Not now, Ly," he whispered in reply.
Lyla sighed softly and combed her freshly-manicured nails through Tim's hair. "Are you really planning on telling me?"
"No," Tim murmured. "You know that."
"Why not?" she asked.
"I just don't want to talk, okay?"
Lyla sighed and kissed Tim's shoulder. "Alright. Fine." She brushed a kiss to the nape of his neck. "Are you trying to sleep?"
"No. Sleepin' gave me nightmares," Tim admitted quietly, ashamed. " 'Bout Six."
Lyla felt as though someone punched her in the stomach. For a moment, she didn't know how to breathe. "Oh, Tim…" she finally managed.
"He's runnin', and I'm right there. I should have stopped him from doing it!" Tim said it in a furious whisper. "I could have stopped him, if I was just a little faster."
"No, Tim. No," Lyla said, her voice soft. "Please don't say that. Don't think like that."
"It's true, though. I should have stopped him. Should have run faster. Could have-"
"Tim, shh," Lyla soothed, as Tim confessed, "Whenever I close my eyes, I see it."
Lyla heard that, and she squeezed Tim just a little bit tighter. "Shh. That's not fair to you. You couldn't have stopped it. He was going to do what he wanted."
Tim shook his head, but with Lyla's fingers in his hair, he was half-asleep. He made a soft, content noise, and his once-tense body was calm. Lyla felt Tim's muscles relax; she smiled faintly.
"That's right," she whispered. "Just relax. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."
"Mmm, no," he said, speaking into his pillow.
"Just close your eyes and sleep some," Lyla instructed. Tim grumbled, but closed his eyes. Lyla's fingers continued to comb through his hair, and his breathing evened out in minutes.
Lyla sighed, listening to Tim's quiet, congested breathing. She kept herself pressed right up against Tim's back, and she pondered in her head, "What am I gonna do with you, Riggins?"