Hi! This is the same story that I posted earlier but I realized it was pretty rough work (I didn't get around to proofreading before posting). But I've made a lot of changes to the wording (the story is mainly the same). Enjoy!

Waking up, crying and shaking had become normal for her. Every night, the demons of her past came to mercilessly torture her in her dreams, reminding her of everything she had been through. Every scar on her skin seemed to have been given to her a hundred more times in her dreams, just as painful as the first time.

It had been bearable at first. She would wake up - shaking, crying, sometimes screaming - in Michael's arms and he'd soothe her with his gentle words and even gentler caresses, bringing her back to reality. He would lay awake with her for hours, sometimes pushing her to talk about her dreams, other times distracting her with the sweet memories of their past and their plans for the future. The latter was more often the case as she was never willing to talk about the dreams. Michael had enough emotional baggage of his own; he didn't need to be shouldering hers as well.

He knew this too. He would often remind her that he loved her and wanted to carry her burden with her, that it was his job as her husband to do so. But she wouldn't let him in; she wouldn't let anyone in.

She was so determined to prove that she could handle herself that she insisted he take an earlier shift at his engineering firm when the spot opened up. It would mean their shifts would line up so that one wouldn't be running out the door as soon as the other walked in. Sara had been working afternoons and evenings, coming home and crawling straight into bed every night, curling up against her husband and falling asleep within minutes. Michael, on the other hand, had been working late morning to early evenings, where he would come home to an empty house. The only time they really shared was breakfast and occasionally meeting up during their breaks for coffee or lunch - not exactly ideal but all they had to work with at the time.

There was only one downfall to Michael's new shift and it was the reason he'd been so hesitant to take the offer. Sara would wake up alone every morning, forced to deal with the dreams on her own. She said she could handle it but he wasn't so sure; truth be told, neither was she.

For the first few days, Sara swore she was fine, claiming that the dreams weren't as bad as usual. But she didn't realize how well Michael could read her. Each morning, he would look at her, seeing the dark circles under her eyes as she bit her lower lip, a clear tell that she was lying.

He didn't push her; he knew that if he did, she'd just fight harder to keep things bottled up. He had to let her fight it and just hope she'd learn that it's okay to accept help when she needed it.

About a week in, she was starting to lose it; she was constantly cranky, refusing to nap in the evenings because she didn't want Michael to know she couldn't sleep at night. She would lie there in his arms every night, listening to his faint snores, feeling his chest rise and fall as she lay curled up against his side. She would start to doze off for short periods of times - half an hour, sometimes an hour if she was lucky - until she'd abruptly awaken, the faces of her tormentors - most often Gretchen or Kellerman - taunting her every time she closed her eyes. Sometimes Michael would wake up, startled by her sudden movement or her quiet sobs and he'd soothe her, telling her that he'd switch his shift back that very morning. But she always stopped him; she had to deal with her demons.

At one point, she came up with the idea of waking up before Michael. She'd busy herself with making him breakfast or straightening up the house, but she knew he saw through her facade immediately. He'd give her a look - a mixture of loving concern and frustration at her insistence of dealing with her problems alone - and then he'd force her back to bed, claiming that he wouldn't let her deprive herself of sleep any more than she already was. She didn't stop though, so it was no wonder when he woke up to the sound of someone in the closet one morning. Groggily lifting his head, his eyes focused on auburn locks of hair, relaxing immediately before he slowly got out of bed, walking into the closet and placing a hand on her back to alert her to his presence. She stiffened and then immediately relaxed at the familiar touch, turning her head to look at him questioningly.

"Why are you up? It's only...5:40," she asked, poking her head of out the closet to look at the clock.

"Come back to bed," he replied, gently guiding her away from the clothes.

"But what about your shirt? They're not ironed."

"I'll wear this one." he said, pulling out a perfectly-pressed shirt that he'd ironed the night before. "Come back to bed."

"What about your lunch?" she protested.

"I'll pick up something from work," he said, tugging on her arm. "Time to sleep."

"I'm fine, I'm not tired," she replied, looking away from him towards the row of shirts.

He sighed, "Sara, you're leaving me with no choice." He then picking her up with ease, carrying her back to bed. She yelped in surprise, and then began protesting, ordering him to put her down but he ignored her, walking to their bed and placing her down gently. He then proceeded to join her, covering them both with the duvet and pulling her into his arms.

"Sleep," he ordered, his breath tickling her neck.

Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him, shifting to plant a kiss on his soft mouth before leaning her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart beat. His hand gently stroked her hair, lulling her to sleep, the fear of dreaming temporarily forgotten. For the next few hours, she slept peacefully.

Another morning of fitful sleep, waking up shouting or crying. Sara climbed out of bed, peering at the red numbers on her clock. 8:30. Great, another round of early morning nightmares. She lay there for a few minutes, debating over whether it was really worth going back to sleep, eventually deciding that it wasn't. So she started to climb out of bed and then stopped when she noticed something on her night table.

For when you need a hug and I'm not there. - Michael.

Sara picked up the furry bear that accompanied the note and smiled. Leave it to Michael to find a solution for everything.

Michael stared at the blueprints for his newest project, looking carefully for anything that needed to be modified but his mind kept going back to Sara. He felt the way he had that day in the infirmary, hiding the little paper flower in his sleeve. He smiled fondly at the memory, remembering the pride he felt when he'd realized she kept it rather than tossing it in the trash with the other flowers.

His phone vibrated, breaking him out of his thoughts and he picked it up, smiling at what he saw. There was a picture of his beautiful wife, lying in their bed with her cheek resting on the brown fur of her new bear. He arms were wrapped tightly around it and she was grinning. The caption read "He's a better cuddler than you. xox"

Mission accomplished, he thought to himself, smiling at the photo. It's amazing how the biggest problems can have the simplest solutions.