Insomnia

Patrick was used to having insomnia. At first, it had annoyed him, and he would spent the night wandering the house desperately searching for things to do, but eventually he'd accepted that he'd never tire himself out enough to get a decent nights sleep, so he'd learned to survive on what little sleep he could get. Now, he was content to spend the night watching his wife sleep, however he couldn't get away with this when she was awake. She'd never be able to fall asleep when she could feel his eyes upon her, not when he had such a heavy, thoughtful gaze. He was pretty sure he hadn't been doing that tonight, but apparently not.

Still, he wasn't used to Violet having insomnia. She was usually so exhausted from running around after their daughter all day that falling asleep was never something that she struggled with. Tonight, however, she was facing away from him so that her back would have been against his chest were it not for the substantial gap between them. It was more the space that made him frown towards her, and he shifted slightly closer, propping himself up on one arm and waiting to see if she knew what he was doing. She remained silent, though, and eventually he spoke into the two a.m. darkness.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered.

"I'm trying to be," she mumbled back, without turning.

"I can't sleep either," he stated.

"That's what's causing my insomnia," she moaned. If she couldn't feel his eyes burning into the back of her head from the moment she lay her head on the pillow, she'd have been asleep an hour ago.

"You don't get insomnia," he told her simply.

"I don't usually," she told him. "You know I don't sleep when I know I'm being watched."

"Who says I'm watching you?" he said.

She rolled over to face him, proving her own point.

"Ok, you caught me," he surrendered.

"Pat, please go to sleep," she urged. "I'm exhausted and I can't sleep with you hovering over me."

He frowned. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she shook her head against the pillow. "I just want to go to sleep. Raising your daughter is more exhausting than it should be."

He was quiet for a moment when she rolled over, noticing that she did look exhausted. He supposed that his current work negotiations hadn't made things easy for her the past few days. When he was just doing private appointments he was home a lot and they split the childcare and the housework equally, but now that he had been looking over a part-time contract with the California Bureau of Investigation in regards to helping them with a serial killer case, and he hadn't been home a lot while they'd been catching him up on the case so far.

"I'm sorry I've been such a terrible husband the past few days," he apologized, strangely finding that his words were sincere.

"You're not terrible," she assured him, shifting closer to the centre of the bed. "You're just a little absent sometimes."

"It was just while I was being introduced to the case," he excused. "Tomorrow I start properly; I should be back to usual hours, more or less."

"Yeah, you do," she mused.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, attempting to flash her a grin.

"I didn't miss the extra laundry from you changing your shirt five times a day," she teased him in return.

"Twice!" he corrected her. "I changed my shirt twice, once for a spilt cup of a tea and the second time was thanks to a seagull with a grudge."

"But yes," she continued. "I have missed you."

He looked at her, seeing how their hands were now laid in the space between them on the mattress. "It will be weird, working out of a proper office," he admitted.

"Be careful, Patrick," she suddenly whispered.

He frowned at her. "I am careful," he defended.

"You know what I mean," she mumbled, not wanting to repeat it.

He looked at his wife strangely. "Do you always worry about me this much, or is this a special occasion?" he said, only half-teasing her.

"I usually don't have to worry," she pointed out. "You're not usually working with dangerous people."

He found his gaze falling on their hands again, and this time he took hers. "We talked about this, Vi. You know I won't have any personal contact with anyone even remotely dangerous. I'm strictly a consultant."

She frowned a little. "I still don't like this."

He kissed her hand. "Violet, nothing bad is going to happen."

"They found another body," she blurted out. "That serial killer, the one they want you to work with, they think he killed again."

"I know," he whispered, remembering the grisly crime scene photos they'd showed him that afternoon. "You have a bad feeling about this?" he asked.

She nodded. "Really bad?"

"Violet, this is just like any other job," he assured her. "I'll tell them what they need to know, I'll come home, and I'll move onto the next job."

"No, you won't," she said, of that she was sure. "This is going to be an on going investigation, and you know that."

He kissed her forehead. "We'll be fine, nothing is going to happen. Don't worry about time. My help could put this serial killer in prison where he deserves to be," he pointed out. "Now, try and get some sleep."

"Keep staring at me when I'm trying to sleep and you'll be sleeping permanently," she warned him.

He had to smile at her sleepy threat, and he removed the hand propping him up so that he was laying properly down on the pillow. His smile only grew when she shuffled closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. "Goodnight, Violet," he whispered.

"Night, Pat."