A/N: May I interest you in a fic?
I have to say, I've been positively surprised with the feedback lately. You guys are the best! Thank you for all your comments, I love reading them, even when I don't have time to reply. That said, don't you dare slack off okay? Deal? Good.
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Prompt #33: Nightmares - She woke up in his arms and it took him a while to convince her that it wasn't real.
Word count: 1,449
In her lifetime, Erin has experienced different nightmares. Some mirrored her childhood fears of being hungry and cold and alone again. Some were about other tragedies, like Yates and losing Nadia. But by far the most terrifying ones—the ones that keep her up at night—are about losing Jay.
The first time she dreams about it is around the time of the shooting in the bar. Between the hit put out on his life and his bartender friend getting shot, even solving the case and eliminating the threat does not reassure her subconscious. She wakes, drenched in sweat, heart hammering wildly in her chest, as she is gripped by a crippling fear that he is gone—her best friend and partner.
It seems unthinkable. The late—early—hour of the night does not even cross her mind, as she reaches for the phone, speed-dialling Jay. She bites her lip, overwhelmed with nerves. But she has nothing to worry about. He answers after a few beeps, almost as if he weren't asleep either.
His voice tells another story. It's laced with trouble and heavy sleep. Erin feels almost guilty for having woken him up.
"Is everything alright?" Jay sounds utterly confused on the phone, and quite worried.
Erin hurries to ease his mind. "Everything is fine. I just wanted to check that you were okay. I'm sorry for waking you up."
There is a brief silence on the other side, as he contemplates what to respond. "I get it. Close call, right?"
She gulps, remembering the moment of frustration when Jay was alone with a hitman, and she was hitting the dashboard, because they couldn't get to him fast enough. "Yeah. Close call."
"I'm alright." Even though Jay is a great detective, and she highly suspects that he has figured out her reason for calling, he doesn't say a word about it. His voice on the other side calms the reeling mind that her all-too-vivid nightmare left behind.
"I'm sorry again. Goodnight."
"No need. It's kind of cute that you worry. Night, Erin."
Night, she echoes after ending the call. She lets his words and the tone of his voice lull her back to sleep.
Since then, it has presented itself in many variants, but the recurring theme is always the same. He dies, and she can't do anything to prevent it.
After Jay's abduction they got worse. For weeks the same thing tormented her—she is always too late—too late, too slow, too weak to save him. Even Hank brought it up one time at breakfast, but she blamed it all on the detoxing and removed herself from the conversation as soon as she could. The last thing she needed was Hank knowing who she dreams about.
The only thing that has essentially changed since then, is the fact that Jay is sleeping next to her now. So when she wakes up in the middle of the night, startled and upset, his arms go around her almost instantly, providing the reassurance and comfort her body and mind crave.
"What was it about?" He asks quietly, careful not to startle her any further. She appreciates his efforts, but for some reason, she doesn't want to tell him, even though he is all too familiar with the nastiness of bad dreams. She has woken him up from one many times before.
Erin shakes her head. "Don't remember."
He looks at her, reluctant, almost as if he doesn't believe her words. But he lets it go, instead pulling her against him, until she settles her head on his chest, where it feels safe.
It doesn't take long before she drifts again.
"Hey," he murmurs softly, as to not disturb the quiet of the night. "Can't sleep?"
He can tell something is troubling her, but she hasn't been all that willing to talk to him about it. Guilt sweeps over him, because he has been too consumed by his own feelings to really push her to talk about hers.
They haven't even spent much time together since Terry's funeral. Jay had a couple of days off and she had to work. And he might have pushed her away a bit, needing space to deal with the negative emotions, even though she has made it crystal clear she is there for him.
"Yeah," she confirms, going through the fridge in search for something to eat. She isn't even hungry. She just needs to do something to shake the dreams. "I'm okay, go back to sleep."
"You can talk to me, you know? Despite everything." Erin looks at him with those eyes that keep taking his breath away. He gets lost in them, before noticing the pain, the heartbreak. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." But the tears in her eyes tell him otherwise. Her hand cups his cheek with a tenderness she rarely possesses. She has decided long ago that she never wants to take him for granted, so the words make their way out despite her reluctance to share. "I'm just happy it wasn't you."
It dawns on him then, that she has been carrying all the pain by herself, because she didn't want to burden him with it. She was sheltering him, just like—he supposes—he would do if he were in her shoes. But as much as he went through something that day, she did too. And he has failed to acknowledge that in any way.
Her shaking hands and tiny voice come back to him now, remembering how she held him right after he came in. I heard on the scanner. For a brief moment, he tries putting himself in her shoes, and knows he would be terrified to the bone if the situation were reversed.
"I'm okay. I'm here." They both know the words come out because it is what she needs in that moment. Hesitantly, she takes two steps forward, until she can lean her cheek against his bare chest, resting it on top of the very proof he is alive—his heart.
"Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?" He asks, but her head shakes in response. "But you know you can? I'm always here for you. Even if I'm dealing with stuff."
He hasn't been in touch for the past two days, and he feels guilty about it, but they are made from the same cloth, and she understands his need for space. She also knows it can be a slippery slope—pushing people away. "I know."
"Good. You still hungry?"
Erin nods, craving something to calm her upset stomach. She knows how lucky she is to have found somebody who truly knows her when Jay gets his phone and orders pizza for the two of them. They eat together, sitting on the kitchen counter. Their legs are close enough to touch and her head occasionally leans on his shoulder.
After their stomachs are full, and their minds calmed, she lets him lead her back to bed, where she snuggles against him, knowing that the intimacy between them is the best cure for bad dreams.
The next time it's worse. The tears stream down her face as she openly weeps in his arms. His hands stroking her back manage to calm her down, and she admits to herself that maybe she does need to say it. Maybe saying it will help her deal with it.
It is the night she breaks, admitting that her worst fear is losing him.
He stares at her for a long while after, her hand warm in his. His expression is stunned and a little sad—not what she expected.
"Mine is too," he admits finally. "Some of the worse dreams are from the army, but most of them are about losing you. They come after close calls, like you going in without backup and getting yourself kidnapped."
He is never going to let her live that one down, she thinks. At a loss for words, she reaches out, stroking his cheek gently. There is a new understanding between them. Having confessed that, there isn't much else they keep a secret from each other these days—at least when it comes to the important things.
But there is also heaviness pressing against their chests. Because in their line of work, there are no guarantees. No promises. And the dreams that most people dismiss as just bad dreams, could come true all too quickly for them.
The only thing left to do, is to take nothing for granted and love each other every day like it's their last. And as he kisses away the bitter aftertaste of her dreams, that is exactly what they do.