His voice cuts through the nightmare, weaving into the threads of the darkness. Her name, over and over and over. Pleading. Begging.
Except now the strange man has Castle's voice.
She strikes out, fighting to get away from the voice in her mind.
He bracelets her wrists, keeping her against him. Whispering into her hair, along her cheek. He doesn't let her arch away, free hand coming up along her back.
It's the gentle brush of his lips against the corner of her mouth that brings her back on a violent sob of his name. Her fingers curl into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, wetting the shirt as she muffles her tears in his chest.
His hands smooth over her hair, catching in the tangles, soothing circles over her back.
She relaxes slowly, muscle by muscle, until her breathing is steady, lips lax against his neck.
It takes him longer to go back to sleep. He makes sure she's really asleep, safe even in her own subconscious, before he settles her against him.
They don't talk about it in the morning. They don't have to. He knows she's sorry about the nightmares. She knows he loves her anyway.
A warm kiss and an extra shot of espresso in both of their coffees on the way in to the precinct fixes the things they can control.