After the mission, Bob had nightmares.

Abby would wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and Bob's glasses gone from the nightstand on his side of the bed. He'd claimed it after the mission, spending most nights at her apartment since then.

It was one of those nights, the only exception being that Abby woke up before him. Roused from her slumber by his tossing and turning, drenching their sheets in sweat.

She rubbed sleep out of her eyes and rolled over, placing a gentle hand on Bob's chest, hoping to wake him carefully.

He jolted awake, sitting upright, his breathing shallow and uneven. His dark blonde hair clung to his forehead, and Abby could see droplets of sweat running down his back.

He looked over his shoulder, chest heaving, eyes slightly unfocused as he met her gaze. Abby didn't know if she read him right, but he looked almost relieved to find her awake.

She sat up and bumped her shoulder lightly against his. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

He looked down at his hands, where they rested in his lap. "I didn't think they were going to make it."

Abby nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. She'd been in the operations room, listening to everything as it happened. She had been so relieved that Bob was okay and coming back to the ship. To her. She had only managed to be happy for a few brief minutes before Maverick went down, and Rooster followed.

She'd felt so helpless in that room.

When they returned to base, Abby called her mom and broke down in tears of terror and relief, telling her what little she could about the mission. It was also the first time she mentioned Bob to her mom.

She felt helpless now, sitting next to the man she loved as he wrung his hands, trying to let the nightmares go.

For someone who made a career out of being helpful, this was one of the worst feelings in the world.

She placed her head on his shoulder, listening as his breathing evened out and settled back to normal. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Abby sent Bob into the shower to rinse the sweat off while she got to work stripping the bed and putting fresh sheets on.

She put the dirty sheets in the hamper just as Bob came out of the bathroom. His hair was damp, and his glasses were slightly fogged from the heat in the room. He wore clean boxers and pajama bottoms.

Abby smiled and met him by the bathroom door. Some of the tension had left his shoulders, and the flush on his chest no longer had anything to do with the nightmare. At least, she hoped so. He smelled like freshly cut grass and home.

She wrapped her arms around his naked torso, placing her cheek against his chest and listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat. She felt the muscles in his back ripple and move under her palms as his arms engulfed her body in a hug.

His lips placed a gentle kiss on her hair, and it felt like he was comforting her, not the other way around.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back a little, looking up at him, and shook her head. "No, it's okay," she said and placed a kiss on his chest. "I'm sorry you're having nightmares."

Abby swore she felt his entire body tremble for a brief second. "Want to go back to bed?" He asked.

Abby shook her head again, letting go of his torso but grabbing his hand. "No," she told him and led him out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. "We're having tea and talking about this."

He frowned but didn't protest, just asked her to put the kettle on while he grabbed a t-shirt.

Abby heard the sound of his bare-footed footsteps as he approached the small kitchen. The kettle was on, mugs were on the counter for them, and she was reaching for the box of tea pouches when Bob appeared in her periphery.

He walked up to her and grabbed the box easily, setting it on the counter as Abby closed the cabinet.

"Peppermint?" She asked, referencing their nighttime favorite. This wasn't the first time they'd been up in the middle of the night having tea, but it was the first night tension hung in the air.

Bob hummed his approval, leaning against the countertop. Abby felt his eyes following her as she dumped tea bags into their mugs and turned to hand the box to him, so he could put it back in the cabinet.

They listened to the kettle as it got to a boil, and Bob watched Abby as she poured the hot water. She handed him one of the mugs, and he followed her into the living room, where he joined her on the couch.

"You have to talk to me," Abby said, taking a small sip of the hot liquid and doing her best to ignore the burning sensation on her tongue.

Bob studied the mug in his hands as if trying to discern exactly what five-year-old Abby had tried to depict. His hands held it tightly, his damp hair hung over his forehead, and his shoulders had tensed up again. When he looked up, his blue glinted with unshed tears.

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled. "I don't want to upset you."

She put her mug down on the coffee table and placed her hand on the knee he had folded under him. His other leg dangled over the edge of the couch. She squeezed his knee gently, beckoning him to look at her.

"Seeing you hurting upsets me," she said, her voice sounding more sure than she felt. "I wasn't out there with you, but I listened to everything."

He frowned, his brows knitting together, and Abby fought the urge to reach out and smooth the crease out.

"You heard us?"

Abby nodded. "I was in the command center with Warlock."

Bob sipped his tea before placing the mug on the coffee table next to hers. "I didn't know that."

His gaze was intense, but there was no hardness there, just a tenderness that spread warmth through Abby's chest and stomach.

She shrugged. "I thought you did."

He shook his head, looking down at his hands again. He took a deep breath before his blue eyes met hers.

"They started after the accident."

"After you and Phoenix had to eject?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I woke up that night in the infirmary and couldn't breathe. I thought it was a one-time thing."

"But it wasn't?"

This time, Bob shook his head. He reached for Abby's hand resting on his knee and started playing with her fingers. Her hand looked so small in his.

"They came back after the mission," he explained. "They are so vivid, and they feel so real. I dream that Phoenix and I get shot down or that Rooster and Mav don't make it back. I see me at their funerals, listening to the bugle and jets flying over us."

He hesitated a moment, concentrating on Abby's hand in his. "I see you at my funeral," he whispered. "You're screaming at Nat because she didn't save me, then you start crying, and it's the most gut-wrenching sound I've ever heard. That's usually when I wake up."

"Usually?"

Bob's hands stilled, and his blue eyes met hers. He swallowed harshly. "Sometimes it changes after that," he muttered, looking down again. He resumed playing with her fingers, almost as if to soothe himself.

"I know it's hard," she told him firmly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

When his eyes locked on her again, they brimmed with tears. "The dream changes," he began, squeezing her hand now. "I don't know where I am, but the whole team is around me, looking like ghosts, asking me why I didn't save them."

Bob's bottom lip wobbled as he tried to hold back tears. "It's so real," he concluded, barely audible.

She watched him, not sure what to say. Her instinct was to tell him it wasn't his fault, but Bob already knew that. He also knew the dreams weren't technically real, but that didn't mean he could let them go.

"You did come back, though," Abby said softly. "Maverick and Rooster survived. You all did. You know how Admiral Simpson said it would take two miracles to pull that mission off? I don't think it was miracles that did it, but skill."

Bob opened his mouth to argue, an unusual thing for him, but Abby beat him to it.

"You are the best of the best in this country, but you're not invincible," she urged. "It's okay to break. All I'm asking is that you don't do it alone."

Bob cocked his head to the side, and for the first time since they woke up, there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He leaned forward and pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek, her nose, and finally, her mouth.

"Thank you," he whispered and pecked her lips once more.

He didn't need to say it for her to know that he thanked her for listening, for being there, for assuring him that he was alive, and so was everyone else.

They finished their barely warm tea, placed the mugs in the sink to take care of in the morning, and walked back to the bedroom.

Bob tugged the t-shirt over his head, placing it on the dresser to use tomorrow. He laid down on his back, waiting for Abby to join him under the covers.

Abby crawled into bed, turned off the bedside lamp, and snuggled close to Bob. She placed her cheek against his bare shoulder, the feeling of fresh sheets and his warm skin overwhelming her senses, making her feel drowsy.

She snuck her arm around Bob's middle, hugging him tightly to her. He used his free hand to remove his glasses and placed them on the nightstand for safekeeping.

Abby's eyes got heavier, and somewhere between consciousness and sleep, she thought Bob might be the love of her life.

A/N: Thank you for reading my story! All chapters in this work can be read independently of each other, though I have placed the chapters in somewhat chronological order. Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! To learn more about Abby, her relationship with Bob, or simply talk to me, you can find me on tumblr at cantfighthemoonknight.