I don't know what makes me ask it. Maybe it's because of what happened earlier. Maybe it's because she's more nervous when talking about the subject. Maybe it's because she seems to do everything in her power not to look at it when I put it away.

"Linda," I start as I watch her pull her pajama shirt over her head. "If you're so scared of guns, why the hell would you marry me?"

"I'm not afraid of guns," she says, staying rooted to her spot. "I'm afraid of the people who use guns. I'm afraid of the people who go out in the street and shoot fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, little children!"

The more examples she gives, the more agitated she gets. She starts to pace, "I'm afraid of the psychos who waltz into schools and shoot a classroom full of kids for sick, twisted fun! I'm afraid of people who don't have license to kill... I could never be afraid of you. Or Frank, or Henry, or Jamie, or Sid, or Maria, or Eddie, or- hell!- Even Erin! I'm not afraid of people who have been trained to use guns. I'm afraid of people who kill with wild abandon, without reason, like- like-"

"Like Wilder," we finish together.

"Yes, exactly. I don't like him, Danny. He's messing with you! He's sending you notes and calling you at all times. He almost beat you to death! What's next? He will beat you to death! Or just go ahead and shoot you! Or- or- or come into your home- our home- and- and-"

"Shut up!" I shout, "just.. shut up!"

She raises her eyebrows in surprise and actually steps back. Damn it; I don't want her being afraid of me.

I sigh, then wince. You can't do anything with broken or bruised ribs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's just... ugh."

She sits next to me, "you've dealt with serial killers before. Why is this one so... tricky?"

"He's always one step ahead of us. Always. It's like he knows what we're doing."

Her eyes go wide at that, "does he... know where we live?"

Damn, I've scared her again. I take her hand, because it's too painful to lift my arm. Stupid broken ribs. "No, he doesn't. We're fine, Linda, really we are."

"But what if-"

"We're fine!" I say a little angrily, standing up quickly. Which is just about the worse thing I could've done, because I fall back to the bed immediately.

Linda's hand is on my shoulder and her other hand is holding mine. She's exaggerating her breathing a little bit, as if she's silently telling me to breathe correctly.

"I'm fine. I just... I keep forgetting that broke ribs hurt like the dickens."

"Would you like to get changed into something more comfy? Then I could get you some ice packs, and some Tylenol."

I nod, letting her help me stand. She makes quick work of my belt and buttons, and I can't help but smirk. I sit to take my pants off while she grabs my pajamas- specifically the pants with the broken elastic. My pants aren't anywhere near my ribs, but I appreciate the thought.

She hands them to me and gives me a quick kiss. "I'll be back quick."

I watch her quickly walk out the door then close it. It takes me at least twice as long to put my pajamas on, and by the time Linda's back, I'm out of breath.

She cringes as she holds the ice packs to her, "it hurts, huh, baby?"

"Eh..."

"Yeah right," she smirks and rolls her eyes. "Let's get you comfy." She helps me lie down the way I want to, then hands me the ice packs. "Do you want to read tonight? Actually," Linda interrupts herself again. (She's very cute when she does that). "I want you to take some Tylenol. It'll help."

"You're the nurse," I tell her, starting to shrug but stopping immediately.

She smiles and ducks into the en-suite, and quickly comes back with the pills and a cup of water.

I take the pills from her and dry swallow them.

"Danny! You're going to choke one of these days."

"Haven't yet," I say to her, taking the water glass from her.

She sighs and shakes her head, seemingly in defeat, and grabs a book from her nightstand. I can't imagine what she's chosen- probably a Hallmark-like romance or a raunchy romance she swears she doesn't read.

It's actually an Agatha Christie novel, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep is the professor being murdered.

I bolt up in bed, not even knowing what caused the reaction. Then I immediately fall back down, because that movement hurt like hell.

As I get my breathing to even out- a very painful process- details of the nightmare come back in full force. I reach out for Linda, because just holding her hand sometimes grounds me after nightmares, but she's not there. Which, of course, sends me into tears because I am a wuss.

Linda comes through the bedroom door- I guess she had been downstairs?- and immediately sits on the bed. "Danny, what's wrong?"

"Where were you?" I ask, trying to stop the tears.

"I was putting away the ice packs. They weren't cold anymore... are you okay?" Her hand is cool on my hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm.. fine." I lie.

"What happened?"

Do I tell her about the nightmare or moving too fast? "I keep forgetting my ribs are broken."

"Doesn't it... always hurt though? How can you forget if it hurts to even breathe?"

Damn, she's too smart.

"You're not crying because it hurts, you're crying because you had a nightmare. Didn't you?"

Why is she so smart? "Yeah," I mumble.

She bites her lip, "can you tell me?"

"No," I say firmly.

"Why?"

"You're already scared. You don't need to be more scared."

"You think it'll scare me?" Linda does a sort of shimmy, as if trying to make herself look bigger. "I can take it."

"Let's just forget about it."

I can tell she doesn't want to forget about- she's under the impression that talking through everything is the start of fixing things. But she sighs and gets up anyways, going over to her side of the bed.

"You're still crying," she says, as if I didn't know that.

I sniff and sigh, not saying anything. I don't want her looking at me like that, like she's expecting some sort of answer. So I sit up and try to go to the bathroom, but sitting up with broken ribs hurts like hell, so I have to pause.

"It's okay to be scared, you know," Linda says, scooting closer to me. "You don't have to be invincible."

I sigh again, "I don't like being scared."

"No one likes it, Danny. All I'm saying is that it's natural and completely valid to feel scared when hunting a serial killer."

I look at her and can't help the small smile coming to my lips. She really is something special. "Come here."

She scoots into my open arm, and we sit together in silence for a while.

"I'm gonna get this son of a bitch," I tell her confidently. "Don't you worry."