Prompt: Sheldon helps Amy with a night terror

Amy hadn't had a night terror since before they got married. Even then it was a rare occurrence when it did happen, and Sheldon could usually pick up on clues throughout the day that would hit at one later on. He was able to deduce her body language, attitude, and overall mood throughout the day to decide what kind of night it would be. High levels of stress at work or days leading up to her 'lady time' usually was an indicator of an impending terror.

However, that night, there had been no clues. No hints that Sheldon would wake to the bed shaking because she was quivering. No signs from her day at work or the calendar that Sheldon would end up having a bruise on his jaw because she punched him so hard.

It started with the quivering. Sheldon had thought she was cold; however, when he opened his eyes to look at her, he could see something different in the way she shook. It was a constant vibration, strong enough to rattle the bed, unlike the chills which have more of a staccato effect.

He next lifted his head off his own pillow to look down at her. She was not turned away from him, he could perfectly see her face that was trying to burrow its way into the flannel pillowcase. There was also pain there. Her eyebrows drawn so tightly it made deep creases in her skin. Her bottom lip trembling as a few tears slid from her eyes. Her neck straining, revealing to him the tendons in her throat.

And despite his lack of warning, Sheldon knew what was going to happen next. Her hands clenched into a fist in front of her and let out a scream. Her arms flailed about punching the air, a few swings making contact with his chest, jaw, and other extremities. One punch, in particular, made contact with his jawbone just hard enough for him to topple back slightly. He held a hand to his joint as he observed her. Her eyes were open, but he could tell that she was not aware of what was happening.

He knew better than to intervene, in fact, he knew it was dangerous to do so. Alternately, he dodged her blows and moved his hand gently to her hair. He intertwined his fingers into the long tresses of brown hair. Shushing her and smoothly running his digits along her scalp, her scream turned into sobs.

Her eyes closed again as tears rolled down her cheeks. The beating of her arms all but stopped as she brought them back to her chest, clutching them tightly to her chest. Her weeping was heavy; her breaths taking on no particular pattern as she tried to find the peacefulness of sleep again.

Now that she was no longer fighting him, he took the opportunity to move in close to her. His hand coming to rest on her hip while the other remained stationary in her hair. It was enough physical contact where he knew it would bring her comfort, but not enough to make her feel like she was restrained.

"You're ok, Amy, it's ok," he comforted as her tears began to subside.

He repeated that phrase and similar ones as she came down from the episode. Her sobs turned into small cries, which then turned into sniffles. The way she snuggled closer to him, melting under his touch, told him that it was over. She'd gotten through it.

While she remained asleep, completely unaware of everything that took place, he could not find it in himself to back to sleep. He had to watch her, make sure she was safe; protect her from whatever monstrosity attacks her. So, he stayed, and watched, and protected until 6 am when he quietly slipped out bed to open his weekend with some Doctor Who. However, that morning, he deviated from his routine and left the door open 3 inches.

She never did wake up, at least not until 9:00 when her alarm went off as it did every Saturday morning. Even then, she did not emerge from the bedroom until 15 minutes later.

She mumbled good morning and moved to the fridge for a bottle of water. "How'd you sleep?" She asked before taking a swig.

He turned his head to look at her while also bringing up his hand as though to massage his neck even though he was really hiding the bruise she had left on his jaw. "I slept fine, you?"

She grimaced as she moved. "I think I stayed in one position for too long, I'm really sore this morning."

Turning his head back to the TV, he ran his fingers gently over the purple skin. Sore was one way to put it. The discoloration on his face was not the only one left behind. There were other smaller ones on his chest and arms. But those would go away within a day, whereas the one on his jaw would take longer. She had really managed to get him when her fist made contact with the bone there. How he hadn't made a sound loud enough to wake her up, he would never know.

"You ok?" Amy asked, now standing right next to the blue couch.

He snapped his eyes back to hers, his hand not following his face. It had only been a second before he snapped back and covered the contusion, but she had caught it. Of course she had.

Her eyes widened, and she rushed next to him. "What happened?" She asked, reaching out to gently touch his face. The skin was still tender and painful to the touch. He hadn't meant to, but he jerked away from her loving caress.

"It's nothing, really," he assured her moving away from her slightly, but when he saw the hurt and worry beneath her emerald eyes, he retreated closer to her. "It'll go away in a few days, it's ok."

"That's not what I'm worried about, how did it happen?"

He sighed and looked down to her knuckles. There little evidence to suggest the panic of just a few hours prior. In fact, if he hadn't known what to look for, he would have just ignored the slight discoloration of her hand as her natural pigment. He reached down and took her hand in his own. His thumb running over the red spots he knew did not belong. The knuckle that so clearly was the one that provided him with the shiner on his jaw.

When he met her eyes once more, he could tell she had grief. Her face contorted much like it had before… before when it was the eye of the storm.

"You had a night terror that's all, it's really nothing to worry about," he said, trying to ease her troubled mind.

It didn't. The anguish on her face deepened, as though she was upset that she had done it to him and not a third party. It was worse to her that he did it, she hurt him, causing him pain.

"I did this to you?" It was a soft utterance, delicate almost, but still incredulous.

Sheldon nodded. "But, Amy, please, please," he begged, urgent to resolve what he believed to be a non-issue. "It is ok. You didn't do it on purpose."

"But I hurt you."

"You did, yes," he agreed but continued on. "But you didn't mean to. It was a night terror; you had no control."

"But-"

"No," he cut her off. "There is no issue here, Amy. I'm not worried, distressed, or angry that you threw a few punches my way. You were not aware of what was happening, and to me, that automatically curbs any reservations I might have had."

Pulling her hand away from his, she reached up again. This time touching the skin around the purple blotch. "Does it still hurt?"

"Only when you put pressure on it," he said, making a face when she put the gentlest pressure on the surface of his bruise. "Or just when you touch it, I guess," he shrugged, pulling her hand away.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as he kissed the pads of her fingers.

"No need," he waved off. "But it helps, I'll forgive you anyway," he said with a smile he reserved only for her.

She smiled back. "Thank you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Sheldon gestured to the TV where he already had another episode of Doctor Who queued up. "I was about to start another episode, care to join me?"

She snuggled up to his side, much like the way she had when she was upset over the dress shopping. However, this time, Sheldon wasn't nearly as ridged and welcomed her embrace. He let his hand run through her hair in the same way it had hours earlier. He knew it then, they'd be fine.

"Of course I would."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :)