Chapter 7

In which Amelia encounters several of James's sleeping troubles.

(TRIGGER WARNING: Nightmares and implied PTSD. Really, I never intended for this oneshot to be so heavy, but... I suppose I just went in another direction. Oops.)

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He was doing it again.

Amelia groaned as she slammed her pillow over her head, trying to block out the sounds of Wilkins stumbling throughout the apartment. The first time she caught him sleepwalking, it terrified her.

It was one night his second week living with her. The large soldier's frame noisily trudged, collided, and mumbled in the dark, waking Amelia up. The woman discreetly shadowed him, making sure that he didn't leave or hurt himself. Occasionally, she would catch one or two words that James said in his sleep. Town. Orders. Honor. Torch. She didn't dare try to directly wake him up; she read somewhere that sleepwalking could be caused by some sort of trauma or stress. Clearly it appeared to be the case here.

The next morning, she confronted him about it. He had no idea what she was talking about, insisting that he did not have a problem. Wilkins did, however, appear to have a problem with her asking about the words. Although she desperately wanted to know, he roughly shut her down.

That night was more than a month ago. He and Amy have grown closer, but he still refused to tell her about the dreams that haunted his memory. His nightly "episodes" were only occasional, but by now they became less concerning and more annoying. Almost every time she would force herself to get up and look after him, but after working for sixteen hours straight that day...nope. She left M.A.R.S. to quietly do it for her. If only he would talk to somebody about this! He may not admit that he has a problem, but soon enough he'll have another one... with her!

When everything finally grew quiet, Amy let out a relieved sigh, placing her pillow back in its correct place. She tugged the blankets and sheets over her thin frame up to her chin. Without a doubt, she would find the man in some sort of odd or awkward position in the morning, but she was far too exhausted to care. As long as James was settled down and didn't--

The creaking of the bedroom door startled the startled the scientist, her entire body stiffened under the thick covers. Realizing it was a still-asleep James, Amy sat up with a groan and blearily stared ahead, where her dim green night-light at the doorway displayed the ex-captain's lurking form.

"James, go back to your room," Amy grumbled.

He did not seem to hear her, or if he did it had the opposite effect. Instead of leaving, Wilkins stumbled across the clutter-filled room towards the bed. Amy reached for the lamp on her dresser, in hope that the light may wake him up, but her hand barely grazed the switch when she felt a dip in the bed. Great.

"James!" Amelia whined as she felt the slumbering man crawl his way beneath the covers until he was met with her warmth. She wanted to kick, thrash, anything to wake him up. However, her intentions were foiled when two muscular arms wrapped themselves around her thin frame from behind, restricting the movement of her arms and her legs.

In addition, it put her in a very awkward position. Apart from that one night when he was drunk, Wilkins has never deliberately cuddled with her, sleeping or otherwise! Especially not in bed. Now however, she could feel his mouth gently releasing warm puffs of breath against the back of her neck. She felt his cold chest pressing against the flesh of her back. As well as something near her bottom that she would rather not think about. The dragoon's cold arms shifted around Amelia, pulling her closer, and she realized something that she failed to notice before as her hands reached behind and tried to push his body away.

James was half-naked.

"Okay, time to wake up."

The woman attempted to squirm out of James's grasp, but his hold was tight as his face buried deep into the nest of dark coils that rested all over Amy's head.

"Warm..." The man unconsciously murmured. Amy thrashed as hard as she could and still, nothing. Damn, he'd sleep through the zombie apocalypse!

So she lay there, trying to drift off to sleep. But that was a very difficult thing to do when one considers the very shirtless man that curled up behind her. She kept hoping that he would wake up, realize where he was and how he was dressed--or not dressed, rather. But no. He softly snored behind her, the only changes were the occasional sigh or gentle squeeze of his arms. She tried her best not to move, as she discovered that although it did not wake him up, the slightest movement will cause a certain organ of his to.

And the worst part? The longer she lay in front of him, the longer he held her, the more she began to actually like the contact. Oh sure, it biologically made sense, as humans are very social beings that respond to touch. But she normally grew so uncomfortable when her personal space was invaded, even by her own family! Why was it different now, with a man who doesn't belong here and is destined to eventually disappear?

With an incredibly rare 'what the hell' moment, Amelia shifted, feeling the dark hairs on his chest lightly brush her arms as she flipped over so she was facing him. The dim amount of light in Amy's room allowed her to pick out some of his features. One side of his face was squished up against the pillow, so only half was visible. He looked peaceful, just like he did when she first saw him, before he woke up to the harsh reality of being displaced in time. His mouth still hung open as he breathed, and she started to liken James's relaxed, chiseled features to those of Christopher Reeves' Superman.

Amelia reluctantly allowed herself to relax more at his touch, even reciprocating his embrace by draping one scrawny arm over his torso. The other unconsciously rested against his left pectoral, the fingers smoothed down the hair under one collarbone. Then she froze when she felt his grip on her loosen, her eyes popped open, she glanced up from where her head rested against the crook of his neck.

"No..." The man's mouth formed the barely audible word, but Amy heard it. His face twisted in anguish, but his eyes were still shut. It was likely the same nightmare. Honor. Orders. Torch. Church. Screams.

In that moment, James transformed into a thrashing mess of desperate shouts. He wanted to save them. Save who? They were ghosts now, ghosts that appeared to haunt his mind. Amy disentangled her body from his and sat up. She was at a loss of what to do. This was not one of his normal dreams that would cause him to raid the fridge or the dvd case at night. This was much worse. Still, she dared not wake him up.

After what seemed like hours but was really only about three minutes, he stopped fighting his nightmare and collapsed back into the sheets, seemingly in exhaustion. This allowed Amelia to lay back as well, but this stage was not an improvement. Still in his fitful slumber, the soldier curled in on himself, a vulnerable boy, the sparkle of tears formed between his dark lashes.

"Hey, hey, hey...shhh..." Amelia softly tried to comfort the traumatised man. Albeit, very awkwardly and ineffectively. She gently curled up against his shaking frame again, one hand found its way to his face, gently wiping away the wetness on his cheeks.

James shivered and flinched away from the touch on his face. Then he whimpered, his arms found her again. She stared helplessly at his broken face twisted in agony and her long fingers reached behind, combing through his curly hair and gently brushing against his scalp and the back of his neck. James did not wake up once, he was trapped in his pain. She continued to smooth down his curls, helplessly watching the poor man uncontrollably bawl in his sleep. Eventually his shaky sobs gradually regulated and slowed until they became the deep breaths normal in a sleeping human. He slept calmly again. His features relaxed, although not completely, under the shine from his spilled tears.

"There there... good boy. You're okay..." Amy whispered, patting his back and holding him in a tender manner that surprised her a great deal.

Amy began to regard him in a very different way over the course of his stay, she supposed. He was no longer that intruder in her life, even tonight after he stumbled into her room and her bed uninvited. Amelia liked her solitude, but she couldn't really object to having James with her. At least, not right this minute. He was her friend, and he needed her right now.

Finally, she drifted off to sleep with him until late the next morning. She remained unaware when the sun rose, when James woke up confused in her bed, and when he slunk out embarrassed at her proximity with him in such an undressed state! Amelia also was unable to witness the moment when he admitted to himself that, perhaps, he did in fact have a problem.