Chapter Text
Epilogue
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Jack woke abruptly. The kind of waking that came from somewhere deeper than sleep, when the body reacted before the mind had fully caught up.
For a moment he didn’t move.
The room was dark except for the thin grey line of early morning pressing through the curtains. His breathing was still uneven, the echo of the dream lingering in the tightness of his chest—shouted orders, metal clattering, the sharp smell of antiseptic and something darker underneath it.
It took a few seconds for the apartment to replace the dream, noise still rang faintly in his ears.
Jack exhaled slowly.
Quiet walls. Soft sheets. The warmth beside him.
Samira.
She was still asleep, turned slightly toward him, one arm resting loosely across the mattress between them.
Her hair had fallen across the pillow, and her breathing moved in a slow, steady rhythm that felt almost deliberate. Untouched by whatever had pulled him out of sleep.
For a moment Jack simply watched her, then he shifted slightly onto his side.
The mattress moved just enough that she responded without waking, drifting a little closer toward him the way she often did when the distance between them increased during the night.
Jack slid his arm around her waist, pulling her gently against his chest, the warmth of her body immediate, grounding.
The simple contact pulled the last threads of the dream away from the edges of his mind.
She stirred softly, adjusting. Her hand found his arm where it rested around her body, fingers curling loosely there.
Jack lowered his head slightly and pressed a quiet kiss into her hair. The scent of her shampoo was faint, warm and familiar, a small domestic detail that felt worlds away from the hospital corridors his mind had just left.
Samira made a faint sound of acknowledgement, something between a sigh and a smile, and shifted closer without fully waking.
“What time is it?” She murmured.
“Too early.” He replied quietly.
“It’s your day off,” her voice was thick with sleep. “You should be sleeping.”
His arm tightened just slightly, drawing her a little closer against him.
“In a minute.” He said.
Samira huffed a quiet laugh without opening her eyes.
“You’re staring again.”
He ran his fingers gently over her face.
“Old habit.”
Samira leaned toward him, eyes half open, and kissed him—soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that belonged to mornings. Then she settled again, her breathing deepening almost immediately.
Jack exhaled slowly.
He stayed where he was, his arm adjusting around her, listening to the quiet rhythm of the room.
The dream was already fading.
Outside, the city was beginning to wake slowly—distant traffic, the low hum of early buses somewhere down the street. But inside the apartment there was no urgency. Just the warmth of her body against his and the steady reminder that the world, at least for a few minutes longer, was not falling apart.
Jack closed his eyes again. This time sleep came back quietly.