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With the biggest blight of his past being Genji’s death, an educated guess as to what Hanzo’s nightmares are about would be about that night. While those are in no short supply, that’s not always the case. More often than not, his nightmares are about the pressures on the clan. About the paralyzing fear of being a disappointment, and the consequences that would come with that. The hypothetical weight of the empire that felt physical and crushing. No matter how many years pass, Hanzo’s nightmares will never allow him to forget how that felt.
It starts while he is still deeply asleep. The racing of his heart, the shallow intakes of breath. He can’t comprehend what he did to anger them. What did he do that was so dishonorable? Why are they looking at him like that? With narrowed gazes heavy with disappointment, and the promise of a consequence for his actions. Hanzo is unable to speak, unable to rise up off of his knees. Dozens of pairs of nondescript eyes bore honor and duty into his psyche. A vice tightens around his heart and lungs. Hanzo’s heart picks up the pace. Fighting against the pressure, sharp pain hits him between his ribs. He can’t breathe; he can't think. A man he used to respect and look up to reaches out handing him a knife meant for his gut. Make a choice.
Hanzo wakes up from the nightmare having a full blown panic attack. Jolting upright in the bed, yanking the sheets off from your body.
This isn’t a regular occurrence. Though, unfortunately, it has happened a couple times before. By now he’s not so reluctant to accept your help, not so angry about coming off as weak around you. As if you’d ever think so little of him and believe him anything but strong and human. The first one you had experienced this along side him, had happened early in your relationship. Hanzo had been embarrassed to have you see him in such a state. Vehemently wanted to be left alone. Instead of allowing you to stay and console him.
However, that was a long time ago. Now Hanzo accepts your comforting touch and calm words; couldn’t even bear to demand you leave his side. You never held it against him, the anger, or the need to push you away. You understood and have endless amounts of patience, at least for the ones you care about. You didn’t know how to help him then anyway. Could have unintentionally made it worse, instead of making it any better. Now that you’ve done research and have experience, you feel much more comfortable in your abilities to help him through this.
“Hanzo, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It was just a dream; it wasn’t real.”
Hanzo keeps his eyes shut tight, shakes his head. Irrational thoughts and irrational fears still in complete control, “How are you so sure?”
“Hanzo— hun, be here in the present with me. You’re safe, I promise.”
Hanzo clutches his hand over his humming bird heart rate. Chest heaving rapidly. Hair damp with sweat, hanging in front of his face. There’s so much pressure in his chest with no way to relieve it. An unrelenting feeling of entrapment persistently nags at the forefront of his brain. Metaphorical walls made entirely of judgment and loyalty closing in on him. Hissing, “You’ll never be free of it.”
You position your body directly in front of him, place a hand against the middle of his stomach, and take a dramatic breath in through your nose.
“Please, breathe with me.”
Hanzo wordlessly listens to you. Keeping in time with your own breathing as much as he can manage. At first, his inhales and exhales are shaky and labored. So shallow and broken, that it tears at your heart. You don’t care how long it takes. You’ll stay up all night with him in order to ensure he’ll be alright. With composure and persistence, his breathing becomes fluid and natural again. The sound of his smooth breathing bringing a soft smile to your lips. Slowing the rapid beat of your own worried heart.
Hanzo finally feels he can open his eyes, without seeing the nightmare that had plagued him. Lifts up his head so he can look at your face. Hanzo finds your calm demeanor and soft reassuring look of patience to be grounding. Gazing at you helps him to believe his own internal positive reassurances. This is his reality; not the one in his nightmare. He’s in a warm comfortable bed. With the love of his life, in a home of his choosing. All of his own free will. He starts to believe it; that he has nothing to fear. There are no scrutinizing gazes here, no suffocating responsibility or looming downfall. He is free of it, the walls are wrong.
“Can I get you something? Is there anything you need?”
Hanzo shakes his head, “Just you.”
He grasps your hands in both of his own. Brings them up to his face. All he wants is to feel is your subtle warmth. Your fingers as you stroke them through his hair, unsticking the strands from his cheeks and forehead. The caress of the pads of your thumbs as you graze them across his temples. Hanzo counts the motions as they happen. One… two… three—seventeen… eighteen…
Hanzo suddenly pulls you in close. Holds you tightly against his chest. Presses his face into your hair and takes in deep breaths. Lays back on the bed, keeping you close to his person. Hugs you tightly like a child hugging their beloved stuffed animal. Except a stuffed animal doesn't giggle and groan in protest.
"Oh- can't breathe."
Hanzo kisses the top of your head, "My apologies."
Now that the bad stress has run its course through his system, Hanzo is feeling the fatigue and exhaustion. As if he stayed up all night running laps instead of sleeping. Still, there is some time left in the night. Time for better sleep and recovery. And God willing, no more nightmares.