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It’s still dark when Carlos feels his wife’s teeth sink into his jugular, ripping muscle from his throat just before he jolts awake. His heart racing as he sinks into the mattress, trying to get some control of his breathing. He can feel goosebumps raise up on his arms, sweat lining his forehead.
With a few deep breaths, he manages to calm his heart. Taking a minute to breathe normally. To be present.
‘You’re fine. Jill’s fine. Calm down.’
His inner thoughts only provide minimum reassurance as he turns his head. To his right lay the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Her hair disheveled from sleep with drool falling down her cheek as her mouth hangs open. Snoring loud enough for him to crack a smile.
‘My supercop.’
Concluding he likely wasn’t falling asleep for a while; he slips out from the sheets. The hardwood floor cold as his barefeet hit it. Standing from the mattress, he groans. Head swimming as he carefully walks out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Chills hit from head to toe. The goosebumps are still present, as is the sweat. He can feel it trail down his face as he stumbles to the sofa, stripping off his shirt in the process. His skull feeling like it was about to rip apart confirming this is a migraine.
With the grace of a toddler learning to walk, he falls to the cushions. Migraines aren’t a new thing for him, having suffered from then since childhood, but this was the worst he’d felt in a long time. He closes his eyes in hopes of getting back to sleep.
Trying to block out his growing nausea.
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Some things never change, especially old habits. Jill, despite possible nightmares or work-related sleep deprivation, still wakes early. The sun peeks through her curtained window, its warm rays pulling her eyes open.
Yawning, she stretches her limbs, waiting to bump into the burly man who sleeps beside her. Only, she doesn’t. The absence of his presence is enough to wipe away any remaining drowsiness.
She crawls out of bed, only to find his side unmade. The rare times he rises before her, he always makes his side of the bed.
Concern creeping in, she quickly enters the living room. A disheveled couch pillow enough to tell her he’d been there at some point. Her fingers twitch. Itching for a firearm as she slowly approaches the kitchen.
Thoughts of Umbrellas spies watching her through her apartment windows or peephole rushing to the front of her mind. Anxiousness taking hold, just as a small groan reaches her ear.
The familiar sound of her husband’s voice shatters Umbrellas hold on her. Overcome with a sense of protection, she rushes toward the sound. Shoving open the bathroom door, breaking the lock in the process, she finds Carlos.
Curled in the fetal position on the cold tile floor, clad in only black sweatpants. His back muscles tightening as he groans again, resting a shaking hand against his head. Jill wastes no time in getting to him. Finding his head warm and skin sticky with sweat, she shakes his shoulder.
“Carlos, wake up. I need to get you to bed.”
The man rouses just enough to lift his head, seeing his wife’s blurry face close to his as she urges him to his feet. All fight’s drained from him as he leans against her. Closing his eyes, the second they enter the sunlit kitchen. Head pounding, and eyes burning, he keeps his head down. Jill, taking notice of his aversion to sunlight, realizes he’s likely suffering from one of his migraines.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
The sharp tone of Jill’s voice jolts him from the doze he found himself falling into as they near the edge of their bed. Trying to find his voice, he lets the small woman put him to bed. The sheets cool against his skin as she pushes sweaty locks from his face.
She repeats her earlier question.
“Why didn’t you get me?”
“You were sleeping so soundly. You rarely get good rest like that; I didn’t want to take that from you.”
Jill’s anger fades to concerned frustration as she shakes her head.
“No, we’re partners. You can’t hide things from me. I was worried when you weren’t in bed.”
To say Carlos feels like the lousiest husband in the world is an understatement as he grabs his wife’s hand. Bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. Her eyes are heavy with sadness as she loses herself in memories, not an uncommon occurrence, but one that’s thankfully let up over the past few months.
A milestone he’d managed to undo with one stupid decision.
“Hey supercop, don’t worry.”
Rubbing at her eyes, the woman turns her full attention to him.
“Did you throw up at all?”
“No, no, was just nauseous. Figured I’d see if I was going to be sick, guess I passed out in the process. To be honest, the cold floor felt good.”
All remains of frustration vanish from her, the worry she’d felt earlier still pulsing through her, but finally beginning to calm down as well. With a quiet sigh, she leaves the bedroom. Carlos lay unmoving where she’d tucked him in.
Even with his eyes closed, he felt her strong presence reenter their bedroom. Her side of the mattress dipping from her weight as a cold rag is laid over his forehead and closed eyes.
He can’t help the breath of relief as the pounding subsides a bit. Knowing what comes next, he opens his mouth just enough for her to slip pain killers in before having him sip from the water she’d brought. Carlos remains still, save for reaching one hand out to her. One Jill doesn’t hesitate in taking as she stretches out on their bed. Her head close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his shoulder as she lays her arm on his chest.
The calming heartbeat beneath her palm soothing her as she hums a Spanish tune he always sang when she wakes from a nightmare. Hoping its familiarity will ease him into sleep as she rubs his chest.
“I’m sorry for not waking you. Forgive me?”
His voice is rough as sleep creeps closer.
“Always.”
Resuming her humming and gentle ministrations, Carlos feels the world fade away. Falling this time into a more peaceful sleep, trusting Jill to ease the pain and keep nightmares at bay.