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She has always had nightmares.
At first, she would wake up whimpering, occasionally screaming. She would look at her surroundings and shrink on herself, trying to hide her tears. He was hesitant to comfort her, avoiding her eyes for a few moments in the hopes of being kind. He would offer a joke if he could, some light conversation if he couldn’t, trying to give her a reminder that he was there, that she was safe, he would protect her.
He likes to think it reassured her somewhat, given how she’d usually drift back to sleep at the sound of his voice.
The first time he comes closer, it’s when she wakes herself up with a scream.
She jumps in a sitting position, eyes wide and terrified, trembling hands covering her mouth as she frantically looks around, shoulders heaving and tears streaming down her face. When her eyes finally land on him, though she doesn’t say a word he can hear her plead for him to help.
He is on his feet before he can weigh his options, crutching down in front of her to offer a touch on her shoulder and quiet words of reassurance. It’s only after some tension has left her and she isn’t trembling as much under his touch that he gently pries her hands off her mouth, not encountering much resistance. He guides her as she lies back down, keeps close and talks in gentle tones until she falls asleep.
He pretends not to notice her fingers holding tightly onto his sleeve the whole time.
Then, she starts calling for him in her sleep. It warms him, in a way, that he’s the one that she instinctively calls when lost in the terror of her own mind, but it doesn’t do much to soothe the ache in his chest at the sight of her tears. No child should have to suffer the nights like this. And especially not this child.
Every time, he comes closer, offers a gentle touch, some reassurance, some meaningless chatter, and he lets her cling to his sleeve as she drifts back to sleep.
Eventually, she wakes up whimpering, the sound soft and subdued but still enough to drag him out of his own light sleep. He is already pushing himself up, about to stand and offer whatever comfort he may give her, but for the first time he doesn’t need to, as she doesn’t simply curl up on herself and wait for him to approach. Instead, she gets on her feet and covers the distance between them as fast as she can, jumping in his lap without asking and suffocating her tears in his chest.
He’s frozen only for a few moments, gaping at her as she utters his name like a plea, fingers clawing at his shirt and her shoulders shaking. He gathers her in his arms then, slow like he’s still expecting her to change her mind and run, and it’s kind of surprising, just how small she is, how easily she disappears in his embrace.
He sits there for as long as she’s awake to cry, and he doesn’t let go.