Work Text:
The first time she wakes him up with a nightmare, they’ve only been dating for three weeks. It’s only the second time he’s slept over and he realizes with sudden clarity, as her thrashing and whimpering drag him out of a sound sleep, why she’d seemed hesitant to curl close to him when they’d gone to bed the previous night.
She’d been worried about this, and it breaks his heart when he realizes that this is something she’s come to expect.
This is normal for her.
“Luce,” he whispers, and he sleepily reaches for her in the darkness as he trails his eyes over her form in the bed. She’d buried herself in blankets the previous night and is now tangled with the sheets pulled tight around her body, trapping her even as she fights against them.
She cries out again, tears coursing down her cheeks, and Tim’s heart aches as he gently pulls blankets and sheets from around her body. It takes him longer than he’d like, but eventually he’s able to tug her flush against him, her bare legs tangling with his as she thrashes her head from side to side against his chest.
“Wake up, baby,” he murmurs. He runs his fingers through her hair, his blunt nails scraping her scalp gently as he tries to draw her out of the clutches of her nightmare. “Wake up, Luce. I’m here. I’m here and you’re safe, babe.”
It takes a long time, but eventually she wakes up. She doesn’t scream or cry out, though. Instead she comes awake gradually, her whimpers dying down and her cries quieting to sniffles and soft sobs. She buries her head in Tim’s chest and she’s mumbling something but it’s muffled by his t-shirt as she rubs her nose against the soft cotton.
He keeps whispering comforting words to her, his tone even and soft in the darkness of the night. There’s a soft glow from the streetlamp outside casting shadows across the walls of her room, but where they’re curled together in the middle of her bed is encased in darkness. Tim can barely make out her shape, the curve of her neck and the gentle slope of her hip under his hands as he holds her close and comforts her the only way he knows how.
Eventually she pulls away far enough that he can make out her words, and his already aching heart shatters when he hears her whispering the same phrase over and over again.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, but Tim just shakes his head as he gathers her back against his chest.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers fiercely.
“I woke you up,” she says, as if him being awake was enough of a reason for her to tearfully apologize after a terrifying nightmare.
“I don’t care,” he says, his voice certain and sure. “If you’re having a nightmare, I want to be awake.”
Lucy sniffles again but doesn’t respond.
Tim holds her until she’s calm, until her body has stopped shaking against his and her sobs have quieted into nothingness.
He reassures her, then, when he knows she’s awake and aware enough to hear and understand his words.
“I’m sorry if other people have diminished your nightmares in the past,” he begins, and Lucy opens her mouth to speak but he shakes his head gently, indicating that he’s not finished. “But I never, ever want to be asleep next to you when you’re scared. If you have a nightmare, I want to be here for you, baby. I want to hold you and remind you that you’re not alone. You have me now, and we’re in this together.”
Lucy stares up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.
“Okay,” she whispers.
Tim smiles and drops a soft kiss to her lips.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Lucy shakes her head no, and Tim respects her wishes.
It’s not the last time she has a nightmare when he sleeps over, but it is the last time she apologizes.
Her nightmares taper off for a while as they explore their new relationship, Tim’s new job, and all of the difficulties and excitements that come with each. She still wakes him up once or twice a week, but it’s not nearly as often.
Until the documentary.
Until the fucking documentary.
They finish filming and Tim takes Lucy out for sushi, and he’s not sure he believes what everyone says about it being an aphrodisiac but he and Lucy definitely make the most of their empty apartment when they return home.
They fall asleep together, the sweat still cooling on their bodies, but it feels like he’s only been asleep for minutes when Lucy wakes him up with a nightmare.
A bad nightmare.
“TIM!” she screams.
He’s awake and on alert immediately, reaching toward the bedside table for his weapon, and it takes him a few long seconds to realize that it’s a nightmare and not a home invasion or worse. He falls back against the bed, his heart still thundering in his chest, and he feels sick to his stomach as Lucy thrashes and screams in their bed. She’s sobbing, a loud, wet, heartbreaking sound, and Tim knows what she’s dreaming of before he even reaches for her.
I found a body. It’s Sergeant Tim Bradford.
He’s going to fucking kill Aaron.
“Lucy,” he whispers, and he reaches for her even though he knows she’s still caught in the relentless grasp of her dreams. He rolls over and pulls her body against his, grunting in pain when her small fist makes contact with his cheek. She kicks out, her knees and feet painful points of contact with his thighs and groin, but he holds her close anyway. “It’s me, baby. I’m here. I’m here and I’m alive. I’m alive.”
Lucy isn’t normally hard to wake, but tonight she continues to sleep even as Tim runs his hand up and down her back, even as he shakes her gently and raises his voice to a level he normally doesn’t use when Tamara is home.
“Tim, no, please,” she sobs, and his heart just fucking shatters as she claws at his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin painfully. He’s never heard her make such a heartbreaking noise before, not even when he’d pried the lid off of the barrel and breathed life back into her lifeless body. Her gut wrenching sobs continue, interrupted only by the occasional plea for him not to leave her, and Tim is beginning to panic, unable to wake her, when he hears their bedroom door creaking open.
“Tim?” he hears, and he turns to see Tamara in the doorway, dressed in flannel pajamas and seeming much smaller than she actually is. “What’s wrong?”
Tim blinks rapidly to clear his vision from the tears clinging to his lashes as he sits up and hauls Lucy with him.
“Nightmare,” he says, and Tamara nods as she eyes them in the soft light shining into their room from the kitchen. “A bad one.”
Tamara nods again, but she doesn’t speak as she lingers in the doorway as Tim rubs his hand more firmly up and down Lucy’s back. She’s wearing his t-shirt and it hangs too large on her small frame. It bunches under his hand as he rocks her back and forth, her bare thighs on display as he rocks her in his arms.
“Wake up, baby, please,” he begs her, and he’s not sure if it’s the change in position, the movement of his hand, or the pleading in his voice, but Lucy’s eyes slowly begin to blink open. She chokes on a sob, her nose and throat full of snot and tears, and Tim pats her back gently as she sucks in a desperate breath.
“T-Tim?”
He nods, licking his dry lips as he reaches a hand out to tangle in her hair. He cups the back of her head like she’s a small child, supporting her weight as he holds her against him. “Yeah, Luce. It's me. I’m here. I’m okay; I’m here, baby.”
She stares at him for a long moment, her chest heaving and her cheeks wet, and Tim feels his own tears beginning to fall as realization that he’s here and alive set in.
“Tim,” she whimpers, and then she’s throwing herself against him, knocking him off balance. He falls back to the pillows, grunting at the sudden change in position, and he glances up just in time to see Tamara slowly closing their door, her eyes still worried but a soft smile on her lips. He knows that Lucy and Tamara will talk tomorrow, but for now, his only concern is the woman in his arms.
“Hi, baby,” he whispers. He presses kisses to Lucy’s salty cheeks, brushing away her tears with his lips. She shudders and clings more tightly to him.
“You’re alive,” she whispers in wonder, and he nods as he kisses her hair and tucks her head into the crook of his neck. He reaches for one of their blankets, tucking it around their bodies as he brushes his large, warm hands over every inch of her that he can reach, reassuring her that he’s here, with her, and that he’s not going to leave her.
“It was just a nightmare,” he murmurs.
Lucy nods but doesn’t put even a single inch of space between them.
“You died,” she sobs, but he shakes his head and kisses her hair again before bending down and burying his face in her soft, sweet smelling curls.
“No, I didn’t, baby. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”
“But it could have been,” she whispers, and Tim realizes with sudden clarity that she’s not just having nightmares because she’d seen Jake in the dumpster.
She’s having nightmares because seeing Jake in the dumpster had opened her eyes to the very real possibility that it could one day be him she finds.
His lifeless body.
He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, not sure what to say.
Because the thing is…
It could have been him.
He’d said it himself --- as police officers, our future is never certain.
One day it might be him that they find, and he knows that if that ever happens, he won’t be here to comfort Lucy like he’s doing now.
“It could have been you,” she says again, but all Tim can manage to do is shake his head.
“It wasn’t me,” he promises.
He wishes he could take away all of her fear. He wishes he could kiss away the terror she’d felt while in the grasp of her nightmare, and he wishes he could promise her that it’ll never, ever be him that she finds.
But he can’t.
“It could be you,” she whispers, and this time Tim doesn’t have words for her.
He knows they need to talk about it. About the fear she’s feeling, about the possibility that it could be either one of them one day. They need to talk about the harsh reality that they live in, that one or both of them might just… never come home.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he just wants to hold her.
“I’m right here,” he promises, and Lucy sighs as she collapses against him, her taut muscles relaxing as she melts into his warm frame. He holds her gently, reverently, and whispers words of love and comfort into her ear as her heart slows and her breathing evens out.
He knows that he can’t promise her that he’ll always come home, but he can promise her this:
“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”