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Nightmares were consistent for both of them, creeping up on them until their sweaty limbs were tangled in sheets and panic lay like a thin film over their unconscious minds. His nightmares were quiet, smothering him in his sleep until he woke up with deep migraines and pins in his feet. He'd wake up, every muscle he'd ever used to take another man's life sore and stiff as old and gruesome memories flashed behind his eyes. His nightmares made dark dreams indistinguishable from reality, but Sweets had a prescription for that.
Her nightmares were audible, terrible things. She lived in each moment and memory as if it was happening to her again, her brilliant mind teasing her with limitless possibilities. She could find a killer in her dreams but not without being tortured slowly, painfully, each limb stretched and pulled until she screamed from the sharp ache it left in her bones. Her nightmares were real to her, just as the cold sweat dripping from her brow was ever tangible. She would wake up in the lab sometimes, no conscious memory of ever arriving, and a new conclusion would lay dead at her feet.
Her nightmares caught killers, but not before they stole a piece of her away.
It had been happening more often, too. Her demons came to haunt and he couldn't scare them away, not before they caused her nearly irreparable harm. Two steps forward and three steps back until his feet ached from old injuries and she started to hate dancing.
The worst were the nights like tonight, where his sniper senses woke him long before she'd snap out of her dreams. He could feel her trembling in her sleep and he knew, oh, he knew.
Upon a note of a scream his arms were already wrapped around her, pulling her back into his warmth and the waking world.
"Bones," he murmured, his voice slow like honey, muffled like she was under water. "Bones, wake up, baby, please." He begged her, knowing what it cost her to live in a nightmare.
She was slow to accept she wouldn't be met with the some horrors living so easily in her dreams upon waking. But he brushed strands of auburn hair from her forehead and she blinked her eyes open, her irises already stinging with tears as salty as the thin sheen of sweat across her skin.
"W-what–"
"You were screaming again." He said, slowly sitting up to hover over her, his hands soothing her aching muscles.
She sat up, then, inhaling shakily. His palm was too warm on the skin of her back and she ripped the covers from her legs, standing up and pacing frantically as tears formed ravines across her cheeks.
"This is getting ridiculous," she sibilated, running her hands through her hair and tugging. "Y-you need your sleep, Booth. You shouldn't have to worry about me. I'll j-just...I'll go sleep on the couch. You need your sleep, you need your sleep–"
"Bones, for God's sake, will you come back to bed?" He scooted towards the edge, arms outstretched in invitation.
"I can figure it out, Booth. I will figure it out."
He sighed, his worry for her overwhelming. These cases were always the hardest; Bones wouldn't rest until it was solved and neither would he. "I know you will, baby. You always do. Now come on. Come back to bed."
She stared at him, eyes wide and jaw clenching as she trembled, tempted. He beckoned once more and she crawled back into bed beside him, letting him pull her into his chest. His arms were secure and safe around her; his warmth encased her body easily.
"You're sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch? I know how much it bothers you–"
"No, honey," he pressed a kiss to her cooling forehead. "You don't bother me because you have nightmares, your nightmares bother me because they hurt you."
She snuggled further into him. "They don't physically hurt me, Booth–"
"Metaphor, Bones," he said patiently. "They send that big, beautiful brain of yours into overdrive and don't let you rest like you deserve. I just worry, that's all."
She sighed into him and set her hand on his bare chest. He placed his hand over hers and pulled it up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to the tips of her fingers.
"I worry that you worry, but I love that you worry," she whispered softly. "I love that when I wake up, you're always here."
He cupped her cheek in his palm, thumbing tears away and tugging her chin up so he could press a kiss to her lips. "I'll always be here, Bones. Always."
Both of them knew he couldn't promise that, but the dedication and warmth of his sentiment chased the rest of her nightmares away. At least for the night.