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Moira didn’t know how many nights she had spent like this, lying awake in Claire’s bed. The slender redhead was still asleep, her even breathing and warmth a sense of comfort for Moira when she felt like this.
When she felt all too close to falling apart.
It was the memories, they always ended up getting to her. Too many months on that island, too many nightmares that she was back there, living under that monstrous woman’s thumb again. Being with Claire made it easier, but the anxiety was still there, still the horrible underlying thought that one day she would go to sleep and wake up back on the island.
Claire understood, of course, what with being in more than her share of horrible situations. She would hold Moira and whisper sweet reassurances when she got too bad, when she couldn’t hold back the tears she hated so very much. Moira still felt the familiar pang of guilt though. Claire didn’t break down like this, so why did she?
Was she too weak? It wasn’t a thought Moira liked; weakness wasn’t something Burton’s dealt with well.
Moira reached a shaking hand out, fingers brushing Claire’s cheek tenderly. Claire groaned softly, stirring, her eyes opening slowly to look up at Moira.
“Hey.” Claire’s voice was groggy from sleep, lower than her normal tone. Moira could see her girlfriend’s mind already working though, assessing Moira’s flushed appearance and teary eyes.
“Hey,” Moira whispered back, biting down on her lip.
“Can’t sleep?”
Moira shook her head, allowing Claire to pull her into a warm embrace. Claire wrapped her arms around Moira and she buried her face in Claire’s chest, tears finally flowing freely.
“I’m here,” Claire said simply.