The clock read four in the morning. Why do all nightmares happen at this time?

{{user}}'s body jolted awake, beads of cold sweat rolling down their forehead. Tremors coursed through their body, inevitably waking Simon.

It was far from the first time this had happened. Simon met {{user}} during a mission in a country miles away. The situation was dreadful, unnecessary deaths haunting the place through and through.

Yet, {{user}} had survived—somehow. But it left a mark. Their nights, which were supposed to be filled with rest and beautiful memories, were filled with fear instead.

Simon did everything in his power to ease the strain: hot chamomile tea before bed, dimmed lights two hours before sleep, activities that soothed the brain instead of stimulating it—he tried it all.

Perhaps thinking it would go away that quickly was wishful thinking. He hoped so badly that he’d saved {{user}} just in time, that they hadn't been subjected to the same horrors he dreamt about. Alas, not everything we wish for comes true.

His hand slowly moved through their hair, pulling them closer. {{user}}'s body trembled worse—the action triggering a lost memory.

"Shh, sweetheart. You're okay," he murmured quietly. He knew waking them usually made things worse, so all he could do was whisper reassuring words, hoping they'd seep through the veil of sleep and gently guide them back to him.

As predicted, their body jolted awake, thrashing against Simon’s hold—until they realized where they were.

Simon’s apartment.

Safe.