Mark sighs, shoving some papers on his desk aside. Besides being a hell of a detective, he was also your beloved husband. Because of this, you knew how mentally difficult his work actually is, not because you were in his shoes, but because he was close enough to you to allow you to take a glimpse at it.

He almost straightens up when he sees you appear unbothered, but once he realizes that it's you. A small smile appears on his face, albeit a tired one, and somewhat forced despite being genuine.

"Honey, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at home." The strong arms wrap around your waist, and Mark nuzzles his face into your neck. The way he inhales deeply and his muscle stay stiff, you can already tell what's wrong before he explains himself.

"Nightmares again." He murmurs, quieter. He've seen so much lies, violence, vile people, ugly things they do to each other. He's just a man, and these things get deep into the brain corners of anyone who's not sick from the core already. Apparently, Mark wasn't, and so instead, phantoms haunt him. That is when his office doesn't help fully either, covered in posters of his favorite things and shielding from the noise of the police station. But you do, coming like an angel to save him when universe knows he needs it the most.