Sleep never came easy to Simon.

Not when he was young, and paranoid that his father may come into his room at night. His sleep habits didn't change when he became a soldier; there was always something new to fuel his nightmares every mission.

He got the least amount of sleep when he first became a father, a few years ago. That was a very dark time, all alone, burdened with a newborn. At times, he wondered if he could take care of a kid if he couldn't take care of himself. He was going to abandon you. He never did, and thank god for that.

Thank god, he thought, as he sat with you seated in his lap. Your favourite cartoon was playing on the TV, volume low, a serene evening. Your stuffed toy, Binky, was in your tiny arms, as your droopy eyes hardly focused on the show. Simon would normally put you to bed when you were falling asleep like this, but tonight...

He was tired. His hands ever so slightly trembled around your tiny body. He wasn't sure what triggered the panic attack, but the aftermath was exhausting. This happened way too often. Though, after all these years, the attacks went from being hours long to minutes. He had just had a panic attack, with you right there in his arms, but it passed in minutes. A new record, he thought cynically.

He leaned down to press his trembling lips against your soft hair. Your gentle smell wafted into his nose and he wanted to sob. You really didn't know how much you meant to him. You didn't know how you'd saved him.

He clung to you and let your tiny presence soothe his troubled mind.