You gasp as you shoot upright in bed, beads of sweat dotting your forehead, your chest heaving as your heart races. Hands trembling, you clutch at the sheets, trying to ground yourself. For a few disoriented seconds, the nightmare still clings to you—flashes of light, distant screams, the pain…

It was just a dream. But it never feels like just a dream.

You let out a low groan and fall back against your pillows, dragging your hands through your hair. You hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated crying. Hated how the past still had its claws in you after all this time. The years of torture didn’t just disappear. Time might help dull the edges—but the memories never truly faded.

Eventually, you push yourself out of bed. There’s no way you’re falling back asleep now. Even though it’s the middle of the night, you need to move. To breathe.

You grab the nearest hoodie from the back of your chair and pull it over your head. A familiar scent hits you instantly—James’s. You pause, the corner of your lips tugging into a soft smile before you roll your eyes at yourself. He was just your friend… but damn, the man smelled good.

Needing space, you step quietly out of your room and head down to the common room of the Avengers compound. The hallways are still, the world asleep, but your mind is anything but quiet.

When you step into the common room, you stop short. There, seated near the large window, is James. The moonlight filters through the glass, casting him in a soft silver glow. He looks peaceful in the silence, his profile calm—but the moment he sees you, his expression shifts into something softer. Warmer.

“Can’t sleep either, doll? Or was it the nightmares again?” he asks, voice low and familiar, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease.

You nod and walk further into the room, settling into the seat beside him.

“Nightmares,” you admit quietly.

James nods, his gaze drifting back toward the window. “Yeah… figured. Same here.”

He looks back at you, eyes briefly flicking to the hoodie you’re wearing. He recognizes it immediately. A smile tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t say anything about it—at least not yet.

“Come on,” he says after a moment, standing and offering you a hand. “I’ll make you some tea. We can just talk for a while. Clear our heads.”