Voices in the Night

Spoilers: None

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 885

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Archive: At my site, http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net , Fanfiction.net. Anywhere else, please ask. 

Summary: She’s in the middle of a nightmare and she can’t get out.

Author’s Notes: For the LiveJournal warricksara challenge #3, “Dreams”.

 

She's in the middle of a nightmare and she can't get out of it.

 

It's made worse by the fact that she knows she's dreaming, that this isn't really happening. But she still sees the crime that she and Nick have spent the past week working on, the case of the woman, Elizabeth Shore, found beaten to death in her own apartment, the woman who had left her abusive boyfriend, Jeff Gardner, only a couple of weeks before. She and Nick had liked him for it right from the start, but he'd covered his tracks well, and it was only today that they'd found the evidence to nail him. They'd sat in the interrogation room with him and O'Riley, and they'd told him that they were going to charge him with murder, outlining everything that he'd done, the evidence they'd found.

 

Sara had taken great delight at the time in watching the cocky smirk slide off his face, in seeing the colour slowly disappear, but it looked very much as if he was getting the last laugh now.

 

Because the words that she'd thrown at him were being replayed for her in glorious technicolour, with stereo sound, as she saw the murder take place, every punch, every kick reverberating through her body, causing her physical pain. Sara begs him to stop, but it's as if he can't hear her over his taunts and shouts, even though she's standing right beside them, looking down at Elizabeth's face, seeing the pain, the tears, hearing her cries for help.

 

But Sara can't do anything to help her, and she can't wake herself up either.

 

She can't wake herself up, and she's shocked when she feels someone's hand on her shoulder, feels herself being shaken gently. She knows she makes some kind of sound, can feel it in the back of her throat, and she thinks that someone's saying something to her, but she can't hear the voice over the screaming in her ears.

 

She does hear her own gasp when she finally wakes, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her throat is dry, there are tears streaming down her cheeks, and when she raises her hands to her face to push back her hair, they are trembling violently.

 

She sucks in a deep breath, drawing her knees up and resting her elbows on them, and she jumps when an arm is laid across her shoulders, misses it when it's snatched away again. Turning her head slowly, she meets a worried green gaze, and she gives her companion a decidedly shaky smile. "Sorry." Whether she's apologising for the nightmare disturbing his sleep or her instinctive reaction, she doesn't know, but he shakes his head, so it doesn't matter anyway.

 

"The case?" he asks, probably already knowing the answer, and she nods, trying to calm her still-racing heart, the task made easier when he reaches out slowly, deliberately, letting her see what he's doing, and lays a tentative hand on her back. He leaves it there for a few seconds, and when she doesn't flinch, doesn't react, he grows brave, begins making slow sweeping circles against her skin. She closes her eyes at the touch, leans into him, letting her head rest against the warm skin of his shoulder.

 

"I could see it all," she murmurs. "But I couldn't stop it."

 

"It's over Sara," he tells her, his voice firm but gentle. "You got the guy."

 

"I know," she sighs, but that's not going to help her. It never does, and that's the whole problem. Because she knows that no matter how many people like him they catch, there's always going to be another one waiting in the wings.

 

She doesn't say that, but he must hear it in her voice anyway, because he says, "But?"

 

She's silent for a long time, then opens her eyes and straightens herself, looking into his eyes. "What happens when that's not enough?"

 

There's no reply, and she knows that she's stumped him, that he doesn't have an answer for her. She can't take her eyes off his, and when she feels his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, she holds her breath. "Then we get up in the morning and catch the next guy," he says, and she shakes her head, wishing that it could be that simple, that she could believe that. 

 

"What if I'm not that strong?" she wants to know, and this time, there's no indecision in his answer.

 

"Then you hold onto me," he says. "And we'll get through it together."

 

His unshakeable faith in her, in them, is voiced in the strongest voice imaginable, and it's that tone, those words, that finally banish the memories of her nightmare, the screams of pain and the taunts of anger. She takes Warrick at his word, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tightly, one of his hands circling her back, the other stroking her hair. He doesn't say anything, so the only sounds she hears are the beating of his heart and their mingled breathing.

 

Those sounds are her lullaby as she feels herself drifting into a peaceful sleep in his arms, and when she feels him lower them down, feels him pulling her closer to him, his skin warm against hers, she smiles, and lets herself fall.