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Molly was used to waking in the middle of the night. She had always been a deep sleeper, but when she became a mother, she’d almost always wake up right when her son did, in his nursery as soon as he needed her. Willy’s father had attributed it to some maternal sixth sense, but she had just, sweetly sarcastic as always, nudged it away as leftover anxiety from becoming a mother for the first time.
When Willy had started sleeping through the night, so had she.
She hadn’t always woken up with Will, when they’d started sleeping together and he’d get up in the middle of the night with whatever terror it was that had gripped him. He was a man with both proverbial and very real demons, the biggest of which was locked in a cell a thousand miles away being studied by some of the most educated men and women in the field of psychology.
Will had never made any secret of those demons and, in turn, Molly hadn’t made any secret of the fact that she wasn’t afraid of demons. She had her own.
When she started to wake up with Will’s nightmares, that was when she knew that she cared. Demons might not scare her, but caring that much, it did.
Will didn’t have nightmares every night, but when he did, Molly would get up a few moments after he did. She would pad quietly down the hall to see if he was alright. Most of the time, he dressed to take the dogs out on a walk. Sometimes, he would find one of his projects. He liked to stay busy, and Molly figured that was a trait he’d had long before everything had happened to him. It was a testament to his strength that some things not even tragedy had changed.
Tonight, though, he didn’t do any of those things. He got up more quickly than his usual slow swing of legs from the bed and headed down the hall. She waited a moment before slipping out to follow, her concern real.
She wasn’t a psychiatrist, which was probably a big reason as to why he’d even let her into his life in the first place, but there was something wrong. Calm careful footsteps took her down the hallway, seeing the sliver of light from the bathroom door, interrupted only by the glow of the nightlight in the hallway. She couldn’t stand the dark.
Molly’s hand touched the frame as she listened. She wasn’t about to interrupt a man mid-flow, and if this was just a bathroom stop, she could relax. She didn’t hear anything, not until a clatter and low swear.
Pushing the door open, she saw the scattered pills in the sink and on the floor, Will’s hand shaking as he popped a couple from his hand into his mouth. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his hand touching absently over the nasty scar on his abdomen, the way he touched it when he was in pain or remembering.
Every time she saw it, she was reminded of all of the scars that she couldn’t see.
Maybe the drugs should have bothered her, but she couldn’t fault him. She could yell, be worried or censure him, sure, but that wasn’t going to do a damned bit of good. He indulged her with the check-ups, making sure that he was okay.
She watched Will’s hand come down on the edges of the sink as he braced himself, fumbled for the tap and then splashed some water on his face. Flattening her hand on the door, Molly pushed it open and stepped in.
“Nightmare?” She didn’t have to ask it, but said it instead to stir up the air, to shift the silence, watching Will’s head bob up and down once in response. She approached as he turned back to the mirror and grabbed the towel to dry off his face. Coming up behind him, Molly wrapped her arms around his waist and slid her hands gently over his stomach. Her fingertips brushed the knotty scar tissue and she paused, flattening her palms over it.
“Mm.” Will’s near non-response didn’t upset her. She didn’t expect him to explain or to need to talk about it. She dropped a kiss to his shoulder and felt his hands cover hers. They were warm, calloused, worker’s hands, and he sighed.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, still wondering how someone could do something like that to another person. She looked up, caught his eyes in the mirror and held them for a moment.
“Not so much, now. The warmth helps.” His hands gave hers a gentle squeeze as he kept her gaze. She wanted to ask about the pills, but left it alone. He might not want to tell her how much it hurt. If he was allowing her to help, she would take it.
“Good. I’ll stand here as long as you want me to.” She ran her nose along his shoulder blade and pressed another kiss. Talking was something they did, but not about things like this. Mostly about the dogs, work, Willy. Other things were better left buried and burned beneath the scars they’d left. “Or, I can get you the heating pad and we can go back to bed.”
“I’d rather not,” Will said, then spoke again in his halting way, like he was afraid what he’d said was rude, “go back to bed. I don’t think I can manage sleep.”
“We don’t have to sleep.” Molly pressed another kiss, this one closer to his ear. He might be hurting, but he didn’t really have to exert himself if they were careful. Sex sometimes knocked whatever crap was going on in their heads out. There was nothing wrong with that.
“No, we don’t,” Will said, and she could hear the wry smile in his voice. “But you have a long day tomorrow.” She did have to be up early to get Willy to swim practice, then school. Huffing into his skin, Molly let him feel her smile.
“Since when has a little lack of sleep ever stopped either of us?” She felt his muscles bunch and shift as he turned to face her, her arms easing open so that he could. Looking up at him, into his eyes, she felt that warm kind of calm, the kind she liked the best. Comfort. She only felt it when she spent time with Willy, or the dogs. Molly had a lot of love, but it was only for those few that earned it.
Will leaned in to kiss her, his fingers slipping into her hair, brushing the shorter strands from her face. The silence of the moment didn’t bother her now, even if what lay beneath it was an unsettling amount of stuff.
She wasn’t afraid of demons. She was just wary of how easily they seemed to tear people apart.