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The stillness of the night is interrupted by heavy, irregular breathing. Panic blossoming through every nerve ending and pooling in his chest. Flashes of fragmented memories dancing before his inner eye. Memories of blood. Of terror.
Lucanis shoots up in bed, his hands balled in the sheets and his breaths coming in short, ragged breaths. His eyes - wide and wild - stare into the darkness, for a moment unfamiliar with the surroundings. For a moment all he can see is cold stone and the bloodied hands of a faceless figure.
His hands shoot to his neck, clawing after whatever he might find there - Collar. Chain. Both?
He barely registers the mattress moving. How it dips as the woman beside him sits up, her honey-colored gaze sweeping across him with frightening intensity. He doesn't register how she moves closer, moves in front of him, her hands resting just outside of the space he right now inhabits. Calm and measured.
“Lucanis.” She says quietly, softly. Her voice, with that same Antivan lilt as himself. The same voice that has become an anchor for him.
He doesn't respond. Doesn't hear her.
“Lucanis.” This time it's firmer as she moves just a little bit closer.
His breath hitches. “It is not over -” he whispers, not wanting to believe his senses for fear that it's just his imagination.
Then, her touch. Gentle. Careful. Grounding. Two fingers pressed against his wrist, against his pulse. Yet, he flinches.
“You are not there,” she replies. “You are here. With me.”
Slowly, she guides his hand to press against hers. Holds it reverently. “Press,” she says.
“Press back,” she urges softly when he doesn't respond.
It takes a moment. Far longer than he might have wanted, but he finally presses back against her wrist. Feel her soft skin beneath his fingers.
“Bene,” she acknowledges. “Here.” Moving his hand, she places it against her chest. Splayed, so that he can feel her heartbeat. Feel her breathing reverberate.
He is still breathing too fast. Too hollow. Too ragged. But the feeling of her is something to hold on to. Something that is real.
“Count with me.” Takes a deep, slow breath. Making sure he can feel it. “One”
Out. “Two”
He tries to follow. He tries so hard. But he can't. He can't follow, misses the beats. Panic again, slowly blossoming once again across his chest.
“Lucanis. Stay with me.” In. “One.”
Her chest rises beneath his hand.
Out. “Two.”
It falls. He manages to follow. A little easier. A little better.
“You are here,” she continues softly. “Nothing can touch you here.”
“...Andy.” His voice is rough. Hoarse. Low.
“I'm here.”
“It was -” the words get stuck. Breaks.
“I know.” It's all she says. Doesn't try to fix it. Doesn’t try to elaborate. She knows.
His free hand shoots out to grab hold of her hip. Finding another anchor. His dark gaze finally focusing on her. Seeing her.
His breathing is slowly leveling out. Becoming controlled. Calm. She moves her leg to cradle him, feeling her free arm sneak around his shoulder, pulling him close. Letting him rest his head against her shoulder, his nose buried at the nape of her neck.
Her hand moves up, starts to gently thread through his hair. His arm wraps around her waist. His other hand still held against her chest. Still counting her breaths in his head.
“...thank you,” he whispers, unsure if he can ever truly thank her for everything she has ever done for him. For saving him, time and time again.
She doesn't respond at first, instead placing a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Come,” she finally whispers back, gently and slowly guiding him back down.
When he's finally laying down again, her arms wrapped around him and his head resting on her chest, her calm heartbeat sounding in his ear, she presses a kiss to his forehead.
“I love you” she says then as she can feel his breathing become slow and steady, his body slowly relaxing.
When he finally drifts off again, he no longer dreams of blood and chains, but of honey-colored eyes and whispered promises of forever.