I can't think about it without wanting to cry and focus on Captain Mathis. The night terrors scare me, remind me how deep the unseen wounds of battle really run. Petr's body is almost healed, but I have a feeling he's still having bad dreams.
"You're safe, Sawyer," I say. "Wake up. It's okay - you're safe."
They're the same words I used to repeat to Petr every night when his screams awoke me.
I rest a hand on Captain Mathis' forehead and murmur to him over and over, knowing that eventually, he'll snap out of it. His body is trembling, his brow clammy. I take everything in, not sure why it bothers me so much to see him like this. It doesn't seem like anything affects Iceman.
He wrenches awake and sits. My hand drops, and I sit with him the best I can, one of my legs caught between his.
"You're safe, Sawyer," I say again. I reach for him instinctively, wanting to help him the way I did Petr.
He pulls away.
I do it again, though, accustomed to this reaction from Petr. He used to tell me he didn't always know where he was when he woke up and me speaking to him helped him realize he wasn't in the middle of the battle anymore. Gently, I clasp my hands loosely around Sawyer's upper body the best I can at the awkward angle and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder while tugging him towards me. I'm still murmuring, waiting for him to register where he is once more.
There's a hesitation before his arms wrap around me, and he buries his face into the nape of my neck. He's stronger than Petr was those first few weeks, his muscular arms pinning me against him. I relax into him, understanding what he needs right now. My voice helps, but it's my body that grounds him in reality. He's hanging on like he's afraid to fall again into the dream world.
His breathing is ragged, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. His body trembles in my arms. It alarms me, a stark reminder that he was in the same firefight that killed one of my brothers and injured another. I want so bad to forget, to blame the cold man who let my brothers get hurt.
Any other time, I can. Right now, it's impossible to remain angry with him, when I'm starting to realize that he's as broken inside as Petr was. He simply hides it better.
"You're safe."
He rests his cheek against mine, his breathing growing steadier and the quaking gradually receding. I hold him and wait, uncertain what is stronger within me: remembering the pain I experienced seeing Petr like this or the desire spiraling through me at the feel of our bodies pressed together.