Marjan would like to think she isn’t too picky about her sleeping situation; being a firefighter will do that to a person. For her entire career, she’s slept side by side with people who hated her, people who had her back, people who pretended she didn’t exist. She’s used to the scratchy sheets, as well as the frequent interruptions and ambient light and noise. On the job, she takes the sleep she can get. It makes it too easy to accept when Michelle asks her to stay the night, especially when given soft oversized clothes to keep her comfortable when they slip under the duvet.
To be honest, it’s actually a bit easier to sleep when she has an arm wrapped around Michelle and the knowledge that neither of them are on call, and there’s no shift tomorrow to drag them out of the soft bliss that’s so easy to build when they’re together. They both fell asleep much quicker than any night at the station, but Marjan finds herself awake in the dark hours of the morning, struggling to figure out what dragged her from her sleep. The temperature is still comfortable, the blankets tucked around her and Michelle properly. Michelle herself is still peacefully asleep in Marjan’s embrace. The clock displays an hour far too early for their alarm to have even considered going off, even if they had set one.
She’s about to chalk it up to some random noise outside- a car on the usually quiet residential, or a teenager sneaking out their creaky window next door- only for Michelle to shift again, her face scrunching up into something like pain as she whimpers. It must be a nightmare. Marjan is more than familiar with those.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she says softly, shaking Michelle’s shoulder. “Wake up. You’re just dreaming.”
At first, Michelle just raises her arms in front of her face defensively. This isn’t about a call, then. Marjan gets that too. She gently shakes her again and keeps speaking soft reassurances until Michelle’s eyes shoot open and she gasps for breath.
“Hey, hey, I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Michelle grabs her hand, but other than that, scoots away slightly to put distance between the rest of their bodies. Marjan doesn’t push her to come closer. She doesn’t do anything to fill the space. It’s a delicate sort of thing. She’s learned this personally, through a thousand nights just like this one, and she won’t make Michelle go through this alone, or be too open if she’s not ready for it.
The bedside clock’s red numbers tick up, one after another. Marjan watches them instead of Michelle. When she has these moments, she doesn’t want to be seen until she’s ready. It takes half an hour for Michelle to scoot closer, pressing their thighs together under the blankets and resting her head up against Marjan’s shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
At first, there’s silence. Marjan starts to say it’s okay if not, but then Michelle picks up her phone, finding the texting app and pulling up a conversation pretty far down, time stamped from a couple weeks ago. The number is unsaved. It contains two messages- the first says Grow up and talk to me like a big girl, Michelle. I know you miss me. The second is a blurred photograph in some sort of locker room, but Marjan knows Michelle well enough to recognize her body’s shape beneath the spray of the showers.
“What the fuck?”
Michelle flinches and that’s not what Marjan wanted, not what she meant.
“No, I’m not upset at you, I- Who did this? Is this why your screen was broken?”
She waits patiently for Michelle’s response, if there even is one, for a few long minutes. Again, she watches the clock. It’s easier for her, this time. The idea of someone doing something so invasive, making Michelle so afraid that she has a nightmare about it and her hands shake when she brings it up on her phone, makes Marjan so angry she doesn’t know what to do with it. Later, she’ll probably take it out with the punching bag or some weights in the firehouse gym. But for now, she’s here.
“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”
“I um…” Michelle pauses and swallows. There are still countless tears wet on her cheeks, but Marjan doesn’t risk reaching to wipe them away. “I have a no-contact order against Captain Tyson. I didn’t think it would actually do anything, but Carlos said it would help. I think it’s just making things worse.” She tugs at her shirt like it’s strangling her. “I don’t know how to make him stop, or how many more of these pictures he has. This is just how it starts, I- he’s going to come find me, he’s going to-” she breaks off into tears again then, unable to continue. Marjan waits for her to say more, but Michelle just keeps crying.
“If he violated the order, he can be arrested.”
Michelle looks at Marjan out of the corner of her eye. “Who’s going to believe me?”
“I believe you. The 126 will believe you. Carlos will believe you. And you have proof, right there on your phone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, let us help you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She opens her arms, an offering, and Michelle falls into them without hesitation this time. Marjan holds her close. Safe. In here, it’s just the two of them, regardless of the nightmares and the texts and whatever else the former captain did to her in the past. Marjan rocks the two of them back and forth for a while, passing the time by watching the digital clock count the minutes to the next hour. It gets closer, and Michelle gets quieter. She’s not asleep, her breathing still too uneven, but she’s no longer actively crying. That’s a victory. Marjan begins to drift off sometime close to the sunrise, and she’s pretty certain Michelle does too. They can deal with it all when they wake up.