Chapter 8 Held Through the Dark
Elena barely slept that night. Every sound made her flinch: the creak of pipes, the hum of the refrigerator, Darrel's soft padding across the floor. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to Pierce moving around the living room. His footsteps were careful, measured, like he was pacing but didn't want her to know.
She pulled the blanket tighter. Her mind wouldn't shut off. When she finally drifted off near dawn, exhaustion dragging her under, the nightmare came fast and cruel.
The hospital hallway stretched endlessly.
"Elena..."
Her mother's voice, weak and fading.
She ran but her legs wouldn't move fast enough. The corridor kept extending. Her hands fumbled with handles that wouldn't turn.
"I'm here, I'm here, just hold on..." She cried desperately.
Her hands were covered in blood. She didn't know whose.
"Please, someone help..."
She burst through a door and there they were. Both of her parents. Her mother's hand reaching out, trembling.
"I can't...I can't lose you..."
But she couldn't reach them. No matter how hard she tried, her hands passed through theirs like smoke.
"No! No, no, no...Mom, please..."
The machines flatlined. Both of them at the same time.
Elena woke up screaming.
The sound tore from her throat before she could stop it. Her hands clawed at the blanket, trying to fight free of something that wasn't there.
The door flew open hard enough to slam against the wall.
Pierce stood in the doorway, breathing hard. His hand reached instinctively for his
waistband,for a gun that wasn't there. His eyes scanned the room.
When he found nothing, his gaze locked on her.
"Elena."
She pressed both hands to her face, trying desperately to muffle the sobs. Her whole body was shaking so hard the bed frame rattled.
The tears kept coming, soaking through her fingers.
"Hey." His voice was closer now, gentler than she'd ever heard it. "It was just a dream."
She wiped at her face roughly, turning away. "I'm fine."
"You're not."
"Get out." She said sharper than she wanted.
He should have. Should have respected the boundary, left her alone with whatever ghosts haunted her sleep.
But her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't even pull the blanket up properly.
"Elena..."
"I said get out!" Her voice broke on the last word.
Pierce stayed exactly where he was.
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Why won't you just listen?"
"Because you need someone here," he said simply.
"I don't need you." She said, her voice shaking slightly.
"When's the last time you actually slept through the night?"
She laughed, bitter and broken. "I don't remember."
The admission hung heavy between them, she'd never said it out loud before.
"How often do you have them?" He asked, breaking the silence. The nightmares."
"That's none of your business." The words came out sharp.
"Fair enough."
Elena pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a protective curl. She felt small and exposed and so incredibly tired of carrying this weight alone, of pretending she was okay when she was anything but.
"You don't have to stay," she said, quieter now, less certain.
"I know." He said quietly.
"Why?" She looked up at him, searching his face for the angle, for what he wanted from this. "Why do you care?"
Pierce was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Because no one should have to wake up screaming alone."
The simplicity of it broke something loose in her chest. It wasn't a grand gesture or a promise he couldn't keep. Just a basic human kindness that she'd forgotten existed.
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and she didn't try to stop them.
Pierce shifted slightly, and his hand settled on her shoulder. The touch was careful, like he was giving her space to pull away if she wanted.
But she didn't pull away.
The weight of his hand was grounding. It pulled her out of the nightmare's lingering grip in a way nothing else had been able to. His palm was warm through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, his fingers gentle against her shoulder.
Elena closed her eyes and let herself just exist in this moment. Let herself accept the comfort she'd been refusing for so long because she thought she had to be strong, had to handle everything alone.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Her breathing evened out into something closer to normal. The trembling in her hands began to ease.
"Better?" Pierce asked quietly, his thumb moving slightly against her shoulder.
"A little." Her voice was hoarse from crying, barely above a whisper.
His hand stayed where it was. She should pull away. Should tell him this was inappropriate, that he was still a criminal, still dangerous, still someone she couldn't and shouldn't trust. That letting him see her like this gave him power over her that she couldn't afford to give.
But she was so tired of being strong.
"I haven't told anyone," she said suddenly, the words escaping before she could stop them. "About the nightmares. About how bad they are."
Pierce didn't respond, just waited for her to continue.
"Annie knows I don't sleep well. My doctor prescribed pills. But I never told them that I'm afraid to close my eyes. That every night I see..."
She stopped, couldn't finish that sentence.
"You don't have to explain," he said quietly.
"I know."
She rested her forehead on her knees. "But maybe I need to. Just once. Just to say it out loud."
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was patient, giving her space to decide.
"Three years," she whispered finally. "Three years and it hasn't gotten any easier. Everyone says it will, that time heals, but they're wrong. It just teaches you how to pretend better."
Pierce's hand tightened slightly on her shoulder. Not pulling her closer, just acknowledging that he'd heard, that he understood.
"You should try to sleep," he said after a moment, his voice still gentle. "It's late."
"I can't." The panic started to creep back in, tightening her chest. "Every time I close my eyes I see...."
She cut herself off before she could finish, before she could tell him what she saw.
"I'll stay."
She looked up at him, eyes still wet. "What?"
"Until you fall asleep." His voice was soft. "I'll stay right here."
His eyes were serious, clear, no trace of manipulation or ulterior motive. "If you want."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
Elena studied him for a long moment. This man who'd forced his way into her car at gunpoint just days ago. Who'd bled all over her apartment. Who'd brought danger to her doorstep and refused to leave even when she begged him to.
This man who'd just sat with her through a nightmare without asking questions she couldn't answer, without demanding explanations, without making her feel weak or broken or ashamed. She could at least trust him a little.
"Okay," she whispered.
She laid back down slowly, every movement careful, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Pierce stayed exactly where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
Elena stared at the ceiling, hyperaware of his presence. Of how wrong this was. Of how much danger she was in, not just from the men outside circling like sharks, but from letting this stranger see her at her most vulnerable, see all the broken pieces she kept hidden from everyone else.
But somehow, with his hand on her shoulder, the panic in her chest started to ease. Her breathing slowed, deepened. The exhaustion she'd been fighting for hours pulled at her, heavy and insistent.
"Pierce?" She called out uncertain.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated, the words catching in her throat, tangling with all the reasons she shouldn't say them. "Thank you."
His hand tightened on her shoulder. Just for a second.
"Get some sleep, Elena."
This time, when she closed her eyes, the nightmare didn't come back.