Théo and Éomer: In the dead of night ...

Théo: With a gasp, I am suddenly awake, forced from sleep by rapidly fading images, my heart hammering in my chest as I slowly get my bearings. Your arms and scent surrounding me are enough to begin to calm me and I turn in your embrace to face you as an involuntary shiver passes through me, and wind my fingers gently into your hair.

Nightmares never trouble me here, and it feels like an intrusion into our peaceful time together.

Éomer: My sleep is disturbed by something, and instincts and long years of training take over. I open my eyes, keeping perfectly still, trying to decide what woke me. As my eyes adjust I realise I am in Paris's warehouse . . . safe . . . no threats.

But something woke me and your weight against me is not heavy with sleep, but rather vibrating quietly with suppressed tension.

My voice is a husky rumble, thick with sleep.

( What is it, Théo? )

NC-17