Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/de_solaris
They're not mine, I'm not making any money. No coryrights infringement intended.

Thanks go to Tai and Starwatcher for their precious help.

This story is part of the "Night" series. It's not a sequel as such which is why I didn't labelled it that way, but it belongs to this universe.

In the silence of the room, the quiet sobs sounded like screams of agony to Jim's sensitive ears. His own body taut, his jaw clenched, he could do nothing but listen to his lover softly weep in his sleep. It was something Jim never got used to -- no matter how long they'd been living together -- those silent tears shed by the man sleeping beside him. The tears, but also the knowledge that Blair wasn't even conscious of them.

Jim had never seen Blair cry in front of him. He'd seen his lover in a myriad of emotional states -- worried sick, upset, sad, furious, scared, and he'd looked on the verge of tears on some occasions after some very difficult times -- but the younger man never allowed himself to break down that way. Oh, he'd found other outlets, but he'd just never cried in front of Jim.

Consciously, that is. Because sometimes, after he'd gone through something that upset him during the day, be it obvious or just a tiny detail, it would come back and haunt his nights. It didn't happen often; Blair was one of the most resilient persons Jim had met, but of all people, the ex-soldier knew that resilient didn't equal invulnerable, and the younger man sometimes was outnumbered by his own souvenirs, his own nightmares, and the tears would flow -- quietly and silently -- as if Blair's pain was just a shadow not to be seen or heard by anyone. But Jim saw, Jim heard, and it killed him each time he was witness to his lover's silent grief.

The first time it had happened, Jim hadn't known what to do. He wasn't used to the heartbreaking but oh so silent show of pain and vulnerability his lover was displaying. He'd seen men break down in front of him; yelling, sobbing until they couldn't breathe anymore, lashing out at the first thing or person they found. In the army, and particularly in Black Ops, you saw the worst humanity had to offer and sometimes it proved to be more than you could stand, so he was familiar with that kind of extreme pain; he knew how to respond. But he'd been at a total loss for what to do in the face of Blair's own subdued pain; seeing someone crying while they were still asleep was really unsettling. So he'd awakened Blair that first time. His lover had looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, blinking in confusion. Then a hand had slowly found its way to his own wet cheeks. Blair hasn't shown surprise at the realisation he'd apparently been crying in his sleep. "It happens sometimes," he'd told Jim, but assured him that he didn't need to worry, it was nothing. Blair had been unable to go back to sleep afterward, and the days that followed had taken a toll on the younger man, his nights being plagued by violent nightmares.

That first night, Jim had learnt two things -- a) that `nothing' didn't mean shit when it came from Sandburg's mouth, which was pretty typical anyway, and b) that the best course of action was actually to let Blair cry without interrupting him, because it was apparently the catharsis he needed to handle whatever nightmare his mind was remembering -- and if that's how Blair needed to handle things, letting him cry without waking him would be how Jim handled it too, even if it killed him.

He would have preferred just to shake his lover awake and chase the nightmares away with a fucking kick in the ass. Only he couldn't do that, as he'd established early on, which didn't really sit well with Jim, who was before everything else a man of action -- but having no choice, he'd settled with putting a restraint on himself, restraints he'd learnt he possessed after he met one Blair Sandburg.

But because Jim couldn't do `nothing', he tried to content himself with cradling the sleeping-weeping Blair close to him, waiting for the quiet sobs to subside, for the breathing to get regular once more. He wouldn't let go the warm bundle in his arms all night. He knew Blair would feel fine come the morning, but the older man couldn't help it, he needed the immediate reassurance that the crying was over. And when the day broke, Blair would feel a little subdued at first but he would go back to his smart-ass self after a couple of hours, and Jim would forget about the night's activities... until the next time it happened.

But there was another reason why he kept guard and kept the body close to him. Sometimes, when whatever was responsible for Blair's silent breakdown was a tad too powerful, his lover would need physical reassurance that he was safe after he woke up in the middle of the night. Jim kept vigil for those times in particular.

Jim sometimes took those mini crises as a test of their resiliency -- when they passed, things always looked cleared for a time, and Blair would feel cleansed somehow of whatever had plagued his mind prior to the nightmares. He never went into details as to what had provoked them in the first place. Not because he didn't want to or didn't trust Jim with his demons -- he'd shared pretty much all of them with his lover at one time or another in all their years together -- but because he considered it was pointless. He knew he wasn't likely to ever be totally free of them, and he refused to give them power over him. He was their servant in the dark, but when daylight came, he chose to forget about them. Jim followed his lead, never pushing; he was grateful to have Blair respect his own desire for privacy when he needed it.

And as long as he was allowed near Blair, it was at least bearable. There were times when his lover kept him at bay, but not those times, and Jim was profoundly grateful. His own nerves were shot to hell; he needed the contact as much as Blair did.

Jim rolled on his side and manhandled his lover so that his back was nestled close to his front; the tense body was shaking from the sobs. Jim let his hands caress the bare skin, knowing it would soothe Blair without waking him. Comfortably spooned behind his lover, his hands running over the soft skin -- he'd shaved Blair himself just the day before -- Jim couldn't help thinking of all those people in his lover's life who deserved a place in hell. He held them all responsible for every single tear shed by the man in his arms. He knew there was no point in dwelling in the past, and that it was always better to let it go, but sometimes the past refused to let go. Then again, there was nothing he could do to change anything, so he just sighed and softly nuzzled Blair's neck to soothe himself this time.

His mind drifted off a bit, but his senses seemed to be all focused on his lover. He liked the feeling of being in tune with Blair that way. These out-of-whack senses of his were odd, sometimes a huge inconvenience, at other times a painful and frightening unknown entity, and it usually pissed him off. He didn't know why it happened to him, but he agreed that there were some really wonderful advantages -- and not just the making-it-possible-to-check-on-Blair-and-his-johns-while-they're-busy-fucking-him kind of advantage either. No, the senses had some real and beautiful advantages, like feeling one with Blair even when he wasn't buried deep inside him. He was experiencing one of those moments right now.

After a while, he relaxed when he realized that Blair's heartbeat had resumed a normal rhythm, and when he felt the body in his arms become almost limp after the tension, born from the crying, left Blair. Still spooned together, Jim turned the body in front of him so he could have better access to his companion's face. He nuzzled Blair's cheeks, inhaling the saline scent clinging to and surrounding his lover, and lapped at them in tiny strokes, in the hope of erasing any physical evidence of Blair's anguish. Of course, it wasn't enough to banish the mental one, but Jim knew how to accomplish that. He kissed the damp cheeks and showered Blair's face with butterfly kisses; at this stage of his leaving his nightmares behind, Blair needed peace and quiet.

"Jim?" came the soft voice, hoarse from both the sleep and the tears.

"Yeah. Everything is okay, Blair, shhh." The older man cuddled his lover even closer if it was possible, and put his naked body in full contact with Blair's, leaving no space between them. The skin to skin feeling always grounded Blair when he awoke like this.

Blair sighed shakily, slowly surfacing from his disturbed sleep. He'd done it again. They often took him by surprise, those silent tears. He never really knew what triggered them. Or more precisely, he perfectly knew what triggered them but he never knew when he would fall victim to them.

Sometimes something bad would happen and his nights would remain peaceful, but other times, a word, a voice, a detail would come back to haunt him. There was no way of knowing for sure, but he guessed it was a matter of being prepared or not. He unconsciously kept his guard up when he knew nightmares were bound to lurk in a dark corner of his psyche and it sufficed to stop them from invading his sleep, but apparently insignificant events weren't enough to keep his barriers up and that was when he was vulnerable to whatever his battered mind would dish out to him. But even believing in this theory, he couldn't be sure of what exactly triggered what. Sometimes things were just too much, period. He usually thought he was strong enough to keep everything under control -- but failure was a huge part of life after all, so he was bound to fail at that too.

He'd been subjected to those `attacks', as he called them, as far back as he remembered, and he'd resigned himself a long time ago to never being free of them. Even his relationship with Jim hadn't helped conquer them -- and if Jim had been unable to do that, he knew nothing ever would. He had to accept this blatant show of weakness; it was part of him, so be it. Though Jim would spank his ass if he heard him talk like that. And to be honest, Blair had also accepted early on that those attacks helped a bit. They cleared his mind for a certain period of time and, even if he knew it was never permanent, the reprieve was just wonderful. So Blair, always the pragmatist, was able to see their utility. He still didn't like it, but he understood they were a necessary evil.

He'd also found out those attacks weren't so frightening now that he had Jim; no longer did he wake up alone in the dark, no longer did he have to wait alone and disoriented for the coldness inside him to fade. Jim was here to warm him each time.

Blair took a deep breath and slid a still slightly shaking hand to Jim's arm encircling his waist and grasped his hand, entwining his fingers with his lover's.

"How do you feel?" Jim asked softly. He knew what Blair was going to answer, of course; this too, was another of their rituals.

"Empty," came the inevitable reply.

Jim kissed the warm neck presented to him before rolling Blair on his stomach. As his hands reached for the nightstand where he knew the lube was, he whispered the words Blair was expecting. "I'll fill you up, baby. You won't know empty anymore tonight." He licked the bent neck and swiftly opened the tube and coated himself. He then probed at Blair's opening and felt it relaxed already -- Blair was pliant and waiting for him. Jim positioned himself and slowly entered his lover.

He took his time filling the body beneath him; he wanted Blair to feel himself be slowly opened, wanted his lover to feel every inch of his cock stretching him at an almost excruciatingly unhurried pace. Jim wanted to fill Blair's body, but he didn't want to stop at that. He intended to fill Blair in a way no one ever did -- wanted his lover to know there wasn't an inch of him that Jim didn't touch, didn't know, didn't love. Jim invaded every pore of Blair's skin, he was every breath the young man took, every molecule of the blood running in his veins.

His thrusts were slow and Blair's own rocking followed the leisurely rhythm. They wouldn't be rushed; these times weren't about reaching climax at all cost, they were about their connection and making it last.

Jim shifted a bit and manhandled Blair so that they rested more on their sides. He had better access to his lover's mouth in this position and he took possession of it, his tongue almost following his cock's thrusting movements. He didn't know whether the moans and whimpers he heard were Blair's or his own, and he couldn't care less. He kissed his lover for what seemed hours, and finally abandoned his mouth and rested his head on Blair's shoulder, lapping at the enticing neck and still keeping his maddeningly slow pace while he impaled the body beneath him.

Blair threw his head back and repeated Jim's name in a mantra-like rhythm, his eyes tightly closed. He wanted to focus on the feel and sound of his lover thrusting into him in this slow dance. He wasn't cold anymore, he wasn't empty anymore -- Jim was everywhere.

When they finally came, after what seemed like an eternity of slow fucking, Jim pulled out of Blair and quietly paddled to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. He quickly washed himself and quietly tended to his lover. Without a word, he went back to bed and resumed his position, spooned around Blair, unwilling to sever the connection so soon after what they shared. He cupped Blair's genitals and roamed his fingers along the bare skin, enjoying the smoothness. His touch wasn't meant to arouse this time, he just liked caressing Blair so intimately, and he smiled to himself when he got no reaction at all from his lover. Blair was already drowsing back to sleep, peaceful and sated; there was an aura of contentment surrounding him, and Jim basked in it.

Jim might not have been able to prevent the nightmares from plaguing his lover's sleep, but he could effectively chase away any reminder of them. Sometimes it was just a matter of choosing his own battles. And if the spoils of war were the sated and sleeping body in his arms, well he didn't mind fighting for the rest of his life.

Fin

End In the Dark by Castalie : Castalie.a@wanadoo.fr
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