Falling Free

-Ten-

Niamh woke with a start and wondered if she had been dreaming. Darkness cloaked her bedroom, barely even a hint of moonlight coming through the open crack in the thick curtains. She sat up when she heard the noise that had awoken her again. It sounded like it was coming from Alfie's room. Concern filling her, Niamh climbed out of bed, dragging on her dressing gown to fend off the cool chill in the air, and padded across the hallway. Pausing outside Alfie's door, she heard it once more and her concern grew.

"Alfie?" she rapped on the door gently. "Alfie, are you alright?"

There was no answer but she could hear the ruffling of the bedsheets and incoherent mumbling. Chewing on her lip with indecision, Niamh eventually gave in and pushed open the door. The sound of pain that left Alfie's mouth coupled with the pure anguish on his face was enough to physically hurt Niamh's heart. She tried calling out to Alfie again but he continued to flail and murmur, his brow furrowed as his dreams played out a scenario that obviously was uncomfortable for him. With a gentle hand, Niamh tried to shake him awake and she gasped when he suddenly sat up and wrestled her to the floor where his hands wrapped themselves around her throat. Niamh clawed desperately at Alfie's hands and kicked her legs wildly in an attempt to get him off of her, but his heavy frame easily overpowered her until white stars danced in front of her eyes. Alfie's own eyes were open and looking at her but they were vacant. The lights were on but nobody was at home and Niamh was terrified that he was going to kill her without even knowing it. Just when she thought she was going to pass out, Alfie blinked and let go of her as though she was scalding hot. Flinging himself in the corner of the room, he cowered like a frightened animal and despite her own fear, Niamh crawled towards him.

"Alfie," she croaked, her voice strained and sore.

"Go away," he muttered, turning his head away from her.

"Alfie please," she whispered, reaching for his face and forcing him to look at her.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Niamh's thumbs brushed against his cheeks tenderly and he wanted nothing more than to lean into her embrace. Opening his eyes, they flickered down to her neck and his heart lurched when he saw the angry red imprints of his fingers marring her clear skin. He lifted his hand to touch them and Niamh flinched ever so slightly, but enough for him to notice.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracked.

"It's alright," Niamh reassured him, giving a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wasn't upset with him though, more just shocked and trying to process what had happened over the space of mere seconds. "It was an accident. It was my fault for trying to wake you up."

"I could have killed you."

"But you didn't," Niamh answered. "You didn't. But you know, if being married to me is that bad you could just ask for a divorce, you don't have to kill me."

That drew a reluctant bark of laughter from Alfie and Niamh impulsively leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Pulling back, she stood and held her hand out to help Alfie up. Without saying another word, she disappeared downstairs as quickly as she could, returning a few moments later with a cold glass of water that she handed to Alfie with a smile. He sat on the bed, lifting the drink to his mouth with a trembling hand and downed the whole thing in just a few gulps. Lingering by the door, Niamh was about to bid him good night when he spoke.

"I was back in the trenches."

Walking back over to the bed, Niamh sat down beside him and took his hand. She didn't speak; there was nothing to say. Usually when a person was upset, they could be reassured and soothed when the other person expressed that they understood how their situation felt, but Niamh would never ever understand this. No matter the hours she had spent sitting just like this with Arthur or Tommy, even sometimes John, while they battled nameless and faceless enemies who now only existed in their memories yet haunted them from beyond the grave. They had spoken to her a little of the things they had seen and experienced, but she knew that the worst things they held back; both because they thought her too delicate to hear such horror but also because to speak of things that were still too raw was impossible.