Midnight, The Stars & You

26.

Present Day
Monaco

Ginny's dark-brown eyes snapped open. Her body shook violently as she threw the thick, hotel comforter off her skin. She was covered in a cold sweat. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest, with enough force to take her own breath away.

She tried to suck in air, wanting to breathe in the salty sea-breeze, but she couldn't. She pressed a hand against her neck. She startled again, peering through the darkness to find a figure slumped in the chair beside her. Pierre. She reached out for his arm, wrapping her fingers around him as tight as she could.

Pierre jolted awake, turning in the lumpy chair to stare at Ginny with concern.

"Etoilé?"

Ginny kept trying to breathe in and out but she was panicking. "N-N-Night-" was all she could get out of her mouth with her inconsistent breathing. She sounded raspy and like a smoker. She was trying to tell him she'd had a nightmare.

A terrible nightmare.

Alcohol usually made her have intense dreams. The only reason as to why this dream had been worse... was because all the horrible events that flashed in Ginny's mind... actually happened. She didn't want to think about that now. She needed to breathe.

Pierre slung himself on the bed beside Ginny. Only the dim moonlight was peering in through the open window. The sound of the ocean was repetitive and calmed Ginny's nerves. She wanted more of the sea-air in her lungs, but she still couldn't get the rhythm down. Pierre's brows were creased together in alarm.

He pressed a hand to her back, sliding underneath her shirt so the coolness of his skin would radiate on her back. He kept his other hand on her chest, like a doctor with a stethoscope trying to hear a patient's heartbeat. "It's okay, Ginny. Breathe. It's okay."

Ginny clasped his forearm, trying to keep herself steady as her body reeled from the terror. Pierre kept repeating his words, whispering in her ear to breathe, that it was going to be okay. She nodded her head slowly and the sounds from her dream- screaming and crying and cruel words drifted away and only the sound of Pierre's baritone was left. She felt a wave of air rush her lungs and her shoulders slumped in relief.

She could feel Pierre's constant touch, rubbing circles on her back. He tapped his fingers lightly on her chest, letting blood circulate close to her heart. He pressed his forehead against hers, "Don't scare me like that, etoilé."

"I'm sorry." She found her voice, but it was shaky and distant. "I'm so sorry-"

He traced his fingers up her neck, sending goosebumps down her skin. He gripped her chin with his forefinger and thumb, making her look into his ocean eyes. "Don't apologize to me."

Ginny was about to open her mouth to apologize again, but bit her tongue. She nodded slowly and he moved his hand to her hair, fiddling with a few strands. He started to massage her scalp with his finger nails and she leaned into his chest instinctively. "I had a nightmare."

"Je n'en avais aucune idée." His lips nearly touched her right ear.

She rolled her eyes, knowing he was being sarcastic, but had no energy to come up with a fancy retort or punch him in the gut. Pierre chuckled, but it came out more like a growl. "What was the dream about?"

Ginny shook her head feverishly. She nudged closer to the Frenchman, wanting to feel protected. He kept running his hand through her hair, and his other hand still was cold against her back. As much as she hated Pierre, she couldn't deny that she was glad he had stayed. She was glad he was here to help her. She was glad he was so... close to her. She pursed her lips. "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget."