The Whipping Turn

Paris - Nightmares

Jean jerked awake.

What the fuck?

He was dimly aware that an unexpected noise had interrupted his sleep.

Was that in my dream? Was that me?

Finally, Jean realised the sounds were next to him and were getting more agitated.

"Oliver?" He struggled up. Oliver hadn't had a nightmare for a long time and it didn't sound quite right, but with the fog of sleep hanging, his brain was slow to piece together what was happening.

"Shit. Jenna?" Oliver was whispering.

Not Oliver. Jenna.

Her eyes were closed, but he could see the tension in her brow, and she was whimpering, getting slightly louder. Both fists gripped and held the coverlet tightly. The bedding pulled in her grip.

Oliver shifted to his knees, leaning in closer, his concern etched across his face.

"Jenna? Honey, wake up." he whispered gently.

On the opposite side of Jenna, Jean mirrored Oliver's posture.

Oliver gently touched her arm and the reaction was explosive. Jenna gave a cry and tossed her body into a crouch, before scrambling backward, all arms and legs and elbows with the duvet thrown back against the men.

Jean had forgotten how strong Jenna was, it took a pretty toned core to move like that.

She huddled herself against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest, fingers digging into her skin as she panted in shallow, fearful breaths.

Both men froze, stunned and it took Jean a few seconds to realise that Jenna's eyes were wild and faraway. She wasn't really in the room with them yet.

"Oliver!" Jean hissed through clenched teeth, careful not to make any sudden movements that might startle her further.

"I know!" Oliver hissed back, eyes on Jenna.

"Jenna?" Jean tried again, his voice filled with gentleness and concern.

Nothing but panting and frantic eyes.

"Anya? You're safe. You're with Oli and Jean." Oliver tried a new tactic and Jean was surprised to hear Oliver's stilted English. "You're safe, Anya. You're in Paris."

A reaction. She swung her head between them both slowly and Jean could see the recognition start to dawn on her.

Oliver inched closer and she watched him with cautiously.

"Anya, you're ok. Ma Cher. You're ok."

Jenna let out a shuddering breath. She looked at Oliver, properly this time, seeing him.

"Jenna. I'm Jenna" She whispered. Her voice shook and Jean's heart broke slightly. "He was...his friends..." she trailed off but it was enough to flare up a heat of anger in Jean's chest.

Jenna laid her forehead on her knees and Jean heard a small sob and a then another. A wretched sound and Jean felt his heart really break into a million pieces then. Jenna had never cried about this in front of the men.

He looked over at Oliver who looked as helpless and as gutted as Jean felt. He just wanted to hug her, to hold her close to them both and protect her, keep her safe, comfort her. He wasn't sure if Jenna would welcome his touch right now. But, it wasn't in him to sit and watch either.

"Baby."

Gently, Jean reached out and touched her arm with his fingers. She didn't flinch at all, and he flipped his hand, curling his fingers and ran his knuckles along the length of her bicep. Another sob, louder this time. Her shoulders shuddered.