Lucy ducked under the awning above the apartment building door, watching as the lights of the taxi shimmered against the wet pavement as it drove away. Shivering, she read the nameplates on the wall. Recognizing the one she wanted, she lifted a finger to push the corresponding button.

And stopped.

Shaking, she looked at her watch. Three in the morning. She felt a level of guilt well up in her as she swallowed. Then she remembered the conversation she’d been involved in. The sit-down with director Bowman, the details all coming out. The Federal Inquisition. Matt had made a Monty Python joke at that. Lucy had been the only one to laugh.

She remembered her dad had gotten Matt at three in the morning, or shortly thereafter. Matt had made it clear that he’d been awake. He was a night owl.

This time, she swallowed, lifted her hand, and pushed the button.

His voice soon responded. “Y’ello?”

“Matt?”

“Lucy?”

The surprise was evident in his voice and she swallowed. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. “Yeah. Um… I was just—”

The buzz of the door unlocking cut her off. He didn’t even wait for an explanation. It was her. That was enough, apparently. The thought of that warmed her as she entered the lobby, shaking the rainwater off of her as she went.

She’d only managed to get up one flight of stairs when he met her on the landing. He was out of breath, and she smiled at his disheveled appearance, his chest heaving. She tried to ignore the feeling of guilt at getting him so worried over—

“Lucy. Are you okay? You’re not, like, hurt or anything, are you?” He was checking her now for any obvious external injuries. His hands met her shoulders. They were warm against her clammy wet skin and soaked shirt. She was surprised that he didn’t flinch on contact.

“What’s wrong? Is there, I don’t know, is there something I can do? How many words? Sounds like what?”

She smiled at that but felt the guilt well up again at getting him so worried over something so stupid. He was standing there, so obviously he was okay. But the only thing she wanted to do was hug him. Bury her head in his chest and breathe him in. Forget everything from the last three hours.

She looked up at him through wet bangs and swallowed. She’d thought of a hundred different ways in the car to ask him, tell him. Now she was fighting for something to say. Her eyes watered against her will and she dropped her head so that he wouldn’t see. She swallowed.

“I had a nightmare. And I didn’t know where else to go.”

As he remained silent but stationary, Lucy felt herself flounder. She looked up to make sure he was still there and shrugged helplessly, avoiding his gaze. “Gabriel got you… and dad and… he made me choose. He… he made me choose and I lost. And then…”

She started to choke on her words as the memory came back, the nightmare reliving in full blown cover in her mind. The images stinging the back of her eyes, the ringing in her ears returning from two clear gunshots fired. She shook her head and tried to think of something to add.

She didn’t need to. The hands on her shoulders tightened gently and pulled her in, one hand sliding across her shoulders and the other rubbing up and down her back.

The dam broke. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her head into his shoulder. He tightened his grip, the circular motions of his hand across her back warming her.

For a moment, she thought of her father, the day he’d moved out, when her mother had had enough. She’d told him how much she hated him. But as he’d walked down the driveway, retreating with a suitcase in each hand, she’d started to cry. He’d heard her coming and dropped the suitcases in time to catch her on his knees as she’d jumped into his arms. She’d buried her head in his shoulder and cried until she had nothing left. She hadn’t done it since.

She sniffed and pulled away from Matt, wiping away the moist remnants of tears on her cheeks. She hid herself behind her bangs and his hands found her shoulders again.

“Feel better?”

She nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

They stood like that for a moment, the silence of the nighttime settling around them. Lucy finally lifted her head. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

He gave her a warm smile. She liked that. She managed to say “Could I…” before she trailed off. He hadn’t ignored her when she showed up, hadn’t run screaming when she’d started crying. The last thing she wanted to do was push her luck.

She looked up at him and shook her head. “Nothing. I should get going.”

“Well you know,” he said, “It’s quite a drive back to the campus, isn’t it? I mean, I haven’t… I haven’t clocked it or anything, but if memory serves…”

The campus? He’d been to the campus? She shrugged at him and nodded. “I guess it is.”

She bit her tongue behind her lips as she thought of her haunted dorm room and her hungover floormates. She’d stay anywhere than there tonight. But she wasn’t about to ask him, not after everything he’d been through. She wouldn’t put him out like that, not with the way her mother had raised her.

She’d been so deep in her thoughts that she barely registered that Matt had said something. She looked at him, surprised. “I’m sorry?”

He swallowed. “I mean, if you don’t want to and you’d rather take a cab all the way back to the school, I’d understand but… you know, if you didn’t—”

“—Then what?” Lucy blurted.

Matt smiled a little at how wide and hopeful her eyes had suddenly gotten. He shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of the jeans. “Then… you could stay. Stay here tonight. With me. That is, if you wanted to and didn’t--”

Matt barely had time to brace himself as Lucy launched herself at him, smiling and thanking him over and over. He caught her and was amazed at how happy she’d suddenly become. She’d been so upset when she showed up, and now here she was, grinning and laughing and most likely waking up the neighbours.

He was totally okay with that.

--

He shifted slightly on top of the covers, careful not to wake Lucy sleeping underneath. He’d tried several times to take the couch, and every time Lucy had insisted that he sleep in his own bed. She should sleep on the couch. After all, she was the one being an inconvenience. Matt had declared that with the way his mother raised him, there was no way she was sleeping in less comfort that him. So they’d reached a compromise.

He liked the compromise. Of course, Matt had always taught to be proper. Treat a woman with respect. And the young woman whose head rested on his chest deserved all that and more with what she had gone through.

He smiled as she shifted in her sleep, her scent of faded perfume and the fresh night rainwater floating up to him. He glanced over at the clock as he caught a glimpse of sun through the shades.

Six thirty-seven. Dawn was coming.

He smiled down at her, his hands behind his head. At least she’d slept solidly since three-thirty, after she’d changed into a pair of Matt’s plaid pajama pants and a large Nightwing shirt that he’d won at a convention.

He through about her dream and winced. Even through the broken description, he’d understood what had happened in the dream. He’d been having them too in fact. And no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t save them in time, couldn’t save Lucy. They’d become so bad, so upsetting, that he’d resorted to staying up all night and just sleep through the day. He didn’t think nightmares could catch him in the daytime.

He looked down at Lucy and grinned. Of course, he didn’t think his daydreams would come to him at night, either. He was pleasantly surprised to discover he was wrong.

If him being wrong resulted in things like this, he’d have to be wrong more often.