Too scared to fall asleep
Who: Maggie and Finn What: Nightmares When: Monday night? Where: Finn’s house Warnings: Language, probably...
Maggie awoke with a jolt, almost banging her head on the ceiling as she sat up, gasping for breath. She’d moved all the sheets and bedding up to the top bunk after her first night in Finn’s house, feeling much more secure curled up in her little corner, up near the roof. Secure, but not free of nightmares. She’d cried herself to sleep, exhausted and scared, hoping that just this once she could sleep uninterrupted until morning. But no such luck. This was the third time she’d woken, now. The third time she’d sat up with tears still running down her face. And she couldn’t bear it anymore. Couldn’t bear to be alone.
Sliding out of bed she tiptoed down the hall, pausing outside Finn’s room. She shouldn’t. He’d already done so much for her, he deserved to be left alone to sleep. But the thought of going back to bed, or worse, sitting up on the couch until she could pretend like she’d woken early and start doing things...no, she couldn’t face either. She leant against the doorframe for a moment, listening to him breathe, out of sight. Slow and even, reassuring. She almost thought she could fall asleep just listening to it, sitting out here in the hall. But she just knew he’d get upset if he got up and found her lying out there. She just wasn’t sure crawling into his bed was any better.
Tugging the sleeves of her pajama top over her hands, she crept into his room. She bit her lip as she crawled into bed beside him, curling up on her side, her knees nearly brushing his arm. He had one arm slung over his eyes, the other resting by his side. Wrapping her arms around herself, Maggie tried to stop herself from shaking, not wanting to wake him up but needing comforted, desperately.
Finn never slept very deeply. The only time that he'd ever gotten close to sleeping very soundly again was when he was taking the pills. Sometimes the booze would take the biggest part of the edge off, but he still managed to stir very quickly and was alert in moments. It had started in childhood and just gotten worse as he got older. As a child, he used to wake to check and see if his father had come home yet and to look in on his siblings. As an adult, there'd been the alarms in the fire station during his shift and then children. Nothing in his life had ever really been all the fucking restful.
So he might not have stirred at the sound of the door, but he did wake a little when he felt the bed shift. “Wha,” he said automatically, the word barely audible, voice thick with sleep, arm still draped over his eyes. Then he ran his hand over his eyes and into his hair, blinking into the semi-darkness, letting his eyes get used to the light. "Maggie?" he asked. "You okay?" He reached a hand out instinctively, not even thinking that he might accidentally startle her into a panic.
Maggie flinched instinctively, then relaxed, just a little. She shook her head, still trembling a little, the last vestiges of the dream still clinging to her. “No,” she admitted tearfully. “Nightmare.” She couldn’t say any more than that - didn’t want to. She clutched at the collar of her shirt, curled in on herself, her breathing still a little panicked, a little uneven. She was getting better at not shifting when she was scared, but it was hard. Harder still to ask for help. But not from Finn. Him, she trusted. The only man she ever had. She didn’t even know why. He’d saved her life, taken her in, given her clothes and a safe place. He was the kindest man she’d ever met, and she was dreading the point when he asked her to leave. When he told her she had to fend for herself.
He was thankful that she hadn't shifted although he caught the flinch and pulled his hand back, resting it on his chest for a moment before pushing himself up to a sitting position and reaching for the lamp on the nightstand and turning it on. It was August and even with the air conditioner running, he was still fire incarnate so he was only wearing his boxers. Well. That had probably been a shitty plan, but he couldn't do much to change it now other than hope it wouldn't upset her more. He could imagine what the nightmares had been about. Imagine better than he goddamn well wanted to, and it made his stomach clench with a bit of rage and fire.
Looking at her curled up and small, shaking and completely fucking frightened, he wished that he had any goddamn idea what to do in these situations because all he could think to suggest was Scotch and cards. Not exactly what helped people in Maggie's situation. "Do you want to talk about it?" Christ, please no. "Or I could make you," what the hell had his mother used to make for Tara, "warm milk or tea or a hot toddy?" Man, he was bad at this shit.
Maggie blinked when he switched the light on, screwing up her eyes a little. And blushed a bit when she realised he was topless. Somehow that hadn’t quite registered before. She glanced at his chest, the three names there - Kieran, Brendan, and in far fresher ink, Tara. His children. She almost reached out to touch the inked skin, blushing further as she realised what she was doing, pulling away. There was another tattoo on the arm nearest her, a skeletal figure bursting out of a burning house, wearing a fireman’s uniform. She looked away - she didn’t like that one. It was creepy.
She shook her head vehemently when Finn asked if she wanted to talk, fairly definite that she didn’t. Ever. “I’m not thirsty,” she murmured, fingers twisting the brushed cotton collar of her pajamas, folding it in on itself. “I just...” she trailed off, embarrassed. “I didn’t want to be alone,” she admitted. She’d never slept alone. Not for more than a decade, at least. Not since before John had started sneaking in. Not every night, but regularly enough. And no, she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t think about John. “Can I sleep here?” She asked softly. “Just for tonight, I just...” she swallowed hard, fighting fresh tears. “Please,” she said at last, not feeling able to explain. Explain that he made her feel safe. That he was the only one who’d ever tried to protect her.
And, yeah, he probably really needed to start wearing more clothes to bed, especially since he was letting Maggie live there while she got on her feet and wandering around almost naked in front of her would really get accusations thrown at him if Jimmy ever found out. Not to mention that he didn't want to upset her or make her uncomfortable. He'd been good about making sure to put t-shirts and some form of pants on before leaving his room but still. It was only a matter of time before he forgot that too.
Finn didn't even catch the the almost touch because he was too busy scrubbing his hand over his face and thanking anything that would fucking listen--god or otherwise--that there weren't any other potentially embarrassing situations at the moment. That would have been fucking disastrous. He was already pretty sure that he was cocking things up somehow.
It was more the way she answered, the shaking, the barely controlled tears, the way her pretty face contorted a little bit into sorrow, that bothered him more than how she answered. Although that wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. "Maggie, sweetheart, I really don't know how appropriate that would be." And that might make her cry. Which would really put him in a damned if you and damned if you don't situation. Seriously, though, he was probably pretty fucked either way. Well. Not literally. Obviously. But. Christ.
Maggie curled tighter in on herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She sat up, nodding. “O-of course, I’m sorry,” she stammered, blushing. Of course it was inappropriate. He was in his underwear, and she’d just crawled into bed beside him. She slid towards the edge of the bed, reaching up to try and discreetly wipe tears from her eyes as she turned away from him. “I-I should go. I’m sorry. I won’t...I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Her voice was quiet, defeated, the thought of going back to bed, of trying to sleep and knowing that the nightmares would come again, almost more than she could bear.
And that was precisely what he had been afraid of happening. God, he was such an utter and complete asshole. Finn really had no idea what to do, but he knew he couldn't bear the thought of her crying, which he knew she was going to. Even if she was trying her best to hide it, to play it down, he probably couldn't have hurt her much fucking worse if he'd goddamn well tried.
"Maggie," he said, reaching a hand out after her and laying it against her hair for a moment. "Don't. Look. Fuck. I'm sorry. You're not disturbing me." And then he just sort of sat there, touching her and completely dumbstruck as far as what he should say because really. Why weren't there handbooks for this sort of thing? "Please don't cry." Oh, yeah, that was goddamn comforting as hell.
Maggie stilled as he touched her hair, leaning back just a little, into the pressure of his hand. She drew her knees up to her chin, curling her arms around them, still perched on the edge of the bed. “C-can I stay for a little while?” She asked softly, turning her head to look at him, blue eyes bright and glassy with unshed tears. “I just...I don’t want to be alone, I can’t...” her lower lip wobbled, and she stopped talking, knowing if she kept going that she’d just start crying again. She was exhausted, wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she was terrified to let herself. Terrified that the nightmares would come back. There were shadows under her eyes, dark bruises, almost black, testament to how badly she’d slept since she’d come to Finn’s.
He left his hand there for a moment longer before smoothing it down her hair to rest on her back. The wobble in her voice still undid him, but at least she hadn't fled the room sobbing. That was one small goddamn miracle if Finn did say so himself, and he murmured a silent prayer of thanks. Of course that didn't mean that he had any fucking idea what was going on.
When she looked over at him, he took his hand back, folding his arms over his chest because, yeah, still with the too few pieces of clothing on for this. Jimmy would kick his ass into the next decade if he ever found out about this, but he couldn't really deny the request when she looked at him like that. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me put on some clothes." Because that might help make this a little less weird. Sliding off the side of the bed, he walked around the end of the bed to the dresser, which exposed the large tattoo on his back, and started going through the drawers.
Maggie nodded, flushing a little as he got up. She looked away, but the flash of color on his back drew her eye back. She let out a soft gasp, looking at the tattoo curiously. She hadn’t pictured him as the type to have tattoos at all, let alone one so large and intricate. Realising she was staring, she dropped her eyes, cheeks flushed bright red. She sat back against the pillows, drawing her knees up to her chin, not sure if he’d let her get under the covers, if that was assuming too much.
Finn had really never stopped to think that any of his tattoos might be surprising to people. Hell, it had never really fucking mattered all that much to him. He got them because he wanted them and then sort of forgot about them so when he heard her gasp, he wasn't quite sure what might have happened. The blush and the look on her face didn't give him too much of a clue either for a moment until he thought about it. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he sat at the foot of the bed, t-shirt in hand. "The tattoos or the scars?" It could have been either really, but the tattoos were a lot more noticeable, especially the cross. "You know how there's shit you do want to forget and shit that you don't? The tattoos are things I don't." His kids, his crew and his culture, which included the religion. It would always include the religion no matter how fucking far he sometimes strayed.
God, she looked so lost and small. Finn pulled the shirt over his head and looked at his hands, still not sure what the hell he was supposed to do. Then he sighed. "Look. I don't actually know the right gameplan for all of this so you'll have to forgive me. I'm a bastard. It's just what I do. There's no off switch that I can find so maybe you should tell me when I'm being too big of an asshole so I can attempt to reel in it." It probably wouldn't help, but he could try.
She looked at his back again when he sat down, holding his t-shirt. “The tattoos,” she said softly. Though, now he’d mentioned it, and now she was looking more closely, there were plenty of scars to look at, too. She nodded at his words, biting her lip. “It makes sense,” she murmured. She was still a little surprised at the cross. Even if it was more celtic, more about Irish-ness than religion, it was still a lot more than she would have expected, considering his angry words about God, the way he’d had to dig out his cross. Which she was still wearing. She fiddled with it nervously. “You’re not a-” she blushed, even thinking about saying ‘bastard’. Yeah, the word ‘sheltered’ didn’t even begin to cover what Maggie was. “I mean, you’ve been so kind to me.” She looked down at her knees, a little embarrassed. “I feel like I’m taking advantage.”
Way Finn looked at it, he and god had gone through a long, knockdown, drag out hell of a fight, but they were still important to each other. God was that bastard family member that everyone always had a problem with at some point because he was just that difficult to get along with or maybe he hit you or maybe he stole from you or maybe he just turned his back on you for fucking years. It meant that you didn't invite the fucker over for family dinner, but you still thought about him. At least that was the way Finn looked at it, though he probably never could have managed to explain it. So he had the tattoo and the cross and went to confession occasionally, grudgingly, when things got to be their absolute worst. And the rest of the time, well, he and the bloody wanker just didn't talk. Maybe one day.
He positioned himself on the bed in such a way that he could manage what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on her arm. "Hey, no. Don't worry about that. You're not taking advantage of me. I'm the big bad wolf, alright, not Cinderella. No worries about me being a doormat. I really just want to help you because this whole goddamn situation is shit, and none of it is your fault and you don't deserve anything that's happened to you." Then he smirked. "Also I think you might be the only woman on the face of the earth who doesn't think I'm an asshole. Well. Maybe you and my daughter. She's four so I imagine her opinion will change once she figures shit out." And once Sena started more actively saying shit.
Maggie frowned a little, though she leaned in against him a little, the closest she could get to asking for a hug without actually asking. She just wanted comfort, wanted to feel someone’s arms around her. The last person to hug her had been Louise. Hell, the only person that ever hugged her had been Louise. “I’m sure that’s not true,” she argued softly. “You’re not. You wouldn’t have helped me, wouldn’t have let me stay.” She had to believe he was a good man - otherwise, why would he be helping her?
His first instinct would, of course, have been to move, especially when he remembered that goddamn look that Jimmy had given him, but he didn't. He didn't because the last thing he wanted to do was upset her again, and it probably would have upset her. Hell, he really wished that he had any idea what he was supposed to fucking do. That was something his mind kept going back to. There had to be someone out there who was way more capable of not cocking this whole thing up when it came to helping her out. Not that Finn would have let any of them near her without a complete background check at this point. Sheesh. People out there were bastards. He and Maggie both knew that.
"I've been on my best behavior. Hopefully I won't slip up too badly before we've got you on your feet." Although he knew that there were things he'd said and done that probably weren't for the best already. Then he heard his own words. "Christ. Sorry. I don't want that to sound like I want you to leave or anything, sweetheart. It's nice having you around." And even if she did leave, he'd probably be stopping by to check on her endlessly. This was a hell of a lot easier.
"This white knight thing just isn't my sorta fucking gig. I'm gonna screw it up royally any moment. You just," he scrubbed a hand through his hair, "you really deserve to hang out with people who aren't gonna screw things up right and left all over the place or be bastards to you or not know how to help you."
Maggie leant her temple against his shoulder, gingerly laying her hand on his arm, just above the elbow, her fingers curling round the inside of his bicep. “You’re not screwing anything up,” she murmured. “And you’ve helped me, so much.” Her voice was soft, hesitant. She didn’t even want to risk looking at him, in case he told her to leave. “You make me feel safe,” she murmured. “For the first time in my whole life, I feel safe. I feel like someone cares about me.” It was a new, and unusual feeling for her. “I-” she hesitated. “Is it wrong that I don’t want to leave? I mean, I will,” she added hurriedly. “I don’t expect you to look after me forever, I just...” Blushing, she bit her lip, looking down at her hand. “I like it here.”
When she touched him, curled into him, Finn just froze, as he frantically tried to decide how to deal with that. The last thing he needed was to do anything that could be taken the wrong goddamn way down the road. Because this situation was pretty fucking weird as it was. He had rescued her, taken her home, protected her, encouraged her to go to the cops. Someone looking at this from the wrong angle could have easily taken it in a whole sordid light, which wasn't what he was trying to do at all.
Christ, he was old enough to be her father. That had not escaped him.
The words undid him a little bit, but he still hesitated, free hand in his hair as he looked at the top of her head, thought about the words. Shit. No one should feel that alone, that fucking unwanted and insecure in their world. All sorts of shit had happened to him, but there'd always been people to bolster him up whether he wanted them there or not. Gingerly, painstakingly slowly, he moved his arm, putting it around her shoulders and pulling her closer so she could curl up into his side and chest if she wanted. He was damned to hell anyway. What was a little more reason?
"You can stay. As long as you want. This house is big and, well, it's nice for it not to be so empty. And you're safe. Don't worry. Even if they don’t put your fucking parents in jail," wrong thing to bring up probably, "we'll make sure that they're not going to come anywhere near you. They're not going to hurt you again." That he could promise in one way or another.
She started to panic when he shifted his arm, holding her breath, only letting it out when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She cuddled in against his side, resting her curled fingers against his chest gently. Closing her eyes for a long moment she just breathed him in, listened to the soft rumble of his voice, feeling it against her cheek. It was different to cuddling up to Louise. A different kind of comforting. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful to him for so many things. She had no idea how she’d ever repay him, for everything that he’d done for her.
Shit. He had not meant to do anything to freak her out, and Finn almost pulled his arm back. Which seemed to be the moment that she settled, curling up against him. She was soft and cool against him even through all the layers that she wore. He had never gotten used to how much colder other people could run in all his years. There had always just been so much goddamn fire in his body.
The arm around her shoulders was a little bit more solid than it probably should have been because he hadn't really managed to convince himself to relax even a little bit. But she was all big blue eyes and dark hair and pale, pretty skin. What the hell was he supposed to do?
"No problem, Maggie May." Other than the handbasket to hell, it wasn't. Even that was worth it, and, shit, he'd already bought that ticket so what did it matter if he had probably just bumped his seat up from coach to first class. "Is there anything else you need? Clothes, books," he trailed off not sure what women these days wanted. Sena probably would have asked for someone's still beating heart on a platter, but Maggie was so different from any of the women he'd ever been around before.
She shook her head, then reconsidered. “Could...could we maybe go shopping tomorrow?” She asked. “I can pick up my paycheck from work, and then um...” She blushed. “Not that I’m not grateful for the clothes your mom brought, but they’re not...I feel weird in them.” She didn’t feel like herself. Not that she was entirely sure who she really was, but still. She didn’t really know what else to ask for - she liked reading, but she’d never had books of her own. She’d been a regular at her local library, but she couldn’t see herself going back there, not until she knew she was safe. Going into work to pick up her pay was bad enough.
That made him bark out a laugh that sounded harsher than it was meant to be, and he smiled and waved his free hand in an attempt to show that he didn't mean anything bad by it. "I get it. Don't worry about it. My sister wasn't much like you personality wise or looks wise for that matter. Mom brought the tamest of her stuff over really. It's not yours, and it's not a crime to want something of your own, either." He grimaced, though, thinking about having to go to the stores near the beginning of school, deal with the pushing people and the crying children and all that shit.
"You'll have to forgive me if I occasionally sneak out and smoke a pack, though," he said, patting her arm awkwardly and praying that no one he worked with caught him there because that was the last fucking thing he needed.
She started a little when he laughed harshly, lifting her head a little. The smile made her relax, and she returned it uncertainly, before laying her head on his shoulder again. “I’ll try and be quick,” she assured him. She didn’t need much, just some clothes that were hers. Shoes that weren’t beat up converse sneakers. Taking a deep breath, she pressed in a little closer, closing her eyes. “I think...” she bit her lip. “I think I want to talk to your friend. The detective,” she said softly. She’d been too scared to make a statement, to press charges, the night of the fire. And Finn hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked anything else of her. It had helped, not feeling pressured.
He still didn't know what to do with his hands or how to be completely comfortable with her cuddled against him like that, but Finn told himself to just shut the hell up and deal with it. As long as his hands stayed in appropriate places, which they were, it shouldn't be an issue. "I'm just bitching. You can look as long as you like. Really." He didn't mean to make her think he was gonna keep her on a fucking deadline or anything. Maybe they could find a time that was less busy.
When she mentioned that she had been thinking about talking with Jimmy, Finn smiled a little bit and patted her shoulder. Thank fucking god for something. "I can call him and see when he's available. If you want to. And I can," shit, he was going to regret this offer, "I can go with you if you want." He ran his free hand through his hair, debating the next set of words. "I really do think it would be for the best if you did." So something would happen to make those fuckers pay. Even a little.
Maggie nodded, biting her lip. “I’d like that,” she murmured. She didn’t think she’d be brave enough to go on her own. Not into a police station. Having him there would give her the confidence to speak, give her someone to cling to if it got to be too much. “Do you think he’ll be free tomorrow?” She asked. “I just...I want to get it over with.” She was hoping that talking about it would help her sleep. Help her nightmares. If it kept going on like this, she wasn’t sure how she’d cope. She was going to go mad if she didn’t get a decent night’s sleep soon.
Finn nodded. He could understand just wanting to get it all the fuck over and done with. The sooner her fucking parents were in jail, the sooner Maggie could start putting her life together, moving on and hopefully getting over all the shit that had been done to her. "I don't know, but we can call him in the morning and see. I'm sure that if he's able, he'll make time to talk to you." Cause Finn knew Jimmy would want to get these fuckers as much as he did. They operated on a lot of similar lines. "I'll call him. Unless you want to."
She nodded. “If you could,” she murmured softly. She didn’t think she’d have the courage to do it herself. Not without his help. She wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him. She curled her fingers into the loose fabric of his t-shirt, clinging to him a little. Trying to stifle a yawn, and failing, she forced her eyes open. She was exhausted, but the last thing she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep meant nightmares. And starting to fall asleep meant that Finn might tell her to leave, to go back to her own bed. Given the choice, she’d far rather stay here, awake, than try and sleep alone now.
"Sure, Maggie May," he said, patting her arm awkwardly again. It was obvious that she was exhausted. Even he could tell that, and he had fucking blinders on when it came to women. But he had no idea what he should do. Should he take her back to her room? Let her sleep where she was? Keep talking to her?
He sat there, awkward and silent and completely fucking lost. His world for a goddamn handbook here. The hand curled into his shirt pretty much cemented the fact for him that if he asked her to leave, he would only upset her more, which really wasn't what he wanted to do. "So. Um." And he just faltered cause, well, what the shit.
Maggie’s eyes had started to close of their own accord, but she blinked, looking up at him as he spoke. She was pressed tightly against his side, curled up in his arms. It didn’t even occur to her that this was anything less than appropriate, not when she so desperately needed comfort. Needed the security of having him close, of his arm around her. “Can I sleep here tonight?” She asked again, softly. “J-just for tonight, I promise.”
Finn might not catch onto a lot of things, but it was easy for even him to see that she was exhausted and falling asleep where she was. It wasn't a good idea. He knew that it wasn't a good idea, but when had that ever stopped him? Jesus Christ, Finn was a pretty constant example of where bad ideas got you in the end. What was one more?
Despite all of that, though, it took him a few minutes before he could manage an answer. "Yeah, Maggie May. You can stay. But you're gonna get an awfully stiff neck if you sleep on me like this so why don't you lay down."
The pause between her question and his reply seemed to drag on forever. She almost held her breath, just waiting for him to tell her no. To make her go back to her room. His answer made her sag in relief. Thank God. She didn’t have to try and sleep alone.
Maggie nodded at his suggestion, forcing her fingers to uncurl, forcing herself to let go of his t-shirt. “Promise you won’t leave?” She asked softly, shifting to lie down beside him, her hands tucked under her chin, curled into loose fists. She yawned, pressing her fingers against her mouth, her eyelids heavy, already drooping.
Finn gently retrieved his arm from around her when she started to disentangle herself from him and laid down. And, yeah, part of him had just been screaming that as soon as she fell asleep, he should move to another fucking room, but Maggie seemed to sense it and curtailed him there as well. Sighing and running a hand over his face, he nodded before remembering that she couldn't fucking see it. Then he smoothed his fingers over her hair again. "Yeah, Maggie. I'll stay here." For tonight anyway. Just to make sure she managed to actually sleep.
He watched her for a moment, the way she curled and tucked herself so that she looked even smaller than she was. Then he stretched out on his back beside her, but not too close and turned the light off. Sleep probably wasn't gonna come anytime soon for him, but he could at least pretend. His mother always said to close his eyes and relax, that sleep would come. Well. That wasn't so much the goddamn truth, but it could be a little helpful. Tomorrow he'd call Jimmy and see about the statement. God, that was a double edged sword right there.