Waking up thrashing around and gasping for air wasn't anything new for Jean. Vicious nightmares visited him frequently – he was sure everyone in the camp was unfortunately granted one at least once – and he almost always woke up breathless, sweaty and filled with pure terror. Nightmares had become a normal thing for him ever since he got into training, filled with what ifs and shapeless monsters. What he wasn't used to, however, was waking up to a set of warm hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

"Jean? Jean, are you alright?" a voice asked, tone hushed.

Jean struggled to sit up and get away from who or what the hell was touching him, panic rising in his throat. Was something actually attacking him?

A mumbled 'oh, right' came from whoever else was there with him and a match was struck, a lamp lit, and light flooded and blinded Jean, causing him to lift a hand to shield his eyes. Squinting through the sudden brightness, in his half-asleep half-panicked state his brain managed to register that it was Marco in front of him, freckles and all.

"Jean, relax, it's just me," Marco whispered, raising a hand as if that would show Jean that he meant no harm and that he wasn't going to murder him.

Panting lightly, Jean swallowed and scooted back on his bed a bit so he could sit up properly. "Marco, what the hell are you doing here?"

"You were tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, and it looked like you were having a nightmare so I thought it would be best if I woke you up," Marco replied earnestly, concern melting into his tone.

Jean stared at the freckled boy, breathing slowing down to normal. Marco had woken him up?

"How did you even know what I was doing? Shouldn't you be sleeping? We have an exam tomorrow," Jean asked.

Marco chuckled lowly. "I couldn't fall asleep."

"Oh," Jean replied lamely.

A moment of silence passed between them and then, "Do you want to maybe talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Jean asked.

"What you were dreaming about." Marco smiled lightly. "I heard that talking about that can help sometimes."

Jean hesitated. Marco was probably one of the closest friend he had here, but Jean had always been reluctant to talk about anything too personal to anyone. Another moment of hesitation, and he decided talking about it for a bit wouldn't be too bad if he edited out a few parts.

Jean raised a hand to brush at the back of his messy hair, thinking over on how to word this. "It was the classic stuff. Titans, dying, the usual. It wasn't just civilians or random cadets though it was... our friends."

Marco nodded, sympathy clear on his face. "I sometimes dream the same. Sometimes it's everyone or just… just one person. Heh, to think our own minds turn against us sometimes is pretty scary in itself, isn't it?"

Silent, Jean nodded back. He thought it was more scary his brain decided to use only one person against him, rather than everyone else. A heavy silence hung between them, and Jean had the feeling there was something not being said from both parties.

Letting out a soft sigh and adjusting himself so he sat in a more comfortable position, Marco leaned forward and grinned. "Well, it seems like neither of us are going to be sleeping anytime soon. Why don't we pass the time talking about something else?"

Jean nodded, letting his lips twitch up slightly.

The next thing he remembered was being semi-conscious for a few moments in the very early hours of the morning, where the sun was just rising. He had thought briefly that everyone would be up soon and the day would start.

The second thing he remembered was that he felt significantly colder, although he had no recollection of any horrible dreams to cause him to feel cold, excluding the one from earlier. Stretching out his arm, Jean felt the cooling but still warm sheets on the side of him. Why was the sheets next to him warm again?

"Go back to sleep, Jean."

"Marco…?" Jean mumbled, fighting to not fall back asleep.

"Just go back to sleep."

Jean sighed and rubbed his face into the sheets, as if trying to nuzzle in deeper. So the reason why the sheets were warm next to him had to be because of Marco. Why had Marco been sleeping with him last night?

The image of them talking in the darkness, illuminated by a lamp's light, flickered into his half working mind. Oh, right.

Jean felt like an aubade would fit the moment quite nicely. He couldn't quite remember what the word meant however, and wasn't sure why it fit, and before he could figure out what it meant again he was back to sleeping.

Jean snapped awake, breathing heavily and with a panicked wail wanting to tear out of his throat. Clutching the sheets tightly, he grounded his teeth together until he was able to calm down at least a fraction. He had saw it again. Marco's dead body.

Ever since seeing it, his nightmares had gone from bad to worse. Some nights, it was just a simple nightmare of his comrades dying in battle or outside of the walls, the classic things, but some nights Jean saw Marco's body. Torn almost completely in half, dead, gone. It never got any better.

Panting, Jean rolled over to a less wet side of the sheets, closing his eyes tightly. He wished that the feelings would leave him alone. That he didn't nearly wake up every night, terrified, ready to scream and adrenaline pumping through his veins, like he was in battle again. Gritting his teeth again, Jean tried to force himself back asleep, just like every other night. It wasn't going to happen of course, but he tried his hardest to make it work anyway.

Opening his eyes, Jean sighed. He never could get back to sleep quickly whenever he dreamt of Marco's body. It was too much of a sensitive area to really be able to let himself go and possibly see it again. He didn't feel… safe? Was that the word he was looking for?

Rolling onto his back, Jean stared up at the bunk above him. Counting the seconds pass, Jean felt himself gradually relax more and more, but still couldn't fall asleep. Letting his eyes fall to half mast, he took in a deep breath. Letting it out, he felt something ghost across his side. Turning, Jean saw nothing but nighttime darkness at his side. Reaching an arm out to the cold sheets, Jean recalled the nights when Marco would be there with him, gone by morning.

Jean felt comforted though. As if he was back to one of those nights. Jean hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he awoke at dawn, someone calling him down for breakfast. Sitting up, Jean sluggishly got out of bed, squinting at the dawn light. He hadn't had that nice of a night's sleep for a while, since Marco and their late nights and break of dawn mornings. The word aubade came to him again.

He thought over the word, awake enough to search for its definition. Smiling a smile that was more twisted than happy, Jean thought it fit well enough.

Aubade - a morning love song; song or poem about lovers separating at dawn