Some time just before dawn, just before the first dim rays of brilliant sun begin to shine down upon them, sleep loosens it's once firm and peaceful grasp. Waking was almost as painful as sleeping, knowing that those images would continue to haunt him long after his eyes had opened, would carry on into each facet of the day to come. Willing his eyes to open was difficult, waiting for the realization that he was alone and that he was the sole cause of this suffering. But instead he was greeted by the comforting warmth of his love, pressed against his cheek and arm, hand still tangled in his hair, resting there as if to keep it in place.

Then something wet fell onto his skin and for a moment he thought perhaps it might be the coming of rain, but it lacked the icy chill and was followed too slowly by the next. Shifting, pushing his body upwards, taking in the sight of Malik reclined back against the harsh stone wall, sleep finally overtaking even his stubborn will. Tears leaked from his tightly closed lids and fell silently down his cheeks, sliding from his chin and down onto his lap where Altair had once laid.

Seeing them was more painful than any wound he had ever received, like a knife directly to his heart, twisted and left to rot.

Part of him wants to speak, to wake Malik from whatever images the nightmare is conjuring, but who's to say when he'll next see proper rest? Instead he continues on, pressing himself upwards and moving until he's taken up the place to the other, shifting until he's found a comfortable position and then reaching out, wrapping both arms around Malik and gently drawing him inwards, bringing his head down to rest upon his chest, directly above where his heart beats. Slender fingers stroke through thick strands, slipping over wet skin and attempting to dry it, whispering soft words of affection and peace in their native tongue.