Always.

A scream in the night wakes her up, and she grabs for her gun.  Her heart races as she reaches next to her, feeling the solid presence of her boyfriend underneath her palm when she stretches with her other arm to turn on the lamp sitting next to her, with her nightstand underneath it.  She assesses the situation once the light is on, and even though she's groggy from being roused out of sleep so abruptly, the boost caused by the epinephrine heightens her sense of alertness.  She's able to calm down enough to realize that the sound came from beside of her, and more specifically, from her boyfriend. 

He tosses next to her, and when he whimpers, it breaks her heart.  "Marty.  Marty, honey..."  She shakes him, and then reminds herself to rouse him gently, remembering what used to happen when she woke Jack up too suddenly.  People always stared at her when they were out together and she wasn't completely able to cover up the split lip, or darkened eye, or forgot to wear long sleeves and revealed finger-shaped bruises by accident.  She hated those looks, mixed with sympathy and disgust, directed at her and him, respectively.  They didn't understand.  Most people never do.

"Deeks," she tries again, rubbing his arm.  Her heart's still hammering in her chest.  She's never seen him like this.  

He groans as he wakes up, throwing his arm over his forehead, squinting against the light from the lamp.  His breath is still coming in shallow bursts, and so is hers, as she tries to calm down and figure out what’s going on.  "What's... what's wrong?" she asks, tucking her knees underneath her as she sits up between the sheets.

"Nightmare," he admits in a quiet, trembling voice.  

She frowns.  He's never been like this before.  Or at least, not in front of her.  They've been living together for a few weeks now, but nothing's really felt like it's changed, considering how much she stayed with him before the move was official.  They still eat Mexican once a week and crack up over a game of cards or a movie, their own form of Tetri-tos night, something she hadn't even realized how much she missed until Deeks gave it back to her.  She still leaves trails of crumbs wherever she goes, and he caught her shoving her junk underneath the bed the other day, much to her dismay.  They still cuddle after long days, hard cases, and when they come a little to close to a bullet.  So nothing's really changed.

But this, this is new.  She runs her hand through her hair, tucking a few curls behind her ear and out of her face so she can see him without brown waves obstructing her view.  He's shaking.  "Sidorov?" she asks directly, leaving no leeway for him to evade the nightmare by saying he doesn't want to talk about it.  He used the same tactic on her when he would stay on her couch before they were a couple, and as much as she hated discussing what haunted her, it helped, not being alone with her memories.

"No.  The cleric."

It takes her a second.  "You mean--"

"Yeah.  The blind guy I tortured."