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He doesn't respond. Atlas moves beside the couch. He rises onto his hind legs and puts his front paws against Javier's chest. Pushes. Drops down. Then does it again.

"Javier."

Nothing. Atlas presses against him again.

I don't know what's happening. But Atlas does.

I kneel beside the couch. "Martinez." His face is tight, caught somewhere I can't reach. Atlas nudges him.

"Martinez, it's okay."

Javier's hand moves. Reaches. His fingers stretch toward Atlas but don't quite find him.

I don't know what to do. But I want to help. I place my hand gently against his chest, following Atlas's lead.

"I'm here."

His breathing catches. "I'm right here."

Atlas lowers himself across Javier's legs. I keep my hand where it is.

"It's okay, Martinez."

His heart is pounding beneath my palm. Too fast. I don't know if he can hear me. I keep talking anyway. Nothing complicated. Nothing that requires an answer.

"I'm here."

His breathing begins to change. Slowly. A little less ragged. His hand finally reaches Atlas, then falls still.

I sit on the floor beside the couch. I should probably go back to bed. I don't. Instead I rest my head carefully against Javier's chest. His heart is still beating fast beneath my cheek.

One hand stays against him. Atlas remains stretched across his legs. I listen as Javier's breathing gradually slows. Minutes pass. Maybe an hour. I don't know. At some point, my eyes close.

Morning comes in sunlight. I wake because something moves beneath my cheek. For one confused second, I don’t understand why I’m sitting on the floor, my head resting against someone’s chest. Then Javier shifts.

I lift my head. His eyes are open. Atlas raises his head from Javier’s legs. Javier looks at him. Then at me. Then at my hand, still resting against his chest. I slowly take it away

He sits up slowly. "What happened?" His voice is rough.

I straighten, pushing my hair from my face. "You had a nightmare."

His eyes close briefly. I see the exact moment he understands. His jaw tightens.

"That's all," I say.

His eyes open. He looks away. I get to my feet. My neck protests immediately. Sleeping sitting up was an ambitious choice.

Javier sits on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. Atlas presses against his leg. He won't look at me. I know embarrassment when I see it. So I head for the kitchen.

"Would you like some coffee?"

His head comes up. "Coffee?"

"Yes, unless you’d rather have tea.”"

"Coffee sounds good."

"Excellent."