"Just Another Bad Dream" - a Lunar Chronicles one-shot fanfic
by OkeeDokee
She was back in the vast, seemingly eternal Sahara Desert.
With every trudging step Cress took, the grainy sand seeped further into the towels that had been carefully wrapped around her small feet as makeshift shoes. The sand rubbed and itched, and she wanted to pour it out so bad, even if it only gave her temporary relief, but she didn't want to undo the intricate binding that kept them fastened on.
She was almost certain that her feet had begun bleeding profusely because of the omnipresent sand, and she imagined that with every step, the sunburned skin around them would flake off a little at a time until all the irritated flesh had peeled away, revealing raw muscle and white bone. She tried to push away the disturbing image.
Next to Cress, trekked the forever handsome and charismatic Captain Thorne, staring off blindly into the sky, reminding her again that he actually was blind. His cheeks had become an unhealthy shade of pink, no doubt because of the searing heat of the sun. She knew that her face was probably the same, if not worse. It made her feel self-conscious about the way she looked in front of him. She hoped that she still had still retained some degree of prettiness to her.
Cress searched along the horizon, heat waves blurring her vision. Nothing was in sight except for the blowing sand dunes that had turned an almost golden in the bright sunlight. A sense of hopelessness settled over her. They would never make it out of this star-forsaken desert. It seemed to travel for miles and miles without an end. A drop of salty sweat slipped down the side of her face.
"Cress."
She hadn't even noticed that Thorne had stopped walking until he called her name. She turned to him and saw that both of his shoes had sunk into the sand. He was attempting to remove his feet from its strong grip, but to no avail.
"Cress, I can't move."
She stood there, gawking stupidly at him.
Suddenly, the ground around his feet twisted menacingly, and his calves became submerged under the sand. It appeared as if the ground was trying to swallow him. Now, only his body above his knees were visible.
Startled, Cress scrabbled away from Thorne with a scream.
"What's happening? Cress?" Panic was audible in his typically smooth voice. It sounded wrong, coming from him.
"I don't know—the sand—it just—you're sinking—" Cress stammered out, still reeling from the strange occurrence.
"I'm sinking in the sand?" Thorne exclaimed. He began trying to withdraw himself from the ground in earnest, but with no results. His eyes were filled with alarm.
The sand warped viciously again, sucking him in even deeper, all the way to his torso.
Cress stood away from the swiveling ground, afraid to go in closer, but afraid for Thorne as well. She was torn.
"Try to help me out," suggested Thorne, reaching a hand out to her.
Cress cautiously inched forward to him, focusing mostly on the sifting sand beneath her, in case it decided it wanted to pull her under too. Her outstretched hand made contact with Thorne's, his skin rough and hot. His fingers fiercely enclosed around her tiny wrist and she leaned back, putting her full weight into the deal of prying him out of the carnivorous sand. When nothing seemed to be happening, and his arm became sore, Cress let go and stepped back, defeated.
Tears of hysteria welled up in her eyes. She had to get him out. If not, what would become of Thorne? Would he just plunge into the malevolent sand to suffocate? It seemed a horrific way to die and Cress couldn't let that happen. But what could she do to stop it? A slippery teardrop spilled out of one of her eyes and trailed along her face until it fell into the sand below.
Again, the spontaneous sand spiraled and swiveled, and Thorne was dragged farther into the ground. A stunned shout escaped his cracked lips and only his shoulders and one arm were not trapped in the sand. Pure terror contorted his face into expression that pained Cress to look at. His breaths came quick and light—he was struggling to breathe.
"Cress," he sputtered, his voice shaky, but he had her attention in a vice grip. "I—"
The ravenous sand abruptly tugged him down even lower, only his head sticking out of the ground. A second tear slithered sadly down her sunburned cheek, then was joined by another. She couldn't stop them, didn't care enough to. Right now, the only thing she cared about was the man in front of her, the man she loved unconditionally, the man who was going to die.
Cress shoved all her unreasonable fears deep inside herself, and walked over to Thorne, regardless of the shifting sand. His blind blue eyes flitted desperately over the desert, landing on nothing, staring at nothing. She knelt down beside him, choking back a sob that tore at her throat, and placed a warm hand on his flushed cheek. All of his usual arrogant, charming composure had vanished completely, exposing the intense fear underneath.
"Carswell," she uttered his first name gently, with a sad finality.
In that moment, he looked at her, and it was almost as if he wasn't blind, that he was actually seeing her for the first time. His wide blue eyes were brimming with fresh tears. A single drop fell from one of his eyes, darkening a tiny patch of sand.
"Cre—"
Then, the ground engulfed him entirely.
The sob that she had so bravely held back was released, sounding ugly and foreign. Hot tears streaked down Cress's face like flowing streams, dripping onto the ground where Thorne had just been. She hardly saw anything through the veil of tears, but she bent over and begun burying her hands into the coarse grains and scooped them out with her little hands. She kept burrowing farther, some hysterical hope fueling her, telling her that maybe if she just dug far enough, he would be there. The sandy granules stuck beneath her fingernails, but she barely noticed.
After some time of gouging into the ground, the panic wore off, and Cress forced herself to accept the fact that Thorne was gone. And as she accepted it, she started to cry convulsively. She wept, and whimpered, and wailed, and bawled with uncontrollable sobs that racked her body as a thousand tsunamis of emotion crushed her over and over.
She had lost him.
Cress's eyes snapped open and she woke up gasping for air, relief flooding through her as she realized it was only a dream. Only a nightmare. They were not marching through the Sahara Desert in the sweltering heat. Thorne was not blind and helplessly drowning in sand. She was not watching as he panicked, unable to do anything about his deadly situation. She tried to calm her breaths, slow her racing heartbeats. She told herself that it was just a bad dream, and that's all it was.
It had been a couple days since Cinder and her mutant army had succeeded in their revolution. Since Cinder shot and killed Queen Levana and was ruthlessly stabbed in the heart. She was recuperating in a hospital located somewhere in the labyrinthine halls of the royal palace. The rest of them had been placed in the lavish guest chambers to stay until Cinder was awake again and they were allowed to leave.
The fluffy pillow that supported Cress was wet around the sides of her head; she had been crying in her sleep. She shut her eyelids again and she saw Thorne being sucked under and the pleas in his unseeing eyes that clearly said, Help me, Cress, save me. And she had not done anything to rescue him. She was weak and small and ineffective and worthless.
She had been treated so her whole life. Her Lunar parents, who willingly gave her to the thaumaturges when they had arrived to take away their embarrassing shell daughter. Being kept captive in the underground prison with the other shell children who were considered not as citizens of Luna, but as dangerous criminals that were only there so their blood could be harvested to create an antidote for the plague that was ravishing Earth. And, were they ever rewarded for their contributions? No. The years she spent alone except for an artificial version of her younger self on an orbiting satellite, spying on Earthen political meetings, hacking into databases to extract government secrets, and obeying every order from harsh and unsympathetic Sybil Mira. Had she ever achieved the freedom from her work as Sybil had promised? No.
Cress let out a sigh, and tried to think on other things more pleasant. There was no way she was going to be able to fall back asleep again, not after that nightmare, knowing that they would return to haunt her. She—
"Cress!"
Her name rang out from what seemed to be across the hallway that was outside of Cress's room. She threw off the sheets and blankets, and leaped out of bed. A surge of crippling pain from the recent wound in her stomach shot through her, and ominous black dots danced in her vision. Her legs threatened to give out from under her, and she put a hand on the nightstand to steady herself.
When the wobbly sensation faded, Cress crossed over to the bedroom door, her nightgown billowing softly around her, and opened it. She recalled the sound of the voice and decided that no one other than Thorne would yell her name in the middle of the night. The guards that were stationed outside each doorway seemed to ignore her, which she was thankful for.
She walked to his door and softly pushed it inward, revealing his room. It was shrouded in darkness, except for a faint light leaking in from the window. His bed was sizable, and his wheezing silhouette was sitting up, the covers strewn on the floor. She also noted that he was only wearing boxers and a loose white shirt. It made him appear vulnerable, which she found very attractive.
Thorne's head snapped to the threshold and he stayed like that, just gaping at her. After a few heartbeats passed, he gulped and adverted his eyes.
"Um, hey, Cress." His words were laced with unsteadiness as he slowed his breathing.
"You called me?" she replied with uncertainty. Maybe he didn't want her here, which saddened Cress to think about.
Thorne paused. "I just...had...you know. Just another bad dream."
"Oh," mumbled Cress, looking down at the floor. "I have them, too. Every night."
"I know how you feel." He spoke in a quiet, defeated tone. Something in Cress's chest stirred when she heard him like that, sending warmth through her.
"Can I come in?" she inquired, wary.
"Uh, sure." Thorne was still watching the window.
Cress tiptoed to where the comforter lay on the cold tile and bundled them in her arms, placing them back on the bed. His nightmare must have been even worse than hers for the blankets to be thrown off onto the floor. She felt a pang of pain for him.
"I should probably get dressed," offered Thorne, although he gave no sign of actually moving off the bed. Faint stubble was like a constant shadow on his face. Also very attractive.
"No." The word had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and a ferocious blush burned in her cheeks. "I meant—you don't have to—you're fine," Cress hurriedly explained.
Thorne finally turned to her, with a quizzical expression, although his eyes told a different story. "Well, then, I guess I won't. Just for you." His charisma had arrived, melting her like heated chocolate. She relished the euphoric feeling it brought to her.
"Okay." Cress hated how unprepared she was around him. All walls she built up were so easily broken down when he spoke her name.
"Come here." He patted the empty bed the next to him, his voice irresistible.
She clambered up onto the bed and sat down, the soft bed lightly sinking beneath her weight. The awkwardness commenced immediately, neither of them really having anything to say. Thorne in his boxers and shirt, Cress in her thin nightgown. Shattering the unease around them, Thorne laced one of her hands with his, her fingers delicate compared to his. Her heartbeat stuttered, and she struggled to not breath too rapidly.
"So, tell me about your bad dream," he prompted, leaning in nearer to her, their elbows touching, sending a spark between them.
Cress was reminded of her nightmare and she suddenly felt cold. A shiver ran through her and she drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping an arm around them. "Only if you tell me about yours after."
Thorne gazed down at her with fiery blue eyes. "Deal."
She closed her eyes as she remembered the dream in its terrifying detail. "We were in the Sahara Desert again. You were still blind. But then your feet got stuck in the sand. You tried to pull yourself out, but you were trapped."
He nuzzled in closer to Cress, ever so smooth. She commanded herself to maintain her composure, but she failing.
"The sand kept sucking you down no matter if I tried to help or not," she continued. "It was terrible, watching you drown in the ground, and I couldn't do anything to stop it."
Another chill shook Cress, and Thorne must have noticed because he slipped an arm around her waist. She was failing so bad.
"And then you were completely under the sand, and I was by myself." An unexpected teardrop slid down her cheek. "I was all alone and I missed you so much."
He reached up and brushed the tear away, sending an electric shock through her. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his warm breath whispering against her sensitive skin. Her heart skipped a few beats.
"That was my dream, so now you have to tell me yours," demanded Cress, summoning up her composure, though she didn't succeed very greatly.
As soon as she spoke, he reeled back as if she had hit him. His eyes became distant and Cress began to panic. Had she just totally ruined this night? She couldn't stand it when he pushed her away like this.
"Um, well," he began. "We were in the throne room again. There was a bloody knife on the floor and I picked up. I didn't want to but I did it anyway. You were there too, and I was trying to tell you to leave, but I couldn't talk. I wasn't myself."
Wanting to comfort him, Cress moved to lessen the distance between them.
"Then I came to you, and the knife..." He let out a shaky sigh. "I stabbed you. Again." His voice wavered on the word "stabbed," as if he struggled to spit it out.
Cress's arm instinctively went to the injury, placing a flat palm on it.
"I tried so hard to gain control over myself, but I just couldn't. I just kept twisting the knife deeper into you, and you were crying and I was crying—" His voice broke and he inhaled deeply. Tears were welling up in his eyes.
"And I just can't stop thinking about it," Thorne confessed. "Every time I'm around you, I feel so...worried. Like, if I'm not careful, it'll happen again."
His situation was much different from hers because nightmare had happened. His nightmare was too real for him, and she could see how its effects changed and altered his personality. Cress would never really know how he honestly felt, never really be able to relate to him. She imagined herself hurting him like he did to her. She would be so full of disgust of her own being, her entire perspective on life would be thrown askew. Her heart ached for him.
"Hey." Cress attempted to get his attention and he turned to her. His blue eyes seemed to see right through her. "I don't want you to be careful with me. I want you to be you, because that person is the Carswell Thorne I know and love. I don't want you to ever be anyone other than that."
His lips twitched up at the corner of his mouth and she was suffering just to contain herself.
"You certainly do have a way with words."
"Thanks," Cress responded. "I try."
He chuckled and leaned in, his other arm releasing her hand. She was suddenly gathered up in his strong arms, pressed against his chest like a child, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. They were meant for each other. A sense of contentment arose in her stomach. This is how it should always be and, with hope, it always would.
She looked up at him and then his mouth was on hers and her arm was around his neck and his rough stubble tickled her face her hand ran through his soft hair and they were kissing wonderfully. It was the most perfect moment Cress believed she had ever experienced. She sighed heavily into him and his arms tightened around her, crushing her to him, but she didn't mind. She leaned into it, wanting to stay locked in his embrace for eternity. She had failed miserably. Why did she even try to defy his seductive charms?
Without warning, Thorne fractured the exhilarating kiss with an unsure expression. "Did I mess that up?"
"Sometimes you ask the dumbest questions," said Cress, still high on the elation that his lips brought to her. "But, no, you didn't. You can't. It's simply impossible. That kiss was absolutely amazing."
He smiled, a real, genuine smile. It warmed her to the core.
"Can I stay here tonight?" she asked, knowing that he was the only thing now that could hold the dreadful nightmares at bay.
"Cress, you can stay here every night if you want to."
"Good. Because I just might."
Thorne rustled the downy comforter to him and draped over himself and Cress. She snuggled in deeper, if that was even possible. They were already so compacted, already one. He arranged a few pillows around them, making her feel luxurious and satisfied. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his steady, balanced heartbeats. He planted a kiss in her hair and she drifted into a relaxing dreamless sleep within his arms.
The End
Author's Note: I really enjoyed writing this fanfic. First, because it's entirely romantic, and I just love that. Second, because Cress and Thorne are just amazing together, and if you have read The Lunar Chronicles, then you don't need an explanation for that. (If you have not read the full series, then get to it immediately.) So, if you did like this, please go to my profile, look at my other fanfics, and follow me. Thanks for reading!