A/N:

Hello! This takes place after Winter, so caution-SPOILERS! I own nothing, all the characters belong to the lovely Marissa Meyer, as do the quotes from Winter. Enjoy!

The battle roared behind him, screams and shouts from Cinder as she tried to defeat Levana, cries of pain. But Carswell Thorne didn't care about any of that. He barely even noticed it.

All he could see was Cress, her hands shaking, holding a gun aimed at the queen, as he approached her with a knife. Thorne tried, as hard as he could, to tell her to run. He couldn't remember for the life of him a time when he wanted to say a single word more, when he'd wanted to warn someone more, but all he could manage was a guttural scream.

He could see his terror mirrored in her eyes. She wanted to run, but he was too fast. He elbowed her arm up, moving the aim of the gun from the queen to the ceiling.

And then he plunged the knife into her stomach, and she fell to her knees, dropping the gun.

Cress gasped. "No," she tried to pull away, but he was so much taller than her, his arm grasping her. She had one hand on the wound, trying to stop the blood flow, which already covered her front.

Something inside him broke. "I'm sorry," Thorne sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Cress bit him. It was a sharp, short pain. An attempt to get him to let go. Thorne winced, but didn't release her.

He did when Cinder tackled him, the knife being ripped from his hands and when he was tossed against the chairs. He barely felt it.

Cress's gaze seemingly floated, before it landed on Thorne. Her skin was pale, paler than he'd ever seen it before. For the first time since he'd known her, her small stature seemed fragile. She smiled weakly, then her gaze drifted upwards, and she stilled.

Thorne let out an inhuman scream, crumbling into himself.

Thorne shot up in bed, his hair plastered to his forehead, his breath heavy. He had that dream almost every night. Every night, he saw her die. Every night he killed her. Thorne had known the moment it happened that even if she got better, he would have nightmares about that for the rest of his life. Despite knowing that she was alive and well, almost entirely healed from the fight, he always dreamt about that moment. When he closed his eyes he could still see her, lying on the floor, soaked in her own blood. And then in the suspension tank. Her hair floating around her face, her eyes closed as if she were in a deep sleep. Those had been the most painful four days of his life, sitting and waiting.

Thorne rolled off the bed, throwing on a pair of pants and tip toeing to the door. Cress slept in the room across from him. She was usually a pretty light sleeper, having spent seven years alone made her wake up at the slightest noise, and Thorne slipped out his door, wondering why she hadn't woken up. Her door was cracked open slightly, so Thorne just pushed it open and peeked in.

Cress was on her bed, lying in a ball curled up on her side, with the blankets tossed haphazardly on top of her. After a brief moment of making sure she was asleep, he started to slip out of her room again when he heard her mutter something. Stepping all the way into her room, Thorne shut the door behind himself, quietly standing besides her bed and studying her.

Cress's face was flushed, her eyes moving rapidly underneath of her eyelids. Again she was muttering, this time the words more definite, "No no no I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-" suddenly she winced, then rolled over to her other side, readjusting herself.

"Cress," Thorne whispered, trying to wake her, but she didn't respond, instead her muttering increased.

"No no no no no-" suddenly she was shouting, almost at the top of her lungs, all the while curled into the fetal position, clutching at her stomach. "NO! No no Thorne no-" Thorne's stomach dropped, and he moved over to the other side of the bed, shaking her gently.

"Cress, wake up. Sweetheart-" suddenly she sat up with a gasp, her breath heavy and her eyes wild. Thorne noticed her hands were still pressed to her stomach.

"Thorne?" she asked, confused. Cress looked around, then realization dawned on her as she recognized where she was and adjusted to her surroundings, her hands dropping from her stomach to her lap. "I-I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No, no," he hesitated. He didn't want to tell her about his own nightmare when she was clearly suffering from her own. He wasn't that selfish. "I was already awake."
"At 3:30 in the morning?" she raised an eyebrow as she looked at the clock.

Thorne shrugged it off. "What were you dreaming about? Do you want to talk about it?"

Suddenly she seemed to enclose on herself. Thorne recognized the expression, she was always like this when they were in groups, but she was never like this around him. Until now. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice still scratchy from her cries. "You should go back to sleep. You need your beauty rest," she joked half heartedly.

Thorne put a hand under her chin, tilting her head up. "Hey. It's okay. You can talk to me about it," she was silent. "I'm serious. I won't be offended."

She put her face in her hands, muttering something. When he didn't say anything and it was clear that he couldn't understand what Cress had said, she spoke again. "I was having nightmares about the attacks. So many people died because of me. I was the one who snuck them all onto Earth. It's my fault," she said grimly. Before Thorne could speak, she rushed on. "It's not just that. I dream about Sybil. That she's still coming after me, that she's going to punish me for what I've done."

"Sybil's dead," Thorne said, his voice gentle. "She's gone and she's not going to come back and get you."

"I know that," she twisted at her hair nervously, an old gesture. "Obviously. But still, I lived in fear of that woman for my entire life. Sometimes I can still feel like…" her voice trailed off. "I dunno. It's silly."

Thorne sighed, pulling her in for a hug so her arm was resting on his shoulder. The Revolution had affected all of them, and sometimes it was hard to see that they'd lost more than fingers. Scarlet lost her Grandmother, Cress lost her father. But a fight like that-it left scars on you deeper that what could be seen physically. Every single one of them was going to have nightmares for the rest of their life of what they saw and what they were forced to do. How stupid of Thorne to assume he'd be the only one.

Which reminded him.

"You called my name," he recalled after a moment.

"Hm?" Cress's hands were shaking, and Thorne clasped them in his own.

"During your nightmare, you called out my name. Like you were telling me to stop," Cress bit down on her lip, her eyes downcast. "Cress. You can tell me. I won't be upset with you for having nightmares about…" he trailed off when he saw that her eyes were filled with tears.

"I was dreaming about that night. The battle. When you stabbed me...I've been dreaming about it for while, but it's normally only flashes. Tonight it...it felt like I was there again," it all burst out, and she was sobbing, leaning heavily on him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know that you feel guilty and that's why I didn't want to tell you about it. I'm not upset at you I know that it wasn't your fault but it just...it hurt so much. For a moment it was numb but then it was like a fire that was burning and it hurt so bad and all I could see was a horror in your eyes and I remember thinking that I was going to die and the last thing that I was going to see was that horror in your eyes as you looked at me and I wasn't sure if what you said earlier was true and I was so scared and I-" she cut herself off abruptly. "I'm sorry, this isn't fair to you. I shouldn't-" she looked down again, ashamed of herself.

Thorne's chest tightened. He felt like the most horrible person ever. He had felt the overwhelming sense of guilt ever since the day that it happened. He'd been so terrified of hurting Cress that at first he would barely touch her, afraid of ripping the stitches or bumping her wound. As she got better, he became more focused on his nightmares, on trying to move past the moment. It hadn't even occurred to him that she could be suffering from the same moment he was. And to think that she felt bad about rambling. "Hey hey hey. It's okay. I'm sorry that I didn't ask about how it affected you...mentally. I'm sorry that I didn't ask how you were dealing."

"I'm not mad at you," she whispered. "I know that you weren't in control."

"I know," he said soothingly, hugging her again, brushing his hand down her hair.

"I know."

They stayed in that position for a while, Thorne holding her close, thankful for her just being there. Being safe, alive. He knew now that he could deal with the nightmares. He wasn't alone, they were together on this, moving on from the horrific event into a happier time.

They fell asleep together in the bed, his arm wrapped protectively around her, lying on her bed above the covers.