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Thorne had been in the washroom when his eyesight finally, finally, returned.
He had been removing the blindfold to splash water on his face when instead of being greeted by the shadows and blurs he had grown accustomed to ever since his vision had begun to make its painstakingly slow return, instead, he had seen his hands. Darker then he recalled, he flexed his fingers, mesmerised.
Thorne's eyes were blurry, and they immediately watered as he looked up and took in the incandescent lights of the washroom. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to three, before turning his gaze up and staring at himself in the mirror.
An elated grin spread across his face, as, albeit blurry, he caught his own reflection staring back at himself. Along Thorne’s jaw, a stubble had grown, his hair was slightly longer than he remembered and a little messy, and his eyes were the familiar vibrant blue he recalled.
And stars he was good-looking.
Not that he had forgotten.
He chuckled to himself and ran a hand along his prickly jawline. "Hello, Carswell."
Thorne could already imagine placing himself into the pilot's seat again, fitting his hands against the controls of the ship that had grown so familiar to him. Toggling the switches, fiddling with adjustments to ensure the smoothest flight possible.
And then he thought of her.
Flashes of the Cress he had seen over the D-COMM chip, or the Cress he had caught glimpses of as the satellite that Sybil Mira had sent crashing into Earth appeared in his mind. It had been a long time since he'd actually seen her. And now her hair was short, her skin undoubtedly freckled extensively, courteous to the time they had spent in the desert together.
Uncharacteristically nervous, Thorne set to rummaging around for his razor and shaving cream. He was never one for organisation, so it took a while for him to remember where he had last placed his tools, but a few moments later he found it.
Straightening, Thorne set to work. He lathered the white, foamy cream across his jaw and gently glided the razor across, rinsing it occasionally under the water every few swipes. He repeated the steps, allowing the sharpened blade to run across his jawline, down his throat, his Adam's apple. When he finished, he wiped his face dry and idly placed the shaving equipment back in the cabinets beneath the basin.
He wet his hands and roughly dragged them through his hair and perfected the roguish yet charming look he always went for.
Thorne hesitated only for a moment. He paused and took in the white tiled walls, the mirror that had been cleaned only a few short days ago, and shower in which someone had colour-coded his hair products and soaps. A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and he felt a sudden wave of euphoria at the thought of seeing his friends' faces again.
It would be a lie to proclaim that he hadn't missed seeing Cinder's irritated glares, Wolf's broody glances, Cress's nervous yet giddy smile that he had only seen once.
Shaking off any lasting remnants of procrastination, Thorne left the captain's quarters.
His first guess at where the crew might be was the cargo bay. He recalled Cinder and Cress mentioning how the supplies in the galley were running low, and how they had to resort to opening the giant crates in the cargo bay in hopes of restocking the canned goods that were often found on the Rampion.
Thorne felt almost giddy as he manoeuvred his way around his ship, surprised at how clean and organised everything was now that he had a proper crew to help him. Yet something told him it was a particular blonde-headed Lunar that had taken it upon herself to keep the Rampion tidy.
Then, sure enough, he heard Cinder’s voice echo down the corridor.
“I’m pretty sure Thorne stole it.”
Thorne grinned. He strode toward the cargo bay to find Kai nestling a Venezuelan dream doll back into its packaging. “Ah, of course,” he was saying. “He’d better plan on giving all this stuff back.”
“Sure I’ll give it back, Your Majesticness. For a proper finder’s fee.”
Five heads instantly swivelled toward him as he leaned against the wall of the cargo bay. Thorne’s gaze skipped over Cinder, Kai, Wolf and a dark-skinned girl with a bundle of braids dyed various shades of blue, before it landed on Cress.
She was sitting atop a crate, surrounded by an assortment of canned fruits and vegetables, but he didn’t pay attention to what they were. All he cared about was her.
She was stunningly different from when he had last set his gaze upon her. Instead of the long, tangled blonde hair that he remembered being tied up in in the satellite, was gone. It had been replaced by a short bob instead, off her shoulders and just brushing against her jaw with subtle waves that complimented her in more ways than he could count. The pale skin had now been kissed by the sun and the amount of freckles he remembered had doubled, scattered across her cheeks and nose. He recognised her dress as one from the satellite, but he wasn’t surprised as he could never imagine her wearing the cargo pants found on the Rampion that would almost certainly be too long for her.
Thorne’s pulse suddenly quickened at the sight of her. Her blue eyes were staring at him in that way they had over the D-COMM link when she had first seen him. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by her captivating beauty that he couldn’t fathom how he had been so blind to it before.
Thorne could tell the exact moment at which realisation dawned on Cress. A blush clawed up her throat and she gulped nervously, eyes widening impossibly larger which only served to make his stomach squeeze.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “The short hair,” he finally said with a nod. “It works.”
Cress reached up and grasped the wispy ends staring at him, her lips slightly parted; like she wanted to say something but was too stunned to speak.
Without warning, the dark-skinned girl that had been sitting cross-legged on the floor launched herself to her feet. “Oh! Captain! You can see!”
It finally clicked as the girl threw herself into his arms. He caught her, stumbling against the wall and laughing.
“Iko?” he said, holding her at arms length to observe her.
The high-pitched voice, the epitome of delight only an android with a "faulty personality chip" could express, and the body too flawless to be human? It was undoubtedly her.
Thorne grinned as he took in her dark skin, her long legs and her abundance of blue braids. He clicked his tongue approvingly. “Aces. I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”
“Sight unseen,” Iko proclaimed proudly, flipping her braids off of one shoulder.
“Excellent,” said Cinder. She stood and brushed her hands off. “I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t have a pilot for when it's time to take Kai back to Earth. Now I just have to worry about not having a competent one.”
Thorne leaned against the crate that Cress sat on. He felt her freeze instantaneously beside him, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. There was a strange urge inside of him that yearned to protect her like he had tried to in the desert, or to bundle her up into his arms and squeeze her against his chest the way he had after Dr Erland had died. Some of his euphoria faded away at the memory.
“Oh, Cinder, I’ve missed seeing your face when you make sarcastic comments about me in an attempt to hide your true feelings about me,” he said with a grin.
“Please.” Cinder rolled her eyes and set to arranging the guns against the wall.
“See that eye roll? It translates to “How am I possibly keeping my hands off of you, Captain?”
“Yeah, keeping them from strangling you.”
Kai folded his arms over his chest, and grinned at the two of them bickering. “How come no one told me I had such steep competition?”
Cinder shot a glare in Kai’s direction. “Don’t encourage him.”
Suddenly, Cress scooped up all the canned goods in her arms and spun toward the corridor, which sent the top can sailing off the stack.
Thorne reached out and snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground. He beamed at the canned peaches he had caught, then slid his gaze toward Cress. His heartbeat thumped loudly, blood rushing in his ears as she dared to meet his eyes–and there it was again. That wondrous look on her face, the dazzled look in her sky-blue eyes and–
Stars. What had he said when he first met her? “Is that all hair?”
Thorne cringed internally.
Suppressing the regret that curled in his stomach, Thorne said: “Lightning-fast reflexes. Still got them.” He straightened and to help lighten the load, scooped canned corn off the stack. His heart thudded at the closeness of their bodies before he forced himself to pull away, trying to avoid an awkward moment. “Want help?”
“No-thank-you-I’ve-got-it,” said Cress, refusing to meet his gaze. She fixated on the cans bundled in her arms, all flustered and full of nerves.
Thorne’s stomach sank as he slowly nestled the cans back onto the stack. “All right,” he said. “If you insist.”
Cress slid off the crate and dodged around Thorne, careful to not brush against him at all. She disappeared down the main corridor.
Thorne’s gaze followed after her, the conversation around him fading into the background. His stomach seemed to flip every time he glanced at her, every time he talked to her, every time he made her blush. And suddenly, he was regretting those moments in the desert, when he had tried to dissuade her from “falling in love” with him. At the time, he had thought she was just talking nonsense. A silly, childish crush meant to inflate his ego even more. He had thought Cress young and naïve.
But now?
He couldn’t be more wrong.
Cress was amazing. She was smart and determined, kind and creative. She was so stunning, and it wasn't just her face– but her personality too. It was the way she listened to him like no one else did. It was the way she was always optimistic and believing and always willing to do what was right.
Thorne felt himself drawing closer to the conclusion he did not want to believe.
Nothing would ever come good with him and Cress. She would just end up being hurt, he told himself. He was not the type of guy she deserved. Cress deserved a hero, the kind and brave and willing guy she had thought he was.
Thorne tried to hide the disappointment that clawed at him. None of it mattered now, anyway. He had already told Cress the truth, and whether her feelings were genuine before, they certainly were not now. She was not in love with him anymore.
Good, he thought to himself. It’s for the best.
As if on cue, Cress reappeared in the cargo bay. Thorne tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn to her, like she was the sun and he was a planet, captured by her gravity.
She did not look at him.
Thorne followed her gaze, to Kai, who was arguing with Cinder about Kai’s return to Earth. It was clear Cinder did not want him to leave, with the way she was arguing back, trying to come up with excuses for him to stay. But they all knew it was pointless. Kai was needed back on Earth, not up here on the Rampion. Cinder just refused to accept it.
As the two continued to quarrel, Thorne risked one last glance at Cress, who for a moment, he had thought was staring at him, only to find her watching Kai and Cinder with a saddened expression. Almost guilty.
He knew Cress was hard on herself after all the hacking and spying she had done for Queen Levana when she was stuck alone on the satellite. He knew she was always berating herself internally over the helpless years in which she had helped Levana further her tyranny.
He knew that she wanted to help Cinder in their revolution as much as she could, almost as if to redeem herself after the things she had done during her captivity.
Thorne longed to tell her none of it was her fault. That she was brave and strong for lasting as long as she had all alone, with nothing but a manipulative thaumaturge to keep her company.
He recognised the protective urge he had been feeling since the satellite crashed. The one that had coaxed him to give up all his water preserves to her. The one that had had him distraught after she had been kidnapped. The one that had compelled him to kiss her during that battle on the rooftop for fear that she would die.
Thorne was dragged out of his tumultuous thoughts as Cinder froze, eyes unfocusing.
For a few stunned moments, she blinked rapidly before turning back to Kai. “Ship, turn on cargo bay netscreen, Commonwealth newsfeed.”
Kai was frowning. “What’s going on?”
Konn Torin, the chief advisor of the Eastern Commonwealth flickered onto the netscreen as Cinder whispered, “I’m so sorry, Kai. Your palace is under attack.”