Jane woke up screaming.

Her eyes snapped open and a gasp tore through her throat as she shot up in bed. A thin sheen of sweat coated her body and she could feel wet clumps of hair sticking to her cheeks. Beneath her linen nightshirt, her heart beating erratically.

This was not the first time she'd had a nightmare, nor was it the first time she'd had this particular dream. It was more of a memory, really, of when she and her comrades had taken the city. The great iron gates had opened and the troops rushed in. She had been forced to slaughter so many innocents. Why was it not enough to capture the city? The people had been willing to surrender, and yet she had been told to kill all those who stood in her way. She had been forced to murder woman and children in cold blood. Every night of that terrible war she wished the King had not given them to their cause—had not agreed to send his own knights to help an ally who would commit such acts.

Jane pushed her covers aside and walked over to her windows on shaking knees, opening the wooden shutters. The cool night breeze felt soothing on her heated, clammy skin, but her mind was alert and restless. The fresh air did little to ease the claustrophobia that seemed to close in on her. So she grabbed her sword and left her room to clear her mind, making sure to stay away from the garden, kitchen, and forge.

They had tried to diagnose Jane when she came back…different.

It had been three months since she returned from the war. She thought being home would make her feel better, but ever since she returned Jane only felt worse. During the war she became used to sleeping on the hard ground, and could no longer sleep in her soft, comfortable bed; she had to sleep on the floor to get any rest. Then there were the nightmares that plagued her nights. She would wake up at night with her shoulder searing hot and sweat drenching her clothes. She would find herself clawing at the place where the arrow had pierced her left shoulder.

But the worst were the day nightmares.

She wasn't asleep, but all of the sudden she found herself back on the battlefield—staring into the eyes of her enemy. When she 'woke up' from it she would always find the terrified eyes of her friends staring back at her, wondering if she had gone mad. At times, Jane felt like she had.

When Jane was found to have trouble adjusting back to normal life, experts from every field were called upon to diagnose her. The local priest said Jane brought back 'the demons of war' and that she needed to repent and cleanse herself from them. The doctor King Caradoc had hired to look at Jane said she was experiencing hysteric fits common in women who were single or unmarried. He said it was caused by a melancholy uterus, and that the best remedy for Jane's ailment was to get married and bear children. Thankfully, the King chose not to take the doctor's advice. Then there was Sir Theodore's diagnosis—that Jane suffered from what most knight's went through after their first few battles, and that it would quickly pass…but it never did.

Her friends had been so supportive at first, trying to calm her down whenever she found herself having an episode, but it did her little good. What did they know of how she felt? They never had to kill someone and watch the light in their eyes fade until it was nothing but a blank, glassy look staring back at them. They didn't see the horrors Jane saw when she walked into the city they had taken. They never saw the bodies…the blood…the desolation. Oh, sure, she'd studied battle tactics and read about countless wars, but no words could describe the horrors she saw firsthand. Jane always felt sick when she thought about all the destruction she had helped cause. She had been told their cause was good and just...she never even realized just how many innocents would be killed along the way.

Jane was told beforehand that King Caradoc had pledged to send knights to help an ally of theirs. Both she and Gunther had been told they were fighting to capture back a city that had been taken. It was only after the city was taken and she saw the true destruction of war that she realized just how blurred the lines were between right and wrong. She did things under orders she did not agree with, and saw things that could in no way be justified. So many dead, and her friends could never understand that.

They wanted to, but even they grew frightened of her. At first Jester had tried, just like the others, to 'cure' her, until one day she had gotten so angry about everyone trying to 'fix' her, that she had raged at him to stop treating her as if she was some broken thing that needed mending. She immediately felt terrible for snapping at him when he was only trying to help, but after that he all but stopped. Pepper, hearing about what happened with Jester, seemed determined not to make the same mistake—which made Jane feel even worse. She hated how Pepper walked on eggshells around her, as if she was afraid Jane would snap at her for even the slightest amount of concern she showed. The apprehension in her eyes said it all.

Even sweet, gentle Rake was now terrified of her. It had happened late one night when she took a walk to clear her head. She had her sword strapped to her waist, as she always did. Ever since she returned she felt paranoid, and had never gotten over the fear that any moment the enemy might attack. It had been drilled into her to expect an attack at any time, and some things were hard to let go of—even after the battles were long over. She was strolling through the garden when she heard a rustling behind her.

Suddenly, everything around her seemed to fade away and she was back in the war. It was nighttime and the enemy was upon her. They had planned a surprise attack, and their troops weren't prepared. Swords were drawn and there was screaming. Screams of agony—of pain. All around her it was a slaughter, but she drew her sword and fought.

When her head finally cleared she looked down to see the sword in her hand. The gardens around her were in ruins, and she cringed when she saw Rake run over. He actually cried when he saw the state his flowers and vegetables were in. Jane never forgave herself, even after Rake did, because that fear never left his eyes. What if it had been one of her friends she'd hurt? That was what terrified her.

Smithy, to his credit, treated her the same as always. He had given her an open invitation when she returned, saying, "If you ever need to talk, my forge is always burning," and then had left it at that. After that he had gone back to treating her the same as always, and she appreciated it…but she knew he wouldn't be able to understand.

Dragon was the same as ever—completely oblivious as to why Jane felt the way she did. When she tried to explain why she felt guilty Dragon would sprout something about how life was fleeting, and that Jane had done what she had to do. Whenever she had a nightmare, he would say that it was all in the past. But he was, after all, a dragon. There were things a dragon just couldn't understand about short lives.

Jane felt like she was stumbling along in the dark—without a soul out there who understood how she felt. There were times when she thought about talking to Gunther, but ever since they got back he seemed to have no trouble at all adjusting to his old life. He never talked about having nightmares. Ever since she returned, she had craved his company. Before the war, she would have actively avoided him if at all possible.

But during the war she had been forced in close quarters with him—she had to rely on him and trust him with her life. It had formed a bond between them stronger than any she had ever experienced, save perhaps her bond with Dragon. She felt a closeness to Gunther, and ever since returning, she had tried to suppress the urge to lean on him for comfort. He had been her rock during the war—and she had been his. It seemed something like that was not easily forgotten just because one returned home. Gunther was the only thing that made sense to her anymore…and she couldn't even talk to him about it.

Jane truly had no one to turn to.

As she walked along the battlements, she suddenly heard a noise. It sounded sort of like a whimper. Jane paused and strained her ears to make out what it was. Then—there it was again! This time it sounded more like a cry—of pain and anger. When she heard it again she took off running in that direction. She came upon a tower that she had believed to be vacant, and pulled open the door—hand gripping the hilt of her sword.

To her surprise, she found Gunther inside, laying on the bed in the middle of the room. He let out another cry—one of agony—but his eyes were squeezed shut. Jane furrowed her eyebrows. What was Gunther doing here in the castle tower? He had always lived with his merchant father in the village. However, when she saw Gunther let out another moan of pain she quickly pushed aside her questions and rushed to his side.

"Gunther, wake up," she whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. "It is just a bad dream, wake up!"

He awoke with a start, eyes snapping open and hand shooting out. Jane cringed when his fingers gripped her shoulder, digging into her skin. His eyes had that blurry look she was told her eyes got when she had one of her episodes. But gradually they cleared, and when he saw it was her, his grip immediately loosened.

Then his eyes widened in surprise and he recoiled. Scooting away from her, he drew his hand up to his chest. "Jane? What are you doing here?"

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. "I could ask you the same thing. But if you must know, I was taking a walk when I heard someone let out a cry." Gunther averted his gaze and scowled. "Now tell me, what are you doing here?"

"If you must know," he said, mocking her words, "I have decided it would be best for me to live in the castle from now on, seeing as how I am a knight."

Jane could see from the look in his eyes that he wasn't telling her the truth. "Okay, now the truth please."

He narrowed his eyes at her in defiance, and she knew demanding something from him wasn't going to get her anywhere. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she reached a hand forward, laying it on his shoulder. It was something she had done a hundred times during the war as a way to reassure him, and it seemed to work here. "You can tell me."

His guarded eyes softened, and he looked down at the bed sheets. "My father says that until my nightmares stop, I should live in the castle, since my screaming at night keeps him awake."

Jane felt anger well up in her at the merchant, but she was even more surprised to learn that this was not a one-time occurrence—that Gunther too had been having a series of nightmares as well. "You have nightmares? You never said anything."

He sniffed, lifting his chin up so as to look down on her. "Yes, Jane, because some of us prefer not to put our suffering on display."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Some of us are not afraid to ask for help when we need it."

"Some of us cannot ask for help! Not everyone has friends who will rally around them. Some of us only have a father who tells them to toughen up and get over it whenever they try and talk about it!"

It was then that Jane realized Gunther hadn't been having an easy time adjusting—he had been having as hard a time as Jane did, only he had to hide it for fear of appearing weak. Gunther had been going through the same things as Jane—and instead of trying to hide their brokenness from each other, they could have leaned on each other.

"You are not the only one, you know," Gunther whispered so softly that Jane wasn't entirely sure she had heard him or just imagined it. Still, the question confused her.

"The only one…what?" she questioned. Gunther's steely gaze flickered over to her, and she knew then she had heard him right.

"The only one who came back with the demons of war," Gunther made a face at that phrase, as if the mere idea was just ridiculous.

Jane felt a sense of relief wash over her that she wasn't the only one who had trouble adjusting. His gray eyes flickered over to her as she moved closer to him—so close their knees were touching. At the small contact, a feeling of comfort washed over her—the first time she had felt such an emotion ever since returning.

"I miss it," he suddenly said.

"The war?" Jane asked, incredulous.

"No, not the war itself, just the…the feeling of being close to someone. Knowing that your life is in their hands—that bond you feel out there. I miss that sense of purpose. Even when we were slaughtering people, we knew what our orders were and what we had to do. I know that sounds terrible."

Yes, she thought to herself, it does sound terrible…but it was all too true.

Gunther didn't wait for her reply before continuing, "Now that we are back I do not know how to move forward. I feel as if I am…"

"Stuck," Jane finished, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "Lost. Unsure where to go from here."

Gunther turned his steely eyes to her and gave a single nod.

"You do not have to lose the closeness, though…you…you can have that here." She took a deep breath and then returned her gaze to him. Meeting his deep, intense gaze she barely whispered the next words, "We can have that here." She only paused a moment before saying, "Do you remember that night after we took the city?"

Jane knew she shouldn't be saying this. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they would never talk about what had happened between them the night after the battle. That night had been a moment of weakness when she felt so completely broken she just needed to be held by a pair of strong arms that she trusted. Gunther had been that for her. He had held her throughout the night while silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and she had wrapped her arms around him just as tight. She had heard the sniffles he didn't even try to hide. He understood her fears, her nightmares…her churning emotions. She didn't have to try and explain it to him like she did with the others, he simply knew.

"You know I remember it," he replied, looking away.

"I miss that most of all."

He stiffened at her words, and Jane's heart suddenly leapt to her throat, cursing herself for her indiscretion. Gunther may have missed the closeness, but that didn't mean he felt the same as she did. It didn't mean he needed her as much as she needed him even still.

Her heart dropped to her stomach when he scooted back to rest his back against the headboard—and away from her. She thought about leaving, since he obviously didn't want her there, but then he did something she didn't except. He held out his arms in an open gesture, as if inviting her into his embrace. She didn't need to be asked twice. Jane crawled forward and settled herself between his legs, curling up against his chest. His arms wrapped around and held her even tighter than that night three months ago, while she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I missed it too," he said softly, and Jane felt a deep sense of peace wash over her at his words.

At the familiar, comforting position, she felt protected and safe—an emotion that had been all too absent in the last few months. Burying her nose in his chest, she realized she never wanted to leave his arms again—not ever. She felt him rest his chin on top of her head, letting out a contented sigh before burying his nose into her mess of curls. His lips touched against the top of her ear.

"Never leave again," Gunther whispered, and Jane only tightened her arms around him in response.

Once again, the two knights found solace and understanding in each other's arms. Together, they could find a way to move forward.

This story was inspired by The Lightning Flash's defense of the Jane/Gunther ship in the Jane and the Dragon forums. You can go take a look if you're interested, I know it certainly got me thinking. It's under the forum titled "Jane and the Dragon" at the top, and then the topic, "'Ships".

I imagine Jane and Gunther being around the ages of 21 and 23 in this fic, so they're both fully fledged knights by this time. At first, I had them fighting in the first Crusade, but then my historically accurate brain wouldn't leave me alone about it, (since the Crusades took place about 300 years after Jane's time) so just imagine something along those lines.

Oh, and for those interested, I do have a multi-chaptered Jane/Gunther story in the works (about 12,000 words so far), so keep a lookout for it. And I also have a JatD story that's a crossover with How To Train Your Dragon called Alliances, if anyone is interested in both fandoms.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :)