Thomas Sangster/ Newt Imagines& GIFs

145. Newt"

description - Despite having made it to Paradise, you keep having nightmares about your trials.

"For an experiment to provide accurate results," the Rat Man said, "one needs a control group. We did our best to keep the virus from you as long as we could. But it's airborne and highly contagious."

Thomas had warned you already about how some of the people tested by WICKED were not immune. It kept chewing at your gut like a rabid rat. Control groups. What if you were one of them?

"Just bloody get on with it," Newt groaned. "We all figured we had the buggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."

"Yeah," a girl named Sonya from Group B added. "Cut the drama and tell us already."

You clung to Newt's sleeve. He paid no attention to you, eyes fixated on Rat Man.

"Okay, then. Most of you are immune and have helped us gather invaluable data. Only two of you are considered Candidates now, but we'll go into that later. Let's get to the list. The following people are not immune. Newt ..."

It was like someone had taken you atop the highest building and slammed you down hard onto the ground below. Your vision blurred. Not Newt, you thought. Not my Newt. A thick knot settled painfully at the back of your throat, sucking the air out of your lungs until your chest threatened to cave in.

Thomas had a similar reaction. He doubled over in shock; it was a surprise your legs hadn't given out too.

"Tommy, slim yourself," Newt said. His voice was stern and hard, despite the grin he was struggling to keep on his face. "You too, (Y/N)."

You couldn't find your voice, but Thomas spoke for the both of you. "Slim ourselves? That old shank just said you're not immune to the Flare. How can you-"

"I'm not worried about the bloody Flare, man. I never thought I'd still be alive at this buggin' point- and living hasn't exactly been so great anyway."

It was like a jab straight to your heart. You let go of Newt's sleeve, shakily breathing out. After all that Newt meant to you - after all you'd thought you meant to him - you'd figured that even though the two of you had been through hell and back, at least you could say you've done it together. You figured wrong.

You bolted up in bed with a cold sweat down the back of your neck. Every muscle in your body ached from memory like they'd been doused in gasoline and set on fire; with each breath you took, you felt your chest contract painfully in protest.

You'd had the same dream again. Always the same dream. Without fail, the moment you closed your eyes was the moment every horror you'd ever endured replayed mockingly beneath your eyelids.

A sob escaped your lips, making you clasp your hands over your mouth in fear of waking up the boy beside you. Though boy didn't really seem like the right word to describe Newt anymore; he'd seen and lived through more than anyone else you knew. He was a man, whittled and beaten down, but still a man nonetheless. A warrior.