You Expect Me To Carry On? (A Newtmas Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty Two: WCKD

Thomas's world was spinning.
Twisting.
Distorting.
The colours melted together and blurred, the shapes and figures dissolved into liquid.
He heard voices, so many voices, a layered cacophony of cries and whispers and pleas.
Through the thick, dizzying abyss, he picked out the thread of a single voice.
Strong, loud, an Irish accent.
Thomas pushed aside all of the other noise, and honed his concentration on that one voice. He felt like he was swimming through thick mud, pulling himself into the reality he seemed to be outside of.
The rainbow of colours were melting into dusty yellows, clear blues, chalky greys. The other noises were fading. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and then

"-really thought you'd actually, ACTUALLY killed me?!"

Janson broke out into dry, throaty laughter, his eyes wild, unfocused, dancing between Newt and Thomas.

"You stupid, brainless, worthless children. Look at what you've done!"

He twisted Brenda's head, forcing her to look up at her surroundings.

"We were so... so close!" he heaved, saliva flying from his mouth

"Everything... everything was right there, right beneath my fingers. But you..."

He locked eyes with Thomas, grinning manically.

"You ruined everything. Your actions disfigured my face,  destroyed my future,  ruined my whole life. "

Brenda had stopped wrestling against Janson's grip.

Thomas's heart was pounding against his ribs.

"So now..."

Janson's eyes flitted to where Frypan stood, frozen.

"I'm going to ruin yours. Two for the price of one, it seems."

And with a single deft motion, he cocked the gun

"No!"

Thomas screamed, and reached out behind him to where Newt was standing.

But his arm flailed in empty space.

Newt wasn't there.

Thomas turned around, searching.

He could barely breathe, barely think.

Shuck shuck shuck.

He had to forget about Newt for a second. He had to save Frypan.

He turned back to where Janson stood.

And there stood Newt, a few inches behind Rat Man.

No no no stop it come back

Thomas opened his mouth, but Newt gave him a single, almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"You were so close to your happy ending."
Janson was saying, still staring at Frypan.

"But what about mine? What about everything you did to me? Why should you be cured, be safe, be happy? Why should you-"

But he didn't get to finish.

Newt had thrown himself onto Janson's back, knocking him onto all fours.

Brenda let out a yelp, and managed to writhe out of her captors' grip, rolling to the side, out from under him.

Newt smashed his knee into Rat Man's elbow, sending the gun skittering out of his grip across the ground.

Thomas leapt forward, snatching up the gun, gripping it with both hands and pointing it at Janson's head.

Frypan had tucked the vial into his belt and was running to where Minho lay.

Newt had Janson pinned, one hand pressed into the side of his head, the other trapping down a flailing arm, a knee on each of his legs.

"Let ... go of me... y-you-"

Newt drove his elbow down between the man's shoulder blades, cutting off his pleas.

"Shut it." said Newt, firmly.

He met Thomas's eyes.

"What do we do with him?"

Thomas's first instinct was to say

Kill him. End it. He's the reason we're all here. He's the reason they're all dead.

But he caught himself.

We've done more than enough killing

"Let's take him back to Jorge. Look at him- well dressed, clean shaven. He's managed to survive all this time out there, somehow. Who knows, maybe there's already a new WCKD bunker teaming with shiny brand new Ava Pages and shiny brand new ideas? Whatever's happening, I'm sure Jorge and Vince will know a way to get information out of him."

Newt nodded.

"Sure." he shifted his weight, bringing Janson's hand behind his back, taking the pressure off his head.

"That'll be one hell of a job. But I guess if we can tie him up we should be able to get him across the-"

Before he could finish, Newt's body was jerked backwards.

His eyes went wide, mouth open, slack .

Thomas seemed to be watching as if in slow motion.

He watched as tiny blue-white sparks of fierce electricity flew across Newt's body.

The sparks clung to him, burrowed into his skin.

His hair stood on end, his fingers went limp.

Thomas couldn't move. He felt like he was stuck in some suffocating, sticky time lapse.

Then the illusion broke.

Newt's body writhed and trembled, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled onto Janson's legs.

"NO!" Thomas scrambled forward, stumbling and tripping onto his knees, desperate to reach Newt.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

But before he could get to him, to Newt, his boy, he heard a dull click from above his head.

Slowly, he raised his eyes.

There stood

.... Brenda?

Behind her, Rat Man had pushed Newt's limp body to one side and was straightening up, brushing himself off.

Thomas's eyes met Brenda's.

No.

In Brenda's left hand, she held a compact, matte black, sleek and expensive WCKD brand high quality taser.

And it was trained on Thomas's forehead.

"I'm so sorry Thomas." she said

"But I'm gonna need you to drop the gun."