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

Chapter Twenty Three: Brenda

Brenda.

No.

Thomas could feel pain in his throat.

He could see her hand trembling.

Brenda

There were tears stinging at his eyes.

"Come on Thomas. Don't make this harder than it has to be. Please. You don't understand."

He could remember Teresa speaking those exact words to him- 'you don't understand'.

It's all happening again

Upon seeing the commotion, and with Janson still steadying himself, Frypan had stashed the vial of cure in his belt and had turned to pull the drawstring of his bag, to rummage for his gun.

Thomas watched his friend with desperate hope, praying Brenda wouldn't notice. But too late.

"Your friends are shucking annoying, y'know." he heard her mutter under her breath.

Deftly, Brenda kicked Thomas squarely in the back of the head.

He crumpled forwards, and the gun went skittering out of his reach.

The pain was bright and searing, and Thomas felt something in his nose crunch as his face made contact with the ground.

Above him, Brenda took two brisk steps away from Thomas, moving the taser off him and pointing it at Frypan, who had only just cupped his hands around the gun.

She squeezed one eye shut, aimed, and fired.

Frypan's body went rigid, before he collapsed to the ground in a seizing heap.

Brenda signed, before crossing back over to Thomas.

She knelt beside him and pulled his hair so that his head was raised from the ground.

Then she put her face close to his ear, and spoke quickly, as if she was running out of time.

"WCKD had the answer. HAS the answer! The Haven was doomed from the start. It's a flawed system that only works for the immune. Look what they almost did to Newt when they found out he was sick! There are only so many of us, as it is. And look at all of the people we left behind. All of these skeletons. The Haven won't be a haven forever, Thomas. Surely you can see that."

Thomas's head was spinning.

I trusted you. I trusted you.

"So, you have a choice now, Thomas." she continued

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas could see Janson, turning over Newt's limp body, going through the pockets on his jacket, unclipping the leather flask of water from his belt.

Thomas wanted to scream at him.

Get your hands off him you-

But he could only stay frozen, Brenda's words pounding through his head.

"You can come with us. With me and Director Janson. We'll let your friends live, for now, if come with us to the new WCKD foundation base."

Janson gave Newt one final prod, before he stood and strode to pick up Thomas's gun.

"Or," Brenda went on

"You refuse. And we kill you, and your friends, and your cute little boyfriend. Who, by the way, is on the way out anyway."

The muscles in Thomas's neck tensed.

No.

"Which will it be, Thomas?" Janson called out to him.