Flicker ~ Newt

4. Trust

Newt

The sun hangs high overhead by the time I limp out of the homestead. I've overslept—again. My leg protests with every uneven step as I hurry toward the garden, hoping no one's noticed I'm late.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Her voice is soft, but it cuts through the air like a blade. I look up to see Elaine crouched on the far side of the garden, dirt smudging her cheek, hands deep in the soil as she plants seeds.

"You weren't supposed to notice," I grumble, rubbing the last bit of sleep from my eyes.

Elaine smirks without looking up. "Oh, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me—unless Alby offers me extra bread. Then, who knows?"

"Traitor," I mutter, but I can't help the crooked smile that pulls at my mouth.

She tosses me a shovel and points to a patch of soil. "Get digging, Mr. I-Was-Talking-To-Alby-All-Night."

I snort, jabbing the shovel into the dirt. "I was, actually. Some of us have responsibilities."

"Mm-hmm," she hums, dropping a few seeds into the hole I make before I cover them again. "And some of us are just really bad at waking up on time."

We fall into a rhythm. I dig, she plants, then waters. The silence between us isn't awkward—it's almost... easy. But I catch her wincing as she shifts positions, one hand pressed to her hip.

"You okay?" I ask, circling around to her side.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

Too quickly.

She huffs and shift again as she pulls at the hem of her sweater, yanking it over her head. Her singlet starts to rise with it, and before I can think, I reach out grab the bottom of the singlet holding it down—fingers brushing against the fabric, her waist just beneath.

She freezes.

I freeze.

Her green eyes meet mine, wide and unreadable. I'm still holding the hem of her shirt like a complete idiot, and I should let go, but for a second... I don't.

"Thanks," she says softly.

I finally release the fabric, and she crouches back down like nothing happened. I return to digging, trying not to let my thoughts spiral.

Hours pass. The bell rings for dinner, a blessed sound that sends everyone dropping their tools mid-task and trudging back toward the homestead. I stand slower than the others, my leg aching, but Elaine lingers too, her face twisting in discomfort as she rises.

"That's it. You need to see Jeff," I say, firm.

Elaine straightens like I've struck a nerve.

"What? No. I'm fine."

"You're not."

She backs up a step. "Newt, seriously. It's healing. It's just itchy. Jeff's not going to do anything except poke it and ask if it hurts. It's not infected, okay? I don't need stitches or whatever—"

"Elaine," I cut in, stepping closer, trying not to corner her.

She's practically vibrating now, fidgeting with her fingers, twisting that little silver ring she always wears. Where did she even get that?

"Please don't make me go," she says, her voice quieter now, raw around the edges. "I know you're like—" she gestures vaguely, "—the second-in-command or whatever, but you're also supposed to be my friend, right? So can you just trust me on this?"

I sigh, slow and steady. "I do trust you. That's why I'm asking."

Her eyes dart everywhere but my face. I crouch slightly, lowering my voice.

"Lane..." I gently lift her chin with my finger, just enough to get her to look at me. Her eyes finally meet mine, hesitant and tired. "Let's just make sure it's nothing serious," I say.

She slumps a little, her shoulders giving in. Finally, she nods.

   __________________________

We walk in silence to the Med-Jacks' hut. I know she doesn't want this, but the tight way she moves worries me more than her protests.

"Hey, Jeff," I say as we step inside.

"Newt. Greenie," Jeff greets, pulling off his gloves. "What poor soul do I have to stitch up this time?" He rolls his eyes, but the smirk on his face softens it.

"She's got something on her hip," I explain. "We just need to know if it's infected."

"Alright. You can wait outside if you want," he tells me.

I start to turn, but Elaine's voice stops me.

"Can you stay?"

She says it so quietly I almost miss it. I turn back. She looks like she might bolt out the door.

"Yeah," I say, moving closer. "I'll stay."

Jeff nods toward the cot. "Alright, let's have a look. Where is it?"

"It's not exactly a cut," Elaine says as she sits down, fingers hesitating at the waistband of her jeans before she unbuttons and peels them down just enough to show the letters carved into her skin. They're healing, but one of the letters has something white showing through.

"What's that white bit?" I ask, moving closer, heart thudding uncomfortably.

Jeff leans in. "Bone, maybe. Could've been a deeper wound than it looked."

Elaine flinches at his words.

"I'll grab disinfectant and a bandage. One second."

As he moves away, I glance at her. "Bone? That doesn't sound like 'just itchy.'"

She doesn't reply. Just stares at the wall.

Jeff returns quickly, wrapping the area carefully. Once he's done, she buttons her jeans again and stands up like she can't get out fast enough.

"Thanks, Jeff," she mumbles.

"Come back if it gets worse," he says.
"Seriously."

Elaine's almost out the door when I call after her.

"Elaine?"

She stops, turns slightly. I walk up to her, quieter this time.

"Why did you want me to stay?"

She hesitates. "I don't know. You're... someone I trust. A little."

That last bit's muttered, but I catch it. I smile, just barely.

"Well. That's something."

She shakes her head, half-smirking, and we walk out into the fading light together.