{impetus - a fierce or destructive attack.}
newt's pov:
The two of us had been working for hours, sifting through Lincoln's autopsy details, the photographs he had attached and any additional information he had been able to give us.
When we re-examined the body, we found exactly what y/n thought she saw - blood, skin and tissue under Dion's nails.
The theory we had been working on describes how Dion tried to fight back against his attacker, managing to scratch him hard enough that the skin would tear, leaving blood beneath his nail.
But, due to our incredibly sparse resources, we had no way of determining who the blood belonged to, and therefore we're back to square one.
"Maybe we're overthinking it - the answer could be right in front of us, and we might just be looking right past it." I say, huffing as I turn over yet another autopsy photograph.
Y/n was clearly exhausted, but too stubborn to admit it when I told her to get some rest for a while. With her eyes wide, y/n snaps her head upwards, brushing the hair out of her face. "I could have been wrong - maybe it's not one of us, maybe it's one of them."
I could barely even focus on what she was saying as I squinted my eyes, desperate to block the headache I could feel forming. "One of whom?"
She looks at me, bewildered. "One of those Wicked pricks, Newt! We know they're in the area, who's saying it wasn't them?"
I sigh, rubbing my forehead at the point of the blooming migraine. "Love, we've been over this numerous times; no one was spotted entering or leaving, no one saw anything suspicious, and even if Wicked soldiers did somehow enter the camp, Dion would never be their main target."
She blinks hard, moving up onto her knees quickly to show me the timeline of events. "Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have, and that derailed their plan enough so they couldn't get their main target, or even leave for that matter-"
We had been going around in circles like this for hours. "We've searched the entire camp, y/n, no one else is here..."
"We could have missed something, someone who has been hiding away-"
I was so tired I could literally feel my brain shutting down. "Y/n, stop. We've been through this, you know that isn't possible." I sigh, gently removing the documents from her hand and placing them on the bedside table.
"I think we should just get some sleep, y/n. We should have hours ago." I say, delicately, merging my arm around hers.
She exhales quietly, falling into me slightly. "You do raise a good point."
Y/n doesn't hold onto any of the paperwork as she lays back in her bed, sighing comfortably as her head touches the pillow. I put all of the remaining documents in the drawer beside me, and revel in the fact that I have the privilege to lie here with her now.
I remember what I would have done for this moment a year ago - what I did do for this moment, and yet here I am, still not regretting it.
My sleep is always uninterrupted when we share a bed; she acts as an almost mental barrier to the outside world when we finally nod off together, intertwined as we do so.
Personally, I slept through until seven, but of course, I forgot to anticipate the even earlier riser would not be in the bed when I woke up. I reach for her on the bed, feeling only sheets between my fingertips as I sigh, amd pull myself out of the bed.
I wondered if she'd gone for breakfast, so I walked down the steps leading to the kitchen. The air surrounding the building was the most pleasant aroma I had ever smelled; it was of course, Fry cooking pancakes.
