hold me close, but not too close~newtmas

Chapter 18: Healing

Present
Middle of Nowhere
Thomas

Thomas stumbled out of the collapsing building with one shoulder dislocated and the other supporting an unconscious Newt. They'd only just made it, winding down many flights of stairs.

Teresa was on Thomas' heels, shouting at him to "keep going," and that they were "almost there." Thomas couldn't help but think that her words of encouragement were incredibly unhelpful.

They emerged into blinding sunlight, blinking frantically to clear away streaks of green cutting through their vision. Bianca's truck was the only vehicle remaining outside, the rest had already made a break for it while they could.

Minho was kneeling in the back of the army truck, extending his arm out towards Thomas to take Newt from him. Carefully, he pulled him into the truck, wrapping an arm protectively around his best friend's chest and dragging him backwards.

"C'mon!" Bianca shouted from where she was crouched over Crystal's body. "We need to move!"

Teresa gave Thomas – who was clambering into the truck ungracefully with only one working arm – a shove and hauled herself up, shutting the giant metal door behind her. They were momentarily locked in darkness as they sped away bumpily from the collapsing building until a sudden bright light shone in the middle of the truck.

Newt's head rested in Minho's lap while Teresa leaned over him, flashlight in his face as she checked his pulse. Her body rocked as the truck swung from side to side, presumably to avoid any large bits of shrapnel. In one almighty swing, her body was thrust forward so hard she had to catch herself on the floor, and Minho's hand shot out to steady her.

"I can't do anything until we've stopped!" she yelled over the explosions and revving engine. "I think the pain from his leg was too much for him and he blacked out."

Thomas barely caught her words over his own pain and laboured breathing, partly from running and carrying Newt, and partly from anxiety. A rush was building in his head, the noise too much and the pain in his shoulder screaming as he was thrown against the truck over and over again. He couldn't lift his hands to cover his ears so he squeezed his eyes shut and let hot tears flow down his cheeks.

His adrenaline wore off as anxiety built.

"Thomas?" Teresa's voice came from in front of him now, gentle enough so it didn't startle him. He didn't need to open his eyes to know she was staring at him with concern. "I can't put it back in place until we've stopped," she said. "I'm sorry. Just keep breathing through it, you'll be okay soon."

But Thomas didn't know if he could hold on. His head was swimming, a sick feeling rising in his throat, and his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. He held on to his dislocated shoulder, trying to steady it when it hit the truck, but he could feel his grip loosening as his consciousness dipped.

"It's okay," Teresa comforted him, her hand over his. Normally, he would have fought the touch, but the pain was too blinding and the noise so overbearingly loud that he couldn't feel her. "You're gonna be okay. Stay with me."

He pried his eyes open, fighting the urge to close them, his vision blurred with tears...

       ...and vertigo crept in...

                           ...but cleared enough for him to see...

                                     ...Newt cradled in Minho's lap...

                                            ...and Teresa's eyes locked on his...

                                                       ...before he blacked out.