The Safe Haven (tmr)

Chapter 1

The lights flashed all around Thomas and fire spread through WICKED's headquarters. The smell of burning flesh made him gag. He thought of all those burning in the blaze. People like Teresa. Her once beautiful face turned to soot, her once long dark hair now red with flames.

A lone tear ran down Thomas's face and he quickly wiped it away. He stared back at the fire that was slowly eating it's way towards him destroying everything in its path. His feet were planted to the ground and he continued to stare at the dancing flames as if he was waiting for something... Or someone.

He caught a movement in the fire which seemed to dance out of time with the rest of the flames. A hand reached out of the blaze beckoning Thomas forward. His feet moved despite his mind screaming at them to stop. They stopped just in front of the fire.

Thomas could feel the heat radiating from the flames as the hand disappeared back into the fire.

A face then appeared. Newt.

The flames surrounding him seemed to bounce off his face as if he was inflammable. He smiled at his friend.

"Thomas!" He yelled over the flames. "Listen to me!!! You need to remember!"

Thomas looked at his friend. He looked healthy and happy. Something which Thomas had not seen in very long time. When Newt began to turn Thomas could remember the desperation in his heart. He would of done anything to cure his friend even if that meant going to WICKED.

Seeing his friend brought back memories that would forever haunt him... He remembered it so vividly. The cold metal on his hand, his friend kneeling on the ground awaiting death.

"Please Tommy, please," and then he pulled the trigger. How could he forget. His best friend, Newt was supposed to be dead.

"What do you mean remember? How do I remember?" He cried back.

His friend's happy face turned grave. "That doesn't matter. Just know that what is going to happen to you in the next week will change the course of history. Tommy you're our saviour; our last candidate."  Newt then pulled back into the flames.

Thomas screamed and tried to grab the flames which were sending shooting pains up his arms and causing blistering all over him but Newt was gone.

He was gone... Again.

•••

"Newt!!" Thomas screamed. He shot up from the bed he had been sleeping in, banging his head on the low beam in front of him. "Owwww," he groaned rubbing his forehead where most of the impact had been.

He felt someone rub his arm. He turned to look at Brenda who's eyes were full of concern.

"Thomas are you ok?" She asked as she moved her hands to his back and began  to rub it in circular motions. This sensation caused Thomas to groan and he nodded slowly.

"Another nightmare?" She asked as her hands moved up to his hair. Running her hand through his hair she used her legs to pull him back down onto the bed so they were facing each other.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice shaky. "But this time it was different." Brenda looked at him confused. "It wasn't a memory or anything like that. It wasn't even really a nightmare, more of a dream." Brenda removed her hands from his hair and squeezed his hands.

"Tell me," she whispered. He nodded and began to explain the fire and Newt and the warning. It all blurted out. It wasn't until Thomas had finished talking did he realise the tears streaming down his face which was sunken in because of dark bags. He thought back to that day when it happened. The gun sound. Newt's crank head smashing into the ground

"Hey!" Brenda snapped. "WICKED are gone. You're safe. We're safe. It was just a stupid dream!" Thomas was a little taken back by Brenda's sudden anger but it soon softened into a face of guilt. "I'm sorry Thomas but I hate thinking about that time almost as much as you do and I would hate to go back to how things were," Thomas nodded. He understood. No one talked about the past. No one. It wasn't forbidden but it wasn't done.

A tap sounded on their cabin door. "Wakey wakey!" Frypan yelled from the outside in a cheery tone. Breakfast is in ten!"

Thomas and Brenda looked at one another before sighing and getting out of the bed. Thomas grabbed his familiar hoodie from a chair and chucked Brenda her cotton top and baggy trousers. He smiled at her but she just raised her eyebrows.

Thomas then remembered. Turning around to face the wall giving her privacy to change. Although him and Brenda were close they both felt as if their relationship had been forced upon them due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding them. They agreed to be friends and nothing more. Only pretending to be something more when in public so they wouldn't get paired with another 'mate'.

As Brenda began to change so did Thomas. He pulled down his boxer shorts and grabbed another pair from the dresser. He was glad for the supplies that had been found. He didn't think he would be able to survive with only one change of clothes. Clothes covered in the blood of his friends.

Thomas shook his head trying to get the thought out of his head. He slowly slid the fresh pair of boxers up unaware of the eyes watching.

"Cute bum," Brenda chuckled causing Thomas to jump and blush. "Shame we're not dating. I could do a lot with a bum like that," she winked at him. Rolling his eyes Thomas turned to face her. She had her trousers on but was only wearing a bra. Thomas looked up and down at her. She was beautiful. His opinion of her didn't change whether or not they were dating. She was still stunning.

He smirked mischievously. "I'm glad we're not dating. There's not much I could do with those!" He chuckled pointing at her rather flat chest. She faked gasped before throwing a shoe at him. He chuckled grabbing a shirt. He slowly pulled it over his head hiding his musclier chest. He hissed slightly as he felt a pain on both his arms. He looked at them and gasped. Both were covered in blisters. The type someone only gets from fire. Brenda widened her eyes at them but turned the other cheek. She obviously didn't want to imagine WICKED ever coming back.

Copying Brenda, Thomas also tried to ignore the burns throwing his hoodie over the top of them to cover them.

"Out of sight, out of mind," he tried to convince himself but he knew how opposite from the truth that statement was.

Brenda gelding out her arm and Thomas linked with her.

"Shall we?"

"We shall,"