The Other Side - A Newt Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty Seven: First Night in Paradise

"Teresa...?" Thomas murmurs in disbelief as we all gape at the girl.
She's finally awake.
She presses her lips tightly together, flickering her eyes to Thomas with a slight nod.
I hear Newt's breathing begin to pick up, and I slowly avert my eyes to him, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head a little in attempt to clear his mind.
My breath hitches in my throat, and, tensing up, I reach an arm out to him. "Newt?"
"Y-You're alive?" Thomas stutters, his eyes locked onto the girl who had betrayed us, but also the same girl who had saved Thomas and nearly sacrificed herself. "How is that possible?"
Although she maintains a strong stature, I can see her left hand subtly fidgeting at her side. "(y/n) saved me."
Thomas, creasing his brows together, slowly turns to look over his shoulder at me. "You did?"
I don't return his stare, too concerned about Newt to pay attention.
"Yeah, she shucking did..." Newt grumbles, opening his narrow eyes and searing them onto Teresa.
The tension immediately begins to radiate off of everyone in the huddle, sensing Newt's change of behavior and bracing themselves for any lashing out. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gally pausing in the middle of his work and looking our way worriedly, which causes Brenda to follow his line of sight.
"(y/n) almost died to save you," Newt growls, "the girl who had been torturing our friends for months. The girl that started the entire bloody problem in the first place, and, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have had to go through all of this shucking klunk over the past six months!" He snaps, suddenly taking a jolting step towards her in a threatening manner and immediately setting our group off in a frenzy.
"Woah, woah, woah!" Thomas exclaims, quickly jumping in front of Teresa, who stands still, not phased at all and well aware of Newt's state.
Vince, already prepared, swiftly pulls a vial of Bliss from his pocket with the built in needle, ready to inject it into the ill boy if Newt get's any closer.
In my peripherals, I can see Gally drop his hammer and begin to sprint towards our group, ready to help. Brenda quickly follows behind him.
Minho immediately steps behind Newt, gently grasping his left arm to hold him back as I quickly jump in front of the blonde boy, holding my arms out to him as an indication for him to stop as I exclaim, "Newt, calm down!"
"Newt," Thomas says as he struggles to steady his breathing, arms out to block Teresa, "she also helped us save Minho. Remember? And, while Janson had us at gunpoint, she saved us from the gunfire-"
"Oh, slim it, Tommy." Newt retorts harshly.
"N-No, Newt, he's right." I say frantically, eyes locked onto him and not wavering as I watch him snarl at Teresa, his veins bulging in his face and neck and his eyes much more red than they were a matter of minutes ago. "He's right, okay?" I pant, keeping my arms out to him as he shifts his stern eyes to me, wheezing heavily in rage through clenched teeth.
Gally, slowing to a stop just beside our group, with Brenda behind him, lifts a cautious hand towards the infected boy, panting anxiously between parted lips. "Newt, you need to calm down before you do something you regret." He shifts his eyes to me.
I continue to do what I can to pull Newt back into control. "Teresa found the Cure, and she wanted Thomas to return to the facility to get it for you..." I whisper through frantic breaths, slowly stepping closer and pressing my shaking hands against his chest as calmly and consolingly as possible. "Just calm down, alright? Just... Just calm down..."
Staring down into my eyes, I watch Newt's anger slowly tame, his expression shifting to worry as he regains control and realizes that the virus is already making him violent. The muscles in his neck tense up as he wheezes softly, doing all that he can to remain calm.
"It's alright... Just calm down..." I whisper as I hesitantly wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace in attempt to ease him. Resting my head against his chest, I can hear his pounding heart.
With trembling arms, Newt slowly returns the hug, squeezing me for dear life. "I- I'm sorry..." Newt mumbles, lifting his eyes back to Teresa. "I'm sorry..."
There's a soft, unified sigh of relief, and everyone else stands down.
Teresa shakes her head, whispering reassuringly, "It's okay, Newt..."
Shuddering, Newt manages to hold onto me even tighter, resting his head atop of mine and whispering, "I need that Cure..."
Vince, easing up and returning the Serum to his pocket, nods. "Alright," he says, standing taller as he takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the blue-eyed girl, "let's get this boy cured."
• • •
Newt, sitting on the cot in the medical hut with his feet over the side, anxiously bounces his left leg, his hands gripping tightly to the side edge of the bed as he stares ahead with nervous, antsy eyes.
Sighing heavily, Minho quietly takes a seat beside Newt, patting the ill boy's back comfortingly.
Fidgeting with the small vial that contains the Cure, I begin to anxiously pace back and forth while we wait for Vince and Teresa to return with the needed supplies.
Thomas sits in a chair beside the table at the foot of the cot, examining Chuck's carving in his right hand before wrapping it up protectively in his fist, pursing his lips tightly together.
Gally, who sits in a chair in the corner opposite of the cot, stares at a vial of Bliss that he holds between his pointer finger and thumb, being sure to have it on him just in case Newt loses his temper again.
Brenda stands in the doorway of the hut, leaning against the framing with folded arms with Frypan beside her, the two of them staring at Newt in concern. However, they break their dazes and look to their left to something outside of the wooden shelter, only to step back and let Vince and Teresa stride into the medical hut.
"Okay, Newt," Teresa says while Vince carefully sets Mary's old supplies down onto the table, and she picks up an empty syringe, "how about you lie back so that you are completely relaxed?"
Newt, shifting his nervous, brown eyes to Teresa as she begins to clean the needle, hesitantly nods. "O-Okay..."
Patting Newt's back once more, Minho rises to his feet and steps out of the way while Newt shakily lies back on the cot, staring at the ceiling as he inhales in a trembling manner, clearly nervous that this is not going to work.
His veins are extremely dark, once again, and I can see the rings returning around his irises.
"(y/n)?" Teresa says softly, causing me to stop in my tracks and avert my attention to her.
"Hm?"
"May I have the vial for a moment, please?" She asks, holding her hand out to me.
Biting my lip, I nod, clearing my throat as I hand her the little glass encasement.
Taking it from my shaking hand, she smiles reassuringly before turning around and opening the vial.
As she begins to fill the syringe with the Cure, I flicker my eyes to Newt, only to meet with his as he stares at me with fear. His hands grip onto the side edges of the bed tightly, nails digging into the sheets, and his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to remain calm. The muscles ripple beneath his skin from the immense tension that his body is under, and I can clearly make out the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
He's fighting, both, his worries and the Flare.
Quickly striding to the side of the cot, I gently take his right hand in both of mine, comfortingly encasing his hand. "It's going to be okay... Okay?" I whisper. "If this doesn't work, we'll find a way to keep going... I promise."
Pressing his lips tightly together as he breathes heavily through his nose, Newt nods subtly before squeezing his eyes shut and hissing through clenched teeth, feeling the virus crawling in the crevices of his brain, fighting to take control of him.
"Alright," Teresa says, holding up the needle that is now filled with the blue liquid, "let's get this into your bloodstream, Newt."
Releasing my hand and gripping to the sides of the cot even tighter, Newt nods rapidly, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "Okay- Just- Just hurry-" he pleads.
Frowning in pity, Teresa nods as she steps to the side of the cot. "I need you to let go of the bed, okay?" She says. "Because I need your arm."
"I... I can't..." he whispers through heavy pants, visibly trembling. "I'm going to... to hurt someone..."
Teresa, pursing her lips together, darts her blue eyes to me, and I return the anxious glance.
"Should I hold him down?" Gally asks, rising to his feet.
"Y-Yeah," Newt responds quickly before Teresa or myself can, opening his reddening eyes and looking to Gally. "Yeah, h-hold me down."
Drawing my brows together as I ponder on it for a few seconds, hurting as I watch Newt suffer, I shake my head. "No."
"What?" Thomas speaks up, his tone laced with concern.
"No," I repeat, shifting my eyes to Thomas, "don't hold him down."
"But he could lash out, and someone can get hurt." Gally says.
Looking back at the tall boy over my shoulder, I say, "He won't hurt anyone." Turning back to face Newt, I gently rest my hands on his right forearm. "Newt..." I whisper.
Trembling in my grasp, he averts his panicked, darkening eyes to me.
"You're not going to hurt anyone." I say softly, brushing my thumbs along his veiny skin. "I just need you to give me your arm, and we're going to give you the Cure. Alright?"
Staring at me with upmost pain, Newt wheezes as he contemplates on it. He darts his dark red eyes to the others one-by-one before returning his irises to my own. Pressing his lips tightly together as he breathes heavily through his nose, Newt hesitantly nods.
Although my heart aches, I smile warmly in response, gently pulling his right arm towards myself.
Newt turns his head to face the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut again.
As I hold out Newt's arm, I look up at Teresa, who stares at me with a strange, unreadable expression, unmoving.
I distort my face in confusion. "What?" I mumble. "What are you waiting for?"
After a few more moments pass, Teresa takes a deep breath, a small smile tugging on her lips. "Here." She whispers, holding the syringe out to me.
Taken aback, I widen my eyes slightly. "Wh-What?"
"Take it." She says softly, offering it to me again. "You should be the one to save him."
Gulping, I shift my eyes to the syringe, opening my mouth to protest, but no words come out.
"Pl-Please..." Newt's faint, accented voice begs weakly, causing me to look to him. He stares at me with pleading eyes, the veins in his sweaty face far more predominant, his dark, rotting blood beginning to clearly pulse through them. "(y/n), please..."
Heart beginning to pound against my chest, I nod hesitantly before turning back to Teresa and slowly taking the syringe from her hand. Holding Newt's arm out with my left hand, I use my right to hold the needle to his skin. Before I can inject the Cure into his arm, however, Newt breaks out into a coughing fit, causing me to freeze and lift my widening eyes to him.
Shaking immensely as he chokes up some black, sticky blood, Newt opens his eyes as the violent fit passes, and he manages to force a weak smile amidst his strangled breaths of air and the dark liquid staining his mouth. "You've got it..." he whispers. "I...trust you..."
With those three simple words, I do not wait a moment longer, feeling only the urgency to save him immediately. Nodding, I shift my eyes to Newt's arm, carefully pricking the needle into his skin and injecting the enzymes from Thomas's blood into Newt's bloodstream.
Newt, suddenly bawling up his fists, grimaces in pain. "Sh-Shuck..." he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut again, "it burns..."
Heart racing, I do my best to empty the syringe as quickly as possible, growing panicked as Newt begins to squirm.
Teresa gently rests her hand on my good shoulder. "It's okay, Newt, that's normal." She says reassuringly.
Newt's squirming intensifies, but, luckily, I finish the injection and quickly remove the needle from his arm. "It's done, it's done." I say quickly, handing Teresa the syringe and taking Newt's right hand in both of my hands again.
Mouth falling open slightly, Newt let's out pants of immense relief as his facial expression relaxes.
Although the quick procedure is over with, the shelter remains silent as everyone holds their breath, watching Newt with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.
Drawing his brows together ever-so-slightly, Newt's eyes slowly flutter open, and, whilst he looks up at the ceiling, I witness the rings around his irises slowly dissipate before my very own eyes in a matter of seconds.
The group lets out a faint, unified gasp, everyone's bodies inching a little closer to the cot to watch.
The red veins in Newt's eyes fade and fade until the whites of his eyes are as white as pure snow, and the bulging veins in his face, neck, and on every other exposed surface of his body sink back into his flesh, losing their frightening, grotesque intensity.
I can feel Newt's hand stop trembling in my grasp, but not of with the loss of life; it's with the relief of regaining it. My heart skips a beat.
Newt, tiredly shifting his clear eyes to me, manages to tug a smile on the left corner of his lips as he squeezes my hands gripping tightly to his.
The purple and green veins now disappear into his light skin, only the soft tints of healthy, blue veins traced in his wrists.
Within a matter of minutes, the virus is completely wiped away from Newt's body, as if it had never been there before.
Thomas, jaw dropping, slowly rises to his wobbling legs, darting his eyes from Newt to Teresa. "Did it work?"
Looking to Thomas, she smiles warmly, nodding. "I had enough time to examine your enzymes under a microscope before things went completely downhill. I've seen them destroy the virus." She shifts her attention back to Newt. "And, now, we've just witnessed your blood destroy the Flare from within Newt's once infected body."
Once infected. An implication that he no longer is.
Grunting softly, Newt slowly pushes himself upright, and I sit on the side of his cot whilst he sits up. He quietly examines his arms and hands, looking at them closely. He stares at the clear, soft flesh of his arms as if they have writing on them that only he can see, reading them intently.
"Newt?" I whisper, resting my hand on his right knee.
He lifts his brown eyes to meet with mine, a shocked, tiny grin stretching across his face. "I- I think I'm cured."
Feeling so overwhelmed with a sudden wave of joy that it's dizzying, I latch onto Newt, hugging him so suddenly that he nearly falls back, but he manages to keep balance. Returning the embrace, he pulls me as close to him as possible, burying his face into my shoulder just as he begins to choke up with relief.
• • •
"We have come a long way together." Vince says, slowly pacing back and forth from across the fire while the hundred or so of us survivors sit on the benches and logs around the fire, beneath the cream tarps that gently rise and fall in waves with the cool, beach breeze. "So many have sacrificed so much to make this possible; your friends, your family," he explains, leading me to think of all the lives lost, from Annie to Winston, and causing a deep ache to spread through my heart, "so here's to the ones who couldn't be here. Here's to the loved ones we've lost." He raises his tin cup, and all of us follow in response. A bittersweet smile stretches across my face, and, looking to Newt, who sits directly beside me with his cup in the air, I feel a wave of reassurance as he returns the glance with a somber yet happy smile. "We're here because of them, but this," he pauses, taking a knife from his belt and gesturing to a large, vertical stone behind himself, "this is for them, so, in your own time, come up here and make your peace." With that, he stabs the blade into an upright, waist-high log beside himself. "Welcome to the Safe Haven!" Vince exclaims, raising his cup in the air.
All at once, everyone on the beach bursts into roaring, celebratory cheers and shouts, clinking their cups together and swallowing down their beverages.
Juxtaposing the pure silence from moments before, the island is filled with an ongoing murmur of countless joyous, happy conversations, people rising from their seats and beginning to maneuver around the bonfire.
Frypan, standing on top of the highest row of benches, exclaims, with his hands in the air, "Who wants some food?!"
That immediately sets people off in a louder uproar of excitement.
Laughing softly to myself as I watch Frypan excitedly begin to pass around some plates over my shoulder, I take a swig of my paradoxically sweet and sour drink. Turning my head to face the fire, I stare ahead at the large vertical block of stone while a handful of people huddle around it, waiting their turn to carve the names of loved ones.
"There's so many names I can carve on that rock..." I mumble in a dazing manner, causing Newt to questioningly turn his head to me. I shift my eyes to his, the golden flames of the bonfire flickering in his soft eyes. "I don't really know where I would even begin." Looking down at my hands as I run my right thumb along the brim of my tin cup, I force a weak laugh.
Newt, his stare not hindering, inches ever-so-slightly closer to me and asks, "Well, who all would you carve on there?"
Lifting my eyes to the fire and watching the crowd celebrating around its circumference, I mumble, "Well, there was Helen." I begin, a weak smile tugging on the left side of my lips. "She was the perfect mixture of sweet and sassy. If Sonya and Minho were morphed into one person, that would be Helen."
Newt chuckles softly, taking a sip of his drink before scooting closer to me as he listens intently.
"She was very protective of others." I explain, averting my eyes to Newts. "She'd take the Newbies under her wing the second they would come up. Just like you."
His smile widens a little more.
"But she also was so concerned about everyone else's well-being that she'd forget about her own." I laugh softly under my breath at the thought. "The amount of times I would have to nag her about staying hydrated is unfathomable.
"And then there was Cleo. She was the Leader of our Builders." I pause for a moment as I look out to the rock to find Gally waiting for his turn to carve in it, his arms folded across his broad chest. "She ironically reminds me of Gally. She was very bold and strong. Had a bit of a temper at times."
"You hit that one on the nail when you compared her to Gally with that description." Newt jokes lightheartedly.
Giggling quietly, I nod in agreement as I take another sip from my cup. After a sigh of satisfaction follows, I continue. "There was Claire, too." I cannot help but smile even wider at the recollection of the girl. "She was hands-down the sweetest girl in the Heart. She was always kind, optimistic, ready to offer her shoulder to cry on. I think she got on Helen about being hydrated more than I did because Claire acted similar to that of a mother.
"There was also Charlotte." I already begin to laugh to myself at the mentioning of her name. "She was a ball of fire. Feisty, funny, and always getting herself into trouble." I look to Newt as I recall, "She had an accent just like yours, actually."
Newt lifts a brow, tilting his head to the side curiously. "Really?"
I nod, flickering my eyes to the scene ahead as I try to think back on the days in the Maze. "I remember when she had come up. The other girls and myself were quite shocked when she first spoke, and that's not just because of the fact that she was absolutely profane the second we opened the Cage." Laughing softly, I feel myself slip into a daze, as if I can see her in the Cage for the very first time. "She was the only one that came up with an accent, and I remember that, hearing her speak, I felt this strange flicker- an itch- in my head. I was never able to put my finger on it, which haunted me, but, when her voice uttered my name, I just felt- I could sense this- I would- I..." My mind begins to quickly trace back to that moment in time as I stumble over my words, brain digging and racing through every memory that I've made since I woke up in the Cage.
That itch in my brain...that was a sense of familiarity. Back then, I knew that, deep down, I recognized it from a dream of some sort, but it wasn't Charlotte's voice itself that I felt a connection to. It was the accent.
Mouth falling open slightly, I quickly dart my eyes to Newt, who draws his brows together in response.
The accent. When I came up in the Maze, and I felt that connection when Charlotte said my name, could I have been remembering the voice of...?
"Newt..." I whisper in somewhat disbelief.
He distorts his face in confusion and partial worry. "What?" He asks. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
The dream in the Maze. The voice. That was Newt. It has always been Newt! I don't know how, but, I think, before the Maze trials began, Newt was already a significant part of my life.
Smiling at Newt as I stare into his doe eyes, I gently take his right hand in my left, intertwining our fingers together as I shake my head. "Nothing." I laugh softly. "Nothing is wrong."
His puzzlement only increases. "Are you sure?"
I nod. "Yes," I say confidently, squeezing his hand, "I'm sure."
Flickering his eyes back and forth between both of my own, Newt reads me for a few moments before nodding. "Okay, as long as you are sure of it."
Smiling warmly as I stare into Newt's eyes for a few more moments, I slowly rest my head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of contentment.
I can sense the smile growing on Newt's face, and he quietly rests his head atop of mine. "Who else was there?" He mumbles curiously.
"Susan," I mumble, "and Annie... So many others..."
"Mm," he hums in response.
I purse my lips together as I watch the dancing flames, inhaling deeply. "You know what?"
"Hm?" Newt replies, lifting his head.
Keeping my head upon his shoulder, I murmur, "I'm just relieved that I don't have to engrave your name into the rock."
After a stretch of dragging seconds of which I feel Newt's eyes searing into me with an unreadable sense, I feel Newt tenderly kiss the top of my head before resting his head on mine, once again, and squeezing my hand tightly.
We sit in silence for a few passing minutes, soaking up the warmth of the fire and truly happy due to each other's mere presence.
However, after a little while, Newt releases my hand and begins to fidget with both of his upon his lap. He speaks up. "(y/n)?"
"Yeah?"
He inhaled deeply before admitting, "There's something I should show-"
"Newt!" An excited voice calls from the opposite side of the fire, grasping our attention.
The two of us perk up, lifting our heads to see who's shouting, only to see Minho waving his hand that holds his tin cup in the hair, his other arm holding Aris securely over his shoulder. "I think Aris wants to go for a swim!"
"No, no, no! I'm good!" I hear Aris frantically exclaim.
I feel terrible for laughing in response, but I cannot help it. "Poor Aris. First, Minho threatens to tie him onto the roof of Bertha, and, now, Minho's going to dunk him into the cold water."
Seeming a little frazzled and momentarily upset over being interrupted, Newt manages to chuckle softly. "I was once in Aris's shoes, back in the Glade, but I think you figured that out from Minho's stories." He mumbles, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. "I better save the kid, but then I'll be back in a little while, okay?"
Smiling up at him, I nod. "Okay."
He grins warmly in response before turning around and hurriedly limping down the shore. "Minho, leave the bloody kid alone!"
I cannot help but laugh to myself.
However, the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind stops me, and I turn around, only to see Thomas standing behind me with his left hand stuffed in his pocket, his right holding his own drink. He's dressed in a black shirt, a jacket, and clean jeans. "Hey," he says.
Sighing in relief, I manage to giggle in embarrassment from being startled. "Hi."
"Mind if I take a seat?" He asks, creasing his forehead as he takes his hand out of his pocket to gesture to the bench I sit on.
I shake my head. "No, of course not." Scooting over to my right, I pat the wood to my left.
"Thanks." He smiles slightly, taking a seat beside me and sighing. He lifts his brown eyes to the celebration ahead, watching Newt quickly rushing after Minho along the edge of the shore while the Keeper of the Runners jogs along the sand with frazzled Aris still over his shoulder. Harriet and Sonya run after, shouting at Minho to put the kid down. Thomas huffs a soft laugh under his breath as he watches before taking a sip from his tin cup. As he pulls the cup away from his lips with another sigh, he looks down into the liquid in his cup, watching the firelight dance in the reflection. "You know," he says, breaking me out of my daze on the others, "I just want to thank you."
I lift a brow, unable to keep myself from scoffing lightly. "I've been getting told that a lot today, but there are countless people that did much more than I have." I say, shaking my head as I laugh, shifting my eyes to meet with Thomas's. "Besides, you've already told me thank you."
"For stopping Newt from killing himself," he pauses, "and for getting to the Berg to get to me."
"That was also Brenda, Gally, Minho, and Fry's work."
"And I've thanked them, too." Thomas says reassuringly, smiling weakly at me. I can see the gears turning in his head through his eyes as he stares into mine. "But I didn't get to thank you for saving Teresa."
The mentioning of her name sends such a hurricane of various emotions through myself that I'm left feeling confused, unsure of what to feel, so overwhelmed with the extremities of all emotions on the scale that they blur together to make me feel almost numb. All I can do is shrug, turning to look ahead at the fire. "You don't need to thank me for that."
"Are you kidding me?" He scoffs slightly, sitting a little taller. "You dove out of the Berg for her!"
I shift my eyes back to Thomas, inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose, unsure of what to say in response.
Staring at me for a few moments, he huffs a sigh before turning to the fire and taking another swig from his tin cup. "You saved two people that mean the world to me, (y/n)..." he mumbles after a few moments of silence. "If it weren't for you, I would be so," he pauses, trying to think of the correct word to use, "shattered right in this moment. Paradise wouldn't be a paradise." He looks to me to meet with my eyes, the dancing flames of the fire flickering in his gentle, grateful eyes. "You're the reason I was able to wake up this afternoon and say that they're all here, so, yes, I'm going to thank you for that. I'm going to thank you every single day because those two words cannot amount to how grateful I am for what you have done."
Pursing my lips together, I smile weakly as my throat begins to burn, getting choked up. "Well... Thank you, too." I whisper as I take a swig of my drink and look ahead at the celebration.
He furrows his eyebrows together in puzzlement, taken aback, and tilts his head to the side. "For what?"
Chuckling softly under my breath, I look at Thomas again as I mumble, "For trusting Aris and I at the start of all this."
Thomas, with his eyes getting glossy, grins with such immense warmth that it could be an equivalent to the heat from the fire, and he pulls me into a side hug with his right arm, squeezing my shoulders tightly.
Leaning against him, I wrap my left arm around his back and return the embrace.
As I hug Thomas tightly, I look out into the flames of the bonfire, only to see Teresa sitting alone on the opposite side of the circle, staring deeply into the bright orange, flickering flames, seeming to be deep in thought. She brushes her thick, wavy hair behind her ear with one hand, her other holding tightly to her own drink.
I have to admit, she looks like she could use some company.
"Speaking of Teresa," I clear my throat, pulling away from Thomas and looking to him, "I think I'm going to go talk to her."
Darting his eyes to the girl across the flames before shifting them back to me, Thomas nods understandingly. "Alright." He nods, smiling.
Returning the smile, I pat Thomas's back before rising to my feet and walking around the bonfire.
I carefully squeeze past people, waving and saying hi to them as I pass. I even ruffle the brunette kid's hair as I pass him, causing him to jump slightly and give me a startled look before huffing a laugh of relief under his breath and waving to me.
As I approach Teresa, I momentarily halt in my tracks, hesitating. What am I going to say to her? I don't even know how to feel. She's done so much bad yet so much good that I feel such a strong whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
"Hey," is all I can manage to say.
Snapping out of her daze on the fire, Teresa lifts her head to look up at me, taken aback slightly by my presence. "Hi."
"Is anyone sitting by you?"
She laughs slightly at the remark, as if the idea of that is a joke. She shakes her head. "No."
"Good that." I reply, taking a seat beside her and looking into the bonfire, taking another swig of my drink.
I can see Jorge hugging Brenda tightly and protectively on the other side of the fire, clearly relieved that they both made it to the Safe Haven.
"How did you know?" Teresa's voice mutters randomly, gaining my attention.
"Hm?" I ask, shifting my eyes to her.
"How did you know that I wasn't going to jump?" She asks, averting her pale blue eyes to my own. "I mean, you charged the second the tower was collided into by another. I still had time, but how did you know I was not going to do it?"
Pressing my lips tightly together, I avert my eyes back to the glowing, dancing fire, pondering before I speak. "Because I saw your eyes." I murmur, staring into the flames so deeply that I feel as if I can see Teresa atop of the burning building.
She draws her brows together, her locked eyes on me not wavering. "What do you mean?"
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I remain trapped in my daze. "There's this specific look about them that I had only seen once before, and, ironically, it was a mere thirty minutes earlier." I explain, right thumb running along the slick brim of my tin cup. "Newt gave me that same exact look."
I can sense her listening intensify subtly with curiosity, confused as to when Newt would display such a unique flicker in his eyes.
Sighing heavily, I turn my head to look at Teresa. "He gave me that same look just before taking Thomas's gun and holding it to his head."
Teresa, with her breath hitching in her throat, merely stares at me with her eyes widening slightly.
"So I knew exactly what you were doing. That look is the same one Newt had when he embraced death like an old friend."
A frown tugs on her lips, and, nodding slightly, she looks down into the cup in her hands. We sit in silence for a few moments before she asks, "But why did you do it?"
Furrowing my brows together ever-so-slightly, I ask, "Why did I save you?"
She nods, not looking up at me.
I open my mouth to respond, but then I close it when I realize that I myself hardly know the answer to that. Why did I save the girl who had betrayed all of us?
"Because," I whisper, looking across the fire again to see Fry taking a seat beside Thomas, patting his back as he lets out his burly, contagious laugh and offering Thomas a plate of food, "Newt had once told Thomas that, if I had done what you did to us, he would have been just as crazy as Thomas in the matters of wanting to get me back to him." I mutter. "And, if Thomas cares about you as unconditionally as Newt and I do with each other, you dying would be unbearable. It'd completely shatter him. It'd destroy him." I feel the darkness that had swallowed my heart whole when I had seen Newt die in my nightmare slowly creep around my soul, like a snake preparing to coil around its prey. Licking my lips as anxiety begins to swell up inside of me, I recall every horrifying emotion that had crashed over me when I had seen Newt's lifeless stare. "Every little fiber of him would be ripped to shreds. That instant would be a final breaking point for him. It... It would be unfathomable how much pain he would endure because of it..."
Teresa turns her head to me, but I do not return the glance. "You say that like you know from experience?"
Laughing softly under my breath, I look down at the cup in my hands, watching the reflection of the dancing flames flicker along the ripples in the liquid caused by my shaky grasp. "I kind of do..." is all I can say.
Not wanting to press further, Teresa nods understandingly before looking back down at her hands.
Moments of silence pass between the two of us, and, in the midst of that time, I continue to dig through the crevices of my brain and the darkest portions of my heart, feeling as if there are more words to say.
"You know," I begin, finally looking at Teresa, "I... I didn't just do it for Thomas."
Creasing her brows together in puzzlement, Teresa quickly lifts her head to meet with my eyes.
"I guess," I pause, struggling to put my thoughts into words, "I guess I believed you deserved a second chance. That you needed time to redeem yourself." I explain, sighing heavily and causing my shoulders to sink. "I know I threatened to cut up your face when we were at the hideout in the city, and I did mean every word of the threat," I mutter, "but you are still one of us. You still had to go through the Maze and the Scorch. It's just that WICKED managed to get inside your head. They made you believe you were saving lives, when, in reality, you were taking them."
I watch Teresa's frown stretch downward a little more.
"But now you are doing what you've been wanting to do, and you're doing it the right way." I explain. "You're saving people's lives, saving them from the virus without having to torture anyone." As I say those words, I feel a weak smile tug on the left corner of my lips. "You saved Newt, and, with the virus airborne and extremely contagious, I wouldn't be surprised if another kid is already infected, and they'll start showing signs soon, but, now that you've found the Cure, you can save them before their veins can even darken to the slightest."
Staring into my eyes, Teresa slowly returns a minuscule smile for a second before it fades. "But don't you hate me?" She mumbles. "After all I've done? Although I thought it was the right thing, it hurt all of you."
Thinking about it for a few seconds, I shake my head slightly. "No. No, I don't hate you." I mumble simply. "I hate WICKED. I hate Ava Paige and Janson and everyone that put all of us through all of this shucking klunk in the first place..." My voice trails off, and, staring into Teresa's eyes, I can tell that we both know that she did exactly what I just described. Sighing heavily, I look back down at the cup in my hands. "I guess I do hate you a little bit." I admit awkwardly.
She nods in understanding. "It's okay; I would, too..." She whispers.
"But I don't completely hate you." I confess, looking at her again. "If it weren't for you finding the Cure, Newt would be counting down to an inevitable death, so, yes, a part of me still hates you, but the other part of me is indebted to you."
She manages to laugh softly under her breath, shifting her eyes to the rest of the celebration. "Do you think it'll always be that way?"
Drawing my brows together, I ask, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I betrayed everyone, so they all hate me to whatever measure they find fitting, which is completely justifiable." She explains. "Will it always be that way?"
Taking a deep breath, I shrug, looking ahead at the others with her. "Things will never be the same; that I am certain of." I mumble, swallowing down the remainder of my drink before letting out a satisfactory sigh. "Just give it time. Do what is right for everyone, not just in your own eyes, and I think, while things won't be the same, things will eventually get better."
Nodding, Teresa takes a deep breath, as if a massive weight on her shoulders has slightly lightened up.
Smiling weakly, I let out a sigh of partial ease as I watch the surroundings.
Minho ruffles Aris's hair before wrapping his strong arm around the kid's neck and pulling him into an aggressive side hug just before Harriet snaps at him and forces him to let go of Aris.
Sonya stands with Newt and Gally, moving her arms around as she tells some elaborate story to the two of them, Gally listening intently as he takes a drink from his cup and Newt nodding and laughing at something she says.
Brenda, taking a bread roll from Fry, squeezes in between Frypan and Thomas to take a seat with a snark smirk on her face.
Vince and Jorge chuckle as they clink their cups together, Jorge slapping his hand on Vince's back in a friendly manner.
"WICKED had given me my memories back." Teresa mumbles out of the blue, breaking me out of my daze and causing me to look to her.
I remember Janson having said something like that, but I didn't truly think about the depth of the concept. If they gave Teresa her memories back, she remembers everything before the Maze. Mouth slightly falling open, I dart my eyes to everyone else. "Do you remember...everything?"
She nods. "Everything and everyone."
Distorting my face in confusion, I lift a brow questioningly.
She shifts her eyes to me. "I remember everyone of you."
I feel a rush of questions wash over me, feeling my breathing pace incline as my mind dizzily searches for a proper utterance of where to begin. "Wh-What do you mean?"
She shifts her eyes ahead at the celebration, once again, before mumbling, "I remember growing up at WICKED headquarters, each kid arriving, all the schooling and tests..." her voice trails off as her eyes flicker to a particular sight in the celebration.
Following her line of sight, I see Sonya giving Newt a hug and pulling away, saying something kindhearted, knowing her. He nods, smiling in response before shifting his brown eyes just enough to meet with mine across the fire. His smile widens.
I cannot help but grin in return. "Do you specifically remember their arrivals?" I ask Teresa without looking at her.
In my peripherals, I can see Teresa turn to look at me. She presses her lips tightly together, debating on what she should say. "Yeah," she nods, pausing for a moment, "but all of that is parts of us that don't exist anymore, as Newt once told us the day we escaped our Maze." She mumbles. "If you want to know, then I'll tell you, but, for now, I think this time should be used for you to enjoy the beginning of our new lives and not worry about our lives before the Maze."
I return my eyes to hers questioningly.
"Go on," she says, laughing softly under her breath, "I know they want to be with you."
Smiling weakly in return, I huff a sigh and nod. "Alright," I say, rising to my feet and dusting off my pants. I begin to walk off, but I stop in my tracks, looking back at the girl, "Teresa," she lifts her eyes to me in response, "you try to enjoy it a bit, too."
She smiles slightly in return, nodding before lowering her eyes to her hands again, taking a deep breath.
Just as I turn back to continue around the circumference of fire, I gasp with a start to see Sonya already standing directly in front of me.
She giggles, gently grasping my arm. "Did I scare you?"
Laughing, I shake my head. "No, I just didn't expect you." I lie.
"Sure, that's what it was." Harriet says sarcastically as she steps up from behind Sonya, her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her pants, her warm smile stretched across her face. She takes my, now empty, cup from my hands, setting it down on an upright log. "Come on," she says softly, nodding towards the large boulder that now has a smaller crowd huddled around it, "I think it's about our turn to get some names up there." She whispers, turning and strolling down the sand, away from the fire.
Heart sinking, I stare at the stone with my face dropping.
Sonya, sensing my worry, gently grasps my arm and pulls me behind her as she follows Harriet. As we make our way down the sand, Sonya grasps Aris's arm with her free hand as we pass him, and she pulls him along, too.
Approaching the boulder, I slow to a stop, staring at the cold stone that now has a handful of various names engraved in it in diverse handwritings. All of the people on there were loved and are missed. All of the people on there impacted the lives of individuals here on this island so much so that they carved their names in remembrance. It's painfully beautiful.
Harriet takes the blade and hammer first, and Sonya stands beside her as Harriet slowly raises the tools to the stone and begins to carve.
From her hands, the names 'Charlotte', 'Cleo', and 'Billy' are marked into the stone.
Sonya, forcing a somber smile before taking the tools from Harriet, begins to carve into the stone with Harriet mumbling to her, patting her back comfortingly.
In the middle of carving the first letter of the first name, Sonya has to take a moment to pause, breaking down into tears and covering her face in the crook of her arm; Harriet hugs Sonya tightly, rubbing her back in a comforting manner.
Quietly stepping beside me as I watch my friends, his hands stuffed into his pockets, Aris stares at the two girls as Harriet helps Sonya gather up the emotional strength to continue engraving names into the boulder. "Will you stand by me when I take my turn?" He mumbles quietly, nearly impossible to hear.
Drawing my brows together in sorrow, I shift my eyes to him in concern.
"I just," he pauses, taking a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, and he shifts his light blue eyes to me, "I don't think I'll be able to hold myself together when I carve in her name..."
Frowning, I nod, resting a consoling hand on his back.
By the time Sonya is finished, tear streams stained on her cheeks, the names 'Catherine', 'Claire', and 'Helen' are added to the stone. She turns, walking to Aris and offering the blade and hammer to him.
Inhaling shakily, Aris takes the tools from her hand and slowly strides to the rock, and I follow closely behind him.
Pressing his lips tightly together, his eyes already beginning to display a glossy shine, he lifts the blade and presses the tip against the stone, hammering against the opposite end to begin engraving.
Once he gets two letters into the stone, I hear him sniffle, and, looking at him, I see tears rolling from his eyes as he works, though his hands do not waver.
Frowning, I rest my hand on his back, once again, rubbing it comfortingly.
He stops for a moment to wipe his flowing tears on his coat sleeve before returning to his carving.
After a period of time that felt longer than it was, the frequency of stopping to wipe his eyes growing more and more often, Aris finally finishes, slowly lowering his hands to his sides. In the stone, in bold, capital letters, is the name that had meant the most to him, the name of the girl who had gotten us out of the Maze: 'Rachel'.
Sniffling, Aris hands me the tools, closing my hands around the cold metal.
The second the blade and hammer touch my palms, I feel upmost heartache pierce my heart, and, gulping, I slowly turn to the boulder. Walking around it, I search for a spot to engrave names.
I find a section just at the center of the surface of the front of the rock, and I lift the blade, beginning to hammer against it.
Biting my lip to keep it from quivering, I first carve in the name of the girl who allowed Rachel, Sonya, and Harriet to go out into the Maze at night, my right-hand-girl and second in command: 'Susan'.
Once I finish engraving her name, I take both tools into one hand so that I can dust off the rock's surface with my other hand. After doing so, I lift the blade to the hard, cold surface, and I begin to carve the most important name to me, the name of the girl who is the very reason we escaped and are here in the Safe Haven.
However, merely thinking of her sends a pang of pain throughout my body, so immense that I feel as if my legs are too weak to keep me standing, on the brink of collapsing.
My throat begins to burn more than the bonfire itself with the fight against the tears that brim in my eyes; however, as soon as I finish the first letter, 'A', I break down into tears, burying my face in the crook of my arm and leaning against the rock face.
I cannot help but let the sobs escape as I miss and mourn for my best friend, remembering how she, of all people, had hope for an escape, and yet she never knew a day outside of those shucking walls.
As I muffle my wails into my arm, I feel several hands pull me back from the stone, and Harriet takes the tools from me, frowning somberly before turning and beginning to carve the next letter.
Sonya, choking up, wraps me up tightly in an embrace, letting me cry into her shoulder while Aris rubs my back.
Once Harriet finishes the first 'N', she turns and passes the tools to Sonya, who then goes to the rock and carves in the second 'N' while Harriet and Aris comfort me.
Sonya then passes the blade to Aris, who engraves the letter 'I' into the stone whilst Harriet and Sonya wrap me up in a warm hug between the both of them.
Once he has finished the letter, Aris turns and holds the tools out to me.
Sniffling and wiping my eyes, I exhale in a trembling manner before slowly taking the blade and hammer from Aris's hands. Stepping up to the stone, I raise the tip of the blade to the fairly slick surface.
Just as I begin to work, I feel Sonya rest her hand on my right shoulder; Harriet, on my left; and Aris, on my upper back.
With the consolation of my three closest friends, I find the strength to engrave the final letter: 'E'.
Harriet, taking the tools from my hands, turns to pass them on to someone else as I dust off the stone. Licking my lips as the tears trickle down my cheeks, I brush the tips of my fingers along the indentions of the letters in the name, reading it out loud, "Annie..."
"You know," Harriet mumbles as she returns to my side, "she'd want you to be happy that you made it here; she wouldn't want you to be crying over her."
Sonya nods in agreement, patting my back. "She'd say something like, 'Hey, don't be a crybaby. This is exactly how I wanted things to be.'"
Sniffling, I manage to laugh weakly amidst my crying, and I nod subtly, muttering, "Thanks, guys..."
Without a verbal response, the three of them pull me into a tight group hug, squeezing me so much so that I feel confident that they will never let me go.