Coming Back to Life // TMR Fanfiction

Gravestones are Just Rocks, Right?

It was like a fever dream. Newt was on a beach, his exposed, half-rotten body covered in sand. As he woke up from what seemed like a lucid nightmare, he could feel the flies and ants nibbling at his skin. He could feel his heart hammering against the walls of his chest, the dirty blonde hairs on his head sticking to his sweaty forehead, and the sand burning the gashes in his legs, face, and arms.

He let out a soft groan, using the palms of his hands to push himself up. His legs were shaky, but it wasn't like it was impossible to walk because of them. It was impossible to walk because he had no sense of where he was, why he was here, or what was going on. Nothing made sense- everything was pretty much a blur, like a cloud fogging up Newt's brain.

As he walked on the soggy sand, he noticed the sound of waves. He turned his head to glance behind him and saw the shore, the waves gently brushing over the land like a painter would to a canvas. For some reason, this made him smile. He didn't even know why it made him feel so joyful to see the ocean, but it was a beautiful sensation to experience to say the least.

Turning back to where he was headed, Newt noticed a light not too far away. Luckily, it was easy to spot from afar due to it being dead in the night. It was no wonder his senses felt so sick and odd- it was midnight and he was walking around a random beach like it was daytime. To be honest, it reminded him of a place he'd always wanted to be. It felt safe here to Newt for some strange reason.

Continuing to make his way towards this unfamiliar light, Newt could feel his inflamed legs chafing against the fabric of his pants. It felt like someone had cut them open multiple times, thrown salt water on them, and now was forcing him to walk through the pain. Though that didn't bother him too bad, he had to slow down significantly as he felt a sharp pain through the middle of his head.

Newt stopped and began to rub the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb. His head felt like someone had taken a rifle and shot him ten times through the side, so rubbing his nose did relatively nothing, but it was worth trying. At least now he didn't feel the pain in his legs too bad anymore.

It was a moment or two before he mentally convinced himself to keep going. Despite the pain in his legs, abdomen, and temple, Newt finally made it to the dim light he had been following all this time. It was a fire, a bonfire to be exact- just like the ones in The Glade.

The Glade. Newt blinked a couple of times, shaking his head at the thought. No, no, no. He wasn't in The Glade again, was he? There was no way he was sent back to that horrid time in his life, so this must've been some place else. But what else could it be? Possibly a deserted island of some sort? But weren't deserted islands usually, y'know... deserted?

He then limped away from the bonfire, which was now slowly dying due to no one watching it. He made his way over to what looked like one of the walls in The Glade. It was a fairly large stone with a bunch of carvings in it. Only one of the sides were slightly lit up from the distant flame, but it was light enough for Newt to read what was written on it.

Teresa was the first name Newt's eyes caught. He bit his bottom lip softly as he ran his fingers over the letters. The name sparked so many forgotten and lost memories in his brain. Was this Thomas' Teresa? Was she here on the beach with him? If she was, that would be like Newt's worst nightmare and best dream come true at the same time. Sure, it would be nice to see a familiar face in this time of confusion— but Teresa? Newt wasn't really sure if he would want to see her first anyway. She wasn't like-able, always moody when it came down to it, and it was one of the reasons Thomas was ever in The Glade, risking his life for everybody.

Letting it go, Newt let his hand fall to his side, skimming over the names under the name Teresa. Ellis, what looked like to be Jean, and N.. He moved out of the light's way, his shadow no longer covering the name Newt. At the sight, his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. There was no way that was supposed to be for him, correct? His eyes searched the stone for some hope, but all he saw were the names Alby, Winston, Chuck, all of them.