I clumsily swing my legs back into my hammock, throwing on a loose, cable-knitted grey sweater and tying my hair back into a low messy bun, small strands of hair framing the sides of my face. The taste of rum is still sweet on my lips; this card game night wasn't nearly as messy as last time. I still feel the light tension in the air from the disappointment of what had happened earlier. I look up, to the sky window in the roof, where I can see beams of moonlight trying to break their way through the dense layer of clouds. I sigh, rolling over to my side to try to get to sleep, when I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door.
I look up, to see Newt and Frypan muttering amongst themselves. They plaster on hasty smiles when they see me lying in my hammock, to which I raise an eyebrow suspiciously.
"What?" I ask, sitting up and folding my arms.
"What do you mean, what?" Fry laughs nervously. Newt rolls his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of lying.
"You know what," I reply bluntly, narrowing my eyes. "What are you two up to?"
"We're just trying to figure out a way to convince Vince to teach me how to drive his van," Newt lies smoothly, "I mean, Fry knows how. Vince was even going to let Tommy learn to drive - I mean, I'm sure he'd be, uh... great, but..."
I giggle. "Thomas should not be trusted with that responsibility."
Newt lets out a laugh, carefully sitting down in the campbed beside my hammock, while Fry takes the mattress in the corner and, as soon as his head falls flat on the mattress, starts snoring softly. I roll my eyes fondly at him as I sink back into my hammock.
I look back up through the window in the roof. Some clouds have parted, revealing the bright shine of the moon. It is in the shape of a crescent, just a sliver of white light amongst the dark sheet of black sky. I calmly watch as the clouds swiftly pass over the window, the moon vanishing for a few seconds before reappearing as the clouds part once more. The sky is the darkest black I could imagine, and for a brief second I am reminded of the unforgiving eyes of a Crank. I sigh miserably. Why is it that my mind always has to take me back to my darkest memories?
I feel a pair of eyes searing into my neck as I sit up, turning to my side where Newt watches me curiously. He does a double-take when I catch him staring, smirking to him with my eyebrows raised.
"Yes?" I ask sassily, with a slight laugh. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"N-No, I just... you just, you looked so peaceful, it made me feel calmer," he replies honestly, scratching the back of his head as he slurs his words ever so slightly.
"Oh," I smile, a light blush climbing up my cheeks. I giggle. "You're drunk."
Newt holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Not like last time."
"That was fun," I laugh softly. He nods with his lips tugging further into a slight smile. His eyes fall to the floor as he bites his lip, deep in thought. I frown for a moment, before clambering out of my hammock to sit beside him on his campbed.
"What is it?" I ask quietly. "Is it about Minho?"
He nods slightly, not responding. I sigh softly, resting my head on his shoulder.
"We will find him. And besides, Minho's strong; he won't give up," I console, listening to his deep, rhythmic breathing. "You know that."
"I know," he mutters simply.
"Besides," I continue, "we won't stop trying to save him. Even if Vince has given up, it doesn't mean we have to. We will get him out of WICKED. Trust me."
"You know I do," he smiles sadly. "I'm trying to be hopeful, but after what happened last time..." he groans softly. "I dunno." He looks down at me for a few seconds, before untying a bandanna from around his right wrist. It is a pale grey colour, faded with age and slightly frayed around the edges, but I've never seen Newt without it on before. He holds it in his hands carefully.
"I've worn this ever since I came up in the Maze," he explains. "I suppose it acted as a comfort for me when I wasn't exactly feeling myself, and I've not gone a day without having it on... I want you to have it."
I frown. "No, Newt, it's special to you - I couldn't take it."
"I have my other one," he argues, tapping his other wrist lightly, with a similar bandanna tied around it. "Besides, this way, it will be like you'll always have a part of me with you." In the dim moonlight, I can see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
He grabs my hand in his, carefully sliding the bandanna around my wrist. I smile in gratitude, running my fingertips along the hems of the soft fabric. "I like that idea," I whisper. I lean my head against his shoulder again, my eyes slowly closing as fatigue begins to dawn on me. Newt puts his arm along my back and shoulders, rubbing my upper arm in a comforting movement.
"Good that..." he mutters. And even though I can't see his face, I know he's smiling. I feel the warmth radiating off his body, and we stay like that for a while. After a while, I begin to yawn widely, my eyes closed as I use his shoulder for a pillow.
"Come on, you're exhausted," he murmurs. "Let's get you to sleep now."
With one swift but careful motion, he lifts me up into his arms, my head nestled into his chest as my eyes half-open sleepily. He walks over to my hammock and carefully places me down on it, tucking a blanket over my body while I sigh, in a dreamy daze.
"Thanks, Newt..." I mumble, burying into the cosy blanket.
I feel his soft fingertips brush my hair back from my face. Although my eyes are closed, I can tell he's still crouching by the side of my hammock, though I am too tired to open my eyes to check. I feel my body drifting into a deep sleep, my muscles relaxed and my lips parting as unconsciousness consumes my body, my fingertips running meekly over the soft fabric of Newt's bandanna.
Just before I go to sleep, I hear Newt whisper with a soft sigh, "Goodnight, (y/n). Sweet dreams."
***
"Her body is too weak, Janson. It would be unwise to wake her," a gravelly voice says in an argumentative tone. "She would need weeks of recovery afterwards, and even then–"
"I don't care. She needs her punishment; the sooner the better," an angry voice replies. Janson. I can feel my mind waking up, though my eyes refuse to wake. I'm a comatic state, lying in my bed with the steady beat of the heart monitor beeping beside me. "She knew the price she would have to pay when she broke our rules."
"Janson..."
"Wake her."
I want to scream, I feel my throat burning, yet I can't make a noise. Not just yet, but I will, knowing what's about to come.
"Alright... whatever you say," the man sighs. I hear him fumble on his desk. I feel an icy tingle runs its way down my spine, anticipating what he's about to do. The high-pitched monitor beeps get faster. I urge myself to wake up, to open my eyes and shout – but nothing happens. I hear the doctor walking closer to me, his ominous footsteps imprinting such horror on my mind that I know I will never forget the sound.
He's next to my bed. I feel my throat burn with the urge to cry.
He presses two familiar circular contraptions on my temples, their metal surface cold against my hot face. I hear his breath quivering as he sighs.
"Do it." Janson snaps.
My body is suddenly jolted to consciousness as I feel a red-hot, searing pain radiate from my head. I feel as though my mind is being torn apart from my body, my rational senses slowly being ripped away as the agony spreads down my back. I yell, I scream. My throat is hoarse and ear-splitting, and I can't even open my eyes with the amount of pain I'm in. My agonised yells pierce through the air, drowning out the malicious huffs of laughter coming from Janson.
The pain stops almost as quickly as it started. I gasp with heaving, strained breaths; my throat feeling raw. I cower on the edge of my bed, my muscles feeling so weak I can't even find the strength to hold my head up.
I open my eyes slowly. My lashes are glossy with tears, and my vision is so blurred I can barely make out the smirk on Janson's face, although I know it's there. He leans forward to me, his face inches away from mine.
"Maybe now," he whispers, "you'll think twice about trying to run away from us. I'll make sure your friends get the appropriate punishment too."
"You... can't hurt... us..." I cough, with a raspy voice. "We have... each other." I suddenly splutter, red-stained phlegm flying from my mouth as the metallic taste of blood lingers on my tongue.
He smiles coldly. "It may not stay like that for much longer, Miss (y/n). I'd be very wary, from now on, if I was you. Ava may have a soft spot for you, but I don't trust any one of you kids."
***
"(y/n)! (y/n), wake up!"
My eyes flutter open as I blink in a dim morning light, looking up to see Brenda's harrowed face. My body feels cold, like I've just been submerged into icy water, and I feel as though I can still heard the ringing of my screams in my head. And those footsteps. How did I forget that noise?
"Bren? What's - what's going on?" I whisper. I'm surprised to find that it doesn't hurt when I speak, putting a hand to my throat in dazed confusion.
"They're gone. (y/n), they're all gone - Thomas and Fry, and Newt."
I sit bolt upright, my mouth falling open as I look to the side of my hammock to see an empty campbed. Newt's gone.
---
author's note-
The bandanna idea was heavily inspired by a different fanfiction called "The Other Side" by @glademother and if you haven't already read it, I would seriously recommend doing so. Chess was essentially my motivation to write, and her writing style is so beautiful, so go check out her work!