This chapter was a little hard for me to write because of how I felt several years ago. So I'll just say this chapter goes into Newt's hopelessness a little more than I'd planned, possible trigger warning I guess (I've never used that term before, don't know if I used it correctly). And I considered shortening it but I couldn't bring myself to delete any part of his feelings because it just seemed too important for the characters - and myself to write it. And Lea being...well her, is callous and of course doesn't get it and that point of view was hard for me too.

I'll stop rambling. It's a sad chapter but I felt it was important to their relationship and how close they are.

-before-

Newt woke shaking, his forehead drenched in sweat matting his hair. The first time he woke up he knew nothing but pain. A pain without end, an extension of himself, one he couldn't soothe or move or even breathe under the weight of, and a scream he couldn't let go of trapped in his chest. The first, the second and third, and maybe even the fourth time consciousness decided to pay him a visit. It didn't visit often, and it didn't stay for long. Even his dreams were laced in it. Fever dreams, from an infection where the bone broke through his skin.

The fifth time he knew he was awake and that the last sleep wasn't the last. Instead he woke to a terrible ache in his leg and his chest. His mind too. He blinked, several wet blinks, before his sluggish brain understood the wooden roof had been replaced by shadowed green eyes and long soft hair tickled his cheek where it hung off her shoulder – her hair was the softest thing he knew.

"Newt?" she asked him softly.

He blinked, tried to mumble a yeah. Tried to be alive.

"Do you wanna die?" she asked him and he blinked again, this time with no words. His mind caught up realizing the weight on his chest was a pillow and her leaning over him was so she could find his eyes. "Is this what you want?" She'd kill him, if he asked. Before an answer could come his eyes closed.

The next time he woke was better if only a little. The pain was constant, and it took every space in his mind not leaving any room for thought. But he could breathe again, he could move.

"Hey man," Jeff said moving to his side when he noticed Newt was awake. "How're you feeling?"

He swallowed what felt like his tongue before croaking, "bloody fantastic." He turned from Jeff's relieved face not wanting to see his smile. Not really wanting to see anything. But on his right he saw her dark head as she sat with her back to the bed, and from the way her head was leaning against the mattress he knew she was asleep. His fingers brushed her hair remembering the soft tickle against his cheek. Maybe it hadn't been a dream.

"We can't get her to leave."

For a length of time his existence was only to stare at the back of her head, her hair soft like cool water against his hand. And the pain, always the pain. But she took up some of the space, demanding to be known the way only she knew how.

"Hey."

Newt didn't turn at Alby's deep, unhappy, voice. He could picture the way Alby stood with his arms crossed, his shoulders impossibly wide, his brow furrowed and his mouth pulled tight in a grimace. Newt didn't know how to face him, if he ever could. His gaze was set on her hair seeing where laying on the mattress had kinked it. "How long've I been out?"

Alby shifted his weight staring at the wall above Newt's head. "Few days," was his short answer.

"What'd you tell 'em?" Newt asked, feeling the moment she woke.

"Griever," he answered glancing at Newt's pale face before looking away. "You wanna tell 'em the truth that's your choice." Shuck if he hadn't thought of doing the same thing – the last time he thought it might've been the day Newt showed up. Alby knew there was nothing to say. "I'll leave you then."

Newt turned then and was met with the face of what he'd done: dark bags from sleepless nights, a stiff neck from days of constant worry, the swelling pain behind red-rimmed eyes. He'd done that, to his best mate. He opened his mouth to say something, thanks for saving my shuck ass, but what came out was, "yeah."

And so Alby left, and Newt turned back to where Lea sat now turned toward him, her chin resting on the bed, his hand brushing her still damp cheek. He'd done that too.

"You never answered my question," she said through dry lips, her voice deepened by sleep.

His head rolled so that his eyes were on the ceiling unable to meet her hard stare. "Thought I was bloody dreaming."

She watched the way his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth, his hand curling into a fist on the sheet catching strands of her hair around his fingers. Not only was he resigned to live but he had to live with this. "Lucky you did it close to when the Box came – you'd be hurting a lot more without the meds."

"I'm lucky?" he sneered with a cruelty unknown to him.

"I didn't say it was your luck."

He turned back to her then seeing her unnaturally softened face, her red eyes. "You'd have really killed me?" he asked wondering what kind of person it took to be able to do that. Wondering if that made her heartless or kind.

She shrugged, her gaze falling to his shoulder. He looked so thin lying on the bed, so frail. How easy it'd be to break him, if he wasn't already broken. "Maybe Minho's right and I do love you," she told him, sympathy absent from her voice. Her heart, she wasn't sure.

He shook his head. "You don't kill the people you love."

"You don't leave them either," she said in a trembling breath.

He couldn't look at her anymore. There was an expression on her face he'd never seen before and he couldn't put his finger on it but it made him burn with shame – she wasn't so much sad as she was lost. That's what the thought of him dead made her, lost. And he couldn't look at her anymore, couldn't face what he'd done.

-after-

Hope is a dangerous thing. It can drive a man insane. Lea thought she might've read that somewhere. People lived their lives one little hope at a time. The hope that the sun would rise tomorrow kept the Gladers going. The hope for escape, as small as it was, is what kept Minho going. Hope for a future with her got Newt walking again. A little hope made things possible.

But a lot of hope… The amount it took to stand at the still closed doors waiting to see Minho and Alby and Thomas – that much hope would break her.

So she stood with Gally and the other builders listening to their assignments, because as Gally told them the Glade would go on. Gally had her with him again planning to continue their conversation, to tell her what he remembered about her and see if they could piece anything together.

The booming rumble of the stone doors slowly dragging apart sounded and still she didn't turn As if she didn't care. And as far as any shank was concerned, herself included, she didn't. Looking down at her heavily creased brows Gally didn't buy it. He turned at the shouting and almost smiled at the sight of Minho and Alby, at seeing they were okay. But his eyes fell to Thomas, recognizing him the way he recognized Lea only without the familiarity. Things started changing the day the Greenie arrived, he knew Lea recognized him too. He'd see the way she unconsciously watched him out of the corner of her eye.

Turning back to her Gally saw her eyes on the dirt still too stubborn to turn around. "Your boyfriend's back," he told her harsher than he'd meant.

She looked up with hard eyes. "I gathered that."

It was a strange feeling to look down on her with such contempt he wanted to bash her pretty face in, but he was held back every time by a care unknown to him. "Strip 'em," he said jabbing a finger at the wood they'd gathered the day before.

She watched Gally walk away, seeing Minho in the distance beyond. He looked up as though feeling her yearning and he almost smiled stepping forward planning to tell her about what the Greenie had done. But his face fell and he faltered, remembering he was supposed to be angry. She watched him turn to the Homestead where the Medjacks took Alby. Leaving her alone, again.

-before-

They sat facing Newt with their backs to the bed next to his slumped together, her head fallen to his shoulder his cheek resting over the top of her head. There was a subtlety in their shared breathing and the way they'd turned into each other. His arm was draped across her chest his hand resting against the floor by her hip, protective. Her curled legs were pressed over his and her arm had fallen limp over his lap, submissive. It was a quiet moment shared between them as they were slow to wake.

Newt turned away from them pressing his face to the pillow. It was easier this way, less painful.

It was warm and comfortable, for the first time since coming to the Glade Lea felt safe. There was a soft smile curling the corners of her mouth as she blinked and it grew at the sight of warm brown eyes staring back at her so close she could feel his breathing.

Minho knew from the way her brows drew together that he wasn't who she wanted, and that settled in the pit of his stomach like soured milk as he sat up and pulled away. He watched as she climbed to her feet, pausing to stretch, and moved around the bed to stand over where Newt lay.
"Maybe you could run with me today," he said pushing himself up off the bed to stand. "Actually do something, get tired, so last night isn't the only night you got any sleep since he," he'd moved to the door and he raised an arm motioning to the bed Newt occupied.

His eyes were closed, his hands curled around the edges of the pillow holding it tight in his fists. With a sigh she turned and sat at his hip facing Minho with a sullen half-hearted glare.

"You're not coming with me."

He didn't need to ask and she didn't really need to answer but she did anyway with a quiet, "no." So he left and she sat by Newt trying not to hate him. "I know you're awake."

It should've made him feel better at her choosing him over Minho and any other time it would've – but the side of her face was all he could see of her and he knew on sight she wasn't happy. "Have you really not been sleeping?" he asked knowing what kept her up but he was selfish enough to wanna hear her say it.

Sleep was hard when thoughts cycled endlessly in the dark emptiness behind her eyes – the first day she woke knowing he wasn't there was gonna be the hardest, is that gonna be tomorrow, would she be able to do it knowing he was never coming back, how long would it take her to give up?
She turned to him and opened her mouth prepared to tell him some form of that, but what she ended up saying in a broken sorrowful breath was, "I hate you."

She might as well have hit him from how that stung, and he saw from her wide eyes that it startled her too. He had nothing to say so he said the only thing he could: "okay."

"It's not okay," she told him. "I'm not Alby I don't get it." But she would, because he was the only good dream she ever had and if everyday she woke up with his name in her mouth and the empty space beside her where he used to sleep then she'd find a way to stop waking up. "And I'm a bitch so you can bet your shuck -ass I'm selfish enough to ask you to do it for me." They both almost laughed because she was a bitch and of course she'd be the one to admit it, but her eyes were too wide with pleading and her voice trembled in a way that made her sound weak. "If you still need a reason, do it for me."

Her words were heavy, too heavy for either of them but her thin shoulders were already straining under the weight of almost losing him and she wasn't strong enough. And he wasn't strong enough to keep going. So he pulled her to him, wincing at how the bed jostled his leg, and held her against him until she could be strong again. Strong enough for the both of them.

"You need a bath," she mumbled against his neck.

He probably hadn't had a bath in days, probably pissed himself at some point. With her beside him he thought about being embarrassed but there was a sour smell to her breath that was unpleasant. "You need to brush your teeth."

Her lashes tickled beneath his chin as her eyes opened, he couldn't see the sudden fire that burned. Without a word she sat up leaning over him and smirked at his cute confusion, before she began blowing her bad breath in his face.

And he laughed, big belly-aching laughs that moved his broken leg too much but he didn't stop. Nothing would've made him stop, not even when she did. She settled over him with a hand curled under her chin grinning as his chuckling wound down. It felt so good to laugh and looking up at her he couldn't remember why he thought he'd never laugh again.

She laid her head back on his shoulder seeing the light slowly seeping out of his eyes, happiness was fleeting. "If you go I go," she said feeling the air still in his chest.

He read between her lines and he had a hard time catching his breath. Because maybe Minho was right and she did love him – and she'd never risk loving him if she didn't know with absolute certainty he'd loved her first. "Together or nothing," was his muted reply. It was a promise, and his arms tightened further around her.

-after-

She stayed where Gally left her stretching her aching hand after at least an hour of doing the same motion with the knife over each piece of wood. They were repairing the lookout, some of the boards had come loose and she'd been left with the task of getting them all the same size and removing any knots some clunkhead might trip on.
That morning when she first woke she'd been so content with an arm slung over Newt's waist using his back as a pillow; she'd been something close to happy. It would've been fine with her if they'd never moved, and from the way he groaned at hearing Chuck outside the council room telling him the doors would open soon Newt would've been fine staying to. But he'd begrudgingly climbed to his feet throwing his clothes on, forcing her to get dressed because he couldn't stand the sight of her laying there beckoning him to lay back down when he knew he couldn't.

She'd almost been in a good mood, but it darkened quickly at realizing Minho was still gone – it darkened further when he came back and still wouldn't talk to her – and now her mood was nearly black as she sat with no one else working while the Keepers held a Gathering.

"You wanna take a break?" one of the Builders asked her, and she didn't care enough to look up to know who.

"You wanna knife in your throat?" she asked resuming her long strokes with the knife over the fifth to the last piece of wood. "You know next time one of you shanks chop wood knowing what size it needs to be why don't you try actually making it that size, save someone having to do this stupid job."

"You know Gally's only making you do it cause he doesn't like you."

She wiped the sweat from her brow glaring at the pile of shavings she'd made. "Yeah I shucking know that," she mumbled mostly to herself. She was sick of this, sick of feeling like she'd done something wrong, and in an indignant huff she threw the knife down and stood stretching her legs, taking the bottle offered to her. She meant to say thank you but it got lost in the water that filled her mouth.

She nearly choked at the sudden trill of the alarm signaling the Box was coming up – three weeks early. The bottle hit the ground on its side and the water inside it began seeping into the ground as she slowly moved with the rushing crowd, the cap still clenched tightly in her fist. A large shadow fell over her and a large hand rested on her back catching himself before he ran into her. She looked up meeting Gally's unhappy eyes and stood behind him as he helped Newt get the Box open.

Lea inexplicably found herself staring down at a sleeping girl with dark hair and pale skin. She was beautiful, Lea blinked trying to understand. Two years and she'd been the only girl and whoever was running this place had been trying to get rid of her ever since. Now there was another girl.

Newt knelt beside her pulling a note from her hand. "She's the last one ever."

Her breathing had quickened as though she'd been racing Minho, her heart hammered furiously in her ears so loud she couldn't think. Lea didn't know this girl, didn't recognize any part of her – but she recognized the feeling of knowing something bad was happening.

She looked up and found Gally already looking at her, who'd seen the worried edge in her stare. He'd recognized her the moment he saw her, it was a vague recognition that only left him knowing that he knew her – but for the first time she looked up at him and knew she'd known him too.