Author's notes:
This chapter is too long, sorry for that.
Minho is OOC, sorry for that, too.
I realised that it might be interesting to read this fic from Newt's POV. If I am still motivated, I'll write the story from his POV.
DECEPTION
Chapter 4 - The Incident
L is for LOVE, baby
O is for O yes I do
V is for loving VIRTUE, so I ain't gonna hurt you
E is for EVEN if you want me to
R is for RENDER onto me, baby
M is for that which is MINE
A is for ANSWERING all of my prayers
N is for KNOWING your loverman's going to be the answer to all of yours
('Loverman' by Nick Cave, I mixed two parts)
After a few weeks, Émilie had to acknowledge that it was incredible how many accidents happened in such a manageable community.
She remained occupied, dealing with various injuries while simultaneously teaching Willi the basics. He was very perceptive and empathetic, knowing exactly how to handle the patients. Even for the more complicated ones, he had a suiting way, he had an instinct for this. In other circumstances he would have made the role-model physician once he would have finished his studies.
Among the commonest patients were Frypan and his aides. Cooking seemed to be one of the most dangerous jobs one could do, cuts and scalds were among the top injuries. Émilie made a mental note not to switch into this profession.
The cooks were closely followed by Winston and his boys from the blood-house. Cuts, bits of the farm animals and claw marks were the commonest injuries in this profession. On top of treating the boys, she was appointed as a veterinary surgeon as well. Assisting in the birth of a lamb was something she wasn't anxious to relive.
Not to speak of the builders. Nails, hammers, saws, one didn't need to be a visionary to imagine the various possible ways to get injured. And by now, Émilie thought to have seen every little one of them.
Even the gardeners managed to chop into one of their extremities from time to time. As long it was only with a spade, she could live with it. But the machete Newt and others were using to clear the glade made her a tad nervous, she even considered to make notches in a pole until a serious accident happened.
What puzzled her most was that those with the seemingly most dangerous jobs – the runners – were the ones who hadn't appeared in the surgery. Not once. It had sounded different when Nick had explained to her and didn't fit to the many admonitions not to enter the maze. The only logical explanation was that their injuries were final.
Overall, she wondered how the boys had managed to get around one year without her.
In the meantime, Gally had made her a wooden table and even a stool, they were skew and shaky, but they served the purpose. She didn't have the heart to complain about the minor defects, he had put so much effort into them and had been so proud when he presented her with them.
Past came around from time to time and brought her flowers, she used to put on her desk. His oozing charm was a nice distraction. He wouldn't give up this easily.
After three weeks they had shortened Newt's splints and he was enjoying his new freedom greatly. Now he didn't have to sit with an outstretched leg, had fewer problems to rise and even started to help Past with the garden.
After four weeks another Greenie had arrived and soon the next was to come. To keep track of the time, she made notches in a pole of the surgery. It was easy to get confused with the time, one day passed like the other on the glade. The only variation was the kind of injury she and Willi had to treat.
Soon six weeks had passed since she had arrived on the glade. It was the day they could take off the splints. Newt and Émilie had appointed to meet sharp after breakfast and she had dismissed Willi under the pretext of having to work on some complicated recipes. She was nervous and biting on her under-lip, one of her bad habits. She had to tell him about the message she had found in her skirt on her first day. Secretly she was afraid that her time on the glade had run out once Newt was cured. She wanted to sort things out and to tell him everything she knew before it was too late.
It didn't take long and Newt arrived. "Where is Willi?"
"I gave him a day off." Airily she answered and motioned him to sit down. "Now let's have one last look."
Newt rucked up his trousers. "Can't wait to get rid of this bloody stuff."
She had to smile while she removed the bandages and splints. "I can understand, it was a long time. Now look, the scar is fine." She traced the scar with her fingers, it bulged out and appeared to be a tad too firm. "Best you'll massage it once a day, could be nasty if it ruptures. We should have started earlier."
"Fine. I'll leave the crutches here." The idea was good and she put them in an edge.
He was still sitting on the bed, reluctant to leave and she felt the nervousness coming back. "Newt?"
He eyed her questioningly and she offered "You're still welcome to help me with the garden for the medical herbs. Application is open." This wasn't what she had wanted to discuss in first place. For some reason she had said something different then she had intended to. Today he made her feel nervous and like a little, clumsy schoolgirl.
"Just in case you don't want to go back being a runner." She added hastily, she wouldn't admit it openly, but she was afraid that he refused.
He rose and nodded "I talked with Past already. I'll continue to help him and take special care of your part of the gardens."
He made efforts to leave, but she blocked his way. "I still have to tell you something."
She threw a glance into the antechamber, closed the door with care and pushed the table in front of the door to block it. Since the table was jammed between the bed and the door, nobody should intrude easily.
He had watched her preparations amused, with a raised eyebrow, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. "Bloody care to tell me what this is about?"
She looked him straight into the eye "Seems I don't want to be interrupted."
He pushed himself off the wall and came the two steps over to her, waiting for her to continue.
She licked her lips briefly before she started. "The day I came to the glade, I had something written on my arm. About subject A0, backup – the balancer."
"Yes, I was told." His concentrated expression was proof that he understood that she wanted to tell him something serious.
"All I remember about this is a blonde girl who promised me to write it down. I have no idea of the meaning and purpose." She waited until he nodded before she continued. "But what nobody knows is that I found a message in my pocket later and I have an idea what this is about. Here it is." She pulled the worn out paper out of her pocket and handed it Newt.
His hands trembled when he unfolded it and read it. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"This is about me and you, Newt. I won't tell anyone else. What connection am I supposed to establish? How much time do we have until this so-called end is triggered?"
He didn't react to her questions his only concern was the community. "We'll have to tell the others."
"No, I told you, this is between you and me." She snatched the small paper from his fingers. "I also remember a black-haired boy, telling me to make sure that you can leave the maze on your own." She laid a hand on his neck, pulled him closer and waited until their eyes locked. "That means there has to be a way out. And you are supposed to make it out of here. If I'll be gone tomorrow, you have to make it. Just grab the right occasion, there has to be one."
She felt his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and she laid her hands on his chest pushing him away while her heart started beating faster. "Promise me to jump on the first opportunity, Newt."
"Will you be there?" There was this loneliness and despair coupled with the typical seriousness she had noticed in him before. And was it really affection she meant to see?
She was about to answer honestly that she didn't know, but she couldn't. She heard herself saying "Yes, I'll be waiting." It was her task to motivate him to get out of here. Alive. In one piece. She snuggled closer against and added. "For you."
"Then I'll come."
She leaned in to the kiss he offered when a red light blinded her. Simultaneously they looked over to the window where a beetle blade was about to vanish. At the same time someone jolted on the door. "Émilie? Are you there? Do you need help?"
It was Gally, the concern in his voice unmistakable. It was hopeless, Newt and Émilie exchanged a bugged glance before she answered. "Everything ok. Coming."
They shoved the table aside and when she opened the door, a rather suspicious Gally stood there, especially when he spotted Newt. "What are you two doing here?" He left the words 'alone' and 'behind a closed door' unspoken, but they resonated.
"We were working." Émilie didn't think he was buying it but she couldn't care less. "What do you want?"
"George has beaten a nail through the middle of his palm." George appeared beside Gally and hold up his hand. He was quite cool, considering that a gigantic, rusty nail was going right through the middle of his left palm.
"Come inside." Émilie hushed him while checking her limited equipment for something useful.
With a side-glance she observed Newt leaving. He had to pass Gally who didn't step aside and Newt deliberately bumped against him, making Gally to step back. It wasn't like Newt to act this bully. Newt and Gally exchanged a challenging glance. That was not the end, she knew it.
She took her time to get the nail out of George's hand. First rule when giving first aid: never, ever pull out a knife (in this case a nail), the blood-loss could be drastic. But he was lucky and hadn't hit a bone or vital vein.
Her bandages got more professional, too. By now she had a stock of dried moss and boiled out, torn cloths. Combined with some haemostatic herbs, they were a rather bitty substitute for a professional bandage, but they did the job and that was all that counted.
"Just be careful the next days, George. Don't need another accident of this kind soon."
"I have my fill of nails through my hand. Thanks." He replied dryly and waved his goodbye.
It was time to check on Newt and Gally, since Gally had left short after Newt. She scanned the surroundings. Where would she go when she wanted to straighten things out and wanted nobody to interfere or even notice what she was doing? Her glance fell on the slammer. Behind the house and the slammer was the optimal place. At this time of day, nobody would be around.
Bingo, she heard voices and even though she couldn't understand what they were saying, the aggressive tone was incontestable.
When she came closer, she picked her name "…Émilie…" but she didn't hear much more.
With care she peeked around the corner. Gally and Newt faced each other, but not in a friendly way, they were on each other's throat. She could see the veins on their necks emerging, their faces were red and their fists clenched. She could feel the highly charged atmosphere, they were short before a brawl.
Then she heard Gally saying "You are a cripple. She's out of your league."
The following deadly silence was telltale.
"That's not your bloody decision." Was Newt's response, the restrained rage obvious.
She didn't listen to the muffled reaction, she just turned away, closed her eyes and heard a fist connecting. They had to sort this out amongst themselves, she wouldn't embarrass them by interfering.
She checked the glade and saw anger rising. Nick and Alby were coming into their direction. If they noticed the brawl behind her, Newt and Gally would be in trouble. She walked over to them with a fast pace, to put enough space between the two and the brawl. But not too fast, that would be suspicious.
"Émilie, have you seen Gally?"
That had been a close one. Openly she returned Nick's questioning glance and answered while shaking her head. "No, I haven't."
"If you see him, could you tell him that we need his help?" Nick frowned.
If he was in the condition to help, she could, but Nick didn't need to know about her ressentiment. "Yes."
"Fine. We'll check over there." Much to her relief Nick and Alby changed direction.
"Fine." She called behind them and waited a little while to make sure they didn't change direction again before she went to Frypan. She knew she would need ice and fetched one bucket filled with ice and one bucket filled with cold water before she headed back to the surgery. She had just set the buckets down, when Newt appeared in the doorframe.
"Dear me!" She exclaimed. He was soaked with sweat, his shirt was torn in one place and covered with dirt as well as his trousers. Not to speak of his face. A drop of blood was in the corner of his mouth, his eyebrow was bleeding and his hair was completely messy. Yes, Gally wasn't easy to take on.
"What happened to you?" Though she knew, she had to ask. She was curious about the explanation.
The mischievous gleam in his eyes told her that he hadn't been unsuccessful. She didn't want to know how Gally looked like. "Had a clash with a bloody tree in my way."
That was lame, but she pretended to buy it. "Here is some ice."
He took the ice she had wrapped into a cloth and cooled his cheek. "I lost a tooth."
"Must have been a rather defensive tree." She mocked him. "Where is it?" She wasn't a dentist, but maybe she could do something about it.
"Still in my mouth. Heard that they can be put back. Can you have a look? Tried it myself but can't see where I put it."
"Sure. Give it to me." He took the tooth out of his cheek and she put it in the right place. The wound was still bleeding, she had good hopes that it worked.
"We have to do something about the cut over your brow." She hinted while holding the tooth in place with a finger. "Bite vigorously."
"I have a cut there? This bloody piece…" He started, but was soon interrupted.
"Bite vigorously. It's in the right place." She pulled her hand out, it seemed to work. "It wasn't the tree's fault that it was in your way. You should watch your steps." Just for the fun she wanted to see how far she could go, but her amusement must have been too obvious. His look became distrustful.
"Appears I have to sweep them out of the way." He tested to chew, it was still hurting, he grimaced with pain. "Bloody all of them." He added under his breath while watching her.
She dipped a cloth in the water and started to clean the cut over his eyebrow. "What about the tree?"
His smirk was back. "Will survive."
"Fine." She picked up needle and threat. "It is just two stitches. Sit on the bed."
She had to concentrate, not to catch a hair with the knot and bit her under-lip, from time to time she licked her lips with her tongue until she was satisfied. "Done."
He was staring at her, his hot breath tingled through her shirt on her chest. Suddenly she became aware that the whole constellation was over-intimate. She was standing between his legs, his chin resting on her chest, her hand still lingering on his cheek from her last check. She gulped, there was something she wanted to say, but she couldn't remember what. She couldn't remember anything.
Upon looking in his brown eyes, seeing his intention, she knew there was no escape, she was doomed. She couldn't avert her glance, following him as he rose, laying an arm around her waist and one in her neck.
She found her own arms wrapped around him, herself pressed against him and his familiar scent overwhelmed her.
They were used to stealing kisses on the sly and this was their favourite place. They were standing in the corner of a white room, they were holding each other tightly and sharing an intense she closed her eyes, she inhaled deeply, she never wanted to forget his intoxicating smell
The recognition hit her, though she suspected it before. They had been friends before!
"Newt, we have done this before."
He searched her face. "Yes, I remember it. And this time we won't stop here."
She offered her lips and he accepted the invitation and kissed her lightly. She lost track of time, especially when one of his hands slipped under her shirt. With a delight grin she stopped his hand for a second.
"I hope so." Her passion met his and his hand on her back made her wanting more.
"No, I won't." He looked in the direction of Past's flowers before he added. "And I won't share."
All that she wanted was that he continued to caress her back. "Neither am I. You are mine, Newt. And I am yours. My petite mort is yours."
He didn't need a second invitation and turned his attention to a special place on her collarbone, pushing her shirt aside and placing an extraordinary intense kiss there. She had to hold on to herself not to moan into his ear, she wanted more and she wanted it now.
A red light scanned them up and down, and in mutual consent they looked to the deserted place where the beetle blade had been just a second ago.
"This is the bloody wrong place." He voiced her thoughts. And he was right considering the beetle blades as well as their comrades.
She felt their disappointment, but he was right. "Is there a better place?"
"Let's think about it." Reluctantly they broke the contact, he turned to leave, but Émilie stopped him, wanting one more kiss before he left. She had to be careful not to become addicted to it.
He was long gone, but she still felt his lips lingering on her skin. And she couldn't wipe this happy smile from her face.
A while later, Past appeared in the surgery. "Hi Émilie."
"Hi." He had a strange way of looking at her. "Is something wrong?"
His expression turned devilish and sardonically he remarked. "Seems that someone has gotten special treatment."
Irritated she shook her head. "What do you mean?"
He pointed to her shirt "How do you call this?"
She looked down and noted the fresh blood stains on her shirt and felt herself blushing. The only patient leaving blood stains on her white shirt was Newt. Must be connected with his habit saying 'bloody'. As far as her shirt was concerned it applied.
"And this?" He pointed on the spot Newt had taken so much interest in and she looked at it, undoubtedly a love-bit. Hastily she pushed her shirt over it, denying it was futile.
Past was amused and smirked. "At least that explains the pleased grin Newt displays outside."
"Do you want to tell me something?" She really didn't want to discuss the issue now.
He was generous enough not to insist to debate it further. "We sowed some of the seeds that came with the last Greenie. Appears there are some herbs among them you might want to check." Conspiratorial he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Best you'll check them together with Newt. Just keep your hands to the plants."
"Past?" She felt herself blushing. "Please don't tell anyone."
His sour expression deepened. "You two should restrain yourselves. Everyone a mile off can tell that you two get it on. Not my fault then."
"Please, Past." She hated herself for pleading, almost begging, but it showed an effect.
"Ok, for you, only for you, I'll be silent as the dead. Just to be clear: I am not doing it for Newt." He was reluctant, but she knew that he was reliable.
"Thanks. That's generous of you."
"Yeah, you have no idea." He mumbled, she patted his shoulder and another memory of her past was triggered.
There was one big downer while working for WICKED: the meals were ill-prepared.
Since Newt was her seatmate, he seemed to feel responsible and took on the task to introduce her to the conventions of the compound.
And the worst disappointment was the cantina. It was a large hall, resounding with the many voices, she knew that it would give her a headache later.
At first, she was rather enthusiastic, she was hungry. But the loud noise with which her colourless and mushy meal landed on her plate spoiled her appetite. It wasn't the caring way of her grandmother who used to arrange the meal like an artwork. Her last hope was that the taste contradicted the way the meal was served.
Her hope was crushed too soon, it was when she sat down with Newt and tasted the first spoon. Her expression must have been tell-tale since Newt asked "Is something wrong?"
Fascinated she observed him while he dug in the meal. "How on earth can you eat this?"
Irritated, he looked up while she shoved her plate with a repulsed expression away. "What's wrong with it?"
Another boy took the seat beside her and butted in "Better sympathise with him, Émilie. He's Scotish."
That explained a lot in Émilie's eye. "Oh, ok."
"What's having this to do with my origin?" Newt protested.
"My name's Past." Past sent Newt to Coventry and leaned over in an intimate way. "I'm Swedish."
Now, if this wasn't an improvement concerning the cuisine. "I'm Émilie as you might know already." She put on a pathetic face, to emphasize her suffering. "And I'm French."
"I love your accent. Please, keep on talking." He had incredible blue eyes. Never before she had seen such a deep blue. It was like looking into the clear sky after a heavy rain-shower.
She accepted the challenge and pouted. "Thanks, Past. I love your sweet-talking. Pray continue." He was an enchanter and womanizer and she bet he had a suiting saying for every girl he came on to. It was a game she liked to play.
"Better you'll eat, Émilie." Newt interfered, somehow exhortative, pushing the plate back to her. "Next meal will take some hours."
She pinched her mouth and fetched her plate back from Newt. He was right. It was reasonable. Riding the high horse and starving wouldn't get her anyway. But where was the fun in it?
She took the pepper mill standing on the table to add at least a little taste. When she wanted to put it back, she caught Newt and Past exchanging a challenging glance and she meant seeing that Newt was forming the word 'mine' with his lips.
"Émilie?" Past asked with a concerned look and she shook her head to get rid of the livid memory. So the history of Newt, Past and her had started long ago in this constellation.
"Let's go." She headed to the garden and Past followed her.
Together with Newt and Willi she checked Past's plants, she was rather fast going through them and Willi became more and more adoring. "Why do you know all this, Émile?"
Newt and Willi both stared at her and she explained "My parents are both physicians, they work a lot. I spent my holidays on the apple-plantation of my grandparents. My grandmother was a herb-witch. Let us say it is the combined knowledge of my parents and my grandma."
"You remember your parents?" Willi looked wide-eyed at her and she saw the loss inside him.
"Yes, when my grandma died and my parents learned that they are terminally ill, I came here." She had the distinct feeling that this was enough information for now.
Newt frowned and pointed to a spot of the forest border close to one of the gates. "Yesterday, I found some really strange plants over there. Maybe they could be helpful."
She was thankful for the change to a more innocuous topic. "We can check it right now. Willi, could you plant the selected herbs into our patch?"
"No prob, sir." Willi saluted.
Newt beaconed her to the plants he had discovered and she was thrilled at first sight. "Why haven't we seen them before?"
He frowned. "I don't know, I checked the place before, but they haven't been here one week ago."
"I think they can be useful." She crouched, picked up a leaf and started to chew it. Her tongue became numb as well as her cheeks. The perfect anaesthetic. "We must…"
"Shut up." All of a sudden, Newt interrupted her roughly, he had become attentive, listening closely.
"What…" His hand shot forward and clamped over her mouth, while with his forefinger rose to his lips. He went deadly white and frantically checked their surroundings.
"We must hide." He spoke so low, that she barely understood him. He rose, grabbed her wrist, yanked her on her feet and sprinted the few steps to the wall, dragging her behind him. Determined, he pushed the ivy to the side and revealed a small niche. She opened her mouth to protest, there was no way that they both fitted into it, but he had wrapped an arm around her waist to squash them into it. Just when the ivy-curtain fell back, she heard it too. A strange, artificial noise, a groining accompanied by metal clicking.
She had seen the panic in his face and knew it was wise to remain quiet, Newt wasn't the kind of guy to react this way to scare her without any reason. She remained as quiet as she could, there was no room to move anyway, not even a paper would fit between them. With anyone else, she wouldn't have fit into the niche.
Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the closeness, but all of Newt told her that horror was closeby. His heart was racing, his body was stiff and she heard and felt his hard breathing in her ear.
And if Newt kept on breathing panic-stricken, there was a high chance that whatever they were hiding from, would find them. She had to soothe him and took his free hand and squeezed it. With effort she managed to lay her other hand on his shoulder.
'Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.' She kept on repeating in her mind though he couldn't hear her. Maybe her prudence helped him to get back his composure. 'Newt, keep calm. Keep…'
'I am calm!' She heard all of a sudden, recoiled and banged so hard against the rock that she saw stars.
'Émilie? Is that you?' There was his voice again, but in her HEAD? She turned her head to the side, only to notice that Newt was staring wide-eyed at her.
She gave it a try and concentrated. 'Newt? Are you talking with me?'
'I… I don't know. I think that I can hear you in my mind.' He hadn't moved his lips, nevertheless she could hear him as clearly as if he has spoken and another memory came to her mind.
*The dark-haired boy. 'I manipulated your inserts. It can't be revoked. There is no way they can find out. Trust me, Émilie.'*
Yes, she remembered. The dark-haired boy had rewritten a program to enable her to speak with Newt without the others noticing. 'I guess that's what we are doing right now, Newt.'
'Who is that dark-haired boy?'
He had heard him, too? He had shared her memory? 'I can't remember, but I do remember that he supported me to help you. Could you hear him?'
'Yes, did he refer to us?'
'Yes, I think so. I have several memories of him. All of them are rather one-sided, hushed and kind of forbidden. He helped me to get here.'
'The griever is here.' He told her and her head turned to the opposite side and there, right before their niche, a nightmare of pulsating flesh and machine parts had appeared. Émilie hold her breath and Newt's grip around her waist got tighter and if possible, he pulled her even closer making breathing even harder. She didn't even dare to think, the irrational idea crossing her mind that it could spot her by her thoughts.
'Can it see us?' Despite her thoughts, she had to ask.
She felt his hesitation before answering. Its instruments were extended and waving through the air, ready to attack. There were some really nasty looking blades with the sun reflecting on them and she couldn't avert her eyes though it wasn't wise, she felt her knees getting weak and shaking.
'I am not sure.' Newt finally answered.
Hopefully, it had no infrared-sensor. With the heat they were emitting, they were an easy target. In the eye of the threat, Newt was calm and she felt panic rising.
'It takes too long.' She felt that he was eagerly changing his balance from one leg to the other.
'What do you mean?' She wanted to know.
'Why doesn't it move on?'
All of a sudden a sunbeam reflected on a blade directly into her eye. The blade moved down with incredible speed and suppressing a cry with effort, she buried her face in Newt's neck muffling her cry there. He laid his hand in her neck. 'It cut a leaf of the ivy.'
Just in this moment the griever moved on and Émilie felt Newt relaxing. Only a bit though.
'When can we leave?' She remained with her head against his neck, she didn't want to face this thing again. And his hands on her waist and neck gave her some comfort.
'We have to wait until we can't hear it anymore. But I think it will come back. It has to go back into the maze.'
What a perspective. To be trapped together with Newt in this hide-out. If it only was a little larger and in front of it wouldn't be a griever patrolling.
And he was right, she heard the griever moving on, the noises faded. But not for long, and they became louder until the griever passed their niche and vanished. This time the noises died down until they vanished completely.
To be sure, they waited a few more minutes before Émilie craned her neck and peeked carefully around the corner. The griever was nowhere to be seen and she stepped outside, pulling Newt with her.
"Should we tell the others?" She asked. He knew the community better than her and could assess the reaction way better.
He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The grievers never came into the glade, maybe this was just an isolated case. I don't want to rise a panic."
Being able to talk to each other without the others nothing could be rather useful. She was sure, that Newt was of the same opinion. 'Rather handy to be able to communicate this way.'
She didn't need to look at him, she knew a smirk was spreading on his face. 'Indeed. But why can we do this?'
'I think it has to do with these inserts the boy mentioned in my memory, but I have no idea why. Do you think that we are the only ones who can do this?'
Newt shrugged his shoulders. 'I never heard of this before. We shouldn't tell the others, it might rise too many questions and suspicions. And you said that this boy wants to help us. So maybe this was his idea of making it easier for us to communicate without others eavesdropping.'
This was an idea Émilie liked. She could imagine a thousand things she wanted to tell Newt without anyone overhearing them. She smirked and raised an eyebrow. 'Perfect. I'll take it as a gift to use for our advantage.'
His eyes locked with hers. 'Yes, but for now let's continue before they come looking for us. And we shouldn't use it too often around the others. They might be wondering why we stopped talking with each other.'
She had to smile about the thought of Newt and her being mute while communicating. 'Agree. You are right.'
On high alert - the griever might come back - they continued with their original plan and howked the plant. She brought it to Willi who was still busy and eagerly took the plant to add it to their patch.
In evening they gathered around the fire place, though it was only a small fire. Frypan had prepared twist bread for everyone and Gally introduced his brand new brewery which instantly found more supporters than Frypan's attempts.
With the first sip Émilie remembered her home.
She was standing right beside her grandfather, the huge apple plantation lying right in front of them. He handed her a small glass and she tasted the golden liquid. It was fantastic.
'Interesting.' Newt said while she felt him stepping behind her and she nearly spilled her drink. Indeed, he shared her memories. She only hoped there weren't any embarrassing ones that came back. Though she was quite sure there weren't any embarrassing ones.
'Could you please stop this? I nearly got a heart-attack. I am not used that someone talks with me in my head.'
He didn't appear to be sorry one bit, but said. 'There'll be a premonition next time.'
Nick came and waved the keepers over to him since he had announced to reveal the latest escape plan. Past – as a keeper of the gardeners - was also there and she stepped beside him. They had decided to attribute her to the job 'keeper of the med-jacks'. She had been taken part in the preparations and couldn't wait to get started.
Obviously, Past had kept his promise. Nobody stared at her or asked curious questions, a clear indication. Especially, since Newt and Gally were the issue of rumour, both insisting on their unbelievable versions on how they had obtained their injuries. The most obvious explanation was a brawl of the two and probably most of the boys believed just that but there was no proof. The most reliable indication that Past hadn't talked, was that none of them had been given a good telling-off.
Nick cleared his throat and started to unfold the latest escape plan that had taken them several months to realise. "As many of you already heard, we'll start another attempt to escape tomorrow. To clear with the frenzied speculations, we're going through this now." He made a slight pause until he had the attention of everyone. "Tomorrow morning, Past will climb down through the hole." He pointed on the keeper of the gardeners and the place where the box appeared while a murmuring arose, that ended as soon as Nick continued. "We will secure him with the ropes we've collected over the last months and hope that they will be long enough. Gally, Alby, Newt and I will hold the ropes while Past will climb down." He clapped into his hands. "That's the plan for tomorrow. For now, let us enjoy the bread and Gally's new brew!"
There was a short applause and they spread around the fireplace to hold the twisted bread over the fire. Émilie walked over to Newt and settled beside him while they both waited for the first ones to leave the fireplace with their flame-grilled bread.
"Past found out about us." She started, she refrained from talking in his head, sitting together without talking could rise suspicion.
"That's the reason why he is staring at me the whole evening as if he wants to wring my neck." Newt massaged his neck while he took one sip of the latest brew.
She had the presence of mind not to turn to Past, letting him know that they were talking about him. "He promised me to keep quiet."
"And what did he want in return?" Newt frowned at Past.
"Nothing, he just promised." Émilie clarified when a thought crossed her mind. Didn't he trust her? "Are you jealous?" The last thing she needed was an overprotective boyfriend, who shared her memories. A disaster. Though she had the distinct feeling that there never had been anyone else than Newt.
She observed him closely, but he wasn't offended and answered honestly. "No. I wanted to know if I have to clear things with him to stay quiet."
"You don't have to." She assured him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
He threw a quick glance into the round. "Great. And I thought about our little problem."
"And? Did you come to a conclusion?"
"The slammer. Sharp after dinner. Tonight is too noticeable." Indeed, the slammer was a solution Émilie had to admit. Nobody would come near it at that time of day. And there was only a very small window in the door, you had to look through it on purpose to see what's inside the slammer. And who wanted to peek into a deserted slammer.
"Deal." She squeezed his shoulder before she took her hand away. "I'll go and talk with Minho, to fuel the flames of speculation."
"Good luck."
She took the chance when Minho grilled his bread and chose the place right beside him. She didn't have to wait too long until he addressed her.
"What happened?" he nodded in Newt's direction.
"Only a minor disagreement with an uncomprehending tree." She had the impression that he had asked to hear her version of the events, but had put one and one together already.
Minho looked in Gally's direction. "Doesn't look like he is understanding now."
So Minho knew, he was nobody's fool. "Think Newt clarified his position."
"What about you? Did you take a position?" He threw an estimating glance in her direction and nearly burned his bread.
She rotated her stick. Minho wanted to know if she was loyal. She was, especially to her pleasures. "Yes, I was clear."
They both observed Gally and Newt, they were ignoring each other.
"Thank you once again." Minho said out of the blue.
"Pardon me?"
"You make him laugh again, he hadn't since he arrived here. His desire to live is back."
She bit her under-lip, there was one thing she wanted from Minho and she knew she could rely on him in this point. "Promise me one thing."
He was careful, she liked this attitude of him. "Depends on what it is."
She looked over to Newt who whole-heartedly smiled back and came over. "Once the time comes to leave the glade and I am not around, for whatever reason, drag him away with you even if he doesn't want to."
"If you are not around, that'll be reason enough for him to leave." That was an abnormal serious talk for Minho and she felt a warm felling spreading inside her by Minho's words. If Minho thought that her influence on Newt was this strong, she could be sure that it was really the case.
"I hope so." She gave him a weak smile.
She felt his evaluating glance on her until Newt arrived, raising his glass to them and putting an arm around Émilie's shoulder. Finally, seeing them together, Minho said. "I promise, Émilie."
Author's notes:
Next chapter: The changing