AN:
I wrote this November last year and finally send it to my best friend for beta reading lmao

Anyway just a collection of short insights into the characters thoughts after the events of Fbawtft
I'm a slut for character studies

Enjoy

I

It's when wind whips at his sunken in face and light hits him, so bright it threatens to burn his eyes, that he's certain he will die.
That Grindelwald has decided to come down here one more time to end him once and for all.

That he's become useless.
Graves has never been a fearful man, and he isn't now, he's made peace with himself for quite some time now, long given up on trying to escape.
He's attempted every spell he knows, and by all means he was a very skilled wizard who was capable of a lot, and when he'd still been able to, used raw force as well, but it had been without success.

He was ready to die, bring this all to its fair end.
There was no one that would mourn his passing, after all he never was quite a companionable person and family members were long deceased.

So really, if it was time to die, then so it be.

II

Tina tries and tries because she just can't give up.
Around her, the members of the search group loose hope and motivation and even without listening in on their conversations she knows that they've given up on finding him.

She can't bring herself to do so as well; she owes it to herself to continue, to Credence, tears dwell up in her eyes at the thought of the boy, and most of all, of Mr. Graves himself.
For doubting him, for not seeing sooner, that it had all been a sick game by Grindelwald, that the real Percival never would've done any of this.

She can't help but blame herself, if she'd only realized, and she asks herself how Newt of all the people spotted it, and none of them, who had worked alongside Graves for years.

So no, she wouldn't stop, and if she had to search for him all on her own, she swore to herself she'd find Percival Graves, no matter if dead or alive.

III

He sits in the prison cell and thinks just how much of a drag this all is.
Really, if it hadn't been for Scamander, he wouldn't be here.
His plan had been so good, it had fooled everyone for weeks.
But no, not Scamander. That lanky zookeeper had staggered in, looked him in the eyes about two times and by the next second he'd uncovered him with a swing of his wand.

It angered Gellert immensely, that a man like this had been able to stop him.
Someone that hasn't even finished his education at Hogwarts.
A man that, by Merlins beard, can't even look at people when they're talking to him and is probably more comfortable around animals than around humans.

He really can't see what Albus likes all that much about Scamander.
There has to be something though, he refuses to believe that it had been his own carelessness or fault that had exposed him, the world would never see a day when Gellert would admit a mistake he made.

But that doesn't matter quite a lot anyways, more important is to find a way to get out of here and oh do they know him bad if they thought this prison can keep him locked up.

IV

Time passes in a flurry for Newt, he comes back to England and hands in his manuscript and only a few days later his book is in the printing.
'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them' it reads on the leather wrapping in silver lettering and he knows he should be proud of himself for publishing his very own book and feel at ease with a project done.

But the next day he finds himself on the run again, to Egypt, following the rumor of a sighting of a Phoenix there, a copy of his book in his pocket to bring to Tina when he finds the time.

The events in New York have left their traces on him and he can't stand to stay still for very long.
He begins working on a new edition of Fantastic Beasts; additions need to be made and he keeps every letter he receives from America in his breast pocket.

Mostly it's Tina, clean writing and parchment of the MACUSA, that reports him about the status of the 'finding Percival Graves' mission, or informs him about the recent events in the city.
Sometimes she writes him that she misses him and how she hopes he will visit soon and Newt is not all too sure how that leaves him feel.

Queenie sends him letters too, of the sweet kind, on parchment that smells of bittersweet chocolate and rose perfume, and she writes mostly about Jacob in a dreamy way.
Once she'd send him a picture of the bakery and Newt had smiled to himself at the sight.

V

She visits the Bakery every day just to see the way Jacob smiles at her whenever she enters, it's bright and beautiful and just for her, and she smiles back and traces the form of his face with her eyes.

She's been there so often that even Jacob's helps know her and she's gotten quite a few free treats by the baker who she cherishes dearly.
Sometimes Queenie thinks he remembers her, in the way his eyes sparkle or he rubs that faint scar from the Murtlap bite, but then it falls back into his usual smile and he addresses her with
Ms. Goldstein and she feels her heart break just a little every time.

Its fine, she tells herself, and keeps the happy expression on her face, as long as she can see him.
It's safer this way, when he doesn't remember her.

He calls her his favourite regular customer but she desperately wants to be so much more to him and she calls him honey and darling and relishes in the way it makes him blush to his ears.
And she thinks, if she can't be more to him right now, she'll at least make sure to stay his very favourite customer.

VI

After he closes the shop, he returns to the flat above the bakery.
He had bought it from the money he'd made, an already surprisingly high amount for a newcomer.
He enters his bedroom, falls back into bed and only then Jacob starts to think.

He can't find the time to do so when he's downstairs and working.
Customers flood his shop and any time of the day, and they are getting more and more by the day, at least that is what it feels like.
And by all means, he's more than happy about that.
Having this bakery has always been his biggest dream and, within a blink, it has become reality.

Until this day he doesn't know who had stolen his suitcase and had left him with one filled with silver eggshells.
Only that they claim to be a friend.
Looking at the contents of the case had spread a tingling from a scar on his neck; he can't remember where exactly he'd gotten this one from; into his brain, as if trying to draw a connection but the thread ripping every time it got close enough.

But he is more than thankful to this stranger and still hopes to meet them one day to give the pal a good hug for that gift.

Thinking feels like playing hide and seek with his memories and Jacob has no clue why it is like that.
It is like forgetting what you wanted to do there when entering a room only that he's not sure if he really forgot something or if his mind is playing a trick on him.

When he falls asleep he then thinks of that beautiful, smart woman that comes by every day and her smiles, because they make him feel as if he isn't lacking something.