Obviously AU, since Newt is alive. Again, I don't ship these two but it sort of reads that way so if that's you're thing, feel free to interpret it that way :)

(Anamnesis: a calling to mind, remembering, recollection-especially of a supposed previous past)

Eyelids blinking reluctantly, Newt gradually shifted out of sleep. The sky above was still dark, lit only by the crescent moon slipping in and out of cloud cover. In the near distance, the surf gently lapped at the beach in a steady rhythm. Cocooned in his hammock and with no desire to move, Newt glanced around as far as he could, searching for the source of his involuntary waking. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. His friends were asleep in their hammocks, swaying hypnotically with the occasional breeze. Upon deciding that all was well, Newt shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep.

A low whimper yanked him upright, senses instantly on alert. When the noise came again, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed, bare feet sinking into the sandy dirt. The soft earth muffled his footsteps as he stood and surveyed the tent, wondering where the whimper had originated. It had been a female voice, and it had come from close by. Only a moment passed before the sound was repeated. This time, he had no doubt as to who was making it.

Slipping past Thomas, Minho, and Frypan, Newt ducked under Jorge's hammock and stopped in front of the one beyond it. Peering into the hammock, he was able to see Brenda's face. Her eyebrows were drawn together even in sleep and the corners of her slightly parted mouth were turned down. Carefully, he reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder.

"Brenda," he called quietly.

Her eyes shot open and she bolted upwards, knocking his hand away.

"Whoa, calm down," Newt advised.

Brenda fought her way out of her bed, eyes wide and shoulders tense. Newt reached out again and she jerked back.

"Easy, it's just me," Newt assured her.

"Stay the hell away from me," Brenda snapped.

Newt opened his mouth but before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and started marching in the direction of the beach. Caught off guard, he spent a moment staring after her dumbly before he pursued her. He easily overtook her, hopping one step in front of her to block her path. Her glare was sharp in the moonlight.

"Brenda, hang on," he tried.

"I swear, Newt, if you don't leave me alone…" Brenda threatened, raising a fist.

"Alright." He lifted his hands in surrender. "I heard you crying in your sleep and just wanted to make sure you were okay." He backed up a step. "But I'll let you be." He turned and began shuffling up the path to the tent.

He hadn't gotten far when a quiet voice stopped him. "Wait."

Pausing, he turned to look over his shoulder. Brenda had her arms wrapped around herself, hunched up and looking small against the backdrop of the ocean.

"You don't have to go," she said shyly, dropping her gaze to the ground.

Newt came back to stand beside her. "Why were you crying, Brenda?" he inquired gently.

She shrugged. The wind tugged on a piece of her hair, toying with it in the night air.

"Bad dream?" Newt guessed.

She shrugged. Then nodded.

"What was it about?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he prompted, "It helps to talk about it, you know."

After digging her toe into the dirt, she raised her head to glance at him quickly before looking away. "I don't remember."

"You can tell me anything," Newt assured her earnestly.

"No." Brenda shook her head. "I mean I really can't remember it. At least, not much."

Newt patiently waited for her to speak again. She sighed, looking out toward the waterline.

"I know there was fire," she finally admitted. "I remember the heat. It was so hot and I could feel it all around me. There was no way to escape it. It was everywhere. Just...burning."

Newt nodded contemplatively. Brenda saw his thoughtful expression and snorted quietly.

"I know. I shouldn't be complaining. It's not exactly nightmare material," she said, purposefully uncrossing her arms and trying to adapt a more casual pose.

"You're wrong," Newt murmured.

"What?"

"It was enough to make you cry. I'd say that's a nightmare," he explained.

Despite her best efforts, Brenda's arms subconsciously crossed. "It seems silly now," she attempted to brush it away.

"It's not silly at all," Newt said. He licked his lips before admitting, "I dream about fire too."

Brenda started. "You do?"

With a quick nod, he confirmed the fact, though his eyes skittered away from hers. "Sometimes."

"Do you think it's because we had it?" Brenda asked quietly. "The Virus?"

Squinting up at the moon, Newt lifted one shoulder. "I don't know. It's possible, though."

"So we'll keep having these dreams or nightmares or whatever," she waved her hand impatiently, "pretty much forever?"

Newt lowered his gaze to meet her eyes. "I hope not."

She managed a small smile at that. They stood for a minute longer in companionable silence before Newt tilted his head to indicate the tent.

"Come on. We'd best be getting back."

Brenda hesitated.

"No more nightmares tonight," Newt whispered. "I promise."

Comforted by his optimism, Brenda allowed him to lead the way back up the hill. As they crept back to their hammocks, she said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."