Ok, repeating myself again, but I don't actually ship Newt/Brenda. I only write scenes that make it sound like I do. *shrug*
If anyone's curious enough, the picture that inspired this fic can be found by typing 'lonely desert flower' into your search engine (I use Google and it's the second result)
"Okay, everyone, we got to move!" Thomas' shout easily carried through the building.
Newt responded immediately, turning for the door. As he sprinted toward it, a large shape suddenly stepped out of one of the side rooms, blocking his path. Boots skidding on the smooth flooring, Newt forced himself to a stop. The two stared at each other, until the other man yanked a gun from his belt. Newt ducked around the corner of the hallway, using the wall as cover. His walkie-talkie crackled to life.
"Newt? Where are you?" Frypan asked, concerned. "If you're still in there man, you gotta get out right now. The charges have been set. The whole place is about to blow up!"
Newt slipped his gun from its holster, hesitating. A tablet on a nearby desk caught his eye and he snatched it as well. Taking a deep breath, he abruptly jumped around the corner, tossing the tablet at the WCKD guard. When the man dodged the projectile, Newt sprinted for the door. No sooner had he opened it than a concussive blast threw him forward.
He flew through the air for a moment before crashing heavily into the sand a couple yards away. Dazed, he simply lay there, trying to catch his breath. He felt heat at his back and assumed it was the bombed out outpost. But instead of fading, the burning grew more intense and he realized it was his jacket that had caught fire. Quickly, he rolled over, smothering the flames.
"Newt, where are you? Newt?!" This time it was Thomas coming through on his radio.
Sluggishly, Newt flipped himself over on his stomach again to pull the walkie-talkie from his belt. Before he could do so, he caught sight of a flower. It was only an arm's reach away, sticking proudly out of the sand. The inverted bell-shaped bloom was a pale pink, translucent enough to let the sun shine through the petals. It wavered gently in the aftermath of the nearby explosion, appearing to dance in the artificial breeze.
"Come on, Newt. Answer me!" Thomas' frantic demand finally got through to Newt.
Hands shaking, Newt lifted the radio to his mouth. "I'm by the south exit."
"Oh, thank God. Okay, we're coming to get you. Stay right there."
Slowly, Newt pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, testing his balance after the blast, while the world spun dizzyingly around him. When it eventually righted itself, Newt felt brave enough to attempt getting his feet under him. He stood, even if he was a bit wobbly. He spied his gun in the sand a couple steps back where it had been ripped from his grip. He retrieved it, nearly toppling over when he had to bend over to grab it. He was about to put it back in the holster when the commotion of a grumbling engine announce the impending arrival of his friends. On an impulse, he risked face-planting in order to pick the flower from the sand. He put the bloom in his holster to protect it from getting crushed on the way back, just as the truck came into view, churning up clouds of sand and dust. It rolled to a stop in front of him and Fry's grin appeared in the window.
"You had us worried there for a second, man," he informed him as he swung open the door.
Newt smirked. "It'll take more than an explosion to get rid of me."
"Are you kids done yapping?" Vince complained from the driver's seat. "As soon as WCKD figures out this post isn't transmitting anymore, they're going to send someone to investigate. And we want to be as far away from here as possible when that happens."
Gun in hand, Newt climbed up into the backseat. As Vince peeled away from the scene of their crime, Fry thumped Newt hard on the shoulder and Thomas twisted around in the passenger seat to give Newt a nod.
When they arrived back at base, Jorge and Brenda were waiting for them in the garage. They didn't even have time to get out of the vehicle before Jorge pounced on them with questions.
"How did it go? Was it in the spot Charlie said it would be? How many men were there? What did it look like when it blew?"
"The mission was successful," Thomas reported, hopping down from his seat.
Jorge grinned. "That is good news, hermano. But ah, I wish I could have been there to see it myself! You will have to tell me all about it."
Vince began the narration as everyone disembarked. Jorge listened with rapt attention as the group began walking for the door. Newt lingered by the truck.
"Brenda," he called before she could exit with the rest of them.
She turned around, curious. "What?"
"Here." Newt reached into his holster and carefully removed the flower, holding it out to her.
She took it, brows furrowing. "What's this?"
"It's a flower," Newt said.
"I know it's a flower. I meant why are you giving this to me?" Brenda clarified.
Newt shrugged. "Well, you're a girl."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Girls like flowers," Newt stated smugly.
When Brenda merely raised a skeptical eyebrow, he felt himself deflating a little bit.
"Or at least, I thought I remembered they did. But I'm probably wrong," he mumbled, scuffing in the dirt with the toe of his boot.
Expression softening, Brenda smiled. "I do like it, Newt."
His head shot up. "Really?"
"Really," she assured him.
The corners of his mouth lifted and he gave a quick, pleased nod before changing the subject. "I'd better get going. I don't want Vince to misrepresent the events of the mission." He headed for the door, only to be stopped by Brenda's gasp. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Brenda, clearly stifling a laugh, pointed at him. "You might want to ask around and see if anyone has a spare jacket. Yours looks a little...crispy."
Sheepish, Newt ducked his head. "I will do that."