Warning: There is some Teresa and Aris bashing-I like them as characters, but from Newt's perspective, well he's got that "Bros before hos" attitude. Also, there is implied intimacy. I tried to keep things as clean as possible while still getting the point across in a tasteful manner. Hopefully, that worked.
Chapter 2- The Trial
Newt woke up to the sound of water running. He didn't remember much at first, his memory foggy. He stretched his arms, and slowly sat up, taking in all of his surroundings. He had been lying in a soft, comfortable full size bed. He hadn't laid in a bed that comfortable for as long as he could remember. He found himself looking at completely white walls. Besides the bed, there was a bookcase full of books, a tiny kitchen, a dresser with a mirror on top of it, and from the sounds that he could hear, what sounded like a bathroom with a shower.
He stood up gingerly, rubbing his neck, trying to remember where he was last. No sign of Tommy or Minho or any of the other Gladers.
He thought of a small, petite girl with light brown her.
He looked around hopefully. No sign of Amelia either.
He sighed. Hopefully it wasn't Aris in the bathroom. He wasn't sure if he trusted that shank or not.
He walked around, checking out the surroundings and found himself at the dresser. He opened the drawer to see if it would give him a clue, if he could see the clothes.
Inside the one drawer were clothes. He pulled out a shirt, boxers, and pants, all looked to be around his size.
He nodded to himself, pleased to see that they had got his sizes right, and then put the clothes back in the drawer. He then opened another drawer, and saw something that surprised him-female under clothes and regular clothes. He felt his face grow warmer at the sight of the bra and panties, and he didn't hear the water shut off.
He was still in shock, standing completely still looking at the clothes in the drawer.
He heard the door open and became even more still, closing his eyes tightly, in hopes that what was happening, really wasn't what was going on.
Instead, he heard a sharp gasp, and a shrill question, "When did you get here?"
He closed the drawer, and turned around slowly, "You mean I wasn't in here to begin with?"
He saw Amelia, wrapped only in a small white towel. The towel only reached her mid thigh, and from the top of her breasts up, she was completely bare. Her light brown hair was still quite wet and clung to her neck and collar bone. Her face looked as red as Newt's felt.
She moved to open her mouth, when he put a hand up suddenly.
"Hold on, we can talk after you get dressed." And with that, he left the room, going into the bathroom behind her and closing the door.
She heard water from the bathroom sink running and let out a deep breath. She could still feel that her face was quite red.
She moved toward the dresser and pulled out a bra, panties, pants and a t shirt. She thought it odd that they had got her sizing perfectly. She peeked into the other drawer and saw boy things, and figured that they had probably got his clothes sizing right as well. She finished drying her shoulders off, and glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Newt was still in the bathroom.
She sighed, and pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible. She didn't want to take too long.
This was starting to get interesting.
She was grateful that it was Newt, instead of any other boy, but she didn't know why there was someone in there with her in the first place.
Hopefully, he would have some idea of what was going on.
Newt was splashing water on his face in an attempt to get the image of Amelia out of his mind and to cool his thoughts off. He didn't know his exact age, but he figured he was around 17 now, and obviously had never been with a girl before. He had never even kissed a girl, he was quite sure, and his hormones were going wild at the thought of being stuck in this makeshift apartment with a girl he found so bloody cute.
He stopped running the water, and ran his own hands through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart when he heard a knock on the door.
"I'm dressed." She said softly. He turned and opened the door gently, so as not to hurt her.
"Hey," she said quietly and awkwardly, stepping to the side and refusing to make eye contact with him.
He replied with a nod and raced past her to sit at the small kitchen nook (for two people!) that was found in the tiny kitchen. She followed him to the table and sat down across from him.
He watched avidly as she was starting to dry her hair with a towel. She would stop patting it dry and would run a comb through it every so often.
Pat, pat and then a comb through her hair. Pat, pat and then another comb.
He found it fascinating. He was sure he could probably sit there all day watching her.
Instead, he cleared his throat and asked the first thing that came to his mind, "How long have you been here?"
"Only a couple of hours. I woke up, and looked around. No instructions or anything, so I figured I'd make myself comfortable. No boy clothes in the dresser and no young man sleeping on the bed next to me, either."
"I promise," Newt said, holding his hands up in surrender, "I bloody wasn't here until ten minutes ago. I woke up suddenly in that bed."
He scratched his head and everything, perplexed. "I heard the water running, but I just thought I was rooming with someone else..."
She nodded softly and self-consciously folded her arms over her chest. He had seen far more skin than she was comfortable with. He winced as he noticed her action.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly to her, feeling ashamed for seeing her so vulnerably undressed. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
"Not your fault," she replied. "You didn't know I was in there."
"I was starting to put the bloody pieces together when I saw your clothes, but..."
"But what?" She asked, wanting him to finish his sentence.
"Why are we here? Together?"
It was a confusing scenario. The boys had been kept away from the girls in the trials for a reason, he was sure.
A reason called teenage hormones.
And now, here he was with a girl. Only one girl, and one boy all by themselves.
"You woke up here?"
She nodded.
"And they waited until you left the main room to drop me off?"
He remembered suddenly, on the Berg. They were awake in the middle of the night, eating and drinking tea, she healed his injuries and he walked her back to the girl's dorm. But when he got to the boy's dorm, there were no boys there. He went looking for her, and he couldn't remember anymore.
"Those bloody shanks! What the shuck are they doing?" He exclaimed, his hands on his head.
She looked at him in confusion.
"What's wrong?" He looked at her and unconsciously reached toward her, putting his hand on her wrist.
He tightened his hand on her wrist and asked, "What happened when you got back to your dorm in the Berg?"
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember. "I-I can't remember! I have no idea, Newt. I just..." She took her wrist away from his hand and put her hands in her head. She started breathing heavily.
It always happened like this. Whenever she couldn't remember something, she started to panic.
She remembered that night, healing his injury and trying the cheese and pickle sandwich and then that moment of intensity while they quietly spoke in the office where she was tending to him, and then nothing.
She was breathing in and out deeply, trying to catch her breath.
"Hey, now," She felt Newt stand up, and move closer to her. He crouched in front of her chair where she was sitting. He put his his hands on top of hers.
"Breathe in and out. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're alright. We'll figure it out, promise."
His English accent and the slow, calm way that he spoke to her, helped her to quiet herself. She regained her breathing and looked at him.
"Thank you," she said quietly, looking at him. He removed his hands from her own and smiled. "You're welcome. I can't have you freaking out too much now, can I? "
Her eyes narrowed at his comment.
"We'll figure this out," he told her, "I don't know what they want from us, but I'm sure they're probably just observing us right now."
"You mean there are cameras?" She suspiciously looked around the room.
"I'm not sure..." he said, "There has to be some way that they are watching us. Why would they send us to this apartment, with all of it's comforts? It doesn't feel right."
She nodded at what he said. "I think so too."
"Well, since we're going to be in here with each other indefinitely, should we come up with some rules or something?"
"Like?"
"Well, we had rules for almost everything in the glade, shower schedules, jobs...Would you be interested in doing something like that?"
She shrugged her shoulders in complacence. It really didn't matter to her. Maybe the boys needed more order than the girls, but it wasn't quite that rigid with group B.
Newt eyed her response and decided to tease her. "Well, then, woman, I guess you should be the one to cook then."
She raised her eyebrows and said, "Excuse me?"
"Well, you heard me." He pretended not to see her affronted glare and put his feet on top of the table, leaning back with hands behind his head.
"I'll keep you safe and you can cook and clean for me."
"Why-of all the-" She started fuming at his response. He then looked at at her with a teasing, mocking smile.
He threw his head back and started laughing. Her face softened. He was teasing her, of course.
She sighed. Maybe she took things too seriously.
He stopped his laughing. "Maybe I should do the cooking and cleaning, and you can protect me. You seemed pretty handy with a bow and arrow the first time I saw you."
She blushed at his remark. "I would, but they've taken all of my supplies and weapons though."
"Mine too." He said...He figured that they probably didn't want them to accidentally kill each other. Or kill each other on purpose if they drove each other to it.
That was definitely as possibility as well.
"Well, if I annoy you too much you can probably just use a butter knife on me." Newt said, stretching his arms over his head.
She smiled softly and said, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that. I'm glad it's you and not any of your other friends."
She felt her face blush as she said her comment, not realizing that she was saying it aloud.
Oh, how stupid she felt.
There was a tightening feeling in his chest as he registered what she had said. She preferred him over any of the other boys? Of course, it's not like they knew each other that long either, but it made him feel light on his feet to know that she was glad and even relieved to be with him. He could tease her about it, of course, but he saw her embarrassment and decided to not mention it.
"I'm glad it's you too. I've been with those guys for too long anyway. They smell bloody awful most of the time."
She shot him a grateful smile and then cleared her throat shyly. "One last thing though."
She had hoped that he would bring it up first, but he didn't.
"Yes?" He asked, while looking at her.
"There's only one bed." Newt looked back toward the room, and she was right. Only one bed, no couches or recliners or air mattresses. No sleeping bags or extra blankets either.
He narrowed his eyes, looking around. The creators and WICKED were up to something, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know any more about it.
"Well, you'll get that, obviously." He said, pointing to the bed.
"Are you sure? I don't want-"
"Please, Amelia. Either you sleep in it or neither of us will, alright? I can handle the ground. I might just ask for a pillow and blanket though, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind if we're on it together during the day, but while we're sleeping..." They both broke their stare from each other and with their faces red in embarrassment.
Newt sighed to himself. Great, now he wouldn't get that image out of his mind at all either.
Amelia may have been grateful that it was him, and not any of the other boys. But, he wasn't sure if he was glad it was Amelia. Sure, at least it wasn't that bloody crazy shank Teresa, but then again, he wouldn't have to be so on edge, so aware of his own emotional and physical reactions to Teresa.
He would just have to make sure that she didn't slit his throat while he slept.
Amelia, however, was dangerous in a much different way. She would be the cause of Newt's own self-destruction, he knew it.
"Hey," she said, seeing his serious face. She nudged him gently. "Everything's going to be fine, right?"
Newt swallowed at her and said, "Yes. Of course it bloody will be".
She gave him another radiant smile that lit up her entire face and made it look like she was glowing.
This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
They developed a routine rather quickly, both of them used to hard work and little leisure while in their respective glades.
The day started out with them practicing hand to hand combat. She had admitted to Newt that she was rather weak, and she only knew how to fight with weapons. He had told her that wouldn't do, since neither of them knew what would happen next and the best weapons they currently had to use were books, pans and butter knives.
He was gentle with her, mainly showing her what he had learned himself. He told her that she should run, more often than not, because of her small frame. He showed her self defense things to do, mainly involving using her elbows and knees to find vulnerable spots on her attackers. There was one time that she practiced a little too hard and gave Newt a nosebleed with her punch.
He only looked startled and laughed it off, saying, "Good that."
She insisted, of course, that she take a look at it to make sure that she hadn't broken it. Thankfully, it was fine, just a little bloody.
She would usually shower after that. She cut off her showers quickly, because she enjoyed watching Newt do his own exercises, including his push ups, sit ups, and other exercises, including some movements for his hurt leg.
She enjoyed watching him out of the corner of her eye while she combed her hair. She liked seeing his arm muscles flex as he moved his body up and down against the floor. She also watched him as he did leg exercises. She hadn't asked him about the leg, but curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She didn't know how to bring it up though, and she figured she probably wouldn't any time soon.
After she was done with the shower, and he was done with his own work out, he went into the bathroom with fresh clothes. While he showered, Amelia made breakfast.
He hadn't expected it of her, of course. She insisted that it would be better if she cooked, since Newt had little experience. In the Group B glade, apparently, the girls all took turns cooking.
There was no Frypan in Group B.
He enjoyed eating her cooking. He would contribute as much as he could, setting out plates and cups, cutting up any fruit, and helping her when she asked for the help. He would also wash dishes by hand for her after.
They took turns making their lunches and dinners, and for the rest of the day would often just lapse into silence, while they read or just caught up on much needed sleep. The first night that they slept in the apartment, she gave him a pillow and one of the blankets. He curled up to the side of the bed, and had a hard time falling asleep.
He listened and heard the soft sounds of breathing, much different from the boys, which was louder and more obnoxious snoring.
He was facing the wall, looking at the bookcase with his back to the bed and Amelia when he heard a shift in bed and felt a slight bump.
"Newt?" She asked quietly, whispering. "Are you awake?"
He only gave a soft chuckle.
"Yes. It's too comfortable to fall asleep in here."
She laughed quietly at that. "Newt, I..." Her voice trailed off not sure if she wanted to share with him what she wanted to warn him about.
"Hmm?" He asked tiredly as he turned to face her, laying on his back and looking up at where she leaned over the bed.
"I..Just warning you..I get nightmares..often." She had a hard time seeing his face in the dark. There was a silence that stretched and she felt a hand grip hers.
"Me too." He answered softly. She only nodded, glad that she had confided in him that she might have some issues sleeping. She noticed that his hand had reached up to where hers was, and he hadn't let go yet. He wasn't looking at her, but up at the ceiling, with one arm behind his head.
She gave a sigh of happiness at the sight. He was even more handsome than she remembered him looking the first couple of times that they met. And then she drifted off to sleep.
The first five or six days passed by with little to no issues or deviations from their current schedules. Amelia just couldn't believe how dirty a boy could be. She complained and insisted that he pick up after himself (including his clothes).
She also insisted that he put the seat to the toilet down, which was something that Newt had never had to do before since he could only recall living with boys... It was a strange thought.
About six days into their current 'Trial', he was making lunch for the two of them. The fridge and icebox were an interesting feature. Everyday, when they opened it up, there was food for that day.
They had discovered that it only got replenished once in the morning, when Newt, while in boredom and a typical, hungry boy, ate through all their cheese in one afternoon.
Amelia had been quite angry with him for that, since she was planning on using it in making macaroni and cheese for the two of them for dinner that night.
He remembered how her cute nose scrunched up and her face turned red, and she made a sound of exasperation, in between a shriek and a sigh. As much as he pleaded his penitence to her, he also admitted to himself that she was quite attractive when she got worked up. And, he decided, that he would be a bastard and do it to her more often.
Just because he could.
He was musing on this when he heard a small shriek in the bathroom. He winced at the noise-there was nobody else that would have made that noise besides Amelia, and he had a feeling he knew why.
The door slammed open and she stood in the door frame, glaring at him and pointing.
"How many times?" She asked quietly, and angry. "I almost fell in that, in that..." Newt looked at her, amused at her small stature so tense with anger and exasperation. He should try to be better about it for her, but he honestly just didn't think about it most of the time.
"Fell in what?" He asked innocently, keeping a straight face. Her eyes snapped at his face.
"The BLOODY toilet, you ass." He looked slightly surprised at her use of the his favorite swear word, and then smirked in satisfaction. He had rubbed off on her.
Good, that.
She saw the pleased look on his face and lost it.
"Why you!" She launched toward him, trying to attack him. He lost his footing and fell, hard on the kitchen floor, breaking her fall as she landed right on top of him.
She was so mad at him. And here, he was, laughing at her!
She was going to take a butter knife and dully whittle away at the bloody shank underneath her.
"Hold on, hold on," he begged, attempting to make peace with the girl while she was writhing on top of him, trying to get a butter knife from the drawer without leaving his lap.
She wasn't listening, so without thinking, he used his weight and pulled her waist down on top of him even more, brought her face to his and kissed her. His lips pressed against her mouth tightly, and he felt her own mouth give a gasp in surprise.
And then he realized that he had just kissed her, without asking for permission, and he let go, looking away from her awkwardly.
He couldn't quite make eye contact with her, embarrassed at his own forwardness. She looked down at him, and put a hand on his cheek turning his face back toward her.
He was feeling abashed.
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have.." He began to say.
But she cut him off with her lips pressed back against his. Her lips were sweet, full, and passionate. He felt her hands make their way into his hair, and he, to the best of his ability, kept his hands on his sides, even though he felt himself wanting to touch her everywhere.
She broke off the kiss, and said, "You didn't give me a chance to kiss you back." She then gave him another quick peck on the lips, and got up, waltzing back into the bathroom, light on her feet, the argument completely out of her mind until she saw the toilet seat up once again.
She narrowed her eyes, and then decided, it was alright. That was one hell of a kiss, and if it helped her to get any more, then she'd be okay with that.
The next few days, Newt was walking on tiptoes around Amelia. No prolonged eye contact or physical contact. Only enough to speak with her while remaining courteous, and to only help correct her in some forms of self-defense.
She longed for him to kiss her again. She wasn't sure if he liked it when they kissed, she had definitely enjoyed it, but he hadn't touched her at all during it, keeping his hands only to himself.
She gasped as a thought hit her.
Was he gay?
He had spent at least two years in that glade with a bunch of other boys. Sure it was the same situation with her, and she wasn't a lesbian, but she had to wonder.
"Amelia," his voice broke through her thoughts. He sounded tired and worn out. He had dark circles under his eyes. She hadn't noticed if he was having a hard time sleeping or not. She was doing quite well in that nice comfortable bed. It appeared, though, that Newt was having a tougher time. Maybe she should offer the bed to him sometime, so he could sleep better.
It didn't even occur to her that she, herself, was the reason that he had a hard time sleeping.
"You need to pay attention." He said, as he walked back over to her. He was behind her now, holding her arms in a bear hug tightly.
She felt his breath on her ear as he asked, "What do you do in this situation?"
She was small and completely outmatched in strength. Newt was a bit taller and bigger than her. She struggled in his grasp, but his grip on her only tightened.
"Think, Amelia. What do you do?" His breath tickled her neck. She tried to focus. She could just drop and stop fighting and wait for him to loosen his grip. Instead, without thinking, she threw her elbow back into his direction. She connected with his body enough for him to give a gasp and groan and he immediately let her go.
"Ah," he said, kneeling on the ground. Amelia's heart plummeted when she saw where she got him; right in the groin.
"Bloody hell, woman! Are those elbows made of knives?" He was trying to regain his breathing, his face scrunched up in pain.
"OH," she said, looking at him, biting her bottom lip.
Was there anything she could do to make him feel better? She ran to the freezer, pulling out ice and putting it in a small towel, then walked back over to Newt who was glaring at her from the floor still.
"Umm..." she held out the towel with ice on it toward him. He eyed her warily.
"Are you bonkers? I'm not putting any bloody ice on my junk." Her face flared in embarrassment and defensiveness.
"Well, I did what you said. I found a vulnerable spot. It's your own fault." She snapped right back at him.
He looked at her.
"You're right." He said and then sighed. "I don't think I need to teach you anything else. Maybe you can have Minho teach you a few things. He could probably use bony elbow to the groin."
She was quiet as she looked him over. He looked like he wasn't in as much pain anymore. She walked over to him gently, where he sat up against the wall.
"Are you alright? Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?" His eyes snapped their attention onto the girl sitting next to him. She had her own knees tucked underneath her chin.
"You'll be okay, right?" She asked curiously, looking at him openly.
He nodded and swallowed deeply. She was too close to him. He didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Hmm..." she hummed to herself and then looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "You know, you took a kiss from me without asking..."
She then leaned forward and hummed in happiness as her lips and mouth found his. His hands made their way to her waist as she sat kneeling next to him, putting her arms around his neck and trying to pull him as close to her as possible. She gave a little yelp as she felt his tongue on her lips, and she opened her mouth for him, letting their kiss deepen.
She felt a sense of urgency and a desperate need to be as close to him as possible, she moved her body closer to his, when he moved his hands from her waist to her shoulders and cut off her kiss.
He looked at her face, which was flushed and her swollen lips, and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.
"I'm positive I'll be alright."
And with that, he got up and walked quickly to the bathroom, leaving Amelia behind on the floor, confused as to why he had cut off everything so suddenly.
She then heard a shower start and realized what he meant by what he told her last.
It appeared as though he had recovered easier than either of them expected.
There was tension in the air between the two of them. Ever since their shared kisses and make out sessions, they were having a hard time being around each other.
It felt as though something was building up between the two of them. It had only been a couple of days after she had elbowed him in the groin. Amelia was watching him from the corner of her eye, as he winced, favoring that limp in his leg even more as he got something for himself to snack on.
She may make him hate her, but her curiosity was buzzing.
Was this an injury that she could help him with?
"Newt," she asked quietly.
"Yes?" He answered back, looking at her curiously. The girl was becoming ingrained in every thought. He immensely enjoyed her company. He also enjoyed their stolen kisses and physical contact.
It was becoming too much though; much more than he thought he'd be able to handle.
"Your leg? When did that happen?" He stiffened, his face completely blank at her question.
That question came from out of nowhere. He reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottled water to drink, and then sat at the table facing her.
He took a drink and then said, "A couple of years ago."
"In the glade?" He nodded, not quite making eye contact with her.
"What happened?" He looked at her suspiciously.
"Why do you want to know?" She was taken aback by his hostility. It was calm, but there was an edge to his voice that she had never heard before.
"I was just wondering what kind of injury it was."
"It happened in the maze and never healed properly," he answered, not looking at her.
"Was it broken? What-?" She cut off her questions at the serious look on his face.
He wasn't going to answer her.
"What are you bloody playing at?" He asked abruptly, looking at her in hatred. She felt her heart tighten in her chest.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not someone that you can just mess around with and then throw to the side. Where did that question come from? Who told you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"You don't? What about all those kisses and flirtations? What about Teresa and how she played with Tommy? It's seems an awful lot alike, I tell you that. I won't let you do that to me."
Her heart tightened in her chest at his words.
What had brought this on?
He had really thought that she was just messing with his head?
Of course, WICKED did do that with Thomas, but still, he didn't trust her.
She tried to remain strong as she looked at him. She felt tears prick her eyes.
Newt's face shifted, it wasn't so hard anymore, but confused.
"It seems like you have me all figured out then, huh?" She got up from the table, and walked over to the bed.
She looked at him, not being able to keep tears falling down her cheeks and shook her head. She laid down on the bed and willed herself to fall asleep.
He was such a bloody shank.
He didn't mean to get defensive, but he just couldn't help it. He remembered what that shank Teresa had done to his close friend, and he was only trying to protect himself.
In doing so, he had hurt her. He put a hand through his hair in frustration. He had noticed it-this feeling in his gut, this pressure building around the two of them.
He had kissed her and he had enjoyed it each time.
But, now, when she tried to get to know him better, he completely lost it.
She was only curious about his leg, probably because of her experience as a Med-jack and her own open curiosity.
He had just been so taken aback with her question. He looked over at the bed to see her fast asleep. He had noticed her tears.
He never, ever wanted to see her hurt like that again.
But he didn't want to tell her about his leg. What if she thought differently about him because of it?
What if she thought him a coward?
Maybe, if he did tell her then this intense pressure to be close to her would fade.
Maybe then he wouldn't have constant, fleeting thoughts of her smile and the way her body moved when she walked.
Maybe then he wouldn't pay such close attention to the way that she played with her hair and how her eyes brightened up whenever she spoke with him.
Maybe, then, his heart would stop pounding so hard whenever she looked at him.
Oh, shuck it all.
He groaned and put his hands in his face. This was why there were no bloody girls in their glade. If they had made a co-ed maze, they wouldn't be concerned about baby gladers-they would probably all kill each other and not get anything done.
He sighed as he looked over at her sleeping form.
He would make it up to her.
He had to.
It felt like a part of him was crumbling. He realized then and there, that she wasn't just a physical presence in his life, but she had also wormed her way into his soul.
Bloody hell.
She awoke to the smell of food. She was sad as she woke, noticing her eyes a little puffy and sore. Probably from crying quietly after her argument with Newt.
Stupid man, she thought to herself. He wasn't asleep on the floor. In fact, she spied his pillow and blanket on the farthest side of the room from the bed.
She looked up to see him. She gave him a cold look that almost made him step back.
Instead, he kept walking forward.
"Rise and shine, Amelia," he said, with a small smile on his face. He held out a plate of breakfast to her, while walking toward her.
Two pancakes, eggs and bacon. All in the shape of a smiley face.
She looked at him with a glare, "Seriously?" He gave her a small smile.
"Do you mind if I join you?" He gestured to the other side of the bed where she sat.
She tensed at his question. "Or," he continued, "we can eat at the table...I just would like to talk with you and apologize."
Her face softened at his comment.
She pushed her way back to the headboard of the bed, and Newt propped up some pillows behind her. He then handed her the breakfast plate.
She looked at the food. A smiling face made of eggs, pancakes and bacon. It was just too ridiculous.
She watched as he came and sat by her in bed, and said, "You seem impressed by bloody amazing artistic skills." He gave her a small smirk, as she saw that he had made his breakfast plate the same way, except with a frowning face.
She just gave a small chuckle, the corners of her mouth turned up in a reluctant laugh, when she saw his plate.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Her resolve to hate him was fading.
This boy, no, man... She sighed.
It seemed impossible for her to stay angry at him.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "I apologize for going so bloody crazy. It's just, after what Teresa did to Tommy, I don't know if I could trust a girl not to play with my emotions like that." He said this looking forward, and not looking at her.
He then cleared his throat.
"I didn't tell you about my leg because I don't want you to think badly of me..."
She looked at his serious eyes, and told him, "It's alright. I shouldn't have pried. It doesn't matter."
He only shook his head. "It does though. The only people that know are the ones that were in the glade with me at the time. Even Tommy doesn't know. I don't know why, but I want to tell you." He played with the food on his plate.
"I was a runner," he told her. "One of the first ones, always mapping things out. But I hated it. You see, most boys they don't remember anything besides their names going up that box. But, I remembered my name. And I remembered my parent's faces. I also remember that I had a sister and a dog that was my best friend. I had a hard time believing that this nameless, bloody family that I could actually remember, wouldn't want me. Why was I taken from them? One day, I just grew so sick of being trapped, wondering why I was even in that bloody place in the first place. What was our purpose? I thought the best way to get out, was to just give up. I was a bloody coward. I couldn't face a Griever. Instead, I used the ivy and climbed up one of the walls, as high as I could get, and I jumped."
Amelia had stopped eating her food while listening to him. She felt her stomach drop and she lost her appetite.
Oh, no. No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.
"I didn't die, obviously. My leg was injured and Alby found me." She looked at him in confusion. "One of my friends, he's, like most of them, dead now. He carried me back with him into the glade before the doors closed. My leg never healed properly."
"I hate them. Bloody WICKED. I hate Tommy and Teresa a little bit too, you know. For what they did to me. What they did to all of us."
She looked at Newt, who was still just playing with his food. She moved the plate off her lap, and onto the floor, then she grabbed Newt's plate and did the same to it. She then leaned toward him, and put her arms around his neck, and put her head on his chest and held on tightly. He placed a hand on her waist and brought her even closer to him. She could still smell breakfast on his clothing, from cooking earlier. She felt his chest breathe in deeply. They stayed like that for a few minutes, not moving or speaking until she reluctantly sat up.
"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad you're alive." She said, with a bright smile.
He swallowed hard, looking at her, and said, "For once in my life since getting put in that bloody maze, I am too." Her heart skipped a beat at what he had just admitted to her in that small sentence.
"And, I will never think you a coward, you know?" She said, cocking her head to the side. He shook his head in protest.
"I am a bloody coward."
"No, let me be the judge of that." She shifted and put two fingers on his lips, effectively quieting him.
"Do you realize how important you are, Newt? How quickly you were the one that brought together our two groups before we got picked up? You mean so much to people because you bring people together with your goodness and will. You look for the best in others, even when they have a hard time finding it in themselves."
"Not quite, Aris doesn't have too many redeeming qualities. And Teresa is a bloody crazy shank."
She burst out laughing at his comment. She had a hard time disagreeing with him.
"True, but everyone else..." She sighed, "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but you are so kind and helpful. It takes courage to be so kind to others, even after all that we've seen." He gave her a shy look. He was looking at her intensely now.
She then continued, "Plus, the way that you keep those boys in line, really says something about how much they respect you as a person. Everyone has something to give to the world, you know? And you're one of those people who brings people together."
"And what about you Amelia? What kind of person are you?"
She shrugged, trying to think about the question he asked.
He looked at her and said, "I see someone who was willing to follow directions, even if she didn't want to, so I know that she respects rules and order; I see someone who willingly healed my friend, an enemy, because she didn't want to see him in pain; I see someone who insisted that I get my injuries looked after, even thought I protested-which means that you're annoyingly persistent."
He watched her, with her face blushing. "And, I see someone who is not only brave, kind, and accepting, but who is also a bloody good cook and quite pretty." She blushed even harder at that comment.
"Hmm..." she answered, nodding her head, and the cocked it to the side, looking at him. "And what is it that you like best?"
He gave her a teasing grin and responded, "The food you cook, obviously."
Peace had settled between the two once again. It was now almost two weeks since they had been thrown together into the apartment. Life hadn't changed too much in the two days since they had made peace with each other. They were a lot more physical with each other, with no problem touching each other on the hand, arm or shoulder. Sometimes they would brush up against each other while working in the kitchen together. They would sit on the bed and read next to each other, although they were certainly almost out of books to read.
There were kisses between them still; small, stolen ones, most of the time. But every so often, they'd deepen their kisses, they would feel as much of each other as possible. Every time things started to heat up between the two of them, Newt was usually the one to back off and headed to the bathroom, where he always told Amelia was where he had to "cool off". He always kept his hands on her hips or waist, never wavering anywhere else.
She loved that he was such a gentleman, but she wouldn't have minded if his hands had begun to wander.
Newt still insisted on sleep on the floor though. He had told her that he was going to be a bloody gentleman still, even if she had no problem with sleeping next to him.
It was two weeks since they had found themselves, only with each other and isolated from everyone else, that everything changed.
Amelia was dreaming.
She was running through the maze, with only a machete and her backpack. There were about 40 girls. She was doing her best to keep up with everyone else...but she was falling behind. She heard Sonya, in the back, encouraging her forward. Her breathing was heavy. She stopped with everyone else as they entered the Griever hole.
So many Grievers.
Her heart plummeted. She raced, trying to avoid the Griever limbs and stingers, doing her best not to get stung or just killed. She ran as quick as she could, diving, dodging and pushing forward.
She wasn't going to die here. She saw her close friend Victoria, on the left of her, get completely impaled by the stinger of the Griever. She shouted out, but knew there was no hope for her. She felt herself crying as she looked around her, seeing all the death and decay.
Then her dream shifted. She saw Newt.
Shooing boys into the tunnel while he waited himself. He pushed a chubby, curly haired boy, Thomas and Teresa through the hole. Then there was a Griever right by him, he moved in for the kill and swoosh Newt looked at her, with the stinger of the impaled through his chest. A trickle of blood came out of his mouth as he said her name.
Screaming.
Screaming, bloody screaming is what he heard.
He woke up suddenly, wondering if he needed to find a weapon to defend Amelia, who was the one getting attacked. He jumped up from his makeshift bed and relaxed when he saw her.
Screaming still.
Thrashing in the bed sheets and blankets. She was still screaming and crying.
She was saying 'No', over and over again.
He climbed into bed with her, avoiding her flailing limbs.
"Amelia," he said softly, putting a hand on her cheek. "Wake up, love." He whispered quietly, not realizing what he was saying. "It's alright."
She felt a soft touch and a soothing voice. Her eyes willingly woke up from her nightmare.
She saw Newt's concerned face.
"You're alive?" He was confused at her question. Of course he was.
He nodded at her, with a small smile.
"Oh!" She jumped into his arms and sobbed. Newt was confused about what he should do. So he only tried making soothing noises against her ear, and brushed his hand through her hair.
"I'm here," she heard him saying over her sobs. She pulled back and looked at him, alive and well. No pale, dying face or injury from a Griever.
In relief, she kissed him.
There were no thoughts flowing through her mind. Her feelings and heart took over. Their kiss deepened, and she felt him shift his position, trying to hide his arousal from her. She stopped kissing him, and pulled away, putting her hands on his face.
"I dreamed you got killed." He looked at her in surprise.
"Just a dream," he said, unable to stop looking at her face. There was an intense electricity between them. He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, deliberately. He broke off from her mouth and trailed kisses along her jaw line, down her throat, on her neck, and collarbone. She moaned softly at the feeling. She moved her hands to his waist, while taking in all the sensations he was giving her.
She moved to take off his shirt.
"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, looking at her with intensity.
She nodded. "I need to know you're alive, for sure. And that this isn't just a dream."
She reached forward, pulling his shirt off with his help. After that, she only recalled soft touches, electricity between their bodies and their mouths on each other, trying to take in all their feelings and sensations, while they both made love for the very first time.
She awoke to light filtering in to their current home. She shifted her body slightly and blearily opened her eyes. She felt a heaviness on her waist, and looked to see an arm draped over her.
She blushed as she remembered the night before. She shifted a little more, and then winced in pain at the tenderness felt between her legs.
She smiled to herself.
It was worth it, of course.
She had never felt so connected to someone before, not just physically, obviously, but emotionally and spiritually as well. She felt as she though she was aware of him now on a completely different level.
She felt him shift and groan slightly. She moved from off of her side onto her back so she could see him better.
He had propped his head on hand, with his elbow holding his body up. He looked at her, with a slight blush on his cheeks. She returned his gaze.
"Hello, there."
"Good morning," she replied quietly, wondering what he was going to do next. She was pleased when he leaned over and gave her a kiss on the mouth.
She gave him a smile.
He returned the smile, and then looked at her in some concern.
"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"
She shook her head, looking at his concern. "Not too bad, no. And I was distracted well enough to really feel too much until this morning."
He smiled, pleased with her answer.
Then said, "A bath then for you. I'm sure it will help."
She looked at him. "Oh, are you the Med-jack now?"
"No. But a bath always makes me feel better." She smiled at his words, grateful to be in his care.
He insisted on getting out of bed first.
He stretched his arms up to the sky, with the sheet around his waist. It was the first time she had seen his bare back. It was really too dark last night to make out much.
It was then that she first noticed his tattoo.
PROPERTY OF WICKED Group A Subject A5 "The Glue"
She sucked in a deep breath. "The Glue".
What did that mean?
Why did she get a feeling of dread reading that?
He looked back at her, concern written on his face.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I've just never seen your tattoo before...'The Glue'?" He absently rubbed at the black ink on his neck.
"Tommy thinks it's because I keep the group together." He shrugged, and reached for his clothes at the end of the bed. She mused about the title and watched as he dressed himself. He had his boxers and pants on, and was looking for his shirt.
She watched him with a sly smile. Of course there was clothing lost somewhere after their activities from the night before. She leaned over the side of the bed and saw it. She picked up his t-shirt and threw it at him. He caught it with a mischievous smile himself and pulled the shirt on.
"You stay there until I come and collect you." He said, heading off to the bathroom. She heard water running and sighed, stretching her arms over her head.
She was still thinking about the night before.
And she thought that boys were hormonal perverts.
"What are you bloody smiling about, Amelia?" He asked her, walking back out into the room, heading toward the bed. He almost looked suspicious.
"Last night," she said directly, gauging his reaction. He didn't say anything to her response, besides heading to the bed and lifting her out, bridal style. She yelped at the contact, and the cold felt from leaving the comforter. He had left her draped in the thin sheet. He walked her over to the bathroom, and then deposited her in the room.
"Bath, for you." He said, pointing at the hot water, "I'll bloody make breakfast." She reached for his arm as he started to leave. He turned to face her in confusion, and she kissed him.
She breathed in his masculine scent, and said, "Thank you." He just smiled as he made his way out of the room into the kitchen.
As he stood in the kitchen, making breakfast for them, he thought about the night before. He had been so worried about her when he heard the screaming, and then, they were intimate.
It had happened so fast, he was worried that she was upset with him. They hadn't spoken at all, but had only lost themselves to their feelings, it appeared. And she may have not remembered, but he had hurt her. He remembered kissing her tears away as he tried to control himself from hurting her anymore.
She seemed fine this morning, but he was once again worried.
The experience was amazing. He had never felt so complete before; it was only the two of them, in dance with their bodies and souls and if anything it solidified his feelings for her.
He loved her, very much.
He cared about her, and he felt like his heart would burst if she said that she hated him for taking advantage of her. Thankfully she only seemed to care for him. He was overwhelmed by her gratitude and love. He didn't deserve her, she was far too good of a person for him, he felt.
He hadn't heard the water in the bath drain or the door of the bathroom open. He heard some footsteps and saw Amelia walk out, in only that small towel that she was wearing when he was first deposited into the apartment.
He looked over, his eyes roving over her body, and his breath hitching.
She grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the bed, saying, "Breakfast can wait."
The next week passed by a lot faster than the two weeks prior. Newt desperately wanted it to go by slower, but between their regular routine and their newer activities, it sped up.
He had a feeling that it would end soon. He was keeping his spirits up, though, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, WICKED would let him and Amelia live there for the rest of their lives.
Hadn't they earned any peace at all?
He sighed though, almost certain that this trial was almost over. He didn't know why, but just a feeling of impending doom.
They were sitting on the bed, about three weeks after they had first entered the apartment. And they knew each other now for only about 25 days. He shook his head at the thought. If only a month earlier, he had thought that he would be completely in love with a girl, and living with her, he would call himself a shuck-faced, bloody shank.
"Newt," she asked quietly, looking up from her book. Since they had solidified their feelings and relationship with each other, they were much more comfortable in the presence of each other. He no longer slept on the floor, and they were always touching each other, not just in a sexual way, but in an affectionate way as well. He brushed his fingers along her arm, back and forth.
"Yes?" He asked in return, giving her a small smile. She loved that smile of his, it was tentative and shy, like he wasn't sure sometimes if she was really speaking to him or not.
Gosh, he was so handsome.
He treated her like she was a queen, so humble and willing to do anything to make her happy.
"Say we get out of here," she stopped her words, and played with her brown hair. He noticed that she did that when she was nervous. He watched her patiently as she seemed shy about what she was about to ask.
"Say we get out of here, what do we do next?" She looked at him in confusion. Yes, they were in a relationship now, but what about when they were forced to leave their apartment. What about when WICKED had their next trial ready for them? It's not like they could go and live with the Cranks or anything.
And, what if he didn't want to be with her, but wanted to go off with his friends instead?
"I've been thinking about that as well." He said, looking over at her with an affectionate grin. "I figure the first thing we'll need to do is get out of WICKED, and that won't be easy. Then we'll have to get through all the bloody Cranks."
He stopped, and then looked her over with a small smile, "And then, we have to find a bloody priest to marry us."
She dropped her book and looked at him in surprise.
The smile fell off his face at her reaction. "OR, we don't have to get married?" He said shyly.
"You want to marry me?" Amelia asked, with her heart racing a million miles an hour, pounding hard against her ribcage.
He blinked at the incredulous question.
"Of course, I bloody well do. We've done it backwards, now, we should be married already. But, I don't feel that awful, considering that we haven't really had the chance."
She still had that surprised look on her face-the raised eyebrows, the slightly open mouth.
He cleared his throat. "Well, would you?"
"Would I what?" She asked, clearly still in shock and confused at his question.
"Bloody marry me?!" He asked in exasperation. He was beginning to think that he had completely read her wrong. Maybe she wasn't interested in that type of relationship.
"Of course I would." She shook her head at him. "Did you really think I'd say any different?" He reached forward to play with her hair around her face, his fingers touching her cheek and neck.
"I was worried there, for a couple of bloody moments."
"And after that?" She asked, prompting him to continue.
"I'd probably have to bail out those bloody shank friends of mine, Minho and Tommy from doing something stupid, if you didn't mind tagging along for that."
"We'd get married before that?"
"Hmm..good point. Fine, after we find them, we'll get married. Then, I'd whisk you off some place where no Cranks or WICKED people can get to." He stopped, thinking his thoughts and plans through.
It was a pure fantasy, but he wanted her to know that if he could, it was what he would do for her.
"I'd build us a house of some sort. We'd live off the land, like in the Glade, of course. If you didn't mind the fellow Gladers as neighbors, we'd live by them. And that would be it. Just you and me." He smiled at her.
"Just the two of us? And Thomas and Minho and everyone else?"
"Well, those shanks wouldn't be living with us, of course. At least I bloody hope not." She laughed at his sentiment. As much as she loved her friends, she felt the same way. There was something special between her and Newt, and she would never want anyone to disrupt it, even her close friends.
"And our children?" She asked quietly, looking at him from the corner of her eye. It was something that she was curious about. Usually after people are married, a children and family are sure to follow.
"Of course," he said, holding her gaze. "We'll have at least a dozen."
"Oh really?" She asked, incredulously, holding back a laugh. He had to be teasing her.
"Yes, unless you want a baker's dozen instead. And they'll all be boys, of course."
She burst out laughing at that. "I don't know if I can handle another twelve or thirteen of you."
He was looking at her mischievously. "Fine, we can have a few girls as well, just for you." She grinned at the thought. Her heart was light sitting with Newt, and musing about a very unlikely future.
But, how her heart longed for something so simple as a family.
"Newt," she asked quietly, after thinking about things for a couple of seconds, "I don't think that will happen for us."
She was quiet and sad.
"I know." He said, brushing her hair away from her face.
Her eyes were forlorn. "Sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if we had never met."
He knew where she was coming from. They were both not naive enough to believe that WICKED was done with them.
But, still, he had no regrets.
"I don't regret anything." He said, kissing her softly in the mouth. He was now hovering over her, his arm on the side of her head, propping himself up.
"I've never had hope like I have now," he kissed her gently on her lips, and cheeks, and wanted to completely take all of her in.
She protested as his lips left hers.
He looked at her in desperation, with an intense gaze.
"I love you," she said quietly. She had told him a few times already, and he had returned the sentiment quite enthusiastically as well. But sometimes she wondered at how deep his affections could possibly be since they had only known each other for only a few weeks.
"Know this, Amelia. You are the reason why I feel so complete and fulfilled now. I love you. I don't just love your body, but I love your heart, your mind and your soul. I don't think saying I love you, is a good enough indicator of how deeply I feel."
She blinked in surprise at his answer.
"Thank you, for everything." He then deepened their kiss, reaching for the hem of her shirt.
Their bodies danced together that evening, showing how deeply their love for each other ran. It was intense, far more intense than any other time that they made love. Every movement was deliberate, thoughtful and slow; They clung to each other desperately, trying to hold on to the few, precious moments of love that they had left with each other.
WICKED Memorandum
Date: 232.3.1
To: My associates
From: Ava Paige, Chancellor
RE: Flare Side Trial-A5 and B9
The side trial of investigation into the body and brain's response to emotional stability has given us some interesting talking points. We will run brain scans on Subject A5 in the morning. If he refuses to come willingly, we will threaten Subject B9. They will also be told about their immune or non-immune status tomorrow.
We have also thought that this side trial would be fascinating to investigate from the point of view of science in general, in regards to the development of relationships, both platonic and romantic.
Watching this side trial, has also given us something that we haven't really thought about in a long time: hope. Hope, in the long run, that we can find a cure from this awful disease.
And hope in general, that humanity still has something to live for.
We must prepare tomorrow for revealing the trial to the two subjects. Make sure to bring guards. The boy will be angry and he could possibly be unstable. As of right now, he has shown no indications of losing his mind to the Flare, but the moment he is separated from the girl, his brain may begin rapid deterioration.
Please, remember as we strive to put the needs of many above those of the few, that WICKED is good.
And that is the end of part 2. I will not rush Part 3, so look for it sometime later this weekend or early next week. I want to make sure it is as good as possible so it's satisfying. It will be the hardest one for me to write. It will mostly be from Amelia's perspective, of course. There will be spoilers for The Death Cute.