December 14, 1926
They wake in each other's arms and lie silently to watch the clock wind down to the inevitable.
Newt takes extra care at his morning toilet. He sets his boots to polish and his clothes to freshen while cleaning himself, shaving with a fussiness not employed since his time in the army and brushing his teeth twice to chase away the whiskey-staleness of the morning. He even combs his hair out of his eyes — a useless gesture, but he supposes it's the idea that counts. It spills over his brow as soon as his comb is tucked away, and he sighs and gives it up for a lost cause.
Tina wears a skirt, a rare occasion. The full A-line is edged with subtle black lace, a Victorian throwback she secretly loves. She chooses to top it with her sturdy work blouse but covers it with a rather elegant duster. She wears black, sculpted-heel boots instead of her typical brogues, and her stockings of raw silk. Tina polishes her boots and carefully brushes her hair, and when tears threaten she thinks of her sister and what she's enduring, day by painful day—and that makes it a little easier.
They meet in the sitting room, and it's their first time in this space all over again. They each pretend not to notice the small wardrobe changes in the other. Tina watches him avidly, looking for any sign, any clue of what he's thinking. Newt can't or won't meet her eyes, studiously avoiding giving away his thoughts, and too soon it's time to leave.
Queenie is the freest of them, and there's no shame in her parting tears. Newt allows her to hug him and closes his eyes when she brushes his cheek with a kiss.
His ship is scheduled to leave at noon, and his general dislike of crowds means they wait until the very last minute to arrive.
They march to the foot of the gangplank before hovering uncertainly, Newt striving for stoicism, and Tina unable to keep from gnawing her lip. He turns to her and she releases it, allowing herself to smile genuinely at him.
I'll miss you, she thinks through the pall of sadness weighing down her mind, but I'm going to survive this. I have to because you'd be disappointed in me if I did anything else.
Newt returns her smile with one of his own, his eyes skittering to her face to gauge the expression she wears. He firms the line of his lips to hide their trembling while squaring his shoulders. "Well, it's been..." There are no words adequate enough to encompass all that he's feeling, so he lets them trail away into nothing.
"Hasn't it!" Tina exclaims, shielding an ocean of doubt behind pride and cautious hope.
Newt looks up at her and he can feel that his emotions are telegraphed plainly across his face, leaving him feeling horribly exposed.
Tina smiles gently. "Listen, Newt, I wanted to thank you."
He drops his gaze, confused but hopeful. "What on earth for?" He holds his breath.
"Well, you know," Tina begins softly, "if you hadn't said all those nice things about me to Madam Picquery—I wouldn't be back on the Investigative Team now." It's not what she wants to say, or what she wants to talk about, or even what she wants to thank him for—but it's neutral and safe, and it takes some of the ache of separation out of her heart. Their heart.
Newt smiles slightly. "Well — I can't think of anyone I'd rather have investigating me." It's both the right and wrong thing to say, and he winces. It's not what he meant but it's also truer than anything he's said so far today. He grimaces awkwardly and drops his eyes to her boots.
Tina smiles appreciatively, suddenly shy but allowing for tender warmth to infuse her chest. She can't resist teasing him, just a little. "Well, try not to need investigating for a bit."
Newt's smile ratchets up in intensity, echoing her thoughts, but his eyes remain fixed on their shoes. His freckled cheeks, she realizes, are pink with a blush. "I will. Quiet life for me from now on...back to the Ministry...deliver my manuscript..."
Tina ducks her head in an attempt to catch his eyes. "I'll look out for it. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
Newt's head snaps up to look at her, and his gaze is naked. Hope, longing, pain, they're all written clearly across his features—a reflection of her own turbulent feelings. Tina wants nothing more than to reach out a hand and smooth them away. To see him smile with his entire face before leaving, instead of looking as though his world is ending.
He does attempt a smile after a beat or two, but it's weaker even than the December sun, and it falls almost immediately.
Tina scrambles to regain ground against the magnitude of her impending loss and asks the first question that comes to mind. "Does Leta Lestrange like to read?"
The hurt look slips from his face, only to be replaced with one of confusion. Newt blinks, and she watches his eyes grow suspiciously shiny. "Who?" He asks, and she knows it's not a contrivance.
Her heart twists painfully in her chest as tears cloud her vision. "The girl whose picture you carry—"
"I don't really know what Leta likes these days because people change," Newt speaks quickly, urgently, before swallowing. He blinks, apparently to gather his courage. There's a flash of pink when he moistens his lips, his eyes heavy with unshed tears.
Tina closes her own eyes for a moment in a bid to regain control of her galloping emotions. "Yes."
"I've changed," he goes on, eyes never leaving her face, and she can see a dawning realization there. "I think. Maybe a little." You've changed me is left unspoken, but it's there in the subtext. Newt's vision blurs and it's his turn to scrabble against the expanding pain in his chest.
Tina presses her lips firmly together to keep them from trembling and allows the sense-memory of his hands and his mouth to ripple across her skin.
The ship's siren sounds then, causing Newt to jerk his head around with a grimace. Then he turns back to her and she allows herself to really look at him for the first time today, lovingly detailing his features and committing them to memory.
He meets her gaze unflinchingly and holds it. "I'll send you a copy of my book, if I may."
Tina holds her breath to choke back a sob. "I'd like that."
Newt stares a moment more, drinking in her features. He recalls the touch of her hand, the feel of her mouth—the heavy silk of her hair spilling between his fingers. Blinking against the pain, he raises his hand to brush the apple of her cheek before tucking her hair behind her dainty ear. He lingers a beat to savor the texture of her, his scarred and calloused paw a sharp contrast to her flawless skin.
Then he takes one last, long look, a lovers look, before turning away abruptly.
He's nearly to the gangplank when a thought occurs. It burns through the gray shrouding his thoughts like hot July sun through fog and stuns him in place. His eyes widen as he catches his breath before turning and running back to her, unwilling to give himself a chance to change his mind or talk himself out of it.
Tina's touching her cheek shakily and choking back tears when he approaches. It hurts to look at her so he doesn't, choosing instead to admire the shine on her boots. She looks up quickly when he skids to a halt in front of her, and he can feel her holding her breath.
"I'm so sorry—how would you feel if I gave you your copy in person?"
Newt sends a quick prayer up to Merlin or Paracelsus or whoever may favor awkward magizoologists before chancing a look at her face. The tears remain but now she's smiling dazzlingly, the way she'd smiled when he'd woken besides her in the morning, and fed her lunch at her desk at work, and sat with him in his case—
His heart stops, just for a moment.
"I'd like that—very much." She laughs and sobs at the same time, and Newt's heart restarts only to beat in triple-time. His own eyes are heavy with tears but he smiles all the same. Her grin remains, and he looks at it one last time, a drought of life-saving water prior to crossing the desert, before tearing himself away.
Newt strides up the gangplank, feeling her eyes following him when he stops just short of the top and takes a fortifying breath. He wants to turn around and take one last look, but he cannot—the urge to run back to her arms, to kiss her and claim her as his own is almost overwhelming. Turning back now would destroy his already unsteady resolve.
I'd give up my life's work for you, Tina, he realizes dazedly. Please don't think I won't come back for you because I will. We'll survive this together, and we will be stronger for it in the end.
The revelation and acceptance of these feelings infuse him with profound strength until he's able to gulp and continues on nearly at a jog. The ship's mate tips his hat in welcome while Newt manages a stuttering nod, purposefully avoiding eye contact. Then he's inside the hatch, back at sea, and his Tina is left behind.
He hooks to the right sharply, finding a conveniently placed porthole, and she's still there, standing with her hands in her pockets and smiling after him faintly. Newt presses his fingertips to his lips, remembering the taste and feel of her, the luminosity of her smile and the scent of her skin. He watches as she moves away, at last allowing his tears to roll down his face—entirely unconcerned with who witnesses them.
Soon, he thinks, and it's a promise etched in his heart.
Tina turns and tilts her head back to smile at the sky. She breathes deep and recalls the feel of a warm male body next to and beneath hers, calloused hands carding through her hair, an endearingly crooked smile.
Soon, she thinks, and it's an extension of their unspoken covenant, forged in skin and passion.
She skips a step in joy and Newt chokes where he watches, smiling through his tears. He closes his eyes and pressing his hot face into the cool glass. There he remains until the ship's engines thrum beneath his feet and his Tina is a distant speck, merging with the rest of the vibrant New York throng. Then he staggers off to find his quarters.
Tina leaves Port Authority with a smile, warmed entirely from within—and the ship, unconcerned with such petty mortal foibles as love and loss, steams its way out of the harbor.
Author's note: You can find me on Tumblr (username: katiehavok) if that's your thing. I would recommend seeking me out there—it's the best place to find me if you wish to keep track of my works, and I always accept prompts and requests for Newt/Tina and Newt/Queenie. Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading and general encouragements.
