Hello! I wrote this one a while ago, after reading the Fever Code. Possibly an unpopular opinion, but TFC was my favorite book of the series. XD

This takes place after the scene where Thomas, Newt, and the others sneak out and see the Cranks. First line is from the book.

This will have two chapters, both fairly short.

Reviews and constructive criticism are more than welcome, and would make my day!

Immunity

"That one's not immune. Get him back to his room and call a doctor in to test him. Pronto!"

Newt's eyes widened as the guard pointed at him and for a shattering moment he felt sick. His head swam and his vision blurred as he stared at the dirt by his feet. He was going to pass out. Or throw up. He wasn't sure which yet.

In the end, he did neither. He let himself be led away, squirming in the guard's grasp at the last moment to catch a glimpse of his friends as they were led in the opposite direction. The Crank Pits. What were those, he wondered? They didn't sound like a bloody holiday, that was for sure.

The guard yanked him forward just as Teresa, Alby, Minho, and Tommy disappeared out of sight.

They neared the main entrance door and Newt couldn't help but stare. It occurred to him that he had only seen the actual entrance to the WICKED facility once. When he and Lizzie had first been brought in. And at the time, he had been a bit preoccupied to notice the sheer scale.

As the door slid open at the command of the guard's keycard, his mind flew back to the events that had just occurred. Not immune. Now it made sense. When WICKED had taken he and Lizzie, they had said 'we can use him as a control subject.' It all made sense now. They were never supposed to take him.

They were only supposed to take Lizzie.

As quickly as the awful realization swept over him, another feeling joined it. Relief.

Thomas, Minho, Alby, Teresa… They were all immune. And so was Lizzie. All his friends – his family – were safe. At least from the mind-ravaging Flare virus.

The outer door hissed closed behind him and the dingy white walls, interspersed with smooth metal doors seemed impossibly tall and foreboding as Newt let himself be marched briskly along the corridors.

They took a sharp turn, the guard yanking painfully on his shirt collar. A few more steps and the guard opened one of the steel doors, pushing Newt in. He caught a glance down the hall before disappearing inside the room. They were in the hospital wing.

"Wait here." The guard ordered, then left without another word, slamming the door behind him.

Newt stood staring at the door; a wave of coldness passed over him. The walls seemed taller somehow. Like they could suddenly rise up and swallow him whole with no warning.

It was a room he had been in countless times – or close enough anyway, if not the same room. A hospital bed tucked against the far wall beneath a harsh light, medical supplies stacked in orderly boxes atop the linoleum counter in the corner, a steel sink set in beside a plastic glove dispenser.

Cameras were, of course, situated in two of the corners matching red lights indicated he was being watched. Newt gave them both a long hard look before leaned back against the bed. His thoughts turned to tommy and the others. The "Crank Pits.' His stomach flipped and an immeasurable regret filled him. How could they have been so careless? Of course WICKED would have known that Tommy and Teresa had the left the facility! How could they not? They were the special ones. And how could Newt have been so Naïve? He knew better. Now their late-night meetings – the one thing Newt looked forward to all week, the thing that made his life worth living – were over. At least for a while.

The door opened with a click and Doctor Ava Paige stepped in. Newt's eyes widened and his back straightened just a bit. He almost never saw Dr. Paige. He had only met her a handful of times. He knew she was in charge of the special subjects. Like Tommy.

In the few times he had met her, she had seemed nice. At least, as nice as a bunch of psychopathic kidnappers could be, he added to himself.

"Newton." Dr. Paige gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Subject A5, right?"

Newt crossed his arms over his chest. They liked to remind him what his number was a lot. He didn't know why but it irked him. "You know bloody better than I do. And I don't like Newton. I like Newt."

Newton was the name they had given him and even if he could no longer remember his real name, he sure as heck knew he wasn't going to go by 'Newton' for the rest of his life. They had allowed him to be called Newt by the other boys, but the doctors still referred to him as Newton most of the time.

Dr. Paige smiled again. "Why don't you sit down? I'm sorry if the guards scared you. They're just doing their job.

Newt studied her for a moment, then complied with her suggestion and scooted up onto the edge of the bed. His fingers wrapped around the scratchy white blanket at his sides.

Ava Paige stepped over to the sink and pulled on a pair of the blue plastic gloves. "That was a very foolish thing you did Newt. You should know better by now."

Her tone was soft. And she had called him by his preferred nickname. It almost put him at ease. Almost.

"What's going to happen to Tommy and the others?"

Dr. Paige looked at him. "They will be punished accordingly for breaking the rules. Don't worry. They won't be hurt. Just a little scared."

Her smile was stiff. Her red lips stretching over her face like it was an action she was unaccustomed to.

Newt frowned. "What about me?"

She pulled a white mask over her nose and mouth, her serious eyes peeking out over the top. A coldness filled Newt.

She pulled a rolling tray over, three empty vials sitting in a case on its surface. She reached for his arm. "Right now, we're just going to run some tests and make sure you're alright."

Newt watched quietly.

She tied a thick band of rubber around his upper arm and swiped the crook of his elbow with alcohol. He held his arm out and made a fist, as he had done so many times before. The needle slipped under his skin and into the vein with a tiny prick. It wasn't like when Dr. Johnson did it. He jabbed the needle in, uncaring that he invariably left a massive bruise that healed just in time for him to do it again.

Newt studied Ava Paige as she pulled back slowly on the syringe, letting the dark liquid seep into the specimen tube. Tommy talked about her sometimes. Often with something like fondness. Maybe – just maybe, she was one of the good ones.

He looked away from her, turning instead to the needle. The collection tube filled, and she set it aside and reached for another, repeating the process twice more before removing the needle and rubber and giving him a piece of gauze to cover the insertion prick.

He absently pressed it against his skin, gazing at the vials of dark red blood. His blood.

Not immune.

The words stole in with an ugly voice, gnawing at his mind.

"Why am I here if I'm not a Munie?" He thought he already knew the answer, but he wanted to know what she would say.

Dr. Paige slowed in her movements but didn't stop. The mask she wore made it hard to tell her expression, but her eyes seemed sad somehow. Her fingers twisted gently on one of the vials. She picked up a pen and wrote two characters there. A5.

"Who told you that you weren't immune Newt?"

"One of the guards."

Dr. Paige nodded. She was silent for a long moment and Newt knew instinctively that whatever she was about to say would be a lie.

"You're here Newt, so that when we discover a cure, you can be one of the first to receive it." She smiled again, through the mask. "Wait here. Someone will be back to collect you."

She took the vials and paused by the door, pulling the mask down. "They're going to have to punish you too. But don't be scared. It's for your own good."