Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was the heat that woke him. The heat and the wriggling form that was pressed against him. Newt opened his eyes to the dawn light, blinking awake as he remember what the squirming was. Aris. The Tech-Science kid that Thomas had rescued. He was pushing against the sleeping bag and twisting every-which way. His eyes were closed and his face was grimacing.

"I think he's dreaming. I wasn't sure whether to wake him or not."

He looked up at Thomas's gentle whisper and Thomas smiled back at him with a familiar combination of amused and fond.

"Hey, by the way."

He felt his cheeks turning red as he grinned back. Despite the fear that was creased in Thomas's face like it had been since their first moment in the Arena he had a warm sweetness flickering in his brown eyes that made Newt's heart thump hard.

"Hey yourself, Greenie."

The old nickname slipped out, popping into existence from nowhere but long-ago memories. He felt silly but before he could apologise Thomas had leaned over the tiny tribute between them, crowding into Newt's space and then halting, like he'd run out of momentum just before their faces were touching.

Newt looked up at Thomas in surprise, catching the way the his eyes flickered over Newt's face, the way his face flushed. His heart was racing as their noses brushed, and he watched Thomas's dusky eyelashes close against the crests of his cheeks.

He was the brave one that time, tipping his mouth to slot it against Thomas's, their lips meeting in an uncertain flush of affection. There were no waves of despair this time, no fear of death right then. No excuse to hide behind. It was a clear-minded and deliberate kiss. It was a shy kiss, brief and exploratory and absolutely bloody perfect.

When Thomas drew back he took Newt's breath with him and Newt stumbled over a lungful of air as he opened his eyes to look at him. Thomas was smirking that cocky-sweet smirk and his eyes were glittering. Despite the new territory they were treading that same familiar smirk made Newt's world straighten a little, a comforting tie to his friend and his home.

"You haven't called me that in a long time."

Thomas sounded curious, dragging the water bottle from his pack to take a sip. He offered it to Newt with a raised eyebrow but Newt just shrugged as he took it. When he'd swallowed the mouthful of water he rolled his eyes.

"You haven't been a Greenie in my life for a long time."

Thomas didn't say anything else, but his smile was wide and pleased, pride resting delicately on the bow of his upper lip when he flashed Newt an almost shy glance.

They decided on waking Aris. They decided he'd had enough sleep to get him through the day and the boys packed up to begin the long journey down to the ground. Minho had chosen a tree a little way aways this time and they wandered down, calling for him when they were sure they'd found the right tree. When he didn't answer right away they craned their necks, looking up into the tree the boy had slept in the night before. When they were certain he wasn't there they began to worry.

"Why would he go off like that?" Aris asked, his round eyes fearful as he hovered at Thomas's side.

"Dunno. We'd have heard if anybody came along, right Tommy?"

Thomas nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah we would've. He must have headed of on his own."

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, adjusting his quiver for the sake of doing something. He was surprisingly saddened by the missing presence of the asian boy. He'd known any alliance forged in the Arena would have to temporary, of course. If it wasn't ended by one of you dying, or leaving the other for dead, then it would have to end with one killing the other. Still he felt the impact of Minho's departure. It wasn't like losing a friend, really, and yet that's what it felt like. He'd known him just over a whole day. It wasn't like they'd been friends for long. If they were, even. He pushed it to the side when he looked back up, studying the trees on either side.

"There was nothing keeping him. He didn't have to stay."

Aris opened his mouth, but then he frowned and closed it again, looking like a child who just remembered something older people did, even if no-one fully understood it. Like why people had to die. Or leave.

"He could've." Newt murmured, his expression the same mix of disheartened and yet unsurprised that Thomas was feeling.

"Come on." Thomas said, trying to sound a little brighter. "We should get a move on. Stretch our legs, see what's out there. And we need to find food. Maybe fill the water up again."

Aris nodded, seeming more at ease that there was a structure being put in place. When Thomas smiled at him Aris smiled shyly back, and Thomas tried not to think about how easy it would be to kill him. How easily he might fall if they were cornered. It made him equal parts angry and resigned, and the angry part simply growled at the resignation.

Their journey was uneventful. They tread old ground, Thomas taking down a duck with an arrow and a little while later another. They ate around the covered ashes of their small fire, savouring the meal and their luck - they'd come across nobody else. It was a relief, a welcome break from the first two days. Without Minho they decided to wait until dark to approach the water, and if their luck held and they had the chance to wash two days of old sweat and the irritation of the awful heat they'd take it.

Thomas was absently licking the grease from the fingers of one hand and twirling a long twig in the other. It was roughly the same thickness as his arrows and although the ones from the fated quiver were treated wood, hard and perfectly balanced, he was pretty sure he could forge some new ones from branches. It could never hurt to have more than the ten or so arrows the quiver had come with, and it gave his hands something to do while his mind wandered and they awaited the night.

He was sitting at a right-angle to where Newt rested his back against a trunk, and the blonde's shoulder stirred every now and then as he flicked his grip on the pocketknife. When they'd seen what he was doing his group-mates - his allies - had quickly offered to help. Aris was genuinely curious, and as they'd eaten and sat around their dying fire he had talked.

Slowly at first and then more when he knew they were listening he spoke of his district, how he seemed to have the same natural flare for wiring and computers that his father had. He told tales of his mother, admitting sheepishly how he hadn't slept the first night because he missed her wishing him Goodnight. He spoke at length of his best friend Rachel who lived next door and had been his friend since she was born. The girl whose cries had almost gotten him killed, Thomas knew.

Aris's voice wobbled often as he spoke but he didn't cry. His words were warm and the Gladers could hear how he loved the people he spoke about. They listened, his quiet voice a pleasant sound in the camp they had made. The kid almost looked like he had forgotten where they were, what they were, and Thomas found himself feeling sad again. But a little part of him was warmed by it. Despite the awfulness around them they had created a safety between them, a cocoon inside their cage. And although it was temporary it was pleasant nonetheless.

It had given them something to do, their own focus creating a lull in the air between them comfortable despite the exhausting heat. It was ridiculously hot, and although he felt like he was almost breathing steam Thomas continued to lean against Newt's side. It was too hot, and only served to make them both even warmer, a damp stickiness gluing his shirt to Newt's. And yet when he twisted his head to look at the blonde Newt only met his gaze with an almost smile, his face as flushed from the heat as it ad been the day before. Every now and then he would tilt his head to the left, bumping his temple against the crown of Thomas's head just because. It was nice.

Amidst the horror of the Arena they had constructed a fragile peace.
A sanctuary not in space but in name.

But the thing about the GameMakers is that they don't like sanctuary, and they don't care much for peace after the novelty has worn off.

After all, it's not terribly entertaining to watch three tributes as they lounge around the ashes of a campfire with full stomachs and shave sticks into arrows, now is it?