Part of him wished he hadn't woken up.

The wind had begun to blow, sharp and raw, beating against his already throbbing body. Newt wrapped his arms tighter around himself, but it did nothing to stop the chill that stole over him, inside and out. His head ached. His chest, his side were on fire. Everything hurt.

He cracked open a swollen eyelid but.. nothing. Nothing but a blur of white, growing darker as twilight began to creep over the land. He was alone.

Newt touched a hand to his side and felt the wet, sticky cloth beneath his fingers. His head swam at the sensation. He pulled out his wand, choked out "episky," but nothing happened except a few sparks from the tip of his wand. If anything, his body seemed to start aching even more.

He pushed a hand against the frozen ground, shivering as the heat rushed out of his hand to melt the snow. The other grasped his side. It was too much work. Newt fell back on his uninjured side with a groan.

Helpless, that's what he was. He was too weak, to far away to apparate to someone who could help. No one knew where he had gone, no one really cared.

"I'm going to die," Newt whispered.

It was a flat observation, something that slipped out before he could stop it. The thought came with no panic, no enormous flood of sorrow.

No. That was was a lie.

There was a bit of panic, some sorrow. His creatures. Who would take care of them? Who would protect them?

He hugged the trunk close to his body, letting moisture slip out of his eyes as the wind assaulted his face.

"I'm so sorry."

He wished she were here, that she could somehow know that he hadn't meant to hurt her, that he was an absolute idiot, that he'd lost control. That he wished, more than anything, to go back to that moment and change things so that it had never happened.

Then came a noise, a small cooing noise. A sound like a song, a melody.

Newt raised his head and saw the her. The thunderbird. For a seconded he blinked, wondering if he'd passed out again.

No, this had to be real.

Please, let it be real.

Newt shoved himself up into a kneeling position, ignoring the barbs of pain that shot into his side. "Hey girl," he said. His voice came out raspy, the edges of his words splintering in his dry thoat.

The thunderbird took a step forward, her head down, her tail dragging on the snow. Her eyes were mournful, as if she was asking, What did I do wrong?

"I-It wasn't your fault," Newt said. "It wasn't your fault at all. You did nothing wrong. Noth-nothing, you hear me?"

She raised her head a fraction, then took another tiny step forward.

It hurt to talk, to even breathe, but he had to keep going. "I was the one who did wrong. I hurt you, and I'm so sor-sorry." He closed his eyes, taking small, shallow breaths as the pain in his ribs redoubled.

Then he felt the nudge of her beak against his face. The melody came again, soothing to his ears and the pain seemed to ease, the tension in his body dissolved.

"Good girl," he whispered. "That's my good girl."

Queenie hummed softly as she strode around the kitchen, lifting a hand to inspect a plate. Oh dear, another cracked one. For all her adeptness at cooking, she was never very good with cracks. She could put things back together, but the cracks would always remain, stubborn, resisting all her attempts to make them go away.

Work had been so dull-

There was a loud crack from outside the door. Queenie jumped, dropping the plate, which promptly shattered. Merlin's beard. She waved her wand and the pieces flew together in a haphazard way, before she hurried to the door.

It was Newt, with a magnificent creature beside him, a snowy white bird which just barely fit inside the hallway. She could feel tension radiating off the creature as their gaze darted around, their feathers poofing out like a startled cat. They had such beautiful eyes, a perfect circle of black within pools of gold.

Then Newt coughed. "Wouldn't get in the trunk. Insisted... I get myself to safety," he mumbled, sagging against the doorframe.

He lifted his gaze to meet her and his thoughts flooded into her own. Guilt, regret, but above all... pain. Queenie gasped, for a second taken aback by the force of it all.

Blood was dripping down his side onto the floorboards... oh, their landlady wouldn't like that, and a large purple bruise was swelling under his eye. He was shivering and shaking like a kitten that had been left out in the rain, and promptly swayed where he stood.

"Newt, honey," Queenie breathed, stepping forward. "What happened?"

"I..."

A rush of thoughts, memories, burst through her: the bird, the men, the knife wound, the reckless flight to New York, apperating to her door, and You're reading my mind, aren't you?

And Newt crumpled into a heap at her feet.

"Newt!" Queenie gasped, dropping to her knees beside him. He was still breathing, if a little fast and shallow.

The bird took a step back, making uneasy noises in the back of their throat.

"Oh hush, dear," Queenie said to the thunderbird, grabbing Newt under the arms and ungracefully dragging him into the room, hoping very much that the landlady, or Tina, or anyone would not choose to come into the stairwell at that moment.

She somehow managed to convince the bird to come inside, then picked uo her wand and lifted Newt onto the couch. She gently pulled off his blooodstained coat, then lifted the edge of his shirt, trying to get a better look at the wound. It was a nasty cut, deep and still oozing. He must have lost a lot of blood, poor dear. Purple and blue bruises spread across his torso, and it felt like he might have cracked a rib.

Queenie began to murmur healing spells, summoning bandages to wrap around his torso. Newt let out a soft groan, his eyelids flitting open. He looked at her, then blinked. She could sense him trying to process how he had gotten here.

"You passed out, sweetie," Queenie said, reaching up to brush his matted bangs out of his pallid face.

He grimaced. "Oh. That must have been rather... undignified." Then his eyes widened. "The thunderbird, is she alright?"

Queenie turned her head. The thunderbird was standing near one of the walls, head down, tail between her legs. She was torn, wanting to come nearer, but not daring.

"A little startled, that's all." Then she frowned. Now that she looked closer, the poor bird looked just as beaten and bruised as Newt. "Newt, what happened to her?"

Newt opened his mouth, then winced, touching his side.

"Don't talk, just think."

After a second, Newt nodded. Some men... they tortured her. Tried to find her weaknesses. So they could "protect" themselves.

He took a breath and sat up, one hand reaching out to stroke the thunderbird's face. "There was a fight... between me and the men. And... she got caught... in the crossfire. I hurt her... and she still came back to save me."

"You were probably the first human to show kindness to her," Queenie said. "Of course she came back." She leaned forward with her chin in her hands. "What are you going to call her?"

Newt looked up from where he was tracing his wand over her wounds, thinking. The thunderbird gave a soft cry, like the first few notes of a wonderful song, and Newt smiled.

"Melody. Her name is Melody."

The End

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved and followed! You are the best! :D