When they awoke the next day Winston seemed to be better. He wasn't attacking them, but what scared Julia was that he only laid there. While everyone was packing she kept him company. They only managed to have few small talks, with Julia trying to apologise every time in a while, but he wouldn't let her.

After a while Fry took her place, seeing as both of them were in a rather not talkative mood. But then who was?

All this time every now and then Julia could feel a pair of eyes burning holes in her figure. She didn't have to look to know to who they belonged, but when she would look she could see it was, as she predicted, Thomas, and when their eyes met he stared at her for a second or two before turning his gaze away.

So Thomas didn't trusted Julia and Julia didn't trust Thomas. Yet Newt trusted both of them and somehow it made a silent agreement not to show any discomfort around each other, at least not more than necessary.

They were almost ready to leave when Frypan screamed for them. They rushed to him in brief seconds, inside knowing well what this meant. They knew this the night before, they knew this when they started packing, but somehow it was easier to ignore it then. Now here they stood, surrounding their friend's weak and dying body.

For Julia it was mostly silent. She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but she didn't have to. She saw Winston grab a gun, but he didn't reach it, because Fry didn't let him. She couldn't look as her old friend was slowly giving up all his hope. She turned around when he started begging. It was something she simply couldn't accept.

When he reached out for them, raised his hand her eyes filled with tears. And then Newt moved. He took a gun out of Fry's hand and he haltingly started walking up to Winston.

Before Julia understood what was really going on she was already holding Newt's hand pushing him back. He turned to her and the sadness in his intense, brown eyes mirrored hers.

"Newt…" A faint whisper died somewhere in between them in the scorch. It sounded like a question. It sounded like a helpless beg. For the first time Julia feared Newt and his actions that were about to happen.

He squeezed her hand softly, his gaze not even for a slight second turned away from hers. He slowly let go of her hand. Julia felt as a hot tear ran down her dry cheek as fear took over her.

Then Newt kneeled down and put the gun in Winston's hand. He held it for a while, and though Julia or the rest of them couldn't see the look on Newt's face inside they felt the same. But between Winston and Newt a bond was created in this one moment, just as if they were remembering all those after all happy day's in a Glade and as if they were saying sorry for the things they didn't know they should have apologised and as if they were saying a silent goodbye.

"Thanks, Newt." And this time they all heard it, and suddenly it all became real. They had to go, no they had to run for their lives, and they would never see Winston again.

With that Newt stood up, unable to carry the weight of a still strong gaze of his friend. He didn't say anything, he didn't know if he was going to regret it later, but for now there were no right words left to say. So Newt walked away.

Julia caught his hand in his while he was passing her. He stopped for a second as if giving her time to hesitate or say goodbye, but as another tear ran down her face she also realized there was no more for her to say.

They were the first to walk away, soon followed by Aris, then Minho and later Fry. Soon they were all on their way. And no one but Thomas was to hear Winston's last words.

He asked for Thomas to care for his friends, to save them, all of them. And somehow Thomas felt Winston's last wish was for him to trust Julia, because the way he said all of them just as if he knew Thomas found Julia untrustworthy. Or maybe he was just imagining things, or scorch was making his mind exhausted? It might have also been the fact that when Thomas was rethinking the words the shotgun was heard not so far away.

And they all stopped. Some of them turned. Some of them held their breath. All of them cried. Newt held Julia in a tight embrace as she collapsed in his arms.

But they had to collect themselves quickly. They had a long way to go and they had no time to waste.