A/N: Apparently my chapters are getting longer and longer towards the end of my fic..which I suppose I should tell you is coming in the near future. But I'll definitely state it clearly in the author's notes when it's time for the last chapter, so don't you worry that I would just leave you off without saying goodbye! So, last chapter wasn't the end even though it might've seemed like it. Here's the next chapter; this was actually one of my favourites to write, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well! x
Wake up now and start to dream
I wish you would stay 'cause you are all I need
Shadows. Shapeless forms. Voiceless whispers.
Those were everything Newt knew.
He wandered amongst them, he stood still trying to make them out better, and then he tried to run away from them.
It was no use, of course. They were everywhere. There was no getting away from them.
It was all too confusing for words.
He had no concept of time whatsoever, so he had no means at all to estimate how much time had passed when it started.
All of a sudden, a beacon of light shot through the darkness, its brightness nearly blinding Newt in its intensity. Slowly, however, his vision adjusted, and as soon as he was able, Newt stepped closer despite himself, lured in by the light like a moth. He reached out towards it, but no matter how far he went, he never seemed to be able to touch it. He narrowed his eyes against the brightness and kept inching forward, his mind on the edge since he knew that any moment now he would inevitably reach the source of the odd phenomenon.
There was nothing but light in his vision anymore, surrounding him everywhere, but still he couldn't feel a thing.
Until suddenly, he did.
There was a sound like thunder, and a strong wind hit Newt out of nowhere, tearing at him from every direction. A sharp, burning pain licked its way through his skin; through his very bones, travelling all over his body in a nano-second, making everything inside him hurt. He would've cried out in agony, except he had no voice; he would've collapsed and fainted at the amount of pain he was in, except he had no control over his own body; the awful wind kept him upright, and it shook him up inside out. He could feel something inside him crack open at the tugging and prodding of the wind, like a key turning in a lock to release it. Then something started to pour out of the crack, filling him up, the flow of it never seeming to come to an end.
It was all too confusing, it was all too much for him to understand. Everything was mingled and layered and blurred; there were faces, voices, names, places, thoughts, and feelings swirling through him, and he simply couldn't get them in order. Whenever he tried to grasp even a sliver of the endless stream of memories flowing through him and concentrate to make sense of it, it shattered into thousands of pieces, each piece containing a lost piece of himself, and they all slipped through him, out of his reach.
Newt was getting desperate beyond words until a deep, pulsing ache cut through his skull, his vision narrowing down until the spin of his mind slowed down enough for him to be able to grasp one swirling thread drifting around, and slowly but surely a whole, solid memory slid into his consciousness, filling all his senses.
Air flowed in and out of his chest in uneven shudders. His eyes were squeezed shut and blood rushed through his veins, his pulse almost deafeningly loud in his ears. He lifted his trembling hands to cover his ears, but he realised that it wasn't just his hands that were hard to control; in fact, he was trembling all over, and he could even feel his teeth clattering together like raindrops rattling against a metal roof. Panic was a living beast inside him, clawing his insides in a haste to get out.
Same restless, painful thoughts circled through his head, leaving room for nothing else.
I shouldn't be here... I don't belong here, I never could... I belong with my family even if they-... Why did they do this? Was it my fault? Was it-?
His quiet sob echoed in the small space under the large staircase where he was hiding, away from everyone else. He was afraid and sad and confused, and worst of all, he was completely alone. It had all sunk in a while ago, and he just couldn't bear it. It was all so wrong, in every way possible. His shoulders shook at the force of his sobs, and he clutched his arms around his small, bony knees even tighter, making himself even smaller.
Suddenly there was a voice in front of him.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Newt startled a bit at the unfamiliar, high-pitched voice of a small child. Slowly, he raised his head from his knees, and blinked his swollen, tear-filled eyes open.
A young boy, maybe even younger than himself, was crouching a few feet in front of him, his big, hazel-brown eyes looking curiously at him. He had brown, short hair and a friendly-looking, round face. His dark eyebrows knitted together and a puzzled expression took over his face as he took in Newt's tear-stained cheeks which were flushed from crying, and his quivering form.
"Leave me alone," Newt uttered with a shaky voice, leaning his back further against the wall behind him, trying to get away from the boy.
The small wrinkle on the dark-haired boy's brow deepened further as he heard Newt's words, but soon a determined expression settled over his features.
"No, I won't. Why are you crying?" the boy asked, sitting down and mirroring Newt's position.
Newt stared at the boy, confused. Those hazel eyes that looked straight into his own deep-brown ones were filled with sincerity, and somehow, inexplicably, Newt felt his guards dropping just a little.
He relaxed his shoulders as he bit his lip and whispered, "I don't belong here. I – I miss my family. I want to go back but they- these people won't let me. I don't want to be here!" Another sob escaped his throat and Newt quickly pressed his forehead back to his knees. "I don't want to be here alone."
Several moments passed in silence as Newt was trying to get his breathing back under control. He was sure the other boy had already sneaked out to make fun of him with his friends, but Newt faced another surprise as the young boy spoke up again.
"I can be your friend."
Newt's breath caught in his throat, and slowly he faced the other boy again.
"Really?" he whispered, holding his breath.
"Yeah," the dark-haired boy assured, his lips curving into a crooked, happy smile.
The little boy extended his arm to Newt. "My name's Thomas."
Newt blinked once, hesitating for a moment, but then he reached out and took hold of Thomas's hand, shaking it a little.
"I'm Newt."
Suddenly Thomas's smiling face blurred in Newt's eyes and their whole surroundings seemed to fade. The familiar pain stabbed through his head, throwing him out of the vision. He didn't have much time to wonder nor prosess what he had just experienced until another memory pushed its way into his consciousness without his own effort, taking the pain momentarily away again.
He was in a classroom where everything, simply everything, was white; from the floor to the ceiling, every surface and piece of furniture was pure, clean white. He was twirling a white pen between his fingers, his elbows leaning into the desk in front of him.
He was older now, his body still small but leaner. He sat in a slightly forward-slumping posture, his legs crossed under the desk. Absentmindedly, Newt started nipping at the end of his pen with his lips, and all the while his eyes were transfixed on the person sitting in front of him, on the next row of desks.
Thomas sat there, in his usual place, his back to Newt and his focus on the front of the class where their professor was teaching them something related to human brain and its complex structure. Every once in a while, the dark-haired boy would scribble something down on his notebook or raise his hand to ask a specifying question.
It was probably clear for the entire class that this subject was Thomas's passion. The boy's curiosity was beyond limits, and he seemed to be able to absorb ridiculous amounts of information and utilize his knowledge in practice, too.
Newt knew he should've been paying attention, since even though he was no thick-headed simpleton, his mind didn't grasp the complexity of the theory they had to deal with daily if he didn't put effort in it.
Somewhere in the distance, Newt's ears could pick up a cool and collected female voice speaking, but his mind shut it away completely as he was once again helplessly distracted.
Sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. Sometimes, it was just impossible.
Hell, who was he kidding? Not thinking about Thomas was absolutely impossible for him most of the time.
At present, Newt's eyes were mapping the expanse of Thomas's shoulders; the way his back muscles and shoulder blades moved under his pale grey shirt whenever the boy adjusted his position or moved his arms when he shuffled with his things on his desk, leafed through his books, or took notes.
Next up, Newt found his eyes glued to the nape of Thomas's neck where his dark-brown hair curled just the slightest bit, and he was wondering what it would feel like to slide his fingers across the sensitive skin there...
"Newton?"
Newt blinked, twice, shaking his head just a little, finally focusing his gaze on the front of the classroom where their professor was staring at Newt intently, her eyes narrowed.
"Yes, professor Paige?" Newt asked, clearing his throat and straightening his spine.
At the edge of his vision, Newt could sense Thomas turning his upper body slightly to glance at Newt, his eyebrows raised. Newt could only barely resist the urge to glance back at Thomas, but he didn't dare let his eyes drift from professor Paige, not right now.
"I asked you to remind the class what are the main parts of the brain connected to memory. Two times, now. Do I have to ask you to leave the class, or can you finally give us the answer?" professor Paige inquired, seemingly irritated. The white-clothed woman crossed her arms over her chest, rising her chin in an expectant manner.
Newt's heart thumped in his chest hollowly as his mind suddenly went completely blank. He swallowed nervously and opened and closed his mouth a few times before he stuttered, "I-I um-"
Suddenly Thomas rose up from his desk, his chair screeching against the floor. The boy folded his arms behind his back and bowed his head down slightly as he said with a clear and apologetic tone, "Excuse me, professor, but may I please use the bathroom?"
Professor Paige turned her attention to Thomas now, and a small, genuine smile spread on her lips. "Of course, Thomas. Please be quick, though," she answered, nodding her head shortly.
Thomas thanked her, smiling, and turned around, glancing down at the panicking blond. Just as the boy stepped past Newt, he winked his eye and stumbled on his own feet, suddenly leaning very close to Newt and taking hold of his shoulder to support himself.
"Woa, clumsy me," Thomas hurried to say, letting out a short, nervous laugh as he quickly straightened up.
The whole incident was over in three seconds, and Newt was still recovering from the sudden closeness of the boy as he swept his sweaty palms against his trousers, trying to will his flushed face to cool down. Then his hand touched something smooth on top of his thigh, almost dropping it to the floor.
Closing his fist tightly around the small piece of paper, Newt glanced behind him just as Thomas disappeared through the door. As it clicked shut, he turned his attention back to his lap and unfolded the paper, revealing a few lines of Thomas's scribbling, a smile tugging at his lips as he read the words quickly.
Now that Thomas was gone, professor Paige returned her attention to Newt and her appearance changed from friendly to back to vicious again.
Newt raised his head, his confidence restored, but just as he was about to open his mouth, the scene before him blurred again, everything spiraling out of his reach as familiar ache cut through him before another memory claimed him, even faster than last time.
He was walking down one of the countless corridors that looked almost identical to each other. It was funny to think how all those years ago this place had seemed so enormous and almost labyrinth-like, but now Newt could have walked blind-folded and still find his way around – well, at least on the sections where the kids were allowed to roam.
It was soon midnight, and he should have been in his dormitory already but once again, Newt had lost the track of time completely while solving the mess that was his current assignment. What he wouldn't give to one day get to know what bugging purpose did all their stupid tests and tasks, which they were put through, serve.
The corridor Newt was currently walking on was lit only dimly, but he could see that one of the many doors lining the walls was slightly ajar; a sliver of bright light shone through the crack to fight the shadows. Newt was about to simply walk past it and be on his way, but then his ears picked up a familiar voice, making him halt into a stop in the middle of the corridor. Newt's brow furrowed, and he tried to steel his hearing to make sense of what was going on, but he soon realised he was too far away to make out any words. After a moment of indecision, he silently stepped closer to stand just behind the door, and leaned in.
"...please, Ava, there must be something you can do-"
"No, Thomas, there isn't, and you know that all too well yourself. We've been through this countless of times, and you understand the stakes here better than most in this whole organization. You gave us your word that you would do anything it takes to-"
"And you gave me your word that you wouldn't hurt them! They are my friends, Ava, I can't – I can't do this to them."
A silence ensued, and Newt was holding his breath behind the door. What the hell is going on here?
Soon Thomas spoke up again.
"There must be another way. Surely you can pick another group for the Trials-"
"Thomas.. I know how hard this must be for you. But you know there is no going back now. You've seen their results and their potential – they are all special, and vital for the Trials's success. Alby, Winston, Minho, George, Newton, and others – we need them all..."
At the mention of his friends' names as well as his own, Newt's heart skipped a beat, and his brains froze completely, causing him to momentarily zone out of the conversation.
Newt had no idea what professor Paige and Thomas were on about behind the door. He knew that Thomas was sometimes volunteering on some projects WICKED had going on, projects that many of the other kids had no chance to attend to. The talk about trials was no news for Newt, not really, since basically they had been part of a never-ending cycle of tests and examinations since they were small kids.
What worried Newt, and got the hairs on his neck stand up, however, was the raw emotion that cracked Thomas's voice. The boy sounded truly desperate and his pleadings to change whatever plans had been made for these new trials told Newt that this time something was different; something was wrong.
Suddenly a door somewhere behind Newt was opened, and he was so startled that he couldn't stop the inevitable momentum that caused his already hunched form to stumble forward. He had been leaning into the door so closely that now as his whole body jumped from fright, he lost his balance and was thrown straight against the surface of the door, slamming it tightly shut. A muffled yelp escaped Newt's lips as he steadied himself by leaning his hands against the door, trying to catch his breath.
"What are you doing up here, boy?" a man's baffled voice demanded behind him.
Newt whirled around, and his gaze fell upon a man dressed in white standing in the now open doorway a few yards to Newt's left. The man was holding his other hand around the side of the door he had just stepped through, seemingly in mid-movement since he had been taken aback by the sudden slam of the door ahead.
Newt panicked. There was no other word for it. He knew Thomas and professor Paige would soon burst out from the room behind his back, and even though deep down he knew it would be no use to run, his legs acted before his mind had caught up.
"Hey! Stop!" the man behind him yelled as Newt sprinted away from the door, running towards the other end of the corridor.
A few seconds later, Newt's ears registered the sound of a door being thrown open, and then professor Paige's strict voice demanded, "What's going on here?"
Newt risked a glance back over his shoulder, and just then Thomas stepped to the corridor, his eyes immediately focusing on Newt, and confusion filled his eyes as he called out Newt's name.
Professor Paige, however, wasn't confused at all. Just as Newt reached the end of the corridor and turned to the next, her voice shouted loud and clear behind Newt.
"Seize him!"
Newt could hear the protests Thomas immediately let out, but the sound of his running feet made it impossible to make out the words anymore.
As he had feared, he didn't get much further until a strong hand seized the back of his shirt and slammed him into the nearest wall. The impact was so strong and immediate that it managed to knock Newt out, and everything went black...
...until suddenly, Newt opened his eyes with an exclamation of pain on his lips as his unfocused gaze fell upon an awfully bright light shining directly into his face.
He tried to raise his arms to cover his burning eyes but it was no use; his arms as well as his legs were tightly seized by unyielding straps against the surface his body lay upon. That didn't stop him from trying to break out with all the strength he had left, ignoring the waves of pain flowing through his entire body and the massive headache pounding inside his skull.
"Let me out, let me out letmeout!" Newt screamed, his croaky voice tinged by no small amount of panic, his heart trying to break its way out of his chest.
In his haste to get free, Newt had paid no attention to his surroundings, but suddenly there were voices and movement all around him, unfamiliar to his ears.
"Quickly, he needs a bigger dose-"
"I told you it wouldn't be enough-"
"Shut up, and just fix it!"
"Newton, please calm down! You're in no danger, we're only trying to help you-"
Newt turned his head wildly from side to side, his vision still having trouble to focus on anything as his headache was only getting worse. His muscles stayed taut and trashing, however, and his mind was so, so clouded he couldn't understand the heated conversation around him.
There was a buzzing in his ears and a sudden wave of nausea forced him to rest his head back on the flat pillow underneath and squeeze his eyes momentarily shut.
Suddenly there was a cold grip on his wrist and Newt's eyes flew open, his gaze finally focusing on the blurry figure of a woman wearing white clothes and a facemask, speaking words that Newt's overwhelmed mind failed to register, her tone reassuring. His eyes travelled lower, and Newt felt his stomach drop as his eyes picked the all too familiar symbol and the word "WICKED" printed on the front of the uniform the woman was wearing.
Just as a desperate string of "No"'s slipped past his trembling lips, Newt felt a thick needle pierce the sore skin of his forearm, sinking in, and after a few heartbeats, Newt's eyes fell shut and the chaos inside his skull settled, once and for all.
*.*.*
An undefined amount of time passed. It could have been hours, it could have been days, or weeks even, for all Newt knew.
His hazy mind fluctuated in the sea of thoughts and dreams, nightmares and emptiness, hopes and memories, and there was no telling what was true and what only existed in his head. His moments on the surface, those glimpses of consciousness, were brief and rare, and soon enough the heavy waves pulled him under and emptied his mind again.
Most of those moments when Newt's mind pulled free from the smothering grasp of the various drugs running through his system were over before he could fully comprehend it, and he could never piece together a concrete realisation of what was going on around him. He got only unattached flashes; streaks of pain, steady beeping of some machine beside him, click of a door shutting closed somewhere, shuffling of papers, distant voices, incomprehensible words, the feel of the cloth beneath his fingers. Never did he manage to see the bigger picture, and every time he came close to regaining a memory, it slipped just out of his reach, and then his mind shut down again.
*.*.*
Like a cold morning breeze, a puff of air flew against Newt's face, ruffling his hair just a bit. A door clicked shut in the distance and soft steps shuffled on a tile floor. Newt could feel a faint tingling on the tips of his fingers, and breath flowed easily and steadily in and out of his lungs. He could not open his eyes, however; no matter how hard he willed his eyelids to move, they stayed as if glued together.
Newt could hear voices talking nearby, and he tried to pick up the words to comprehend them, but his brain had hard time obeying his wishes.
Eventually he was able to distinguish a low, male voice from somewhere on his left.
"...no use keeping them like that for much longer. We have to make the decision, and soon."
There was a small pause until someone on Newt's right sighed loudly. Then a woman spoke up, tiredness lacing her tone.
"I know. But I mean, it's not much of a decision, really, or is it? Things have spiralled out of our control. The Trials are nowhere near finished, we simply don't have enough data, and now Group A is falling apart and both Subjects A2 and A5 are useless-"
The words seemed to make no sense to Newt's groggy mind, and it took all his concentration to keep up with the conversation.
"Now, now, let's not go ahead of things. These latest developments have certainly taken us by surprise, but the Patterns they've created may be even more valuable to us than we realise. Let's not lose our hope just yet."
"But we can't just go on from where we left, now can we? We allowed things to go too far, and in the process we have lost a few of our most potential Subjects. If they were to reach full consciousness, they'd most likely remember everything. They simply know too much, that's all there is to it. We just can't go on from this like we did before."
A ghost of a feeling that something important was happening here tugged at Newt's mind, but it was too confusing for him to figure out.
Slow, slightly squeaky steps walked around the room for a good while until the woman finally answered.
"No. We cannot. But nothing prevents us from taking benefit from the Patterns these developments created. I'm just saying, this wasn't all for nothing. In fact, I have a feeling that these Patterns will be quite useful to us in the future. You must remember, we all knew that the Variables weren't set into stone. We were forced to allow room for miscalculations from the start. We simply have to make the best out of this turn of events, and move on."
All this talk about Groups, Subjects, Patterns, and Variables made Newt's heart beat faster in his chest, and he could feel his brain buzzing from the effort of trying to make sense of it all. He felt as if the realisation was just on the tip of his tongue, and he strained his hearing further, willing himself to understand...
When the man uttered out his next words, his voice was hesitant, almost sad.
"But is there..any chance..that we could restore-"
"No. In that, I believe we have no choice. Their memories have to be rewiped. We cannot risk the other Subjects nor the Trials..."
Then, finally, the realisation hit Newt.
They are going to steal my memories. Again.
As if his thought had triggered something inside his mind, the crackled and strained dam that kept all his memories and conscious thoughts at bay was suddenly crashed into pieces and the onslaught of memories flooded his mind like an enormous river flowing over its barriers.
Flashes of himself as a little kid, playing with his dog, eating pancakes with his sister, being kissed on the forehead by his mum before she said goodnight; flashes of a dark-haired boy crouching next to him, smiling his crooked smile at him, introducing him to his friends; flashes of white-clothed people, of needles and questions and tests; flashes of the day when he woke up in the Box without his memories, meeting Alby, Minho, and all his friends at the Glade, trying to find his place in his new home; flashes of fighting and kissing and running and horror and pain and joy and love and oh how it all was so messed up and so confusing in his head, and it hurt- it hurt so bloody much-
"It is such a pity, though. After all the Variables they went through, and the ones they were yet to overcome.."
"Yes, I agree. But as I said, let's not- Wait. Is A5 waking up?"
The machine next to Newt was beeping furiously, and Newt knew something was wrong; his skin felt hot all over, covered in sweat, his heart thumped wildly in his chest, and his breathing grew more and more frantic as his shattered thoughts swirled painfully through his throbbing mind...
"It seems so- look at his charts-"
As the pain increased in every part of his body again, Newt heard as if from far away how more people rushed in through the door and started fussing and talking simultaneously all around him, making it impossible for Newt to keep up with anything, especially since his eyes still wouldn't open. In fact, no part of his body answered his brain's orders as he desperately tried to move. He was glued to the spot, his body unresponsive, as his mind was going overboard inside his skull.
"Damnit, quickly, double his dose! He must be kept sedated until the procedure is done and over with-"
"Hurry up, his body is failing-"
Suddenly a thought surfaced itself through Newt's stormy and pain-filled consciousness.
Tommy.
I'm going to lose him.
Once again, they are going to take him away from me, and there is nothing I can do about it.
His heart breaking in his chest, Newt only vaguely felt the pain as another needle was sunk through his skin, more drugs seeping into his system.
Soon, Newt felt his thoughts starting to scatter further, his mind turning hazy at the edges as darkness threatened to take over.
One more voice got through his haze, making his heart freeze.
"Someone please summon Ava. She'll do what needs to be done."
Then an all-consuming numbness embraced his whole being as the shadows reclaimed him.