The Storm: Chapter Twenty
Maya's soft sobs reverberated in the air, punctuating the heavy silence that enveloped us. We clung to each other tightly, seeking solace in our shared embrace. Her scent was tainted with smoke, her tear-streaked face a canvas of dust and dried blood.
Time seemed to blur together since the moment of devastation. Yet, amidst the chaos, I remained trapped in a void of emotions. Instead of succumbing to the overwhelming sadness like Maya, I found myself grappling with a profound numbness. It was as if my ability to feel had been stripped away, leaving behind an eerie calm in its wake.
My thoughts swirled in a foggy haze, a persistent headache throbbing at the base of my skull. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach, a constant reminder of the dread that lingered within me. But the worst sensation was the dull ache in the centre of my back. The place where they extracted the liquid from my lungs. It pulsed with my heartbeat. Reminding me of all the moments that I encountered near death. Too many.
Brenda's voice cut through the haze, her words a distant echo in my ears. She tended to the wound on my hand, her touch gentle yet firm. Despite her reassurances that it wouldn't require stitches, I couldn't shake the feeling of failure that gnawed at me. I withdrew my arm, cradling it against my chest, unwilling to face the reality of my own vulnerability.
"The arm," she sighed. "Feeling will come back eventually. I dunno how long it will be."
I pulled it away from her and tucked it into my chest. I didn't care what she had to say. I wanted her to go. A white jagged scar marred its way from the back of my hand up my arm to my elbow, a stark symbol of the chaos that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Every glance at it served as a painful reminder that I was incapable of preventing the tragedies that unfolded around me.
Everything felt numb.
Why couldn't I force myself to grab hold of him?
Everything's your fault.
Everything's my fault.
An hour slipped by unnoticed, marked only by the gentle rise and fall of Maya's sleeping form against my shoulder. Somewhere in that passage of time, Newt had joined us, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of chaos. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he arrived; time seemed to fold in on itself, blurring into a single indistinct memory.
My gaze flickered briefly to where Newt had assisted Minho with Brenda and Thomas, their figures now nestled on cots further inside the Berg. Minho stood sentinel over them, a silent guardian in the dimly lit space. Meanwhile, Newt settled beside me, his arm draped reassuringly around my waist.
We hadn't moved from the ramp. We both couldn't bear it.
Not a word passed between anyone.
Only the sound of the engine broke through the silence.
Newt's voice pierced the stillness, his question hanging in the air like a whispered prayer. "Where do you think we are?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the far end of the hold.
I didn't respond. I had no words left to exhaust.
"I wanna say somewhere over a rocky mountain," Newt's voice broke through the heavy silence, his words a stark contrast to the mechanical hum of the engine. "Where there's actual snow on top of it. Do you remember what snow was like?"
His voice held a wistful tone, a yearning for memories long buried beneath the weight of our current reality. But my mind remained stubbornly silent, refusing to engage in the whimsical nostalgia he attempted to evoke.
No reply.
"Me either," he remarked, undeterred by my silence. "All I remember was that it's white and fluffy and super cold."
His attempt at light-hearted banter grated against my frayed nerves, and before I could stop myself, frustration boiled over, lacing my words with a sharp edge. "Can you stop talking about snow?" I snapped, the words escaping before I could rein them in.
I shifted away from him, my sudden movement rousing Maya from her slumber. She blinked sleepily, her features creased with confusion as she surveyed the tension crackling between Newt and me. With a soft murmur of apology, Maya disentangled herself from my embrace, her movements distant as she retreated further into the Berg, seeking solace in solitude.
Regret prickled at the edges of my consciousness, mingling with the simmering anger that lingered beneath the surface. I had let my emotions get the better of me, lashing out at Newt for a harmless comment born of longing and nostalgia. But the damage was done, and now, all I could do was watch as Maya slipped away, the distance between us widening with each passing moment.
Newt draped his arm around me, pulling me gently into the warmth of his chest. I offered no resistance, my body weary and drained of energy. His touch trailed lightly over my hair, a tender gesture that momentarily eased the weight of the world pressing down on me. A soft kiss planted on the side of my head carried with it a whispered reassurance, "Everything's gonna be alright."
I mustered a feeble response, my voice strained from hours of silence. "I don't think it will," I admitted, the weight of uncertainty heavy in my words. After that, conversation dwindled into silence, the only sounds the rhythmic jolting of the Berg and the faint rise and fall of Newt's chest as it rocked me into a fitful slumber.
Reluctantly, I fought against the pull of sleep, fearing the unknown that awaited me in the realm of dreams. What if I woke to find myself alone, separated from the ones I held dear? The absence of Filip and Chiryoko only heightened my unease, their delayed arrival casting a shadow of doubt over our precarious situation.
As exhaustion finally claimed me, my eyelids grew heavy with each passing second. But just before I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, a whispered declaration from Newt pierced the darkness with unexpected clarity. "I do," he murmured, a vow of unwavering support and devotion that lingered in the air long after consciousness slipped away.
As I stirred awake, my senses slowly coming to life, I found myself nestled in a low cot, cocooned in blankets that were drawn snugly up to my chin. Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to recall how I had ended up here, my memory hazy and fragmented. Had I been moved while I slept? The thought sent a surge of panic coursing through me, threatening to overwhelm my fragile sense of calm.
But then, a gentle touch against my stomach quelled the rising tide of fear, soothing me with its reassuring warmth. I turned to find the golden-haired boy who had tucked us in, his features softened in the peaceful embrace of slumber. For a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the quiet tranquillity of the moment, grateful for the simple pleasure of being close to someone I cherished deeply.
Yet, despite the comforting presence beside me, a heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach, casting a shadow over my fleeting sense of contentment. I should have felt happy, grateful even, for this rare moment of peace. But the capacity for joy seemed to elude me, lost in the tangled web of emotions that threatened to engulf me.
With a heavy heart, I peered over the edge of the cot, taking in the sight of the cargo hold that had become our makeshift refuge. Mismatched furniture dotted the space, each occupied by weary travellers seeking respite from the trials of their journey. Maya and Minho lay curled up on an ugly couch in the corner, their forms obscured beneath layers of blankets. Across from them, I discerned the familiar silhouette of Thomas, his dark hair a stark contrast against the pale fabric of his cot.
Through the open hatch door, I caught a glimpse of Brenda and Jorge huddled together over the flight controls, their voices hushed as they engaged in deep conversation. Despite the late hour and the knowledge that we were all meant to be asleep, they spoke in low tones, their words carrying a sense of urgency that piqued my curiosity. With a quiet resolve, I strained to catch snippets of their conversation, piecing together fragments of their whispered dialogue in the dimly lit cargo hold.
"What do we do with her now?" Brenda's voice cut through the quiet hum of the engine, her words tinged with uncertainty. "Filip never showed with Chiryoko. She was pretty adamant that we had to get her away with Filip."
"We take her as far as we can until we hear otherwise," Jorge replied, his tone solemn. "After that... well, I'm not sure."
"Do you think she's the one they're all worried about?" Jorge's question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.
Brenda considered for a moment before responding, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "Maybe. The Chancellor seemed a little too preoccupied when her vitals came back normal. She didn't seem too pleased about it. Neither did Garcia. They were definitely searching for something."
"Are we safe?" Jorge's voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the thrum of the engine.
Brenda's gaze flicked in my direction, her expression unreadable. "I can't say for certain. Rumour has it she's the sole survivor of the lab accident in Germany. You know, the one where they attempted to weaponize it. But that's just speculation."
A heavy silence settled over the cargo hold as Jorge and Brenda exchanged meaningful glances, their unspoken fears hanging in the air like a shroud.
"Perhaps we should land soon and rest," Brenda suggested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
Jorge hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Give it a few more miles. Better safe than sorry." With a flick of a switch, he signalled for Brenda to check the tracker, a silent acknowledgment of the need for caution.
As Brenda rose from her seat and made her way to the cargo door, I pressed closer to Newt's chest, willing myself to blend into the shadows, to remain unnoticed and unheard. But Brenda's words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the danger I unwittingly posed to those around me.
Everyone was scared of me, and I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that Brenda's words had only confirmed my worst fears.
Minho called the meeting a Gathering once Jorge had awoken and carried on with their journey. They sat up near Jorge so that he could hear whilst he navigated the sky. Brenda sat as far away as possible from me.
They know what you are.
By the end of the Gathering, it was more like an intervention. Minho had decided to play devil's advocate on every issue that Thomas raised, adding many dirty looks toward Brenda the entire time. At points, both boys were going round in circles in their arguments that they kept repeating themselves and counter-arguing the same way.
According to Brenda, Jorge had managed to locate where the others had gone by infiltrating the tracking system of the Berg. They were located in a place called Denver.
"Where's that?" Newt asked before Minho could jump in with a comment.
"Rocky Mountains," Brenda replied. "High elevation. One of the obvious choices for a quarantine zone because the weather's recovered pretty quickly there since the sun flares. As good a place as any to go."
"What's the intentions of us going there?"
"To get rid of the chips from our head," Thomas replied. "WICKED can track and control us through them. Brenda says she knows someone in the city that can get rid of them."
"Does she now? Minho rolled his eyes. "How convenient."
"We need to get these things out of your head. They can't see or hear things but they can still control you if they see fit."
"Only in close courters," Brenda added. "That's why we need to find Hans in Denver. We can say that we are looking for jobs, they will brand us as immune and then we have free range of the city."
"The Berg is unmarked as well," Jorge further included. "We can land in a private airport to keep our cover."
There was a pause in silence as they took in the plan.
"Do you think WICKED are still forcing us to do things? Manipulating us?" Maya quietly said from the corner. She hadn't said much the whole flight. There were dried tear stains down her cheeks, her eyes puffy and red.
"That's why we need to find Hans," Brenda informed her. "I can only guess what WICKED will do. Every other time I've seen them control someone with the device in their brain, that person has been close and under observation. Since you guys are running and they have no way of seeing exactly what you're doing, they might not want to risk it."
Maya's eyes flicked to mine, then she nodded to Brenda before she turned her attention away to the window. She pulled her legs onto the chair and hugged her chest.
"Why not?" Newt queried, he intrigued by what Brenda had said. "Why don't they make us stab ourselves in the leg or chain ourselves to a chair until they find us?"
"As I've said before, they're not close enough," Brenda reiterated, her tone laced with urgency. "They clearly need you, Thomas. They can't afford the risk of you getting hurt or worse. There could be all sorts of threats lurking out there, and the last thing they need is for you to fall into their hands. Once we reach Denver and assess the situation, we'll be better equipped to handle whatever comes our way."
"We're going, and that's final," Thomas declared, his voice firm and resolute, effectively shutting down any further debate. "And as far as I'm concerned, we won't be having another meeting like this for a long, long time."
"Agreed," Minho chimed in, his support unwavering. "Count me in."
"Whatever, it's not like my opinion matters anyway," Newt muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable.
All eyes turned expectantly toward me, but I averted my gaze, feeling a familiar sense of resignation settle over me. Like Newt, I shared similar doubts and uncertainties, but I lacked the energy or motivation to voice them. What was the point.
"We can get you both into the city," Brenda continued. "At least long enough to have Hans work on you both. We'll just be really careful to keep you away fr–"
Newt stood up in a blur of speed and punched the wall behind his chair. "First of all, it doesn't matter if I have the thing in my brain – I'm gonna be past the Gone before too long anyway. And I don't wanna die knowing that I was running round a city infecting everyone."
"No one said anything."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my mind swirling with doubts and questions. Why were they so insistent on bringing us into the city? Couldn't they see the risks involved? Or was it just me who saw us as a liability?
Newt's expression darkened as turned to face the group. "Well, don't hurt yourselves tryin' to talk me into it," he finally growled. "We all know WICKED's fancy cure is never gonna work, and I wouldn't want it to. Not much to live for on this piece-of-klunk planet. I'll stay on the Berg while you guys go into the city." He turned and stomped away, disappearing around the corner to the common area.
"That went well," Minho muttered. "Guess the Gathering is over." He got up and followed Newt.
Brenda frowned, then focused on Thomas. "You're—we're—doing the right thing."
"No, no you're not," I interjected before Thomas could respond, my words firm and decisive. Without waiting for any reaction, I swiftly rose from my chair and moved to follow the two boys out.
Or at least, that had been my intention.
But as I took a step forward, I felt a tug at my heartstrings, pulling me in a different direction. Newt needed me now more than ever, his burden weighing heavily upon him. The strain of facing the inevitable was taking its toll on both of us, and I struggled to maintain my composure in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.
The temptation to let go, to surrender to the overwhelming tide of despair, grew stronger with each passing moment. But I couldn't afford to succumb, not when Newt needed me to be strong for him. With a heavy heart, I forced myself to push aside my own fears and doubts, determined to offer whatever comfort and support I could to the one person who mattered most.
They don't really care.
They are scared of me.
No one mentioned Poe. Not in the Gathering. Not in the moments after. It was as if he had been relegated to the shadows, cast aside and forgotten.
Like they were doing the same to me.
Frustration simmered beneath my skin as I rubbed my hand, the scar on my palm tingling with every scratch. The sensation warmed something inside me, a perverse satisfaction that dulled the ache of doubt and fear. But it wasn't enough. I needed release, a way to dull the gnawing sense of unease that threatened to consume me from within.
With a swift, decisive motion, I retrieved the small knife I had concealed on my person and used it to scratch the incessant itch, the pain and blood offering a fleeting reprieve from the turmoil raging inside me.
Above the steady thrum of the engine, a soft voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. "What are you doing?"
I twisted to see Maya standing in the entranceway of the rear hold, concern etched into her features. Her gaze flickered to where I furiously attacked my injured hand, her concern deepening with each passing moment.
"You need to stop that," she urged, moving toward me with a gentle hand outstretched. But I recoiled, yanking my arms away and turning my back on her.
"Leave me alone," I growled, the words harsh and clipped. "I don't want you near me."
Maya hesitated, taken aback by the sharpness of my tone. She took a few steps back, her hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with concern.
I paused, struggling to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. "You're plotting against me," I accused, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "You're all going to have me taken away."
"Why would you think that?" Maya questioned gently, her tone laced with compassion. "We escaped to freedom, remember?"
"You don't understand," I snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "You can't see the plotting in their eyes. Hans is just a cover for something more sinister."
As I spoke, I tightened my grip on the knife, drawing blood with a sharp, deliberate pressure. Maya drew a breath and approached me calmly. "Why would you think this?" she pressed, her voice soothing in its earnestness.
"Filip told me," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "He said he would take me away. I can't be around people. I was a mistake."
"You're not a mistake. You know that," Maya asserted firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "And I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the soft hum of the engine.
"I don't trust you," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
"What?" Maya's brows furrowed in confusion.
"Why didn't you help me?" I repeated, my tone tinged with accusation.
"I don't know—" Maya began, but I cut her off.
"You do," I insisted, turning to face her squarely. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Maya's expression flickered with a myriad of emotions as she backed away, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why did you let him fall?" I spat out, the words bitter on my tongue.
Maya recoiled at the accusation, her features contorting with a mixture of hurt and indignation. She bowed her head, her hair falling to shield her face as she struggled to compose herself.
"How dare you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. "How dare you say that to me. I was trying to protect both of you. I was doing my best."
"Newt and Minho were there. Why didn't you stop and help?"
"I was giving you more protection."
"Were you? Seemed like a lousy attempt," I chided.
She let … him die.
Maya squared her shoulders, a determined resolve settling over her. Her tousled hair framed her face as she jerked her chin up, meeting my accusatory gaze head-on. Despite the emotions that flickered in the corners of her eyes, she stood firm, unwavering in her stance. It was as if she was bracing herself against a storm, and I was the tempest raging before her.
"You let him die," I accused, my voice laced with venom as I pointed a bloody finger in her direction. Each word was like a dagger, piercing the air and pinching at the delicate line of her nose. "You could have helped him. But you let him die."
Her response was immediate, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "This isn't you," she insisted, her head still held high in defiance. "You're sick. You would never say anything like that. You're grieving, and the Flare is talking. I see that."
But her words only fuelled the fire within me. She didn't know the first thing about me.
"You don't know me," I snarled, my tone dripping with contempt. "No one does. They keep erasing me, over and over again. You only know a version of me that's long gone, dead and buried."
I moved dangerously close to Maya.
She wanted him to die.
She's not my friend.
A friend would have helped him.
She's going to have you taken away. Stop her!
"That's the thing. I do," Maya countered, her voice trembling as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She swallowed hard, struggling to compose herself. "It doesn't matter how many times you've changed, or how many faces you've worn. Deep down, you're still the same person." She reached out, gesturing towards my head. "Whatever's inside you, it's corrupting your mind, twisting your thoughts. But you're not alone. You need help, and that's what we're trying to give you. What I'm trying to give you. Because that's what friends do. And you're my friend, my family. I'll stick by you, just like I know you would for me."
The words echoed in my mind, bouncing off the walls of my consciousness like a relentless drumbeat. Friend. Family. They sliced through me, each syllable a jagged edge tearing at my resolve.
"No, no, no," I muttered, turning away from her, trying to drown out the relentless echo of those words. But they persisted, hammering their way into my thoughts, a cacophony of shouting and screaming.
"You don't know me. You mean nothing to me," I spat, the words bitter on my tongue. "You're trying to kill me."
With a sudden surge of desperation, I brandished the knife before me, my movements fuelled by fear and paranoia. I swung the blade in Maya's direction, a wild, reckless motion born of desperation. But she was quicker, leaping back just in time to avoid the deadly arc of the blade.
"For all I know, you could be a traitor," I accused, my voice ragged with panic. "Trying to get rid of us one by one."
Maya's eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze fixed on the weapon in my hand. I could see the uncertainty flickering behind her eyes, the realization dawning that I was serious. Even in my haze, I was acutely aware that Maya possessed formidable combat skills. Her time in the Eden had honed her ability to anticipate and counter attacks, making her a formidable opponent. I could almost feel the weight of her training, the muscle memory guiding her every move.
With each passing second, my mind raced, searching for an advantage, a way to gain the upper hand. The next move had to be cunning, unpredictable—something that would catch Maya off-guard. Instinct whispered to me, suggesting that I knew of a trick, a tactic that might just give me the edge I needed.
"Clarke, you need to breathe," Maya pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "The Flare... I see it in your eyes, your face." She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, inching backwards with each cautious step. I could sense her fear, her uncertainty. But I also knew that help would come if she called out for it.
Seizing opportunity, I lunged toward Maya's open stretched hand. With a sudden burst of strength, I pulled her off balance, propelling her forward with unexpected force. She stumbled, her body careening past me, before colliding headfirst into the unforgiving surface of the hull. The metallic clang echoed through the air as her hands desperately sought purchase, grasping at the cold metal in a futile attempt to steady herself.
Maya was trapped. The job could be done probably.
There were only two options for the girl. Scream or fight.
I knew she stood a chance.
I didn't think that she did.
The roar of the engine reverberated through the cramped space, drowning out any sounds that Maya might have made. If she wanted to alert the others, she would have to make a considerable amount of noise to be heard over the deafening hum of machinery.
And Maya knew that.
So she waited. Standing at the edge of the hull, her back lightly pressed against the ramp.
"Don't tell me what to do. I don't take orders from people like you," I spat out, my voice dripping with venom.
"Clarke, I don't want to hurt you," Maya pleaded, her words a desperate whisper. "I know this isn't you talking. You're the only family I have left. You're my sister. I love you."
"I hate you!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat like a primal cry of anguish. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunged forward, aiming straight for Maya's chest.
But she was quicker, anticipating my move with uncanny precision. With one swift motion, she deflected my attack, shoving me aside with one hand while delivering a sharp blow to my ribs with the other. Pain exploded through my side as I staggered backward, my momentum carrying me straight into the unyielding surface of the ramp. Maya seized the opportunity, slipping past me and pinning me against the metal with a forceful shove.
Let me have it all.
"Shut up," I hissed through gritted teeth, spitting hair out of my mouth as I spun around. In one swift motion, I reached out and caught Maya's extended leg, wrenching it back with all my strength. She tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud, but even as she fell, she fought back, kicking out with her free leg.
I released my grip on her just in time to avoid getting hit in the head, rolling away to create some distance between us. My fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of the knife as I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest.
Launching myself forward, I tackled Maya to the ground as she tried to stand, the force of our collision sending us both sprawling. As she landed on her back, I thrust my hand toward her face, the tip of the weapon narrowly missing her eye as she deftly blocked my attack.
But Maya was quick to retaliate, driving her knee into my stomach with pinpoint accuracy. I doubled over with a grunt, pain radiating through my abdomen as I instinctively clutched at my stomach with my free hand. In that moment of vulnerability, Maya seized the opportunity, snatching the knife from my grasp and attempting to throw it out of reach.
Frustration surged through me, mingling with a desperate need to regain control. With a frustrated scream, I scrambled to my feet, lunging towards Maya in a desperate bid to reclaim the weapon. But she was ready, lifting her hands above her head and holding the knife just out of my reach. As I reached for it, she wrapped her legs around my waist, attempting to immobilize me and prevent me from getting hold of the knife.
She was strong. I was relentless.
I shoved my hand onto Maya's face and launched myself up and forward. I broke free from Maya's grip and stretched out my hand to jerk the weapon from her.
I nearly had it.
A firm hand seized my shoulders, half-lifting, half-dragging me across Maya's body. Panic surged within me—this wasn't Maya.
"Let me go!" I thrashed and kicked against the force, desperate to break free from the grip. With a sharp twist, I wrenched myself downward, hoping to force the hand to release me. To my surprise, it worked.
But then, a sudden sensation washed over me—a tingling, intense and overwhelming.
Stopping me in my path.
The frenzy letting go. The moment of wildness draining from me.
I took a deep breath, my racing heart gradually steadying as I allowed the firm hands to guide me back up from the ground. I was hauled away from Maya, who coughed and spluttered as she regained her composure.
Strong arms enveloped me, wrapping around my waist, offering a sense of security amid the chaos. As I was pulled away, I glanced over my shoulder to see the concerned faces of Minho, Thomas, and Brenda standing in the doorway.
Minho brushed past us, rushing to help Maya up from the ground. I followed the scene with my eyes, momentarily lost in the gravity of the moment, ignoring everything else around me as I focused solely on their well-being.
What have I done?
Maya's eyes connected with mine as she straightened her back. Her hair wild, a red lump forming at her naval. Her eyes blotchy. Her expression.
Horrified.
The glint of the knife caught my eye.
Maya clutched it tightly in her hand.
Her hand.
Stained a deep red.
"Look at me," Newt fussed. He placed his hands on each side of my head and turned my face until I was looking at the goldened-hair boy, his bright eyes full of worry. "You need to breath."
He lowered one of his hands from my face and placed it on my waist. The touch sent a jolt of pain coursing through me, unlike anything I had ever experienced. It felt as though my side was engulfed in flames, the intensity of the burning sensation worsening as he pressed harder, transforming from searing heat to bitter coldness.
Newt's mouth opened as if to speak, but he grimaced and quickly withdrew his hand from my side. We both dared to look down.
It was stained a deep red. The same as Maya's.
Realization crashed over me like a wave, leaving me reeling. The pain radiating from the wound intensified, each breath I took becoming a struggle rather than a reflex. I attempted to draw in deep breaths, but my body rebelled, expelling the air from my lungs with every laboured inhale.
A violent cough wracked my body, the sensation burning through me and leaving a metallic taste in my mouth. The coppery tang of blood lingered on my tongue, seeping from the corners of my lips.
I felt my strength waning, the energy draining from my limbs until they could no longer support me. My legs gave out beneath me, buckling as I collapsed to the ground. Newt moved swiftly to catch me, but his efforts were in vain. With gentle hands, he lowered me to the ground, cradling me in his arms as weakness overtook me.
"No no no, please," Newt begged me. His voice echoed in my ears.
"I'm sorry," was all that I could manage. The effort to speak taking too much energy.
"Help her," he cried to Brenda. A tear formed at the corner of his eyes. "Don't let her go."
Brenda's mouth moved. She rushed from the hold into the belly of the Berg.
Newt rocked me gently, his touch both comforting and agonizing as he applied pressure to the wound. I swallowed hard, my head swimming with the overwhelming pain.
"What's happening? I-I-I... What's happening to me?" I stammered, the words barely coherent as I struggled to make sense of the agony coursing through my body. Another bout of coughing seized me, each convulsion sending white-hot tendrils of fire piercing through my lungs. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood, and I choked, gasping for air as the darkness closed in around me.
Newt lightly tapped me on the face. "Come on, don't close your eyes. Keep them open, love."
As I fought to keep my eyes open, the world around me blurred into darkness, a black haze creeping in around the edges of my vision. Despite my efforts, I couldn't focus on Newt anymore. His features became indistinct, obscured by the encroaching shadows.
Through the dimness, I could make out the faint outline of Newt's face. His eyes were bloodshot, glistening with unshed tears, and his cheeks were streaked with moisture. His expression was one of desperate pleading, silently begging for me to hold on, to stay with him just a little while longer.
"Newt … listen, I don't have much time," I strained, my voice thin and weak as I struggled to get the words out.
"Keep your eyes open love. Don't die. don't die," he repeated. "I can't go on, I need you. I can't go on."
"Please, Newt, don't talk, just listen…" I spoke. "You have to know, the moment I saw you I knew, without even knowing it, that we would fall in love in the strangest of ways. I knew I was safe when I was round you. Newt, I love you with all my heart. I always will. Being with you for every moment was worth all the seconds I can remember."
In the midst of the encroaching darkness, a small beacon of light pierced through the shadows, its brilliance stark against the backdrop of fading vision. It glimmered like a distant star, casting a faint glow that illuminated the surrounding gloom. As everything around me blurred into obscurity, that solitary point of light remained, a tiny oasis of clarity amidst the murky depths of my fading consciousness.
"I wish … I wish we could have had more time," I whispered softly, tears brimming in my eyes. "Maybe I still will. I'll be waiting for you. Newt, wherever is next. Maybe it'll be … maybe it'll be a paradise."
I gasped.
A noise rung in my ear.
And the pain disappeared to a peaceful quietness that willed me to shut her eyes and sleep.
I smiled.
I didn't fear death anymore.
"Promise me, Newt … promise me you'll keep fighting. Promise you'll win. Don't let it all be for nothing, my love. Please, just remember, I love you, Newt. I always…"
Finally, there was peace.
Cheers to ten years. Thank you to everyone that read my work and stuck it out until the very bitter end. I do hope you have enjoyed it all. I'm sorry about the ending, there wasn't much more I wanted to do with Clarke and felt it best to end the story before the worst part happened. In my opinion, she would be uncontrollably if it was the other way round with Newt. Though to add some sweetness, Maya and Maggie do make sure that Eden is remembered as much as the rest of the characters. They keep their (Clarke, Poe, Lottie, Jaime ...) memories alive in paradise. I'm not much for the long goodbyes, so I'm going to duck out. You probably won't see me around anymore, sadly this will be my only fic. I do wish everyone the best. Over and out, queenofthetear x