A/N: Parts of this chapter might be familiar to some of you as I had posted/deleted some chapters a few years ago. I hope that, regardless, this chapter still feels fresh to you and that you enjoy it. Thank you!

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The earth yielded softly beneath Annie's feet, the floor a spongy carpet of damp soil, fallen leaves, and bright green moss. Keeping pace with Newt through the forest proved challenging; he navigated the winding path with the confidence of one walking a familiar city street. She chalked it up to all the time he had spent in nature, something she had just been acclimated to the last few weeks.

Each time Annie drew alongside him, she snuck a glance at his profile, and her heart thudded in her chest.

Try as she might, Annie couldn't push away thoughts of what had happened earlier in the tent. Too quickly, she recalled the tremble of Newt's hand against her cheek, the featherlight brush of his breath. How he had looked at her with a vulnerability she'd never seen before as he'd asked her permission to...

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she averted her gaze again, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

And she had said yes. What did that mean? What were they to each other?

She bit her lip as she impulsively looked up at him again. His attention remained fixed on the path ahead, but he licked his lips and raked a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual.

He's nervous, she thought.

But whether about her or the party they were rapidly approaching, she couldn't say. She turned her gaze away from Newt, her eyes drawn to the thick canopy above. The dense foliage allowed only fleeting glimpses of the sky, but even those brief views filled her with wonder. The world was transforming from blue to a deep purple and crimson, stars emerging as brilliant specks of light winking in the dusk. She had never seen a sky like that in the city, and a soft sound of appreciation escaped her.

Another sound, this one of surprise, came out of her as she ran into Newt's back. He had stopped a few feet before her near the forest's edge. He didn't even acknowledge her fumble but continued staring straight ahead, his gaze transfixed.

Watching him, she realized their time together, as it had been until now, would end as soon as they crossed the threshold onto the beach. It would no longer be the two of them, just them against the world. Newt had friends here, familiarity, a life. Annie had to push away a rising feeling of jealousy, realizing that despite her feelings—whatever they were—she had no claim on Newt.

"Are you ready?" She asked, coming to stand beside him.

Newt's gaze met hers, and he grinned sheepishly.

"No," he said.

A smile tugged at Annie's lips, and she was grateful for the darkness of the canopy as her eyes prickled with emotion.

"Too bad," she said, playfully nudging him forward.

Together, they stepped from the trees, and Annie's mouth fell open at all she saw before her.

On any other night, the bonfire gathering would have comprised of nothing besides potent drinks and too-loud conversation, with Jorge inevitably breaking out his guitar to serenade the teenagers with songs they didn't even recognize.

But tonight, the atmosphere pulsed with an electric energy. Towering speakers thrummed with bass that vibrated through the sand beneath their feet; strings of fairy lights mirrored the stars overhead, and a long table groaned under the weight of snacks and drinks. The savory aroma of roasting meat wafted from a nearby spit, and Annie's mouth watered. Under a tent, a keg had already been tapped, surrounded by a thirsty crowd clamoring for cups of the frothy liquid.

A bonfire blazed at the center of it all, its flames reaching high up into the sky. A group of teenagers were gathered around it, talking and laughing; others threw frisbees at each other, chasing one another up and down the beach.

Annie's trance broke when a shout rang out from the bonfire circle. Silence fell like a shroud, all eyes drawing toward the forest.

A moment later, a familiar voice—Thomas's—broke the quiet, and Annie saw him shoving his way through a crowd of people.

"Out of my way!" He called out.

Annie felt Newt stiffen next to her, but when she glanced up, she saw a smile playing on his lips.

Thomas emerged from the group, eyes glassy, chest heaving. He stood several paces away, his gaze fixed on Newt.

"Tommy," Newt said casually.

Thomas shook his head in disbelief, a slow smile spreading across his face. Without a word, he closed the space between them and wrapped his best friend in a crushing hug.

When they parted, both boys had shimmering eyes and goofy grins on their faces, their worlds whole again, and the knowledge that this night was the first of many weighing joyfully on their hearts.

Brenda stood nearby, discreetly wiping at the corner of her eye. With a shake of her head, she cleared her throat and raised her cup high in tribute.

"To Newt!" She shouted, her voice rising about the clamor as everyone enthusiastically echoed her toast.

The dam had burst. Everyone rushed to Newt, slapping him on the back, shaking his hand, exclaiming how much they had missed him and how glad they were to have him back.

Annie was jostled aside by a red-headed boy twice her size and pushed further back as the crowd surged.

Well, there goes that promise, she thought as Newt became shrouded by people.

Feeling lost in the crowd, Annie slipped off to the now deserted snack table. If she couldn't find someone to talk to, she could at least comfort herself by stuffing her face with crackers and smoked sausages.

Gally stood nearby, conversing with a blonde man who looked older than the rest of them. Neither of them had joined the fray around Newt. As Annie approached, Gally's gaze flickered toward her.

"Greenie," he said with a welcoming grin, "Good to see you again."

"Hi, Gally." She smiled back. "This is all, uh, a lot."

Gally chuckled. "That's Minho for you. Not really my scene, but the shank knows how to throw a party."

He sipped his drink, then nodded toward the man beside him.

"Vince, have you met Annie?"

"Haven't had the pleasure," Vince said, extending his hand. They shook firmly as he took a swig of his drink.

"Minho thinks he's in charge, but really, Vince here keeps things running smoothly," Gally said. "We'd be lost without him."

Vince playfully elbowed Gally, taking another hearty sip.

"Heard you helped Gally with the meeting house," Vince said, nodding in approval. "Impressive work."

Annie's cheeks flushed at the unexpected praise. "I didn't do anything, really."

"Either way, we all need to pull our weight around here. Otherwise, everything will come crashing down."

She nodded in agreement, her eyes flickering to the cups in their hands.

"What are you guys drinking?" She asked curiously.

"Some of Frypan's sauce. You want some?" Gally asked.

Annie grimaced. "I was warned not to."

"By who, Newt?" He asked. "Don't listen to that shank. Here, I'll get you a cup."

Moments later, Annie held a tin cup of amber liquid. The metallic aroma burned her nostrils before she even raised the cup to her lips.

"Drink up," Gally said, clinking his glass against hers. "To you, Greenie, for bringing Newt back alive."

She scrunched her nose apprehensively and tipped the cup back. Only her pride kept her from coughing, and she swallowed the rest of the concoction reluctantly, her eyes watering.

"What on Earth is in that?" She demanded hoarsely after choking it down.

Gally barked a laugh. "Better if you don't ask."

Annie shook her head. The liquid settled warm in her stomach; one more cup of that, and she'd feel it. Holding the empty cup, she let her gaze move over to Newt. He stood amidst the buzzing crowd, hungrily hanging on to his every word. She wondered what he was saying to them. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and he offered her an apologetic shrug.

She was about to give him a reassuring smile when his attention became diverted by someone approaching him. Sonya. She stood close to him, speaking in hushed tones that made him lean in. She whispered something into his ear, and he nodded in response. She touched his arm gently before walking away.

Annie's stomach sank. Without a word, she held out her cup, and Gally refilled it, chuckling and muttering about how they'd have to make more soon. She distractedly said something in response; she had no idea what and then said goodbye, striding away from the table and heading toward the bonfire.

Settling onto a log, she watched a lively group of teenagers dance on the other side of the fire, laughing and shouting at one another. A man stood off to the side of the group, half in shadow. Although she could not make out his face, she had the unsettling feeling that she was being watched.

She sipped her drink, and when she lowered the cup, the man was gone.

She felt the log jostle and looked over to see Thomas sit down beside her, his hands resting on his knees.

"Nice night," he said with measured casualness.

Annie responded with a silent sip. Thomas exhaled deeply and turned to her.

"Look, are you ever going to talk to me?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's everything to talk about," he insisted. "Look, I know you blame me for what happened to your mom, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life avoiding you. It's a tiny island."

Annie sighed in resignation. "I don't."

"What?"

"I don't blame you."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

Her gaze locked onto his as tears welled in her eyes. She played with the cup, fingers tapping lightly on the rim. She could feel the words that had been inside her for so long, knowing that once she spilled them, it would be time to finally make amends with Thomas. But it was easier to just... keep on hating him. It kept the pain of the loss of her mother at bay as if he created a wall between her grief and her sanity.

But she knew it wasn't his fault, not truly.

She turned to him, her lips forming a thin, resolute line.

"Because I'm jealous of you, asshole." She said.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "You're jealous... of me? Why? Do you wish it had been you who had been there, because believe me, it wasn't—"

"No. It's because..." She sighed, downing the rest of her drink. "Because my mom worshiped you, Thomas. You were her golden boy. She believed that the cure started and ended with you. Once you came into the picture... it was like nothing—no one—else mattered to her."

"That's not true."

"No?" She wiped her mouth. "You barely knew her, Thomas. Not like I did. And yet, you were the one she chose to spend all her time with. I barely got to see her the last few years. And now I'll never get to see her again."

A few tense moments of silence passed between them, and then Thomas wiped his palms on his pants, stood up, and held out his hand to her.

"Come with me."

Confusion marred her features. "What?"

"Come on." He wriggled his fingers at her. "I want to show you something."

With a hesitant glance, she relented, sighing as she placed her hand in his, and he hoisted her onto her feet.

"This way," he said. "Follow me."

They walked down the beach side-by-side, away from Newt's party and the raucous sound of everyone having the time of their lives. Thomas stared ahead, hands buried deep in his pockets. Annie occasionally stumbled nearby, too distracted by the night sky above her to be concerned about where they were going.

Away from the bonfire's light, the stars were brighter than ever. Annie had never seen anything like it before. It took her breath away, and she felt a pang of longing as she wished Newt was by her side, sharing this moment with her instead of Thomas. She quickly buried the thought and carried onward.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked after a few minutes, curiosity giving way to impatience.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "We're almost there."

They walked about a hundred feet more; Thomas halted and fumbled with a flashlight, tapping it against his palm a few times before it flickered to life.

"This way," he instructed.

He gave her a gentle nudge, and she turned to her right, following him up a narrow sandy path flanked on both sides by low shrubs. At its end stood a rock adorned all over with white markings. At first, she thought it was scratching from animals or wearing from the elements.

But then she saw the names.

Chuck. Alby. Winston.

"What is this?" She asked, baffled by the sight before her.

Thomas joined her by the rock and crossed his arms, shining the light over the different names.

"It's our memorial," he said. "For those we've lost along the way."

Her mouth parted, and she tentatively approached it. There was something sacred in the energy here; she could feel it in her bones. Although her hand hovered before her, she dared not touch it out of respect.

The light flashed over a name, and she frowned, stepping back.

"This says Teresa," she noted, glancing back at Thomas.

He cocked his head, running his hand down the back of his neck apprehensively.

"Yeah, she, uh, she died before we made it to the safe haven."

"What?" Annie's gaze snapped to Thomas, air leaving her body like a deflating balloon. She had known Teresa for so long. She thought she'd made it out.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but suddenly, her gaze turned stormy.

"Why did you want me to see this?" She asked, turning to Thomas.

"What?" He asked.

"All those names," she said, pointing at the stone with a shaking finger. "All that death. What, are you trying to remind me how horrible my mom was? So I won't care that she's dead?"

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. "Antoinette—"

"Is this how you're planning on making amends? Because if so, fuck you, Thomas."

His eyes widened. They stood only a few feet apart, Annie's chest heaving with emotion as she stared daggers at him. He thought for a moment she might try to take a swing at him, but he didn't allow himself to move an inch. Despite his indignation, his gaze softened as he looked at her and saw the pain beneath her anger.

He gently shook his head again. "I wanted to show you this because once you're ready, I want you to put your mom's name on there."

Annie studied him for a moment, shifting her weight as she felt the fight start to leave her body. "What?"

"You've lost someone, Antoinette," he said. "You deserve to have your solace, too. To remember her."

Annie didn't say anything; she looked from Thomas to the memorial before her. All those names. All those scared kids. It could have easily been her up there. But it wasn't. Because of Ava. Because of her mom.

"Was she..." Her voice cracked, and she hastily wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Was she scared?"

Thomas shook his head. "No," he said. "Brave until the end."

Annie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself not to cry. She gave a ragged sigh.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she said.

"I know."

He stepped up to her side and placed the knife in her hand. She hesitated briefly before grasping it. She looked down at it in her palm, felt the heaviness of it, and could just make out the intricate designs on its handle worn down by use. She stared at it pensively for a moment before it blurred in her vision, her eyes glistening again with pooled tears.

"I don't think... I'm not ready to do this," she mumbled, her chin quivering. "I don't think I can—"

With a sob, she let the knife drop into the sand below her and covered her face with her hands. Cautiously, Thomas stepped closer and placed his hand on her quaking shoulder, stooping down to meet her tear-streaked face.

"It's okay," he reassured her softly. "It's a lot, trust me, I know. Another time. When you're ready."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. Instead of shrugging him off, she leaned into him. She let out another cry, this time for her sorrow of shutting Thomas out—the only person besides Newt who knew who she really was—and her relief at how easy it had been to forgive him after all.

He stood with her for another minute, closing his eyes briefly, thinking about his last moments with Ava and how much he hated Janson for what he had done to her. And in turn, what he had done to Antoinette.

A moment later, he heard a loud sniff and Antoinette's quiet voice rising up to him.

"I think I'm ready to go back to the party now."

"Okay, but before we go, I want to show you one more thing," Thomas said. He kept his arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to the memorial. He pointed up high to a name that looked freshly carved.

Newt.

"That's one name we can cross off," Thomas said. "And that's because of you. Thank you, Antoinette."

Annie smiled at Thomas, who smiled back at her.

"Thomas?"

Annie felt his hand stiffen on her shoulder, and when she turned to look at who had spoken, she saw Brenda coming up the path. Annie couldn't make out her expression in the dark, but judging by how quickly Thomas pulled away, she assumed she didn't look pleased.

"Hey, Brenda," he said, a little too casually. "I was just showing Antoinette the memorial."

Brenda approached them, but instead of stopping, she walked right past them toward the memorial. She reached out her hand, tracing her fingers lightly over the name George. Annie watched her curiously but said nothing.

"I couldn't find you at the fire," Brenda said. "Sorry for interrupting."

Annie could have sworn there was a cold edge to her voice, but Thomas did not appear to notice it.

"You didn't," Thomas said. "We're all done here. We can walk back together."

He laced his hand through Brenda's and then turned to Annie.

"You okay?" He asked.

She nodded and picked up the fallen knife, handing it to him.

"Here," she said. "I'm not ready yet, but someday soon, I'll ask for it."

Brenda looked at her curiously but said nothing. Thomas folded the knife, putting it back in his pocket.

Together, the three of them walked back down the beach toward the party, Annie trailing behind the other two, lost in thought.

By the time they returned, the fire had grown even larger, and people were dancing wildly around the flames, laughing and drinking.

Thomas gestured at Annie and then toward the fire, but she shook her head. All Annie wanted to do was find Newt. She wanted to ask him how his night was going, and most of all, she wanted to talk to him about what Thomas had shown her. She thought he'd like to be the one to cross his name off; perhaps it would give him the peace he never seemed to be able to find within himself.

She broke from the group, heading toward where she had last seen Newt.

The crowd that had surrounded him before had dispersed, and she looked around, unsure of where to look next. She rubbed her hands over her arms, suddenly feeling chilly at night without the bonfire nearby. With a feeling of sudden alarm, she realized it wasn't just the cold but the familiar, creeping sense of eyes upon her.

Someone stood off to her left, their eyes sparkling in the dark night.

She jumped, holding her hand to her chest, a shiver running down her spine.

"Who's there?" She asked, willing her voice not to shake.

The person stepped out of the shadows, and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Mind if we talk, hermana?"