Teresa slowly opened the front door and snuck into the house, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The house was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. She moved with the stealth of a cat, her footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor.

Her mind raced as she approached the bedroom, wondering if her presence would be noticed. She carefully turned the doorknob and slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. What she saw made her pause. Newt and Thomas were fast asleep, lost in the innocence of dreams. Newt was nestled against Thomas's side, his face serene and peaceful. Thomas, in turn, was holding him protectively against his side, their bodies entwined in a tender embrace that spoke volumes about their bond.

Teresa watched them for a moment, a cold glare on her face. Their love was evident, a beacon of warmth in the cool night. She felt a pang of longing, wishing she could be a part of that world, that closeness. She knew she shouldn't be there, that her intrusion was a breach of their private sanctuary, but she did not care. She took a step closer, her movements deliberate and slow, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the scene. The room was filled with the gentle sounds of their breathing, a rhythmic cadence that was almost hypnotic. Teresa felt a sense of calm wash over her, her earlier nervousness fading away.

She wondered what dreams were playing out behind their closed eyelids. Were they dreaming of adventures and laughter, or perhaps of quiet moments like this one, where the world outside seemed to disappear?

Teresa moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. The curtains swayed slightly from the open window behind her, the breeze carrying the scent of pine and something faintly metallic—something not quite natural. She reached the side of the bed where Newt slept, his back to her, a hand draped lazily over Thomas's waist. A pang of something sharp twisted in her chest. Not jealousy—no, she told herself—it was justice. A reckoning for everything she had lost because of Newt.

From her coat pocket, she pulled out the syringe. Inside, a cloudy liquid shimmered faintly in the low light—a concoction laced with dormant spores of the Flare virus, masked with a slow-acting poison that would chip away at Newt's strength day by day. Untraceable. Unforgivable.

Teresa parted the hair at the base of his skull with practiced care, her fingers barely grazing his skin. The needle slipped in smoothly, and she pressed the plunger down with the same tenderness one might use to tuck in a child.

Newt flinched.

Her breath caught.

For a moment, time cracked open—her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared at his still form, waiting for his eyes to snap open, for his voice to cut the silence. But he did not stir again, moving closer to Thomas and the brunet remained in a deep sleep. With a slow exhale, Teresa carefully withdrew the needle and wiped the skin clean with a corner of her sleeve, hiding any evidence of her intrusion. One final glance at the pair, tangled in sleep and unaware of the storm she had just released upon them. "Don't get too comfortable, Newt," she whispered, a bitter edge in her voice. "I'm not done with you."

Then she was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Outside, the wind had picked up. Teresa walked into the darkness with a smirk twisting her lips, each step echoing the cruel satisfaction that bloomed in her chest. Tonight, she had struck the first blow. And she would be watching—always watching—as Newt unraveled.

As she reached the front door, she paused, looking back at the house one last time. She felt a sense of empowerment as she stared at the closed door, she knew that she could not stay as dawn would soon break, revealing her presence. Teresa slipped into the night, the cool air a welcome embrace. She walked away from the house, her thoughts lingering on the scene she had just left behind. The world was still and quiet, the stars twinkling above her as she made her way home.

Her mind drifted to the future, to the possibilities that lay ahead.

Teresa's journey home was filled with reflection, her steps steady and sure. She knew that the night had lay the foundations of her plan and the timer had begun to tick. All she had to do was wait for the effects of the cocktail to take hold, allowing her to bask in the realisation that all she had to do was wait and then Thomas would be hers. Pretty soon the threat to her happiness would be no more as his mind crumbled.

All she had to do was wait.

Dawn arrived not long after Teresa had made it back to her hut, hiding in wait for the sound of the island inhabitants to go about their morning chores. She would get to her chores eventually, but for now she planned to sit and bide her time as she waited for the fast-acting cocktail to take effect. She would not have to wait long.

Meanwhile, across the beech and below the trees that sat at the edge of the forest Newt had begun to wake up and was imminently hit with a wave of nausea, causing him to clutch his stomach as well as a sharp pain caused him to groan.

"Babe?" Thomas asked as he stirred, rubbing his eyes as he stretched.

Newt did not say anything, he just curled up slightly as he clutched his stomach.

Thomas was confused at first, but he was quick to jump to Newt's aid, stroking back his hair as he sat up slightly "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel great" Newt answered.

Thomas placed his hand on the back of Newt's neck, his concern growing when he realised that his partner was sweating "You feel warm".

Despite Thomas's concerns, Newt insisted on getting out of bed and going to breakfast as usual. He had never been the type to sit in bed and feel sorry for himself. Thomas knew this well, but it did not stop the worry gnawing at him. Newt looked paler than ever, yet he pushed himself even when he should be resting. Much to Thomas's dismay.
They arrived at the food station and met up with Harriet, Sonya, Brenda, Minho, and Gally. As they settled at a picnic table, everyone tucked into their food and talked amongst themselves, everyone except for Newt. He barely touched his food, instead leaning his head against his arms, keeping his eyes shut tightly as he kept his head down on the table. Thomas rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him; the concern etched on his face.

Jorge glanced at Newt, his eyebrows knitted together in worry "What's wrong?"

Newt lifted his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper "I don't feel great."

Thomas's worry deepened as he watched Newt struggle to lift his head. When Newt mentioned he was going for a run, Thomas's heart skipped a beat. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice laden with concern.

Newt nodded determinedly. "Just need to clear my head," he said, though his pallor and the sweat on his brow suggested otherwise

"I think that you shouldn't push yourself" Thomas watched helplessly as Newt pushed himself up from the table, his steps unsteady but resolute. He could only hope that whatever was ailing Newt would pass quickly, and that the run would not make things worse "Please be careful?" He pleaded, causing Newt to look at him.

Newt sighed, a soft smile on his face as he leaned forwards and kissed Thomas "I'll be careful. I'll call for help if I need it".

Thomas nodded and sighed "I'm going looking for you if you're not back in an hour".

Newt left with a small nod, trying to walk with a small bit of confidence so that nobody noticed how much discomfort he was in. Thomas did notice though, keeping an eye on Newt as he walked away just to make sure that he did not need any help. Once satisfied that Newt was alright, Thomas turned back to his friends and continued to eat his breakfast.

"What's up with Newt?" Gally asked, worried for his friend.

Thomas shrugged and shook his head "I have no clue. He was fine when we went to bed but when he woke up, he said that he felt ill, he was pale, and he felt warm." He explained before taking a swig of water.

"Maybe he ate something or just caught a bug?" Sonya suggested.

Thomas nodded "Maybe".

"He's never been the type to rest when he feels ill. Even when he broke his leg or had the flare" Minho stated, hoping that it would reassure Thomas. It did not.

After breakfast, Thomas joined Minho and Jorge on the fishing boats. Usually, the rhythmic sound of the waves and the camaraderie of his friends helped to clear his mind, but today, his thoughts were consumed by Newt. He was very quiet, his hands working mechanically as he cast the nets and hauled them back in.

Minho, noticing Thomas's unusual silence, tossed a small buoy at him, catching his attention. "Hey, what's up with you today?" Minho asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Thomas sighed deeply, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Newt. "It's nearly been an hour and Newt hasn't walked across the beach," he admitted, his voice tinged with worry. "He said he'd be careful, but I can't help but think he needs help."

Minho placed a reassuring hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Newt's tough. He'll be okay. But if you're really worried, we can go look for him."

Thomas nodded, grateful for Minho's support. "Thanks, Minho. Let's finish up here and then we can go find him."

"I'll come too" Gally stated as he sailed passed Minho's boat.

Thomas nodded, beginning to count down the minutes until they eventually sailed back to shore and climbed off the boats. The sound of their feet splashing into the water broke the silence, the wind had begun to pick up as dark clouds covered the sky. The threat of oncoming rain only added to the urgency that Thomas felt t find Newt. His nerves were eased by Minho and Gally as they walked towards the forest with him, maybe he was just paranoid?

Thomas had not been the only one who had noticed the shift in the weather conditions. Even through the limited view through the trees, Newt had noticed how the sky was growing dark and that the air seemed damp. It had been the main reason he had decided to stay under the shelter of the trees as he ran, reasoning that wet sand could cause him to strain his bad leg and it was easier to run through the forest. Well, usually it was easier.

Newt was running through the forest as he ignored the pain in his leg, tears streamed down his cheeks because of the pain that he was going through, but he kept pushing himself to keep going. He had been a runner before and, but his stupid limp made everything harder, it was painful to walk, to run, he woke up in pain and he went to bed in pain. It was never ending.

Newt kept running and the determination flared in his eyes, and he shouted in pain. But he did not stop. He thought that he was already in bad shape but... that soon changed when he stepped on a trap that had been set up, his ankle now snared in a rope and within seconds he was dangling from a tree. Tight rope causing him to cry out in pain and he whimpered before he looked up, he saw the rope and he groaned in frustration before he looked down "Right, it's at least a ten-foot drop. I could cut the rope and worse case scenario I end up breaking something." he sighed before he cupped his hands over his mouth "Help! I need help!" He yelled but there was no answer.

He hung there for a moment before he pulled himself up a little bit and he grabbed the branch to hold himself up. Retrieving the dagger from his belt he began to saw at the rope, and he hoped that he would not break his back when he fell. However, that plan soon changed as he lost his grip on the branch as there was a clap of thunder, causing him to fall slightly into the upside-down position and to drop his dagger.

"Fuck!" Newt yelled as he dangled from the tree branch, annoyed at himself for being so clumsy and embarrassed of the situation he was now stuck in. Fortunately for him, the hopeless feeling was short lived as the sound of laughter floated to his ears, immodestly recognising the sound and he looked towards the direction it was coming from. Gally?!" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice.

Not too far through the forest, Minho, Thomas, and Gally were laughing as they stepped over roots and trudged through the shrubbery; completely unaware of the predicament that Newt had found himself in. That was until Minho heard something an froze, listening for the sound again as he held his arm to the side to get the attention of his friends.

"Guys, ssshhh" Minho stopped.

Thomas and Gally went quiet, looking to Minho for answers as hey wondered why Minho had stopped. They soon got their answer, making Thomas's blood run cold.

"Gally?!" Newt yelled again.

"Newt?!" Thomas yelled, his hear thundering in his chest as he looked around the forest.

"Tommy! I need help. I was running and I'm stuck in a trap!" Newt yelled.

"Yeah right, Newt! Nice try!" Gally yelled, laughing at what he though was a harmless prank.

"I'm not messing you around. I can't get down!" Newt yelled back.

"There's no traps in this forest! Come out from where you're hiding!" Minho yelled, shaking his head.

Newt cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, but he heard something snap, and he jolted downwards a few inches. He looked up and his eyes widened when he saw that the rope had begun to unwind, slowly snapping "The rope's going to snap! Please get me down!"

"Yeah, whatever!" Minho joked.

Newt's eyes widened as the rope sapped a bit more now only holding him up by a few measly strands. Panic filled him as he pulled himself up, pulling at his ankle as he scrambled to free himself "You need to get me down now! The rope is snapping!" He yelled, hoping that his friends and Thomas would hear the urgency in is voice "Guys!" He yelled seconds before the rope finally snapped. He had barely registered that he was falling before he hit the ground with a loud thud and a snapping sound.

A screamed erupted from Newt's throat as his world turned into a throbbing blur of agony. The moment he had hit the ground, the pain shot up his leg like a jagged lightning bolt, searing every nerve ending and making his vision swim. He clenched his eyes shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to endure the excruciating torment. It felt as though white-hot needles were being driven into his ankle, the intensity of the pain almost blinding him. His muscles tensed and spasmed involuntarily, each movement sending another sharp wave of suffering through his body.

Every fibre of Thomas's being jumped into panic mode when he heard the scream, his legs already carrying him towards the sound as he called out for his partner, terrified that something dreadful had happened "Newt!"

"Tommy!" Newt screamed, his voice raw with panic, slicing through the thick tension in the air. As he tried to sit up, a searing pain shot through his ankle like fire racing through his veins. Gritting his teeth, he winced and collapsed back slightly, but forced himself up onto his elbows and forearms, trembling from the effort. Dirt clung to his clothes, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes darted downward, wide with alarm, until they landed on his swollen, twisted ankle—already starting to discolour, pulsing with pain. "Shit" he hissed in pain.

Thomas, Gally, and Minho tore through the trees, branches slashing at their arms and legs as they sprinted toward the sound of Newt's scream. The forest was a blur of green and shadow, but when they spotted him, crumpled on the ground, clutching his leg, everything else faded.

"Newt!" Thomas shouted, his boots skidding in the dirt as he dropped hard to his knees beside him.

Newt was hunched over, one hand gripping his ankle like he was trying to hold himself together. His face was pale, lips pressed into a tight line, but his eyes were glassy with pain. His fingers trembled where they rubbed at the joint, almost compulsively.

"Baby, are you okay?" Thomas' voice cracked, softer now but no less urgent. He reached out, resting a hand on Newt's shoulder, grounding him.

Newt did not answer right away. He just shook his head slowly, jaw clenched so hard Thomas could see the muscles twitch. "It's out," he muttered, breath hitching. "It's out, Tommy, I felt it snap."

Gally hovered just behind them, eyes widening as Minho gently pulled off Newt's shoe and up his trousers. "Shit. That's a dislocation if I've ever seen one."

Minho crouched down opposite Thomas, already pulling his jacket off. "We're gonna have to reset it," he said grimly. "Soon. Before the swelling gets worse."

Thomas turned back to Newt, brushing sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "Okay. Okay, we've got you. Just hang on."

Newt met his eyes, and for a second, the bravado cracked, just long enough for Thomas to see the fear behind it. "Do it," Newt rasped. "Just—do it fast."

Minho rolled up his sleeves, his jaw tight as he studied the angle of Newt's ankle. "It's bad," he muttered. "Completely out of the joint. I've gotta snap it back, fast and clean."

Newt's breathing had turned shallow, his whole-body rigid from the pain. Sweat ran down his temple, mixing with the dirt on his face. Thomas shifted closer behind him, wrapping his arms carefully around Newt's upper body, holding him steady. "Hey, look at me," he said gently, brushing his fingers through Newt's sweat-drenched blond hair. "I've got you. Just breathe. You're not alone."

Newt gave a short nod, but his hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. He leaned into Thomas slightly, grounding himself in the warmth of his voice, the steady rhythm of his touch.

Minho locked his hands around Newt's lower leg and ankle, bracing himself. "On three," he said.

Newt tensed. Thomas tightened his grip around him, voice low in his ear. "Just listen to me, okay? Don't think about anything else."

Minho's voice was sharp. "One—"

He yanked.

A sickening crack echoed through the clearing. Newt let out a scream, raw and guttural, his entire body jerking in Thomas's arms. The sound ripped straight through Thomas's chest like glass. He held him tighter, rocked him gently, stroking his hair, whispering whatever came to mind.

"It's okay, it's done—you did it, you're okay, I've got you…" Thomas cooed as he held Newt, his own heart hurting at the thought of Newt being in pain.

Newt was gasping, eyes squeezed shut, the pain still etched deep in every line of his face—but the ankle was back in place, the worst part over.

Minho leaned back, breathless. "It's back in. Clean reset. He's gonna need to stay off it, but… we saved it."

Gally let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell."

Thomas did not say anything. He just held Newt close, still running his fingers through his hair, forehead resting against the side of his head. He did not care about the dirt; he just cared that Newt was still breathing.

"What happened, mate?" Minho asked.

Newt sniffled before he pointed up at the branch that was above them "The rope snapped".

Minho shifted his gaze up, a sickening feeling in his gut when he saw the snapped rope "I'm sorry, Newt" he said as he turned back to his friend, gently pulling the rope off of his ankle "That wasn't here when I went on patrol this morning"

A few moments passed in silence, the only sounds being that of the gentle pitta-patter of rain, Newt's ragged breathing and the quiet rustling of the forest around them. He was still hissing in pain, shoulders tense, sniffling quietly as the shock wore off and the reality of the injury sank in. Minho crouched down and began to gently rub Newt's ankle, careful not to aggravate it further. Thomas stayed behind him, arms still wrapped tight around Newt, trying to ease the shaking in his chest.

"We need to get you home before the rain picks up," Thomas said softly. "Hold onto me." He slipped one arm beneath Newt's legs and the other around his back. Newt instinctively reached up and wrapped his arms around Thomas's neck, speaking the warm comfort of his partner's embrace.

As Thomas lifted him, Newt let out a sharp hiss of pain, his face burying into Thomas's shoulder as his body tensed. "My leg really hurts," he murmured, voice barely audible.

"I know, baby," Thomas whispered, his voice steady as he started moving through the forest, holding Newt close. "I'll help you with your leg when we get home."

Newt sniffled again, biting his lip, trying to swallow down the tears building in his chest. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Thomas said, shaking his head gently. "I should've helped you. I'm sorry."

Minho and Gally followed quietly, their faces heavy with remorse. Neither of them spoke, weighed down by the fact that they had not reached Newt sooner.

Back at the house, Gally moved ahead and opened the door. Thomas carried Newt inside, straight to their bedroom. He laid him down gently on the bed, never letting go until he was sure Newt was settled. Then he sat beside him, his hand instantly going to Newt's injured leg, rubbing slow, careful circles to ease the pain.

Newt covered his eyes with one arm, his breath hitching as he hissed through the pain. His eyes began to water as sobs wrecked through his body, he clamped his mouth shut in a thin line to muffle his sobs, but the soft whimpers escaped, alerting Thomas to his distress.

Thomas shifted but did not stop rubbing. "It's alright. I'm sorting it, try to relax."

Newt tried, but the pain overwhelmed him. He broke down into tears, chest shaking "Tommy?"

Thomas reached up and took his trembling hand, holding it tight. "Sshh, it's okay. I'm right here."

Minho stepped closer, crouching beside the bed and rubbing Newt's leg again. "Lie with him," he said gently. "Comfort him."

Thomas did not hesitate. He slipped into the bed beside Newt, curling up close and stroking his hair with slow, calming fingers. "Sshhh, it's okay. Can you look at me?"

Newt slowly moved his arm away from his face and turned his head toward Thomas, eyes puffy and red.

Thomas kissed his forehead, his thumb brushing along his cheekbone. "Well done. Just hold my hand and keep looking at me."

Newt nodded weakly, still crying, pain etched into every line of his face. "My leg is agony, Tommy. It really hurts."

"I know, Baby," Thomas whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. "I know."

Gally stepped into the room last, casting one more glance out the hallway before gently closing the door behind him. The soft click of the latch echoed like a final exhale, the danger had passed, but the weight of it lingered.

Thomas lay beside Newt; arms still wrapped around him. Newt was pressed close to his chest, his breathing uneven but slowing, the tension slowly melting from his body under Thomas's steady hands and soft words. Thomas brushed gentle circles into Newt's back while his other hand held Newt's tightly, anchored.

Minho stayed kneeling at the edge of the bed, still rubbing Newt's ankle in slow, practiced motions. He barely touched the skin, just enough to ease the pain without waking him. His eyes were fixed on the injured joint, jaw clenched tight.

Newt shifted slightly, a shaky sigh slipping from his lips. His head nestled deeper into the crook of Thomas's neck, his tears finally slowing. Then, gradually, his body went limp with exhaustion, the pain and adrenaline finally giving way to sleep.

Thomas whispered softly, "He's asleep."

Minho pulled his hand back and sat on the floor beside the bed, leaning back on his hands. Gally walked over and sat down in the chair across the room, elbows resting on his knees, eyes heavy.

They all sat in silence for a moment, letting the quiet settle.

"I should've realised it sooner," Gally muttered, barely above a whisper. "He never asks for help. I just… thought he was trying to prank us. I didn't think it was this bad."

Minho sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We all missed it. I didn't think."

Thomas looked down at Newt, brushing his fingers through his hair. "He always puts everyone else first. Even when he's breaking."

Guilt hung heavy in the room.

"I hate seeing him like this," Minho said quietly. "He didn't deserve that pain."

"No," Thomas murmured, "he didn't. But he's strong. He'll get through it. We'll help him."

Gally nodded slowly. "We just… gotta be there. All the time. No more letting things slide."

Thomas leaned his forehead against Newt's, his voice low. "He won't have to go through anything alone. Not ever again."

The room stayed still, the only sound Newt's steady, sleeping breaths. The three of them stayed close, not ready to leave him, not while he needed them.