Crank palace re-adapted

12. Red dress

The best result of their shenanigans for the day was the large bag of food in their possession, at least half of it edible, and another bag apparently buried in the dirt behind the hut. Newt intended to retrieve his clothes and journal before sunset, but first he wanted something to eat. He and Kath had been digging through the canvas bag. Newt held up a can of precooked chili. The label was faded and the expiration date had passed, but he didn't care. In the apocalypse, beggars can't be choosers. He wanted chili. He wanted chili bad.

"This," he said, "this is our dinner. Please tell me that, as you burgled half the neighbourhood, you also burgled a can opener."

"Didn't need to, smarty pants. I've got one of those fancy pocket knives that can do one thousand and one things. Believe it or not, it even has a knife." She cackled at that one, thinking she was pretty damn clever.

Newt liked to see her laughing. "Does your magical pocket knife also have some matches?" he asked. "I'm completely willing to suck down this chili cold, but if we can heat it up, I'll be one happy Newt."

"No, but I have flint and steel. Don't tell me you don't know how to do that or this whole thing is off. Surely, in this world of ours, you can start a fire without any matches."

"Duh, of course I can!" He couldn't. They'd always had matches in the Glade.

"Good. Let's gather some wood, I'm starving."
Later that night, when they had finally put something in their stomachs, he happened to look down at her burned forearm and remembered the stuff he had filled a backpack with, so he quickly got up and came back to her, opening it up in front of her as if it was a Christmas girl. Christmas... Newt remembered that celebration. Barely, fo course  but thanks to that action he had made, he remembered the whole giving gift thing.
She didn't understand what she was supposed to know, so she took a confused look at him, before she dived her hand in.
Of all the things she imagined picking up, a run dress surely wasn't even on the list.
It was a short dress that would fit her right above her knees. The fabric was a little rough, but she didn't think much of it. She loved it and wouldn't have asked for more in a rotten world with no hope.

"Newt I... what is this?" She asked, holding the dress in her hand

"Ah, see now I know you're crazy. It's a dress Kath" he told her in a sarcastic tone

"That I can see... but, for me? Why? And where would you find a dress?"

"In the central zone... Your shirt is scratched. And I know it doesn't look that good but it was one of the few pieces of clothing in the old shop but if you don't like it..."

"Don't be silly, blondie. I love it. Thank you Newt, really" she was incredibly grateful, more than she would have been able to explain. No one had ever done such a nice gesture for her. Usually she would be the one washing Dante's cloths, stealing pieces of fabric around and adjusting them to fit him. She loved to see her brother happy in 'new' cloths, but receiving one... that was a new level of joy. She couldn't even tell how long it had been since she had felt that... maybe when she was little... maybe her mother would come home with a bag full of dresses and ballerina shoes... maybe.
Those thoughts filling her mind while she tried the dress out, trying to mirror herself in the few broken pieces left of the window.
Only his touch made her come back to reality.
He was looking at her reflection on the glass, seeing her eyes full of tears, just to focus on her hair after.
He took her hair bow out and started to organize and collect her hair into a beautifully messy tail.
Tying hair... a simple yet exautic action. For Newt, at least. Because while his physical self would be busy with that task, his mind would wander and travel back to some past time where he would have done the same thing for someone else.
Memories. Memories coming back. But as usual, blurry memories and nothing more.
After a few seconds, Kath made him come back down to earth just like he had done with her earlier, turning around to face him

"This is the most beautiful gesture someone has ever had with me" she said looking him in the eyes, just to bite her lower lip and lower her head after
Newt placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him
"You deserve it, Kath. I wish someone had taken care of you growing up" he told her "because you did a great job with him" he slightly nodded towards a sleepy Dante "I don't remember much about my past Kath... but you know I had friends. They were my family. We took care of each other and I couldn't even imagine my life without them in it... So I can only imagine how hard it must have been" She smiled. "Oh before I forget again...there's something else" he dipped his hand in the backpack and extracted a piece of white fabric... or one that must have been white  long time ago, at least.
He took her hand and gently raised her whole arm, before he begin to wrap her wound in it.
She contracted under the feeling of the fabric against her burning, but she didn't make a sound because she was completely lost in that magnetic moment, under his gentle touch and cares.
It took Newt a few seconds to wrap the thing around her arm, but once he had finished, she wrapped her arms around his neck, causing both of them to end up in a very passionate and exasperated kiss.
Despite Newt's action, the altruism in his body had completely flushed out, leaving place only to a selfish desire.
She knew and she didn't complain, because she wanted the same thing.
They spend the night giving each other pure drifts of pleasure. Just the two of them, moaning all over the cold, dirty ground, united into one for a brief moment that they would want to make last forever.
But of course it didn't, because despite their desire, there's only so much energy expenditure their physical sick selves would allow.
After their personal performance, Kath had fell to sleep incredibly fast.
He had stayed up and written in his journal for a while before he laid curled up in the same corner he'd slept the night before, which seemed like a gazillion years ago. All was dark, and all was quiet. Mostly quiet. Crickets chirped outside, and Kath was back to her soothing ocean sound snore. Dante's snore was also soft. Newt could almost believe a little puppy slept on the other side of the room.
Weariness pulled at him like a sinking tide. What had he gotten himself into? He didn't regret what he'd done, what he'd promised Kath. In fact, he cringed at the thought of not having done it. His mind kept going down rabbit holes of alternate endings to the day's events. Chickening out, Kath saying no, not getting to Her in time before she attempted bribing her way past the guards. Of course, the day could've gone a hundred disastrous ways. Crank Palace, apocalypse, all that. But they were alive, and they had a goal. He felt good.
But that didn't mean he wasn't bloody nervous. Nervous as hell. But a good nervous all the same.
When he'd written that curt, heartless note to Thomas and the others inside the Berg, telling them he was going to live with the other Cranks, he'd thought he had a plan.
What an idiot. What did Minho always call idiots? Slinthead. That's what Newt was and always would be.
But now he did have a plan. His plan even had steps. Find the man with the greasy hair, Jonesy. Tell him what he wanted. Figure out how to do it, then do it. Simple as that. Save Kath and Dante and then what happened after that, who cared? If that little family could-

A sharp pain stabbed Newt right behind the eyes. He heaved himself off his back, rocked forward, curled into a ball, grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. The pain didn't stop, kept slicing back and forth inside his skull, as if someone were trying to saw his brain in half.
He muffled the cries that wanted to leap from his chest. On some misty level of awareness, he didn't want to wake Kath. Didn't want to alarm her. He squeezed his head, rubbed his temples, prayed to all known gods that it would go away. The pain lasted a minute at most. Probably more like thirty seconds. But then it faded, quickly descending into a dull ache, and then going away completely.
He sat up, pushed his back into the corner, tried to catch his breath without being too loud. Holy hell, that had hurt. The relief from its absence was about as blissful a feeling as he'd ever had.
He blew out a heavy huff, and closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall. It had something to do with his memories, the Swipe. The virus had attacked it, maybe. The episode had been triggered by those thoughts of Kath being reunited with her mom. A mom, a son, a daughter.
A mom, a brother, a sister.
Newt didn't understand the whys or hows or whats. This is what he knew. He'd been stabbed with pain, and then the pain had vanished. And now? Mom, dad, sister.
Newt remembered a little more. Just enough to make him sad. Just enough to confirm that he needed something to keep him occupied or he would sink forever into the darkness. Sink and never see the light again.
Yes, he had to keep occupied. Had to keep busy, and leave a last tiny mark on the world. Which is exactly what he planned to do.
Tomorrow, he'd talk to that Jonesy guy.