Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 49

I don't like dying. The smoke invades my lungs, heat prickling viciously against my skin. It's so, so lonely. But better a fast death than a slow one. That's why I'm here, lying on the ground a little way into the city.

Fire gave me control, but now it holds all the power. My own flames will kill me, choking me out on the gritty earth beneath me.

I remember Newt's song.

When I watch the world burn, all I think about is you...

I'm thinking about him. I can almost hear the singing crooning to me from the distance. Death. If it comes with his voice, it won't be so bad.

But why are the words so rough? Newt was softer, gentler on the notes. I raise my head slightly, coughing from the layer of smoke inches above me.

It's him. It must be.

I don't question it. I don't doubt. I start crawling towards the voice, keeping beneath the worst of the smoke, ignoring my burns.

And I sing.

Lay me down in ash again and watch the world crumble-

The voice halts, and he's calling for me, shouting in the smoke.

"Ash? Ash, where are you?"

"Here," I gasp, and he emerges from the smoke. His shirt is wrapped around his mouth, but he's standing, so he must be inhaling a ton of smoke.

I do my best to walk. We head through the least flame-ridden path to the edge of the city. Once we're free of the smoke we both collapse, coughing and hacking. Newt rips the shirt away from his face, gasping for air.

"Why?" he snarls as soon as he has breath, eyes so, so angry.

It almost scares me, but I'm too empty. He saved me. North. Follow the Gladers. I ignore him, and start crawling alongside the city towards the near northern boundary.

I'm definitely too lightheaded to stand, even if it wasn't for my injuries.

"You tried to die," Newt continues in his hoarse, broken voice. "Why would you do that, Ash?"

"You wouldn't understand," I answer, and then break into a coughing fit. He's too gentle. To throw himself into revenge so wholeheartedly that it could kill him... he wouldn't understand.

"Oh, really?" he says in a hard voice, but before he can ask me to explain how it feels, before he can claim to empathize with the war in my soul, someone comes running up to us from the distance.

In the last rays of light from the sun I can tell that it's Minho, and I frown. Why is he here?

He goes straight to Newt, hugging him tightly. Then he turns to me and scans us both up and down.

"You guys look like klunk."

"Take her," Newt rasps. "I can walk."

Minho sighs. "I wish you weren't so stubborn. Come here, Ash."

I ignore the command. "What-" Minho cuts me off by picking me up. I yelp as he jostles my burns and give him a scathing glare.

"You," Newt growls, "have no right to complain. I saved your sorry hide, so be quiet and let him carry you."

The pain and exhaustion and emotional strain finally set in, and I don't complain. Instead I bury my face against Minho and try to cry as quietly as possible as he carries me north, Newt limping along behind us.

Newt. He came to save me. He nearly died to rescue me. And I thought loving him couldn't get any more painful.

I silently sob in the night.