The Rat Man smiled. Mocking. Contented. Like he knew this would happen all along.
"Wait," Thomas blurted out, and the smile faded a little. "On one condition."
"What's that?"
"You wake him up, give him the Bliss, whatever. I need to talk to him one last time." He took a deep breath, told himself this would be a good idea. He couldn't let Newt go like this, now that he knew Newt would live. And he couldn't be more glad, but he needed to see him before- before he died.
Thomas took a deep breath. This would be it, wouldn't it? At least he was dying for a good cause. He hoped.
Amusement played in the Rat Man's eyes. "Very well," he said.
He directed Thomas to one of the operation beds in the room. Slowly, Thomas lowered himself onto the bed, and watched as the Rat Man filled a needle with a blue, translucent fluid. He watched as he sunk the needle into Newt's arm. It reminded him of a very similar needle, with mercury like liquid. He dug his nails into his palms to drown out the pain.
Slowly, Newt woke. He started, and his eyes were hazy for a moment, but when they focused alarm and concern were clear on his face.
"Tommy? What is this? Where am I? Why-" he frowned, taking a few steps towards Thomas. "I thought I was-"
Thomas felt his breath punched out of his lungs. He was hearing Newt's voice again. Newt wasn't dead. He wasn't- he wasn't dead. He'd never been happier to hear his voice. He looked, he looked so alive. He seemed almost fine, after the Right Arm had cleaned him up, and Thomas felt a strong wave of déjà vu. Only the last time, years ago, Newt was the one on the operation bed. Then, he realised he was supposed to say something.
"Right, they found a cure. WICKED found a cure for you, you'll be fine in no time." His hands were trembling when he reached out to Newt, wrapping his fingers around Newt's.
"There's a but, isn't there?"
"But, they need a last ingredient. It's me. I'm- I'm their last ingredient. They need my brain."
Newt gasped. "No, nonono. I'm not letting you do this. There has to be another way."
"No, there isn't."
"You don't know that! I'm not letting you go, we'll figure out something. You'll figure it out, you're the one who always figures it out."
Thomas squeezed Newt's hand, heart thrumming, fast, faster. He wiped his eyes with the back of his other hand, because this, this was truly their goodbye, and he refused to go through it with tears blurring his vision. He tried to smile, and he watched as the determination in Newt's eyes become sad resignation.
"It's just the way it has to be. I'm sorry, I am. Take care of the others, okay? When this is all over. Goodbye, Newt. I- I love you."
He looked into the other boy's eyes, one hand gently caressing his cheek. He wanted to commit him to memory, so that he'll remember him even when he's past this world. If there was an afterlife, a heaven, he'll watch over him, he's sure. He'll make sure he's okay, and he'll take care of Newt like Newt took care of him.
"I'll never forget you," Newt said, "you'll always be my Tommy. The bravest boy who saved the world. I'll always love you. I'll always miss you." The nickname rolled off his tongue like velvet, and Thomas surged forward to kiss him, lingering on, always lingering on, grasping for the last bit of Newt he'll ever have.
"Alright you two, time to move on. There are bigger things at hand," came a voice behind him, and as Thomas broke away from the kiss, he saw one last flash Newt, before another needle was jammed into Newt's arm and he crumpled onto the floor, out cold.
Thomas clenched his jaw, and allowed himself one last look. Then, he turned away. His movements were faraway, only semiconscious, as he trudged back to the operation bed. He was lost in his thoughts, so lost, relieving every good memory again and again.
"Thomas, Thomas, Thomas," the Rat Man started as he circled around the bed, cleaning needles and filling them up with what Thomas presumed to be anesthetic. He eyed the scalpels and surgical tools on the metal try beside him, faint fear bubbling up in his chest. "A1. Our best subject. We knew we could count on you, Thomas, and you certainly did not let us down."
Thomas snorted softly at that, choosing to ignore the pang in his chest at the word subject. He hated that word. They were so much more than that, his friends, his lover. Subject. It spoke of something feelingless, something soulless, but his friends were the bravest, smartest people he knew. Subject.
"I'm sure you remember, we called you the Bullet. Not without reason, of course. Though quite apt as it seems now, the bullet that almost shot through your boyfriend's head." Thomas must have made a sound, because then the Rat Man held up a finger and said, "That wasn't planned, believe it or not. But it did provide us with interesting results for the blueprints."
"No, you were our bullet, shot through and into the trials. To get the others out, yes, but also causing an explosion, reactions, and I'm sure you remember, death. All these are absolutely necessary for our blueprints, and you did wonders for the readings. So thank you, Thomas. This cure wouldn't be possible without you." He paused, held up the needle. "Literally."
A squeamish, pukey feeling settled at the bottom of Thomas' stomach. His breathing was shallower, faster, but he tried his best to remain calm. He hoped the Rat Man didn't see how tight his grip was on the mattress. He hoped he couldn't smell fear, though at this point he was pretty much ready to believe anything.
"So have you finished your great villain speech?"
The Rat Man smiled, something bothering on insanity. He leaned in close and Thomas could swear he saw an edge in his eyes. Did he have the Flare too? Thomas hoped so. Thomas hoped he would die a slow, painful death. "Ah," the Rat Man said, "but don't you get it? We're not the bad guys here."
It was then that Thomas felt the needle jab inside his skin. The last thing he saw was the clear liquid injected into his veins.
The last thing he heard, WICKED is good.
This is it then, he thought. Goodbye.
A/N: THE END.
jk not really.
But yay revelations. And stuff. School's starting in one and a half weeks. Kill me please. I'm so not ready for the new year, it's not even funny. And we have this camp thing at the start of the year and it's practically a survival camp and they make you do lots of shit like climbing stuff and kayaking for like 7 hours so I'm just going to die. I'm seriously contemplating breaking an arm or something. Help
QOTC: How many languages can you speak?
AOTC: Two. But I hate Chinese soooo.
Thanks for reading guys! The book's ending soon :/ and I don't know how to feel. But please give it a vote if you liked it and comment your feedback!
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Silver Lining (Newtmas)
Fanfiction(NOTE: CONTAINS SPOILERS) Thomas had always stared at Newt behind the screens of WICKED. When Newt was sent up, he gave up all hope of ever seeing him again. As things got worse, however, Thomas was tasked to go up to the Glade himself. But every cl...
