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When Thomas opened his eyes, he found himself sitting with his friends around a cozy campfire. They were all chatting away, each with a big smile as if this was the happiest place on earth. The joy of seeing them so happy made Thomas smile too as he looked from one friendly face to the other. He tried to listen to the conversation going on, but somehow their voices were muffled. It was as if he was hearing them underwater. But that didn’t matter, he was satisfied with just sitting there.
Still he couldn’t let go of the prickling feeling that something was off. It was weird, but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t sure of where exactly they were, couldn’t see anything beyond their little circle, but that wasn’t what didn’t fit in. Nor was it the almost sparkling effect this whole place seemed to have, or that the last thing Thomas remembered was being on a burning rooftop…
Thomas jerked his head up, again sweeping his gaze over his friends’ faces, until he came to a halting stop at Newt’s. Newt. That was it. That was the thing that didn’t belong, not when he could so clearly picture Newt’s empty eyes staring up at him. Newt couldn’t be here because Newt was dead.
“You’re right,” Newt said, as if he had heard Thomas’ thoughts. Maybe he had. “I am dead.”
To hear it spoken out loud sent a pang of pain through Thomas’ entire being. As long as it had just been in his head he could pretend it hadn’t actually happened.
“I am dead,” Newt said again. “But you are wrong about another thing. I can be here. I am here. Wherever ‘here’ is.”
“Th- then what a- about-” It was difficult to talk, his vocal chords didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him. “t- them? Are they h- here too?”
Newt shook his head. “They are from your mind, your thoughts. But they aren’t here, from what I can tell.” He made a sweeping gesture of his hand, and the others disappeared like someone had blown out a candle, leaving only Thomas and Newt.
“W- why-”
“Don’t talk,” Newt cut him off. “Just think. I will know what you mean.”
Somehow that made sense in this weird place.
Why am I here? Am I dead too? That thought wasn’t as scary as it might have been. On the contrary, he found a sense of peace in it. If he was dead, he had no reason to keep fighting a lost battle. He could just give up, give in. Just let go.
“ No. ” The word was said in such a sharp tone that is made Thomas jump, and he had the feeling that Newt was opposing to more than just the question he’d been asked. “You are not dead. Not yet anyway.”
So then what?
Newt shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to you, just that whatever it was, you’re still tied to life.” Then his shoulders slumped a little and a deep sigh escaped him. “Tommy, what are you doing here?”
What do you mean? Without thinking, Thomas looked around again, searching for a landmark to tell him where exactly “here” was. Still there was nothing. He found his gaze drawn back to the crackling fire. Being as close to it as he was, he should have been able to feel the heat radiating out from it, sinking into his body and warming his frozen bones. He should have been able to smell the burning wood and the smoke it created. But he couldn’t do either. It was as if the fire really wasn’t even there. Is this the afterlife?
“You tell me. All I know is that whatever this is, you’re creating it. Your subconscious, or whatever. And you’re allowing it to pull you down further. You’re sinking.”
You mean I’m dying. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t mind. Hadn’t he failed already? Newt was dead. And Teresa. And Chuck, and Winston, Alby and so many others. He hadn’t been able to protect anyone. Perhaps if he died he could see them again.
“Tommy!” Newt sounded angry with him. Last time that happened he had shoved Thomas against a wall and yelled at him to not lie. “You can’t. Pick your sorry ass up and go back. Finish what you started.”
But- But what more was there to live for?
“Minho.” was the reply. “Brenda. Fry. Even Gally. Do you think it’s fair to them? If they were to lose you too? Do you think they could handle it?”
But Newt… Could thoughts sound pleading? Thomas supposed they could. Even if the tone didn’t come across, he hoped Newt could read the desperation he felt, the pain in his chest. You won’t be there.
Newt gave him a smile, the first he had had during their whole conversation. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I know. That is something you will have to live with. But you have to live . Then maybe we will meet again, another day. When you’re done.”
He knew Newt was right. As much as he hated to admit it, and as much as he wanted to give in to the pressing darkness that had seemingly crept even closer to their little fire, he knew he couldn’t. He was still needed elsewhere. He sighed. Before he pushed through the barrier separating the unconscious from conscious, he took a moment to look at Newt, healthy and scowling, and more at ease than he’d been for months. It would have to last a lifetime.
I am sorry, Newt. I couldn’t save you.
He didn’t hear if Newt replied, but as he woke up he was left with a warm feeling, as if that campfire’s lost heat now burned inside him. Not even the pain from the gunshot wound was enough to snuff it out.