Clematis

The busy sound of St. Mungos has become almost familiar in the last few days. The sudden scream and shuts from new patients appearing though have not.

And think, just a couple of days ago, that had been himself. Clinging to his limp older brother, not knowing if it was imagination or if indeed the pulse under his fingers was fading.

They must have made quite the view. A muggle, a known Grindelwald sympathizer, a magizoologist, and Professor Dumbledore. All of them clinging to the unconscious head of the British Auror department.

The experienced wizards at St. Mungos had jumped right to work. With calm words, they'd tried to pry Theseus out of Newt’s hands. He knew he needed to let them have him, but a part of him was terrified his brother would slip away if he let go of his hand.

In the end, it had been Jacob who had managed to let them take him.

“Newt, Newt, breathe,” the muggle had said. “Let them take Theseus now okay, you’ve done all you can. We will see him soon, okay? See now, there you go.”

Jacob’s calm words still rang in his ear. We will see him soon, Jacob had said. So sure, his faith in Theseus is so clear. Newt admired him for that.

Jacob had been right.

After the first frightful night, where no one was sure of anything or if medicines were even working - and with Theseus trying to give up on them twice which left them all horrified, things had started looking up.

“He’s made it through the worst,” the nurse who had been following them the closest said. “The first two nights were the hardest, the most unsure. Now he needs to heal, so he can wake up and be with you again.”

Dumbledore had gone before the first night was even over. Newt couldn’t blame him. The man had other important tasks. Newt knew the professor had taken some of the duties considering what happened at the election that Newt himself should be doing.

Jacob and Quinnie though... they had stayed. They had been forcibly removed the second day, once visiting hours closed. But they'd shown up the next day on the dot when it opened again.

Someone from the ministry had been by too, with flowers. The unfamiliar wizard had been muttering of unsanctioned missions. Quinnie kicked their shins for it. They hadn’t seen anyone from there since. It made Newt hurt for Theseus, knowing how much his brother valued his work, seeing how little care they gave him back.

Their parents had yet to come, but Newt had advised them - once they knew Theseus was out of mortal danger, to wait. Told them he’d inform them the second Theseus was awake, and that there’d be nothing to do but sit around until he did.

Now, Newt was getting restless. He itched to move, do something, anything else, outside of St. Mungos walls. But he couldn’t. Not only had he promised his parents that he wouldn’t leave Theseus' side, but he had also promised himself. Even whispered it to Theseus, the first night while the too high fever rattled Theseus' body.

“I won’t leave, Thee,” he’d said, “I promise. I’ll stay here. So you can’t leave either.”

He liked to think Theseus had heard him. That it had helped his brother battle the illness.

A noise picks up in his ears. One he doesn’t understand, not familiar around. Looking around, everything seems as usual. Outside the sun is still battling against the clouds, almost peaking through them.

Maybe he is in fact, going stir crazy.

But no - there the sound is again. A strange low noise.

His eyes fall on his brother.

Theseus' face is no longer slack and relaxed. His eyes are scrunched up, lips moving.

“Theseus?” he says, getting up from his chair to move closer to his brother. “You awake now?” he tries.

Theseus’ eyes blink open, then close in the same second at the brightness of the room.

Newt hurries over to shut the curtains, refusing the first strands of sun breaking through the clouds entry to the room. Turning back to his brother, he realizes Theseus' eyes are open again. Looking at him.

“Newt?” Theseus’ voice is hoarse as he speaks.

Newt grabs a glass, filling it with water with a flick of his wand. Carefully he brings it up to Theseus's lips, as he sees how Theseus's hand is shaking when the older tries to lift it.

“Drink,” Newt orders.

And Theseus, somehow grumpy expression already on his face, does.

As Newt brings the glass down again, setting it down on the nightstand, Theseus speaks up again.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, hand rubbing over his side where the wound had been, the scar still there.

“The manticore queen,” Newt starts, searching Theseus' face for recognition. Thankful when he sees Theseus scrunch his nose in disgust.

“I healed that,” he replies, matter-of-factly. Newt almost rolls his eyes right then and there.

“No, actually you didn’t,” he replies.

“I do in fact, remember healing that stupid scar. It zipped right up,” Theseus argues back.

“Well, the spell wasn’t enough,” Newt tells him. “You still had some of its poison in you, so it attacked you from the inside.”

“Huh,” Theseus says then, looking a little dumb-founded.

“How did you not realize?” Newt asks, feeling his pent-up anger at his older brother come to the forefront of his mind. “You were deathly ill. The poison had entered your bloodstream. And you just? Ignored it? Risked it? What were you thinking?”

“I had healed it!” Theseus raises his voice slightly, making Newt shrink back a little at the sudden loud noise. Theseus looks almost ashamed of himself when Newt dares to look up at his brother again.

“I healed it,” Theseus repeats. “It's just.. Hurt a little. I thought it was part of the process.”

Newt facepalms himself.

“I’m sorry if I made a spectacle,” Theseus answers, “or made you uncomfortable. I- I thought I’d be fine. I guess it snuck up on me.”

“Uncomfortable?” Newt replies, unable to keep an exasperated laugh away. “You terrified me.” It’s odd to be this honest, put a name to his feelings. His overtaking anger is still ruling him, and it makes the words flow out of his mouth.

“I thought I was gonna lose you. I... I knew you were giving the hunt everything you had. Being more reckless than usual. If you’d actually... And I hadn’t seen it? How would I live with myself?”

He doesn’t dare look at his brother, let alone meet his eyes. But he does hear the sharp intake of breath from the older.

“Newt..” his brother starts, but he seems lost for words.

“I’m sorry,” Theseus states, once the silence has dragged on for too long to be comfortable anymore. “I - I didn’t think it was that serious.”

It makes Newt scoff, but he doesn’t argue.

Theseus is alive. Awake. Talking to him again.

“How long have I been out?” Theseus asks, used to Newt’s silence and how he doesn’t like starting pointless conversations.

“Three days,” Newt replies, “you were... Really, really sick for the first one and a half.”

“Explains why I feel like shit,” Theseus states, sounding very tired suddenly. “How's.. how's the hunt going?”

Now, that makes Newt look up at his brother again, having to check if Theseus is joking. He, of course, isn’t.

“You’ve been awake all of ten minutes, and you’re already thinking of the case?” Newt asks him, both angry and shocked. It makes Theseus shrug. A sudden wince takes over his face as he pulls at the still sore scar tissue in his abdomen.

“What else should I be thinking about?” Theseus argues once his face has relaxed again.

That... Newt doesn’t know how to answer. Everything, anything else, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Looking for Grindelwald has been their life for what seems like forever now. Can he blame Theseus for wanting to know if there have been any developments?

“What is the ministry saying?” Theseus tries again when it probably comes clear Newt isn’t going to answer his other question.

It's Newt's turn to wince. “They uh- came over with those flowers,” he responds, pointing at the now a bit sad-looking bouquet. Maybe he should’ve thrown those out earlier.

He doesn’t miss how Theseus' face falls, just a little, before he replaces it with a mask. It's something Newt has learned to read on his older brother only recently. To see through the front he puts up. It isn't always this obvious, and Newt is afraid he often misses it.

“Oh, they're very busy then, I assume,” Theseus says, but his voice is all weird and static.

Newt says nothing. Doesn’t know what Theseus needs to hear. His brother knows his stand on the ministry. Newt sees no reason to pretend the so-called “Ministry Family” actually is anything like a family.

Thankfully, just then, the door opens. Queenie and Jacob come walking through, taking with them natural light and happy faces.

“Theseus!” Jacob says, voice booming and so incredibly happy it makes Newt even more thankful for the man. “You’re not so dead-looking anymore!” the man continues, throwing his arms around Newt's older brother. Theseus seems a bit surprised at the hug but sinks into it nonetheless. No one can resist a hug from Jacob.

Queenie is by the bedside too, squeezing Theseus' arm a little. “It’s good to see you awake again, honey. I was afraid we’d have to drag Newt out of here tonight, to have him get some sleep.”

Theseus smiles a little, “I’m happy to see you, both, too” he says.

Newt watches Queenie and Jacob look at each other, grateful smiles on both their lips.

“So how are you feeling then?” Queenie asks when the moment passes. Jacob goes over to the window, opening the curtains again slightly. Letting some sunshine through, making the mood instantly lighter.

“Sore,” Theseus admits, “perhaps a little embarrassed. I’m sorry for causing such a ruckus.”

“No, don’t think about that now honey,” Queenie responds, “we’re all just glad you pulled through.”

“We are,” Jacob adds.

Newt realizes all eyes are on him now.

“Yeah,” he replies, taking a deep breath, forcing all what-ifs still hanging in his brain away, “yeah, we are.”

Theseus smiles at that, and Newt dares to think, for the first time in four days, that maybe. Just maybe, things will be okay.