In which Credence forgets his floaties but he’s already at the pool so might as well swim
He booked the first boat back to England, needing no further prompting from President Picquery. Shortly before arriving at the boarding platform, Newt wrote his brother--who, no doubt, already knew he had managed to leave England in spite of his travel ban. His brother had probably noticed his absence before the first day was over. Newt only hoped that Theseus had been ‘kept in the dark’, so to speak, about the trouble that seemed to follow him to America.
Saying goodbye to Tina and Queenie was harder than he would’ve expected. Jacob wasn’t there, Newt wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Words that only Queenie may know were left unspoken and the conversation ended with a not-so-subtle promise to visit them in the near future.
Though someone yelled at him to get back on the boat before it left without him, Newt almost didn’t. ‘Almost’ being the keyword. Despite the friends he made in New York, he wasn’t sure he could survive much longer without seeing his other creatures--not all of his creatures were able to come to New York with him, some of them he was forced to leave in London under the care of Theseus.
He managed to board the boat and everything sailed smoothly, metaphorically. Nothing seemed to sail smoothly in the literal sense; throughout the whole ride, the boat rocked back and forth in a violent manner.
Newt quickly located the room he’d be occupying. It was a small room--if he spread his arms to their full wingspan, his hands would be able to touch both walls at the same time--but it was also the cheapest room on the ship. There was a single bed with thin, white sheets that were either stained or in desperate need of a proper cleaning. For the price he paid, Newt honestly couldn’t complain and either way, he’d be spending the majority of the trip in his case with his creatures.
Newt accounted for the food his creatures would need, and then some, however, he failed to account for whatever food he might’ve needed. Had he been able to travel as he normally would’ve, he could have already been in Britain. Due to a not-so-minor inconvenience caused by the Ministry of Magic, itself, he was forced to spend the next 10-or-so days on this muggle vesel.
He had seriously over-estimated how fast muggle vessels actually travel. Two days had already passed, yet they had only traveled about 250 miles. At some point, he’d have to rejoin the major population on deck in search for food. Until then, he would remain in his case with his creatures.
The point at which he needed to rejoin the population in search of food, came a lot faster than he would’ve hoped, though with the amount of running around he did in his case, it was only to be expected. He was still rather disappointed that time appeared so early into the trip.
When Newt left the safety of his case, he was surprised to see that it was pitch black outside. His estimation of two days, might not have been nearly as accurate as he thought.
He stepped outside onto the presumably empty deck, only to be met by a dark figure leaning against the railing.
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Credence wasn’t sure where he was or where he was going, all he knew was that he was, in fact, alive. Likewise, he assumed he was the only person who knew of his continued existence and he intended to keep it this way. So, naturally, he searched for the first way to escape New York and the witchcraft that haunted the city.
Thus, he ended up on this boat. Credence had no idea where the boat was going, he only knew it to be an escape.
He had spent the better part of the first day hiding away in the laundry room. However small the chance that someone might recognize him from the New York incident, he didn't want to risk it.
They had been sailing through, what Credence thought was, the Atlantic for the better part of seven days. Credence had managed to fall into a rhythm of sorts; during the day he would hide away in the engine room--the ballroom was also an option, but only at certain times--and once he was sure that all the passengers were away in their cabins, Credence would roam freely around the deck.
The kitchen staff worked odd hours so there was only a brief one hour period where he was able to steal whatever he could from the kitchen. He was always careful to not steal so much that it would be noticeable--which normally resulted in him skipping certain days as far as food went--yet steal enough so he could survive semi-nourished.
At this point in his life, Credence had grown used to the constant feeling of hunger. Yet, when he was here, walking along the deck, his focus was somewhere else.
In the beginning, Credence would simply walk the deck over and over again into the early hours of the morning when all the early birds decided to wake up. Now, that simple act had grown redundant and tedious, he would just stand by the railing and stare up into the sky.
He was completely mesmerized by the starry night sky and fascinated by the different moon phases. The act of walking around the deck may have become boring after a short time, but Credence didn't think he would ever tire of looking up into the sky only to find a seemingly endless amount of glittering stars. Credence couldn't possibly imagine a time where the moon, or lack of it on some nights, would fail to dazzle him.
So, as he did every night, Credence found himself leaning against the old railing with his gaze set on the crescent-shaped moon. His gaze averted to the reflection the moon cast upon the tranquil water. The water always seemed to be calmer at night.
Credence pondered with the idea of working on a ship once he got where ever he was going. At the least, Credence knew how to clean and he seemed to like being out at sea. The main issue would appear when trying to acquire said job.
His train of thought was cut short by the sound of the floorboards creaking. Credence had practically memorized the sound each of the floorboards made during the nights he had spent walking the deck.
Although he tried to tell himself it was probably nothing, his fight or flight instincts were kicking in and Credence wanted to choose the latter. His grip on the railing may have tightened, but he didn't move from his spot. Rather, Credence tried to remain as still as possible as though, if something were there, it wouldn't see him if he didn't move.
The creaking of the floorboards only continued and seemed to intensify, yet Credence refused to move. With every creak, his grip would only tighten. His fear drowned out whatever pain he would’ve otherwise felt from how hard the railing was digging into his skin.
His grip on the rails tightened to the point where he could no longer feel his hands. He didn’t feel as the rusted railing collapsed under his weight.
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Newt remained as still as possible hoping that the dark figure standing opposite of him was merely a hallucination caused by the lack of sleep he had received. Maybe if he was still enough the figure, that is if it wasn’t a mere hallucination, wouldn’t see him and simply walk away.
There was no real reason for him wanting to avoid the person. Technically, they hadn’t caught him in the act of stealing food from the kitchens. He could’ve easily made the excuse of being unable to sleep or stargazing or even needing some fresh air. He still had the ticket to prove he actually paid to board this ship. In all honesty, he didn’t want to have to socialize.
His original plans were to spend this entire journey in his case, away from the major population. Those plans where obviously cut short, but he still wasn’t sure that he would be able to hold a reasonable conversation with this mystery person should it be necessary. Newt had to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable he would have with his brother, Theseus, once he got back into London for crying out loud.
Instead, he watched in horror as the railing disappeared from beneath the figure. The most horrifying thing was that for a split second, Newt almost walked away.
Cursing, he ran to where the figure had fallen overboard whilst stripping himself of his coat and vest. Using whatever little brain cells he had left, Newt thought to grab his wand before he dived into the freezing ocean. He hadn’t, however, thought to cast any sort of charm that would allow him to breathe underwater for extended periods of times.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins was enough to make the shock that the freezing water otherwise would’ve caused disappear. He forced his eyes to remain open despite the painful sting of the salty water. The only source of light was whatever the reflection of the moon decided to grant him. Newt continued to swim deeper only to be met with complete emptiness spare for the dark, cold water that surrounded him.
Newt ascended to the surface and began slowly treading water as to allow his lung the sweet embrace of stolen air, before diving down again.
This time he was able to make out an area where the water appeared darker than it should’ve. The figure appeared to be trying to fight their way to the surface of the water. Newt swam best he could to reach the person, but every second longer it took, the more likely he wouldn’t succeed. Every second longer it took, he noticed the figure’s efforts seemed to lessen. Until their movements stopped and their body slowly began rise to the top of the water.
They were unconscious. Newt estimated that he had less than thirty seconds before they went into cardiac arrest. He swam with more force behind each movement, ignoring the burning in his lungs, in a race against himself to reach the person.
By some miracle, Newt managed to reach the figure. He wrapped an arm around the waist and fought his way back to the top. He wasn’t completely sure if he could apparate in and out of bodies of water, and the situation was too delicate to find out now.
The person was still unconscious and the risk-fact of them going into cardiac arrest hadn’t lessened greatly.
Gasping, Newt looked around for the ship that had surely deserted them by now. He was pleasantly surprised to find the large ship staring back at him instead. Making sure to keep the person’s head above water, he slowly swam back to the ship.
Something had finally decided to work in his favor; there was a ladder waiting for him by along the side of the boat. The difficult part would be climbing up the ladder while keeping a steady grip on the person.
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Credence didn’t feel as the railing collapsed. He didn’t feel himself falling overboard. He only knew he had fallen when his body hit the water.
He had no idea how to swim.
Now, in the freezing waters of the North Atlantic, was not the time to learn. That being said, he didn’t know how to keep himself from drowning either. He never really had the time to drown between destroying New York and handing out religious pamphlets.
Panic filled his body as he sunk into the water. He mustered whatever energy he had--the plan of staying semi-nourished seemed to have backfired on him--and fought his way to the surface. His lungs wept in joy once he managed to get his head above the tides.
Using whatever little knowledge he had of swimming, Credence tried to turn onto his back, trusting he would float. He managed to turn completely onto his back, only to be thrown back underwater by a miniscule wave.
His hands reached out, blindly grasping for anything that might possibly help him.
Underwater, his screams would never reach other ears, but he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing.
Every movement was filled with a pain that only served to help him forget the burning in his lungs. There was a heaviness, that only seemed to grow, dragging him further and further down. His heart began to slow, despite his efforts towards reaching the surface.
He wavered on the border between conscious and unconscious, before finally giving in to the side of unconsciousness.