Oblivion
It was a curious thing. Newt Scamander was used to travelling - he loved travelling, and never before had he felt apprehension of this kind, this kind of pulling in his gut. He pretended he didn't know what it was; pretended he didn't know that what he was afraid of. What was really causing him such pain was the idea of leaving his friends- the only friends he'd had in a very long time. He tried not to think of it as he threw himself down on the hard bed of the cabin
"Worrying only means you suffer twice," he reminded himself under his breath, though the words seemed empty now. He couldn't even take his own advice. He involuntarily thought of Credence - poor Credence, torn apart so completely. Another lost soul senselessly taken, if they had only bothered to try to help... Newt shook his head - it wasn't worth dwelling on the past.
The familiar muttering of Pickett in his coat pocket woke him from the refuge of his mind. He smiled at the little creature, turning it over in his hands and muttering soothing words to him. Words that they both knew were lies.
Ordinarily Newt would spend most of the day in his case, tending to the creatures there, but today he was restless; on three separate occasions he found himself almost compelled to leave the cabin and wander the deck, a inclination he had never had before. In the end he settled with just pacing up and down the small room muttering to Pickett gently.
The knock on his door shook him. No one ever did that - it was an unwritten rule on ships like this that you kept to yourself. Silencing Pickett, he cautiously made his way to the door and opened it, his hand hovering at his side, ready to reach for his wand. Newt had seen a lot of strange things, some that were impossibly beautiful, but nothing he had ever seen compared to the sight of the man outside his door.
He was slumping into himself even more than usual and his face was covered in a few fresh scars but there was no mistaking it.
"Credence!" It wasn't a question, more of a cry of disbelief. The boy flinched, Newt didn't know if it was his voice or the sound of his own name that caused it. Dark eyes lifted from the floor where they had lingered and dragged themselves up to fix upon Newts own. Credence searched for words, he couldn’t seem to find any. After a moment of struggling Newt put his hand on the man's shoulder (he was a man, Newt realized, though he somehow made himself look like a child) and whispered, "you'd better come inside".
Though Credence shied away from his touch the moment the door closed behind them, he seemed to recover some of his senses. "I'm sorry," his voice was cracked and quiet, like he was afraid of being heard. "I didn't know... I don't have anywhere.. I..." He was frightened, Newt could sense that, but he'd come to Newt of his own accord, so he must trust him a little bit.
"You're welcome here. It's a wonder that you survived...?" Newt stopped himself when he noticed the pained look in the other boy's eyes. "You don't have to answer that." He muttered and cleared off his scarf and notebook from the bed where he'd deserted them. "You're tired? Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Newt soothed, noticing that Credence fighting to keep his eyes open, shooting him a nervous smile that he hoped might be reassuring. After a moment of just staring, Credence nodded.
Credence slept until midnight, by which point Newt (who'd occupied himself by sitting at the small desk and copying down his new notes about Swooping Evil venom from the events in New York) was starting to hear the call of sleep too. Credence, who'd been sleeping in the same shirt he'd probably worn for weeks (which Newt had tried to protest to, only to realise that made things significantly more awkward) drew the thin blanket around him when he awoke. When Newt finally realized he was awake - which did take a moment since he made no noise at all - he offered him a weary smile and quietly asked "cold?" to which Credence just nodded.
For the first time, Newt realised how utterly lost he was to handle this. The pair spent almost what felt like hours in silence, neither knowing how to respond to the other. When the silence had finally cracked Newt he decided to try and old-faithful technique. "Credence?" he asked, "can I show you something?" Credence, who'd been quietly contemplating the floor looked up, which Newt promptly took as an affirmative answer.
There was one part life where Newt excelled, where all awkwardness and confusion melted away. Maybe it would even be as good for Credence as it was for him. After all - a man like him could use a little magic in his life. Newt smiled a sincere smile and made his way over to his case. He slowly flipped open the lid and gestured down inside.
"It's in there." At the incredulous look Credence shot him, he added, "do you trust me?"
He could tell that Credence wasn't sure, but after a moment he pulled himself up from the bed and gazed down into the case. After a little bit more deliberation, Newt stepped inside as well, Credence followed, stumbling slightly on his way down.
"What…? What is this place?" Credence asked in awe, the first full sentence he'd formed all day.
Newt blushed a little with pride. "This is my sanctuary for magical creatures. I'll show you around."