Chapter 6

Newt hauled their wet clothes from the washing machine and dropped them into the dryer. Leo darted looks towards the door, but it was only the two of them. Riley had put the latest superhero release on a projector in one of the classrooms.

Fridays were film days according to Leo.

With the majority of the wing busy, Leo had loaded Newt up like a pack horse and ordered him to the laundry room.

"No fabric softener?" Newt asked.

"Fabric softener?" Leo scoffed.

"My brother swears by it."

Leo cocked his head as if considering. "I can't see either Stone or Mickey using fabric softener."

"They don't."

"But you said?—"

"I meant, when we get it, which is rarely, they swear by it. It's the holy grail of clothes washing…"

Good save.

Leo narrowed his eyes. "Riiight. Next, you'll be telling me your brothers iron."

"One does."

Damn it.

"Stone? From what I've seen of Mickey, he can't seem to dress himself."

Newt snorted softly and closed the lid on the machine.

"So it must be Stone that irons?" Leo pressed.

"Yeah, he irons." Newt spun the dial. "Do you think ninety minutes will do it?"

Leo's gaze burnt into him. "Ninety sounds fine. Stone's clothes looked tatty the few times I saw him…"

"He irons for his boyfriend, Robin."

"Romantic. I think." He frowned, shooting Newt a look. "Is that romantic?"

"Hell if I know."

"Never saw the need to iron myself."

Newt gestured to him. "Of course you didn't. Your vests are practically see-through; they're so thin. They'd catch alight if you tried."

Leo hooked his fingers inside the neck of Newt's jumper. He tugged. Newt lost his breath as he bumped into him. The back of Leo's fingers were against his skin, and it was such a small thing to make his heart jump. "Don't think these knit jumpers would suit me like they do you."

"I made it myself."

"And there was me thinking it was a knock-off jumper of a gremlin."

"It's my cat, Triton." Newt pushed Leo's hand away while pouting. "And it's very accurate."

"Triton has five legs?"

"What?"

Newt looked down only for Leo's hand to be waiting. He bopped Newt on the nose. "Made you look."

"You arse."

Leo smiled. It was slow, and it grew until it lit up his face and crinkled his golden eyes. Newt found himself smiling back, basking in that look. It made him feel warm. It was hard to believe he was the same man who had woken up disorientated in the back of the bakery and almost strangled Newt to death.

Newt pushed him gently, testing Leo's reaction. They'd been around each other a few weeks, but it was still new to Newt and the last thing he wanted to do was irritate his bodyguard.

Leo only laughed. He smacked his chest. "Come on, give me your best shove."

"No way."

"It won't hurt me."

"But it'll hurt me."

"Such delicate hands." Leo took hold of one of Newt's and stretched out his fingers.

"I wasn't talking about hurting my hands," Newt whispered. "There's different types of hurt. It would hurt me to hurt you."

"You can't hurt me. Nothing can."

The door opened, and a shutter dropped on Leo's expression. His openness vanished, and a blank canvas turned to the three inmates stepping inside, laundry bags slung over their shoulders.

They paused, looking them over, then carried on with their laundry. Newt knew Leo wouldn't talk again while anyone was in earshot. Bodyguard mode had been activated.

He sat on the bench to wait while Leo stood between him and the three inmates, arms crossed, big body pushed out.

Newt peeked round him at the three inmates. He recognised them from the walk-on. One of the group had thrown a shoe at him. It had clanged on the steel netting.

Newt hid behind Leo again, fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper. No one spoke. The three inmates were silent, staring straight ahead at the three machines they'd bundled their clothes inside. Everyone was too rigid, too quiet, and a tension grew in the room. The camera in the corner blinked its red light, recording them.

The washing machines rumbled to life, swishing and swirling. Newt concentrated on the rhythm of them, trying to stay calm, but his sweat-slick palms glistened when he looked at them. No words had been spoken, and to all appearances, everything looked normal, but Newt knew something was about to happen. The threat of it filled the room. It was thick and cloggy in Newt's lungs, and the more he was forced to breathe in the tainted air, the dizzier he became.

One of the inmates pulled a T-shirt from his bag. He threw it at the camera in a well-practised move, covering the lens.

"Don't move, Newt," Leo said with a growl in his voice.

Newt kept his arse on the bench but drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to breathe evenly. The three inmates jerked towards Leo. A pillowcase with something heavy inside thumped against the dryer. Leo tore it from the inmate, spun it in his hand, and then sent it sailing through the air. It caught one of the three in the face, who howled and cupped his nose. The two remaining attackers leapt on Leo, one on his back and the other awkwardly tackling Leo around the waist. They grappled, knocking into the dyer.

Leo flung the one clawing at his shoulder onto the ground and kneed the other in the stomach until he fell on his side, wheezing.

"Get the hell out of here!" Leo snarled.

The three inmates scarpered, tripping over each other in their haste. The washing machines continued to swash and swirl.

Newt lowered his feet back to the floor one at a time. His heart hammered behind his ribs, and his wide eyes were fixed on Leo.

The whole attack had lasted a minute at most. Leo sighed and reached up to tug the T-shirt off the camera.

"So, what was I saying again?" Leo rubbed his brow. "That's it. Your jumper is super cute in a creepy ugly way."

Newt breathed hard and fast.

"Relax," Leo soothed. He strolled over and stroked Newt's arm.

"What just happened?"

"Three idiots thought they could go through me. Spoiler alert, they couldn't. Thank you for trusting me and for doing as I said. You can repay me with one of your signature jumpers. Mutant cats. I like it."

"Mutant?" Newt's voice trembled. "I tried really hard."

"They say practise makes purrrfect."

Newt groaned. "That was terrible." He gnawed his bottom lip. "Leo…"

"If you're about to ask if I'm hurt, don't. You know I'm not."

"But—"

"No buts. I'm fine. More than fine. I've been waiting for weeks for some arsehole to try something, and I just decked three of them." He cracked his knuckles and pushed out his chest, every bit the proud lion.

"Thank you."

Leo shot Newt a smile. "There's no need. I'm your bodyguard, remember? That's what your brother is paying me for."

"Right," Newt whispered, lowering his gaze.

* * *

Newt didn't see their three attackers when they stepped back onto the wing. His steps faltered as he noticed Shaw watching from the landing. Shaw drew his forefinger across his throat before turning and going back into his cell.

"Tea?" Leo asked as soon as he'd pushed the door shut.

Newt dumped the laundry bag of clothes on the bed. They were still warm. He thrust his hand inside. "No thanks," he whispered, sitting down.

Leo busied himself with the kettle. He spun the taps on, filling it up, then returned the kettle to the stand for it to boil. Newt frowned at Leo's side. He hadn't been lying when he said Leo's vests were thin. The ones he wore hung low over his pecs, exposing his tattoo. They were baggy though, with an asymmetric hem ending low on his thighs.

"Did you spill water on yourself?" Newt asked.

Leo glanced back at him. "No. Why?"

Newt pointed at Leo's vest. The thin material clung to his waist. Leo frowned and hoisted it up. There was blood, so much blood, and the wound was darkest of all, oozing a fresh trail as Leo twisted to see the damage.

Blood had soaked into the top of his dark jeans.

Newt twitched his nose.

"Shit," Leo hissed, pushing his fingers into the wound, opening it wider like it were a wet red mouth in his side. "One of them must've had a shank." He tugged at the skin. "Hold on a sec…"

Newt curled his fingers into the mattress, trying to hold on, but blood and him didn't mix.

"I can feel it. Thing must've broken off," Leo said, pushing a finger and thumb inside himself. Fresh blood rushed out: too fast to soak into the fabric, it dropped to the floor. Newt squeezed his eyes shut tight. His head swayed as reality began to fizzle and melt away.

"Got it," Leo announced.

Something pinged in the sink.

Newt could smell blood up his nose.

He could hear it hitting the floor, no longer drips, but a great gush.

A flood of it.

Newt felt it land on his trainers. It splattered the tiles, and the drain gurgled as the red river flowed away. He pressed his lips firmly together, not wanting to taste it in the air. A hand on the back of his neck kept him in place, squeezing and shaking him, and a harsh voice demanded he look.

This was reality.

Reality was death.

"Fuck!" Leo shouted, and Newt was tipping forward, falling to the floor where he'd be able to feel it all over his clothes, and his skin, and a gasp would loosen his lips enough to make contact and he'd taste it on his tongue while he heard panic all around him.

It had happened before.

"Newt…"

Newt blinked blearily.

"That's it," Leo exhaled. "Wakey, wakey."

Leo's face hovered by the bed; his anxiety broke into relief as he smiled. Newt took a few moments to take in his surroundings. He nuzzled his cheek into Leo's pillow, shifting his shoulder against the mattress. He was lying on Leo's bed again, but this time on his side. Leo crouched in front of him. One of his hands rested on Newt's side. The warmth and heavy weight were welcome, and his other hand brushed through Newt's hair, back and forth, back and forth.

"At least you didn't vomit on me this time."

"What happened?" Newt croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"I did a little doctoring DIY, completely forgetting about your unease around blood." Leo scrunched up his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Stone told you about me and blood?"

Leo nodded. "He did, but he said he doesn't know why you faint, said you never talk about why it makes you so uncomfortable."

Newt pressed his lips together in case his secrets might jump out.

Leo sighed. "Okay, think you're ready to sit up?"

"Yes."

Newt accepted Leo's help but missed the feel of his hands when he stepped back. Leo filled Newt's mug from the tap.

"Water?" he asked, crouching in front of the bed again.

"Thanks." Newt held the mug in both hands. He took a sip. "It looked bad."

"It's nothing." Leo took the mug back and dropped it in the sink.

"It needs stitches."

"It's nothing," Leo repeated, slower and softer.

It might have been convincing, if not for his breathing. He panted, shallowly, but they were pants all the same.

Newt reached for Leo, cupping his face, dragging his thumb over his cheek. Leo didn't flinch or pull away, but he did stiffen under Newt's touch.

"Erm. What are you doing?"

"Your skin is cold." Newt took Leo by the chin and turned his head towards the window. "You're pale."

"I was worried about you. It's not pleasant seeing you faint."

Newt ignored the amused lilt to Leo's tone.

"No, that's not it."

Leo rolled his eyes and stood. He shuffled his feet to keep his balance and gripped the bedframe.

"Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean it's not dangerous. You could bleed to death."

"I've sorted it."

"How?"

Leo lifted his vest. He'd taped a tea towel to his side, but the sodden fabric began to drip. "Fuck." Leo yanked his vest down. "It's fine."

"You need to see the doctor."

"Not happening." Leo stiffened his jaw.

"Leo…"

Knuckles tapped on the door. Riley opened it a crack. "You two decent?"

"You see us naked in the shower. Why bother?" Leo replied.

Riley snorted as he pushed the door open all the way. "I was being polite." He lowered his head, linking eyes with Newt on the bottom bunk. "You okay? You're looking a little…scared."

"He's fine," Leo answered. "Was there something you wanted?"

Riley straightened. "I don't have to want something to open your cell door."

"And here's me, thinking you were trying to be polite."

"Newt?" Riley asked. "Are you alright?"

"He's fine?—"

"I wasn't asking you."

Newt shuffled out from the darkness of the bunk. He perched on the edge of the bed, looking up at Leo with glassy eyes. "I'm fine, but?—"

"Don't you dare," Leo snapped.

It was the first time Leo's anger had been directed at him, and he wanted to drag the duvet up and over himself to hide, but Leo was hurt. He openly panted, chest heaving with each breath he took, and his pupils were blown wide.

"Right," Riley said, turning his body and pointing them out of the cell. "Both of you. I'm searching your cell."

"Newt," Leo said firmly. "Mouth shut."

"He's hurt," Newt blurted. "Leo's hurt. He needs to see the doctor."

"No, I don't."

Riley looked Leo up and down. "Where are you hurt?"

"I'm not," Leo snapped. "Newt doesn't know what he's talking about."

Newt bit his lip. "He was attacked in the laundry room."

"Keep quiet, Newt," Leo snarled down at him. This time, Newt did withdraw, shuffling back until his back met the wall. He pulled Leo's pillow onto his lap, hugging it tight.

"I'm fine," Leo said, half chuckling. He lifted his hands. "See?"

Leo's makeshift bandage took that moment to slip and fall to the floor with a wet slap. Newt winced as he kneaded the pillow.

"Shit," Riley squawked. He unclipped his radio from his belt and hissed into the receiver. "Code Blue. Cell 12."

Leo's watch began buzzing on his wrist. He slapped angrily at it until it stopped. "I'm not going to see the doctor."

Riley lowered the radio. "Lift your vest."

Leo shifted his weight from foot to foot, then tugged up his vest. Riley took a step back. His eyes widened as his mouth flapped open and closed.

"Fucking hell, Leo!"

"It's fine."

"That is not fine. Christ, it needs dealing with. I can see your hip."

Newt's eyelashes fluttered at the wave of nausea. He crushed the pillow to his chest, trying his hardest not to throw up.

"If I have to go to the hospital wing, Newt's coming with me."

"No." Riley pressed his thumb down on the receiver. "Bring a stretcher."

"A stretcher?" Leo asked, pitching forward. "I don't need a stretcher."

"You're going to need one if you don't cooperate," Riley said. "You're bleeding. A lot."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Riley held out a placating hand. "Listen to me, Leo. If you come with me now, we can get this sorted, but if you drag it out, you'll collapse. You'll get stretchered out of here, and it'll take a long time for you to get back to Newt."

"But I can't leave him."

"I'll be okay," Newt whispered.

"Shaw—"

"I can handle Shaw," Riley said.

Leo brushed a hand over his hair. His brow twitched. "You stay on the wing," Leo said. "You sit where one of the officers can see you at all times, understand?"

Newt slipped to the edge of the bed. He nodded obediently. "I will, just please, Leo. You need the doctor."

"Okay," Leo's voice wavered. He gripped the bedframe. "Fuck. If anything happens to you?—"

"It won't. I promise."

Leo swayed. Riley rushed inside the cell to hold him up. He blurted something into his radio.

"You trust me, Newt…" Leo said, breathless.

Newt nodded. "I do."

Leo nodded back, but his focus was off and he closed his eyes. "I'm trusting you," he said, before staggering out of the cell with Riley's arm around his back.