Chapter Text
Minho pulled into his parking space at his apartment complex and cut the engine. He was quiet a minute before looking over at the empath in the passenger’s seat. “You ready to go in?”
Newt nodded silently. He was rubbing the fingers and thumb of his right hand together, staring out the windshield blankly.
“Hey.” Minho put a hand on his shoulder tentatively, mildly surprised when Newt didn’t flinch away. “It’s okay, okay? You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Newt repeated distantly.
“You’ll be okay,” Minho amended. “Janson’s getting indicted in the morning, Chuck’s home with his parents, you’re here. You’re safe. No one can hurt you here.”
Newt nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Come on,” Minho said, rubbing his shoulder. “Let’s go in, okay?”
“Okay,” Newt said softly.
He didn’t move when Minho got out of the car. The Sentinel ended up having to open the door and give him a hand out. As soon as he was standing, Newt huddled into Minho’s side. Minho couldn’t deny being surprised--he’d expected Newt to reject any contact after what had happened--but he wrapped his arm around his Guide.
Newt mumbled something too low for Minho to hear. “What was that?” he asked gently.
Newt was quiet so long Minho thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he repeated, louder, “You found me.”
Minho smiled and kissed the top of his head before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I did. I’ll always find you.”
“Always,” Newt whispered.
“Always,” Minho agreed. “Let’s go inside, okay?”
“Okay,” Newt whispered.
Honestly, Minho was impressed Newt was doing as well as he was. He’d been totally nonverbal when Minho got him out of the warehouse. Minho didn’t think he’d been even slightly present to the rape kit, let alone the drive home. The fact that he was responding was more than Minho had really expected. In his job, he’d seen a lot of rape survivors--and a few who hadn’t survived. He knew how bad it was.
He kept his arm around Newt’s shoulders as they went inside. “Stairs,” he warned. He didn’t want Newt to zone out again and trip and hurt himself.
But they made it upstairs to the apartment, and Minho sat Newt down at the dining table. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he asked softly. When Newt nodded, he went into the microscopic kitchen and poured Newt a glass. He returned and set the glass in front of Newt, but the Guide didn’t move. Minho sighed, pulling another chair around beside Newt and sitting down.
“Hey,” he said again. “You’re safe now, okay? You’re okay. We’ll be okay.”
Newt nodded numbly but didn’t pick up the glass. Finally Minho sighed again, wrapping his left arm around Newt’s shoulders and picking up the water with his other hand. He held it to the Guide’s lips, and finally Newt drank.
A glass of water later, Newt looked a little more human. “You’re okay,” Minho whispered, kissing his temple. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Newt whispered, leaning into Minho. Then, “You found me.”
“Of course I found you,” Minho said. “You think I’m going to let you down? Like hell. You’re mine. I’ll find you every damn time.”
Newt nodded. There was a kind of light in his eyes that hadn’t been there when they got home.
“You want to go to bed?” Minho asked softly.
Newt nodded.
Minho nodded too. “You want to sleep alone?” he asked. “You can have the main room, I’ll sleep on the cot--”
“No.”
Minho looked at Newt, frowning. “Then--”
Newt looked up at him for the first time since Minho had found him. “No,” he said again. He looked down, licking his lip. “When--when Janson--I kept praying you’d find me. I kept telling you to find me. I can’t--if you want to help me. You don’t leave. You don’t leave me.”
Minho was quiet a minute, digesting that. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay. We’ll share the bed again.”
Newt nodded, swallowing. “Okay,” he whispered.
Minho stood up, pushing his chair in and holding out a hand to help Newt up. Once again, as soon as Newt was on his feet he huddled into Minho’s side.
“You want to shower?” Minho asked softly. “Change clothes? Brush your teeth?”
“No,” Newt muttered. “Yes. Yes.”
“Okay,” Minho said. “We can do that.”
Getting Newt’s teeth cleaned and face washed were the easy parts. Things got complicated when it was time for him to change into pajamas. As soon as his shirt was off he started hyperventilating and sweating, pupils dilating in panic. Minho left, thinking Newt needed to be alone. He hadn’t even closed the door, though, when he heard his Guide sob.
In less than a second he’d opened the door again and had his arms wrapped around Newt. “I know. I know. I don’t leave. I’m sorry, I won’t leave again.”
Newt shuddered, slowly calming down. He’d curled his arms around himself protectively as soon as Minho left, and he didn’t seem to want to remove them.
“You’re okay,” Minho whispered. “I’m here. I’m staying.”
“You’re here,” Newt whispered.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Minho stepped back, rubbing Newt’s arms. “Lift up your arms for me?”
Newt looked at him with eyes so wide the whites were visible.
Minho looked around helplessly until he realized what he was looking for. “Lift up your arms,” he said again. “Please. It’s okay. It’s me.”
Newt shuddered, hesitated, but raised his arms obediently. Minho grabbed the shirt he normally wore to sleep and slid it down over Newt’s torso.
Newt blinked, looking down at himself. Minho’s shirt was comically large on him, draping off his shoulders and hanging halfway down his thighs. He looked up at Minho, eyes wide.
“I know, you’re a Guide, not a Sentinel,” Minho said awkwardly. “But I mean--you being close settles me so I thought--”
Newt hugged him.
Minho jerked in surprise, then wrapped his arms carefully around the smaller man. “So I made the right call?”
Newt nodded, sniffling. Minho rubbed his back. “It’s okay. Cry if you want to.”
The Guide shook his head, stepping back and rubbing his eyes. He looked down at his jeans and swallowed.
“Here.” Minho’s pants wouldn’t fit Newt, but he grabbed the sleep pants Newt had worn the night before. “Just take off the jeans and I’ll help you get into these, okay?”
For a minute he thought Newt had spaced out on him again. Then he whispered, “Okay,” and undid the fly of his jeans and shoved them down. Minho’s shirt still hid him.
Minho smiled, relieved to have gotten a response. “Okay.” He bunched up the legs of the sleep pants in his hands and crouched down. “Step into these, okay?”
Again he thought Newt wouldn’t move, but then a slim hand rested on his shoulder and Newt stepped into the pants. Minho stood, tugging them up over his legs. He tied the drawstring to make sure they wouldn’t fall down. On impulse, he kissed Newt’s forehead. The Guide smiled and closed his eyes.
“Bed,” Minho said. “I gotta shower and get changed but I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
Newt swallowed hard. “Okay,” he whispered.
Minho helped him into bed and pulled the covers up over him. Newt’s eyes were still open and fixed on him as he went into the bathroom.
As promised, he showered and changed into sweatpants and a new T-shirt as fast as he could. He rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash instead of brushing his teeth, uneasy about how long he’d already left Newt alone. When he returned, Newt was still watching the door for his return.
Minho smiled gently, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’m right here. I found you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Without a word, Newt scooted closer until he was pressed flush against Minho.
“You sure?” Minho asked, combing a hand through Newt’s hair. He was used to people rejecting any contact after what had happened. But then, he wasn’t used to it happening to bonded Guides. Maybe the rules were different. Or maybe it was just Newt.
“I’m sure,” Newt whispered, finally closing his eyes. “I’m okay.”
~
Minho woke up to an empty bed.
He squinted at the clock until he made out the numbers. 3:13 in the morning. He sighed and looked around, making sure Newt hadn’t just slipped out to use the bathroom and would be back in a minute. When the Guide didn’t appear, Minho reluctantly climbed out of bed and went looking.
Well. His hope had been half right.
Newt was curled up at the base of the wall in the bathroom, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around them, staring blankly at the wall behind the toilet. Minho sat down beside him, not pushing, not daring to touch the Guide. But as soon as he sat down Newt leaned over until his head was on Minho’s shoulder. He took that as permission and wrapped an arm around Newt.
“You want to talk?” he asked softly.
Newt shook his head.
“You want to go back to bed?”
Newt hesitated, licking his lips. “Not yet,” he whispered.
“Okay,” Minho said. “We’ll stay here until you’re ready to go back to bed then.”
Silence stretched between them until Newt finally whispered, “I haven’t--hadn’t been with anyone since Alby.”
“You still haven’t,” Minho said sharply. “That wasn’t--that wasn’t being with someone. That was…” He paused to put the words in order. He wasn’t used to comforting people, not after this. Usually they’d had some kind of crisis counseling before he got there. “That was an attack,” he said. “A violation. An assault. It wasn’t a betrayal. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t betray Alby.”
Newt was quiet. Then, “I didn’t fight.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Minho said. “I was coming. If you fought, Janson would’ve known it wouldn’t work. He would’ve killed you. And once I got there you did fight. I don’t even know what you did, but it was a hell of a blow. Let Thomas arrest him without a fight.”
“It was supposed to knock him out,” Newt said. “It’s a last resort for when a Sentinel is too deep in a spike to be brought down a normal way. He was just--something about his insanity made it malfunction.”
“Well, whatever it was, it worked,” Minho said. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t do it to me.”
Newt smiled, actually smiled. “If I did it to you it’d be a lot gentler.”
Minho snorted. “Not as comforting as you think,” he said.
Silence stretched out again, and Minho thought Newt might have fallen asleep, but when he looked at the Guide his eyes were still open, still fixed on the wall.
“You remember,” Minho said, “when we met, I told you how I manifested?”
Newt nodded. “You were working deep cover. You were caught and held in isolation for three days.”
“Yeah.” Minho nodded. “Well, not just isolation. The more--mild forms of torture were sort of a constant thing. Temperature too low, noise too high, not enough food. A few times--a few times they got more physical than that.” His voice had gotten clinical and distant, the voice he’d learned so he could talk about what had happened without breaking down. “When I got out of there, I was supposed to have two months’ leave. I didn’t last more than two weeks before I went back.”
“How?” Newt asked. “How did you make yourself go back?”
“I got tired of being on my ass all day,” Minho said. “I decided I was going to get better if it killed me. Not that it was easy,” he acknowledged. “First week back I had panic attacks every day, multiple times a day.”
“How’d you stop?”
“I made a list,” he said. “Everything that made my job worth it. I made the list and I recited it to myself every time I started thinking about what had happened.”
Newt was quiet a minute. Then he said, “My list would be too short. The only thing on it is you.”
Minho’s eyes went wide and startled before he collected himself. “Well then,” he said. “You can use mine. Or you can make a list of why I’m worth it--though I’d expect that one would be short too.”
Newt didn’t answer right away, and Minho thought his joke had been too true. Then Newt started talking, so low Minho had to duck his head closer to hear.
“The way you are with Thomas, how you both know each other so well. The way you stepped up to help Chuck. The look in your eyes when you found me. When you said we didn’t have to bond if I didn’t want to. The way--the way the bond feels, like I’m sitting by a fireplace.”
Minho didn’t have any words for that. He turned his head to kiss the top of Newt’s, running his hands through Newt’s hair.
“I like you,” Newt said abruptly. “I like you. And maybe more than that but--I don’t know how much is me and how much is the bond and that scares me. When I bonded with Alby--we’d already fallen in love. But with you…” He trailed off.
“I’m never going to pressure you,” Minho said. “I’m never going to ask you for anything you’re not comfortable giving. But I--I thought I lost you. And I never want to feel that again. I’m here. Whatever you decide, I’m here.”
~
Getting Newt dressed the next morning took the same finagling as the night before. Getting him clean was the hardest part. He needed a shower but didn’t want to take one. In the end, Minho ran him a bath and cleaned him while Newt did his best to pretend he didn’t exist. It was weird, how quickly their boundaries had dissolved, but it seemed to relax Newt to be clean. Minho gave him one of his own button-down shirts to wear over his customary bright tank top, which seemed to help a little more. Newt wasn’t a Sentinel, but it seemed to soothe him having Minho’s scent on him. Or maybe it was something else, the “static” Jorge had mentioned Guides could track. Either way, it worked out, and Minho was glad to feel like he could help his Guide.
The trip to the precinct was easier. Newt kept a hand on Minho’s knee and seemed actually present to the trip, which Minho was counting as a huge step forward.
“Today’ll be a strategy meeting,” he told Newt. “Janson was indicted less than an hour ago, our ADA will want to talk to us, tell us what he needs, what he thinks he can get.”
Newt nodded, not saying anything. He was rubbing the fingers and thumb of his free hand together again. Minho wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t going to stop him doing anything that made the world more bearable.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling into his normal spot in the precinct parking lot. “You ready?”
“I don’t think we can nail him for Beth,” Newt said.
Minho looked at him sharply. “What?”
“That’s what the ADA is saying.” Newt’s voice was distant. “He’s telling Tommy and Nick. I know their minds, I know what they’re hearing.”
Minho frowned, digesting that and looking out at the precinct. “We’ll fix that,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s go in. Now.”
Newt unbuckled his own seat belt this time, and stepped out without Minho’s help. He was looking at the precinct with barely-focused eyes. Minho wrapped an arm around his waist to help him in and Newt leaned into him without seeming to realize what he was doing.
As soon as the doors opened, Minho’s ears caught up to Newt’s empathy.
“You have DNA evidence for Beth. How could you not nail him for Beth?” That was Thomas, and he sounded exactly how Minho felt.
“We have DNA evidence that says he had sex with her. His lawyer is claiming it was consensual and that when he last saw her she was alive.”
“A jury won’t buy that,” Nick said. “Not if we can get him on Rachel.”
“That’s the other bad news.” Minho could hear papers shuffling and could almost picture the look of frustration on their ADA Frankie’s face. “He’s moving to exclude the car as evidence. Claiming Chuck’s testimony is unreliable.”
“That’s bullshit,” Minho announced as he pushed open the door to the conference room. “Chuck was free and clear on the B&E until he came forward to give us that information. How the hell does this guy think we coerced him?”
Frankie looked startled to see them, and shifted uncomfortably when he saw Newt in particular. “I can tell you that that’s their aim, to discredit anything Chuck says. It’ll be a trick to get him on the witness stand at all if he thinks we’re going to ask him about the rapes--”
He stopped, fumbling as he realized Newt was still listening; but the Guide was looking at the papers on the table and didn’t react.
“Anyway,” Frankie said. “Unless we put Newt on the stand, he’s likely to beat everything to do with Beth, and after that he’s likely to get Rachel commuted to man one. Even with the rapes, he’ll be out before he dies.”
“We’re not putting Newt on the stand,” Minho said flatly.
“If we don’t,” Frankie said patiently, “it’s likely Chuck’s testimony will get thrown out.”
“You’re not--”
“Put me on the stand.”
Everyone, even Minho, looked at Newt. The Guide was definitely present to the conversation now, and was watching Brenda with narrowed eyes. He looked back to Frankie and repeated, “Enter me as a witness. If you do, Janson will change his plea to NGRI--not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. I want you to take it.”
Frankie frowned. “If we put you on the stand, we can get him for everything,” he said. “I don’t think pleading him out--”
“You misunderstand,” Newt said. “I’m not being kind.”
Frankie opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m telling you something,” Newt said calmly. Too calmly, Minho thought. The calm voice he himself used when he was screaming inside. Regardless, Newt pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, and Minho sat next to him.
“Janson isn’t the first Sentinel to go off the reservation,” Newt explained. “There was another, almost fifteen years ago. His Guide was killed in a hit-and-run. He tracked the car and killed the driver and all the passengers, anyone he found who smelled like that car. The judge supported the defense’s claim that it was temporary insanity and commuted his sentence from four counts of murder one to four of man one, to be served concurrently.
“Alby and I were asked to evaluate him eight years later, when he was up for parole. He told us he didn’t want it. He told us that getting caught was the best thing he’d ever done for himself.”
No one spoke. Newt swallowed and kept going. “The SGA has done studies of how Sentinels react to various environments, including prison. In prison, Sentinels are king. They’re tribal warriors at the heart of it, and prison is a tribal environment. Sentinels, without even trying, get more respect than the prison guards. I don’t want Janson to have respect. I don’t want him to have anything.” He took a breath and said, “In asylums, a Sentinel is just another patient. That’s what I want--for him to be utterly insignificant. I want you to plead him out. No prison, but life in an institution. Make him buy it. Tell him just how well pedophiles do in prison and put him in a hospital until he dies.”
Frankie looked at Minho. Minho nodded. So, after a moment, did Nick and Thomas. Frankie stood. “I’ll tell the judge we have a new witness.”
“Minho,” Nick said as the group dispersed. “And Newt. My office, please.”
He should’ve known this was coming. As close as he was to a known empath, as far as he’d fallen the moment Newt went missing--Minho didn’t have to ask or even make it to Nick’s office to know what this was about. He knew.
Nick closed the door behind them and gestured to the seats in front of his desk. “Sit down.”
He took the seat behind the desk. When they were all settled, he said, “I got a call from Director Paige of the SGA today. Something about my harboring an undocumented Sentinel.”
Minho opened his mouth to speak, but Nick held up a hand. “I told her there was a six-month grace period between an adult Sentinel’s manifestation and their being legally required to register,” he said, “and that I would make sure that the Sentinel in question was registered before then.”
Minho tried to look like he’d known that all along.
“Minho,” Nick said with a sigh. “You’ve put me in a very uncomfortable position here. I shouldn’t have to hold your hand through obeying the law. That’s your job. And you can’t tell me you didn’t know, because you’re bonded--to a disgraced former Guide, which the director will be less than happy about.”
“How--” Minho stopped. Something made sense now. How the captain had immediately declared Rachel Chen’s murder a serial, how he’d known how to navigate the SGA… “You’re an empath,” he breathed.
Nick smiled thinly. “I’m registered,” he said pointedly. “You’re not. I’d hoped you’d do it yourself.”
“I didn’t--” He stopped, tried again. “I don’t want to be moved to the Sentinel unit.”
“Why would you?” Nick asked. He actually sounded amused, the bastard. “You’re not a Sentinel born and bred, you’re a homicide detective who now has Sentinel abilities. The people in Sentinel units were all teenagers when they manifested. They were trained and groomed to be in Sentinel units. I have no intention of moving you.”
Minho let out a breath. It was a weight off his shoulders, knowing that.
“The issue,” Nick said, “is Newt.”
Newt’s head jerked up. His eyes were wide and without even thinking about it Minho put a hand on his shoulder to help him calm down.
Nick didn’t seem to have noticed. “The SGA won’t like a five-sense Sentinel being in the care of an empath who is no longer a Guide.”
“They can reinstate him then,” Minho said flatly. “They can’t break our bond.”
“That,” Nick said, “is the plan. Tomorrow, you are going to go to their offices. You’re going to present both of you to be registered. You’re going to request, as is your right as a bonded Sentinel, to be remanded to the care of your Guide. The SGA will most likely piss and moan, but they can’t break a bond. They’ll probably lay down conditions, say, a three-month deadline for you to be certified. Don’t mock those conditions to their faces, but they’re unenforceable because again, they can’t break a bond. After that, you’ll be in a press conference. Not sure how yet, it’s still in the works--but it will establish that the two of you are bonded and Newt is a Guide again. It’ll be the best redemption story the SGA’s ever seen, and they sorely need the boost to their reputation. It’ll also make Newt bulletproof because if he dies in any suspicious circumstances we’ll go right for the SGA.”
Minho sat quietly, taking it all in. “You--I--” He faltered, tried again. “Newt’s mine?”
Nick huffed a laugh. “You’re each other’s,” he said. “Don’t screw it up.”
“No, sir,” Minho said with feeling. “Can I--can we go home now?”
“You have some urgent business to attend to, Detective?”
He looked at Newt, who smiled tiredly at him. “No,” he said. “I’m just calling in the day of leave you pulled me off at the start of all this.”
Nick laughed. “Fine, fine,” he said. He nodded and waved a hand in a shooing motion. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
~
It was a good thing Minho had asked to leave, because Newt barely made it into the car before the panic attack hit. Minho was at his side in a second, pushing his head between his knees and rubbing his back.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay, you did great. He’s going away, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Newt sucked in breath after breath until they evened out and he could sit up without his head spinning off his shoulders. “I’m okay,” he repeated.
“You’re okay,” Minho agreed, combing his hair back from his face. “Ready to go home?”
Newt nodded, so Minho buckled him in and closed the door, then went around to the driver’s side and got in. “Let’s go,” he said softly, rubbing a hand through Newt’s hair again. It calmed him as much as it did his Guide, he’d found, and he wished he had an excuse to do it more.
The ride home, at least, was easy. Minho’s senses didn’t spike on him, Newt didn’t panic again. His senses, he realized, hadn’t spiked on him at all since they’d bonded, except for that one moment when Newt had gone missing.
Once again he helped Newt out of the car, although his Guide seemed to be doing better after his panic attack. He walked under his own power up to the apartment building, then into the elevator and down the hall to the door.
The apartment had started to feel like home, Minho realized as he got out his key and unlocked the door. Like more than a place to crash.
He opened the door and guided Newt in, dropping wallet and keys on the stand by the door like he always did. He locked it and then turned, only to find Newt very close to him. Before Minho could process what was happening, the Guide--his Guide--had closed the distance between them and their lips were pressed together.
Minho was pretty sure his brain shorted out. He wasn’t sure if it was the bond or Newt, but kissing Newt was… really, really good. But too soon it was over and Newt was stepping back, swallowing, a look on his face like he was expecting a rejection.
“I just,” he said. Swallowed. “After last night--I just wanted to see what it was like--doing it properly.”
It took Minho a minute to realize he meant the kisses to his head and temple Minho had given him. When he did, he could feel himself blushing and an involuntary smile spread over his face. “How was it?”
Newt was blushing now too. “I, um. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
Minho could hear how startled he was to say it, and he didn’t blame him. Three days ago just bonding to Minho had felt like he was betraying Alby. Then again, three days ago Minho had been almost as reluctant.
He swallowed. “I’d like that,” he said.
“Yeah?” Newt was blushing still, shy and tentative as he took a step back toward Minho.
Minho nodded. “I think,” he said, “I’d really, really like that. If you would.”
“I would,” Newt said, and leaned forward to kiss Minho again.