Newt woke from his slumber. He was still at his desk, papers scattered around his arms and on the floor below. He carefully picked up his work and then stepped back and yawned, popping his back with a groan. His eyes flitted to the door. It was ugly, prison-esque. Guilt flooded him again and he felt as if he could turn and throw up on the soft floor below him. You were in there, probably sleeping. Full moons weren't fun for either of you, matter of fact he cast a charm on the door that would hide it from his view unless you came in search of his aid. Those were the nights you couldn't find anywhere safe to go.

Newt looked away with a groan and he whipped out his wand, muttering as he unlocked the door. The lumber holding the lock in place was too heavy for him to even think about lifting. It kept you in though, even in your most violent thoughts. Once the lumber was laying next to the door, he walked away. You were probably tired from the nights events, and he knew you would emerge when ready.

He climbed out of his case. Newt was in New York once again. The smell of coffee and breakfast flooded his senses and he knew that Jacob had been cooking. Once he stood he brushed some of the dust from his coat and walked into the kitchen. Queenie, Tina, and Jacob were already well awake. They didn't know about your predicament. You were no danger to them during those hellish nights. The precautions you had painstakingly put in place with the help of Newt were too critical.

"Good morning."

He chirped to the people in the kitchen as he sat in one of the wooden chairs, a sigh leaving his mouth once again as he ran a hand down his face.