Chapter Text
Newt?
Hey Tommy.
Wh-What’s going on? Where am I? Why can’t I –
Shhh. Everything’s gonna be alright, Tommy.
What? Newt? NEWT!
~ ~ ~
He was falling. He should’ve been scared, but he wasn’t. He was too numb to be scared. Too heartbroken to be scared.
The pain. Excruciating pain. Gone as quickly as it came.
Then silence. Insufferable silence. Swallowing him up whole.
A voice. A most calming and warm voice. Shining and shimmering like a light at the end of a tunnel. It made him feel fuzzy inside. He tried to hold onto it, as if it was his lifeline, but it faded away, leaving him feeling cold and empty and alone.
The silence returned.
~ ~ ~
Thomas felt something hard underneath him. He tried to move, but a strange sensation shot through his body. It wasn’t quite pain – it wasn’t even uncomfortable, per se – but he stilled anyway, something telling him that he should take it easy. He decided the closest he could come to describing it was stiffness, as though his body hadn’t moved in years. He lay there for a few moments more as the haze in his mind cleared, and he realized that he was lying facedown on the ground. He tried to push himself up, but gave up when the same tingly feeling shot up his arms.
Slowly, his memories came back to him. He remembered standing on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the ocean. He remembered guilt gnawing at his heart as he tried to convince himself he wasn’t responsible for Newt’s death. And he remembered being hugely unsuccessful, the dark abyss in his heart consuming his entire being, until he decided that he could take it no longer and had stepped off the edge.
Am I dead?
Thomas knew that was a silly question; after all, there was simply no way he could have survived the fall. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that it didn’t matter. He had barely been living before he jumped, spending nearly every minute lost in his past. He had been going through the motions of life – getting up in the morning, eating his meals, lending a hand here and there – without truly being present, trapped instead in the prison of his mind. It had almost been worse than being stuck in the Maze. At least in the Maze, they had a glimmer of hope that they could escape.
“Thomas?” A familiar voice rang in his ears. His head instinctively turned toward the voice, and Thomas paled when he managed to associate a name to the sound.
Chuck?? No. That’s impossible. Chuck’s dead. He’s been dead for weeks. This is my mind playing tricks on me again.
“Thomas!” The voice was louder now and had a cheerful lilt to it. Thomas slowly opened his eyes, squinting as the sunlight blinded him. Once his eyes finally managed to adjust, Thomas could only stare at the short, pudgy boy kneeling in front of him, a large grin plastered on his face.
Chuck laughed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he joked.
“Oh my god, Chuck,” Thomas whispered as he snapped out of his stupor. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, ignoring his body’s protests, and crawled to the younger boy, pulling him into a tight embrace. Thomas felt Chuck hug him back, and tears filled his eyes when he remembered the promise he had made to the boy so long ago, the one he wasn’t able to keep.
“I’m sorry, Chuck! I’m so sorry!” he cried as he dropped his head onto the boy’s shoulder. “I promised we’d be safe, that we’d get out.” Chuck didn’t say anything, didn’t argue the fact that Thomas did indeed get them all out. Somehow, he knew that this was what Thomas needed. And so they sat, the only sound between them being Thomas’s sobs and the occasional shushing coming from Chuck.
Thomas had no idea how much time had passed before he finally pulled back, still sniffling a little to himself. He stared down at the ground between them, unwilling to meet Chuck’s gaze. He felt responsible for everything that had happened to the boy and wanted nothing more than to make up for it, but he didn’t know where to begin. Suddenly, Chuck got to his feet, causing Thomas to snap his head up.
“Come on! I’m sure the others can’t wait to see you again!” The excitement in his voice was palpable, and Thomas noticed that he was practically bouncing with energy.
“The… others?” Thomas asked, a little unsure, as he cocked his head to the side. Were the other Gladers here? Was NEWT here?
Thomas’s breathing quickened, but Chuck only shook his head and laughed. “Come on!” he repeated, grabbing hold of Thomas’s arm and pulling him to his feet. They hurried across a large pasture, and it was only then that Thomas really registered his surroundings. They were in a large field, scattered here and there with livestock munching happily on the grass. Further to his right was what looked like a cornfield, and surrounding the whole clearing were trees as far as the eye could see. Thomas looked toward the direction they were heading. A few makeshift buildings stood by the edge of the forest, and Thomas couldn’t help but notice how similar they looked to the ones that had been in the Glade. In fact, the whole area was vaguely Glade-like, save for the lack of giant concrete walls lining the perimeter.
“Where are we?” Thomas asked Chuck, as his eyes continued to roam across the landscape. Now that he paid more attention, he noticed many more similarities between the Glade and their current environment.
“Heaven? The afterlife? Whatever you want to call it. All I know is we can plant and gather pretty much everything we need, and there are no grievers in the forest.” Chuck continued to prattle on, but Thomas stopped listening. So I am dead, Thomas thought to himself. He didn’t really know how to feel about that. On the one hand, being dead was a lot less painful. Other than the deluge of guilt that had hit him upon seeing Chuck, he’d actually felt strangely at peace since waking up here, almost as if all the regret he’d carried with him since escaping WICKED had been left behind. At the same time, however, he was concerned about Minho and Brenda and everyone else he had left behind when he took his own life.
Before he could resolve the conflict brewing within him, they arrived at the largest of the buildings. Chuck pushed open the door, revealing Alby and Teresa, who were sitting at a table looking at a map of some sort. Alby looked up when the door creaked open, eyebrows furrowed when he recognized Chuck standing at the door.
“Chuck? What are you doing back so early?” he asked, before his gaze fell on Thomas. His eyes widened, but it was quickly replaced with a wide smile as the boy got up and walked toward Thomas, pulling him into a hug. “Thomas! I feel like it’s been forever since I saw you! How are you feeling?”
“A little disoriented,” Thomas admitted, though he smiled back. It quickly faded when he saw Teresa walk up behind Alby, who noticed the change and stepped aside. “Teresa…” Thomas began, his eyes threatening to tear up again.
“Shush,” Teresa said softly, as she put a hand on Thomas’s cheek. “What’s done is done.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Thomas saw nothing but love and compassion in her soft, kind eyes. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms tight around her body as she stroked his back, relief and joy coursing through his veins. They parted after a while, and she gave him a warm smile.
Alby spoke up then. “Hey Chuck, we’ve got a bit to finish up here. Why don’t you take Thomas to see Newt? He hasn’t shut up about this shank since he arrived, so I’m guessing he’d be happy to see him. I think I saw him heading to the supply shed a few minutes ago.”
Chuck agreed eagerly, but Thomas froze at the mention of Newt’s name. He was vaguely aware of Chuck dragging him out the door toward another building he assumed was the supply shed, but his mind was racing through his last moments with Newt. His pulse quickened, and his palms started to sweat. I can’t do this! I can’t see him yet! They arrived just as Thomas was entertaining the idea of running in the opposite direction as fast as he could, and Chuck gave him a little push toward the open door. He stood there, unmoving, staring at the entrance as though a monster would leap out any second and attack him. Chuck pushed him again, and Thomas slowly walked into the dimly lit room. His eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did, he saw a blond boy, squatting with his back to Thomas, searching through the piles of crudely made tools that littered the floor.
“Newt?” he asked, his voice weak and wavering.
The boy turned, his face lighting up as he recognized the person standing by the door. Thomas’s breath hitched as he watched the boy stand with a smirk on his face; Thomas hadn’t realized how much he had missed that smile and that air of confidence that exuded from his very being. He took in all his features, features that he thought he would never see again, and gazed into his eyes, those vibrant, shining eyes that he hadn’t seen since they’d escaped from the Glade. They were just as he remembered, as full of life and energy and rebelliousness as they were the day they met. Finally the boy spoke, and Thomas let the smooth British accent flow over him, hanging onto every syllable.
“Hey there, Tommy.”