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“Kill me! KILL ME!”.
And then Newt’s eyes cleared, as if he’d gained one last trembling gasp of sanity. He held the gun to his own head, wrapped Thomas’ fingers around the trigger.
“Please, Tommy. Please.”
In that second, Thomas thought of Frypan. How he always looked to Newt, followed Newt, would be lost without Newt. He thought of Minho, who WICKED took and tortured for six months. He'd only seen Newt for a few minutes. He’d known Newt for three years. Thomas thought of how much he’d miss his best friend.
And Thomas thought of himself. The little corner of the glade where he’d curled up and stared at the wall, until Newt found him and joined him, helping him sleep through the memories and nightmares. How they’d laugh with Chuck, with Alby, with Winston. The concern in Newt’s eyes when he ran into the Maze, the relief when he came back alive. The slow kisses, the desperate kisses, the “I believe in you” kisses, the “be safe” kisses, the “I love you” kisses. Thomas thought about how he wouldn’t be able to live without Newt.
And in that second, that one, tiny second where Newt held a gun to his own head and begged Tommy to kill him, Thomas thought:
Not fucking likely, you shank.
And swung his other arm around, catching Newt on the side of the head. He collapsed on top of Thomas, out cold. Thomas let go of the gun, wrapped one arm around Newt and ran the other through his hair.
What was he going to do?
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Thomas lay there for a couple minutes, catching his breath and revelling in the familiar weight of Newt on top of him. Countless scenarios spun around his head, each begging for attention and being dismissed. He sighed.
“Thomas?”
He jolted. For a second, he thought Teresa’s voice aas inside his head again, before he realized it was echoing around the city.
“Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to come back. Thomas, you can save Newt. There’s still time for him. There’s a reason Brenda isn’t sick anymore. It’s your blood. Do you understand?”
Whatever she said after that was drowned out by the rushing in Thomas’s ears. Could he trust her? Could he actually save Newt? Thomas considered it. Of course, it could be a trap. But what did he have to lose? Newt? His life? Both were as good as dead even if he didn’t believe her. Teresa sounded sincere enough, he decided. With a grunt, he rolled Newt off him, glad he was still unconscious. He got up, tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and bent down to pick up Newt. In the back of his mind, he made a note of how light he was. With one last look around, he turned and started walking towards WICKED headquarters, Newt cradled in his arms.
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Minho, exhausted from running to the Berg and back, watched as Thomas rounded the corner with Newt’s body. He didn’t bother running after him. They’d all heard Teresa’s announcement. He shared a look with Brenda. If Newt wasn’t dead yet, they had known Thomas would go towards the so called cure. Minho looked towards Jorge, who nodded. Minho addressed the group.
“Back to the Berg. We’ll beat him there and clear the place of any of WICKED’s soldiers before he arrives. Leave Teresa alive. She’s mine. Kill everyone else.”
They turned and headed towards the ship.
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Thomas held the gun, aiming at the Chancellor’s chest, Newt’s body safe behind him. Tears moistened Thomas’ eyes, but his hand was steady.
“Is it true? Can I save him?”
The Chancellor nodded, her hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
“Your blood is different. It destroys the virus completely, instead of only slowing it down. If you come upstairs-”
Her words cut short with a small gasp of pain. The tip of something shiny poked out of her chest. Red grew on her white suit, like a blossoming flower. She blinked once, then fell to the side. Rat Man stood behind her, pulling the knife out of her back as she dropped. He shook his head.
“Now, we can’t have that, can we? You running around, saving whoever you want. No, no, no, no. It’s time for a change in leadership.”
Then his head exploded, revealing a dirty, cut, panting Minho, holding a gun much like the one Thomas was now pointing at his friend. Distantly, he wondered if Minho was going to suddenly die, since a pattern seemed to be emerging. Minho smiled grimly.
“You’re a real slinthead, aren’t you, Thomas? Waltzing in here without us.”
Numb, Thomas nodded, finally lowering his gun. A groan behind him jerked him out of his daze, and he spun as Newt shifted on the floor behind him. He was waking up.
Alert, he scooped him up and ran towards the still moving escalators, avoiding the bodies on the ground, aware of Minho running along beside him.
They arrived in the med lab faster than he thought they would, Newt growing more and more conscious as the minutes passed. Thomas’ worry grew by the second. Suspicion got thrown into his soup of emotions when he saw Teresa waiting for them. Brenda stood behind her, and glanced at Newt before focusing on Thomas.
“She’s telling the truth. You can see it under the microscope. There’s something in your blood that destroys the virus. It’s why I’m not sick anymore. Mary used your blood for the serum, remember?”
Thomas didn’t care. If it saved Newt, he was happy. With an incline of his head, he set Newt on the table. He was rolling up his sleeves when Teresa spoke, avoiding Thomas’ eye, busying herself with needles and liquids.
“You might want to strap him down. I don’t know how far he’s gone, and you don’t want him going cra-” She corrected herself at Minho glare. “Panicking, if he wakes up.”
“And he won’t panic if he’s chained to a table?” Minho muttered. He started strapping Newt down anyway.
“You’re sure about this?” Thomas asked. Teresa raised her head, finally looking at him.
“Yes.”
That was it. No apologies, no excuses, just determination. Thomas searched her face, her eyes, for any signs of deceit or betrayal, even though he couldn’t imagine how that could possibly benefit her now. He found none.
“Alright, then. Do your thing.”
She nodded, holding a needle and some cotton. A few meters away, Newt was shifting and groaning under his restraints. Minho sat beside him, gaze shifting from him to Thomas to Teresa to Brenda.
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Teresa had given him a piece of cloth to hold against his bleeding arm when the building shifted under them. With everything that was happening with Newt, Thomas had forgotten about the war waging outside between the Cranks and what remained of WICKED. On the bed, Newt shifted, the sounds seeming to wake him up. Thomas lifted his head to look at him, trying to see past the black blood and the wounds and find Newt’s face. He spoke sharply, eyes not leaving his boyfriend.
“Hurry up, Teresa.”
Maybe it was her name. Maybe it was his voice. Whatever it was, something caused Newt to convulse against the restraints, as though from an electric shock. His head, the only part of his body that was free to move, slowly moved to face Thomas. His eyes were open. Thomas fought to not turn away, to not abandon Newt’s gaze. Newt smiled. Thomas held back tears. This wasn’t Newt.
“Hey, Greenie.”
Thomas swallowed. Minho came around so his hand rested on Thomas’ shoulder, while Brenda stood beside him in silent support. Behind them, out of sight, Teresa worked.
“Newt? It’s me. It’s Thomas. Do you remember me?”
Newt frowned, considering that. He didn’t seem aware yet that he was tied down. He smiled again.
“Thomas. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, Tom, Tom, Tom. I remember Thomas. Thomas, the greenie. Thomas, who took us out of the maze. My friend Thomas. My friend Thomas, who didn’t keep his part of the promise. Thomas, who didn’t KILL ME.”
Newt’s voice grew in volume until he was shouting. Thomas closed his eyes for a second, willed the tears away. He felt a slight pang of relief that Newt hadn’t said Tommy. He could feel Minho and Brenda gazing at him questioningly, but he shook his head. He had to focus on Newt right now.
“Newt, I know you’re there. I need you to fight it, ok? I need you to fight the Flare. We’ve got a cure, it’s nearly done, but you need to fight right now. Do you hear me?”
Newt lay on the table, head facing Thomas. Thomas noticed his own hands shaking, curled them into fists.
“Newt’s not here. Newt’s gone. Cause Thomas left him. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas left him. Left him in the ship, left him with the Cranks. You left me. YOU LEFT ME. YOU. LEFT. ME.” Newt was shaking his head more violently, but Thomas felt only confusion. Was Newt hallucinating? He had never left him in a ship, never left him with Cranks. Beneath them, the building rumbled, and a sudden sense of urgency struck Thomas. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to watch Newt like this, he didn’t want to listen to the words coming out of his shuck mouth. He called out.
“Teresa?”
“Almost done.”
Newt stilled, eyes gleaming. Thomas realized his mistake when Newt craned his head, trying to see behind the three of them. Minho and Brenda shifted closer to Thomas, but Thomas ignored them, taking a step forward, bringing Newt’s focus back on him.
“Newt, look at me, yeah? Remember me? Remember the glade? The homestead? Chuck? Alby?”
Newt wasn’t blinking. Thomas saw a glimmer of recognition, a glimmer of his boyfriend, before it faded back to madness. When he spoke, his tone was mocking.
“I remember the glade, Thomas. I remember the maze. I tried to kill myself there. I told you that, remember? How I hated it there, and how it’s ALL. YOUR. FAULT.”
The words cut deep into Thomas, but he forced himself not to break Newt’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Teresa creeping around the room, trying to get to Newt from where he wasn’t watching.
Then it all went to hell. .
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Explosions rocked the building. Thomas cursed as he lurched into a table, trying to regain his balance. He heard screams, more curses, and the sound of instruments falling on the floor. Thomas spun around. Everything was all over the place, but something else drew his gaze.
The table that had held Newt was on its side. The restraints were open. Shit.
“Newt? Newt?! Minho, Brenda, he’s gone.” A grunt was his only answer. Turning, he spotted Minho on the floor, unconscious, while Brenda held a bloody rag to his head. She jerked her head in the direction of the door.
“Get the serum and go. Teresa and I will get Minho out. The Berg’s on the roof, meet us there.”
Thomas didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. Newt had already left the room, and Thomas had to catch up before he left the building. He grabbed the serum from Teresa’s hand, and took off running.
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It didn’t take long to find Newt. He was muttering, seeming to argue with himself as he ran, not bothering to stay quiet. Thomas caught the words “betrayal”, “maze”, and “WICKED”, before Newt turned the corner. Outside, fires raged, and the thought of losing Newt in the city filled him with terror before he pushed it away. Thomas picked up his pace, striving to catch up.
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He caught up with him on the second floor. Newt had stopped running, was now leaning on the balcony. He seemed to be contemplating the drop, but turned as Thomas approached. Looking at him now, Thomas’ heart sank. There was no trace of Newt in those eyes. He hesitated, steps faltering, before hardening his resolve. As he walked towards Newt, he turned the vial with the serum over and over in his hand.
Newt had walked back inside to meet him. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes held only hate, and Thomas knew that if he survived this, those eyes would haunt his nightmares. He held back his shudder.
They both stopped, about a meter from each other. Thomas tried to think of something to say, something to bring his Newt back. Newt was still smiling.
Thomas opened his mouth.
Newt sprang forward, ramming his shoulder into Thomas’ gut. The serum flew from his hand as he grunted, hands coming to protect himself. And just like that, they were fighting, throwing punches and struggling to get the upper hand. Newt’s fist exploded against Thomas’ mouth. Thomas retaliated by shoving his elbow at Newt’s nose, hating every second. Newt was faster, but Thomas was stronger.
Soon enough, Thomas was straddling Newt, with his arms pinned at his sides, between Thomas’ knees. Thomas took a breath, then searched around for the serum, doing his best to contain the boy struggling beneath him. He spied it a couple meters away, miraculously still intact. He looked down at Newt. He had stopped moving, and was now watching Thomas intently, waiting to see what his next move would be. Another explosion shook the building.
Thomas made up his mind. He shifted, as if to get up, and Newt took the bait, freeing his hands from where Thomas had trapped them. As he did, Thomas grabbed his forearms, rolling to the side so that Newt went over him and ended on his other side. Before he could recover, Thomas had both of Newt’s hands pinned above his head, and was once again straddling him. The serum was now within reach, and Thomas grabbed it.
Newt realized his error too late. Looking at Thomas, he played his last card.
“You’re really gonna trust something that traitor made? I thought you had more brains than that, shank. How can you trust her? If it wasn’t for Teresa, we wouldn’t have lost Minho. All those people at the Right Arm would still be alive. We would’ve been at the haven. Safe. Together.”
The last word made Thomas hesitate, but he could see the desperation in Newt’s face, behind the mockery. Without giving himself more time to think about it, he jabbed the needle into Newt’s neck and pushed the plunger. He watched the blue liquid disappear under the spidery, dark veins on his neck.
Newt immediately tensed, then relaxed with a sigh, as if every muscle just gave up. His eyes shut. Warily, Thomas removed the needle, then released Newt’s hands, finally getting off him and collapsing beside him. He took a deep breath.
It’s over.
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For the third time that night, Thomas had picked Newt up in his arms. This time, he ran towards the roof, doing his best to ignore the sounds of explosions and how the building was collapsing all around him. Twice he had to backtrack and find another way. The floor cracked and broke as he ran. He had reached the Berg and loaded the unconscious Newt into the back when the building rumbled ominously. Behind him, chunks of the roof were breaking apart and falling, to land with echoing crashes stories below. He had jumped on the Berg just as the piece where he was standing fell away.
Thomas had collapsed on his knees beside his boyfriend, vaguely aware of Brenda yanking him to his feet as Minho picked up Newt. They had stumbled towards the lounge, and Minho put Newt down on one of the longer couches. Thomas lifted his head and sat down, resting Newt’s head in his lap. He fell asleep instantly.
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Movement made Thomas stir, but it was the screaming that woke him up. It was a blood curdling sound, and it was right beneath Thomas. With a jolt, he realized it was Newt.
He had woken up, screaming his head off, eyes wide but unseeing. He sat up abruptly, nearly knocking into Thomas’ head, arms flailing as he tried to grab hold of something to ground him, legs scrambling as if to get away from something. Newt didn’t sound like he was in pain. He sounded afraid. Terrified.
Thomas pulled Newt towards him, trapping his arms, hugging him from behind.
“Newt? Newt! It’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here, you’re safe, you’re safe, I promise. It’s Tommy, you’re here with me, you’re safe. Calm down. Deep breaths. You’re safe. “
He could feel Newt grasping onto his arm, could feel the sobs and shuddering breaths wracking his frame. Thomas moved one hand up into Newt’s hair, running his fingers through it, still whispering in his ear.
Minho came rushing in, obviously startled by the screams, Brenda, Jorge and Teresa on his heels. Thomas shooed them away. Minho glared at Thomas, but Thomas glared back, then shook his head. With a muttered something and a nod, Minho walked out with the others, shooting Newt one last concerned glance.
Thomas focused back on Newt. He had calmed down a bit, but his breaths were still ragged and he didn’t seem completely aware of his surroundings. Thomas shifted until they were lying comfortably, with his back on the on the arm of the couch and Newt between his legs, his back to Thomas’ chest. He kept muttering in his ear, trying to get Newt back to the present. He could feel Newt’s tears on his arm.
After what seemed like hours, Newt calmed down, and the worry that had gripped Thomas faded. Thomas could still see the silent tears on Newt’s face, but he was breathing normally and looked more aware. Thomas squeezed his waist in a silent question. In response, Newt tightened his grip on Thomas’ arm for a second before releasing it, letting his head fall back onto Thomas’ shoulder. He looked at Thomas, opening his mouth.
“I swear to god, Newt, if the word coming out of your shuck mouth is sorry I’m chucking you off this Berg.”
Newt shut his mouth, letting one corner of it tilt up in a half smile. He leaned up and kissed Thomas instead.
“Thanks, Tommy.”
Thomas smiled. He kept playing with Newt’s hair, revelling in the fact that they were all alive and mostly fine.
“You should probably get up. Minho will want to see you.”
Newt groaned in acknowledgement, then slowly untangled himself from Thomas. He stood up, swaying, and nearly fell over, catching himself on the couch at the last moment. Thomas was beside him in an instant.
“You good?”
Newt nodded. “Just dizzy.”
Thomas didn’t believe that for a second, and wrapped one arm around Newt’s waist, supporting him as he stood up. Newt was leaning heavily on him, but Thomas didn’t mind. Together, they walked slowly towards where the others were.
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Minho was pacing anxiously. He had heard Newt’s screams, his sobs, and it killed him. That was his brother, his best friend.
When Thomas walked in, hand around Newt’s waist, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. In two strides he was in front of them, gathering Newt gently in his arms. He felt Thomas slipping back, and held back the tears in his eyes when Newt latched both arms around him. He was okay.
They stayed that way for a few minutes before breaking apart. Newt smiled tiredly at him, and Minho shook his head at him, face breaking into a grin.
“You’re such a slinthead. You know that, right?”
Newt huffed a laugh. “It’s good to see you too, Minho.”
Newt stepped back, and Thomas was there, supporting him again. They surveyed the room. Minho was still grinning. Jorge and Brenda looked on, also smiling. In the corner of the room, Teresa sat, looking as if she wanted to be happy but didn’t know if she was allowed. Jorge spoke up.
“We’re a couple hours from the camp. I’d suggest you all sleep some more, and we’ll figure things out later.”
Everyone nodded at that. Thomas and Newt headed back to the couch they were on before. Thomas sat down at the end of the couch, and Newt settled himself in his lap, back against the armrest. Thomas sighed, leaning to kiss Newt.
“You’re such an asshole. Don’t you ever do something like that again, ok? God, I was so worried.”
Newt took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry.” He decided to stay quiet about how he was fully aware of everything he had said, even if he didn’t mean it. The Flare had taken his worst, most desperate thoughts, twisting them into the terrible things he said. Thomas didn’t need to know that.
Instead, he leaned into Thomas, humming when he felt the hand in his hair. They were both filthy, exhausted, and yet everything was going to be okay. They were safe.
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When Newt woke a few days later, it was to the sound of waves, the steady breathing of Thomas behind him, and the comforting weight of his arm holding him to Thomas’ chest. He smiled in the dark, moving Thomas’ arm off him, and headed outside to watch the sunrise.
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When Thomas woke, he panicked at the empty bed beside him. Throwing off the light sheet, he glanced quickly around the hut before making his way outside. Logically, he knew nothing had happened. They were in the Haven, safe. This did nothing to reduce his worries.
At the door of the hut, he spotted Newt, standing on a low hill and watching the sunrise. Thomas stopped, leaning on the door and taking a second to look at his boyfriend in the morning light. As the sun came over the horizon, it caught Newt’s hair, turning it a deep gold color. Thomas marvelled at Newt’s pale skin, unmarred by the black veins that had been there before a few days earlier.
Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he walked up and joined Newt on the hill. He stood behind him, slipping his arms around his waist and pulling Newt to his chest. Newt started, but relaxed once he realized who it was. Newt leaned back into him, and together, they watched the sun rise over their new home.