Chapter Text
“Please, Tommy, please.”
Thomas could only stare at his friend, his heart feeling as if it were breaking into pieces once again. He stared at Newt’s shivering, hunched over form; his dark eyes squinting at Thomas in sheer concentration, while a low snarl left his gentle looking friend.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Newt’s choked whisper seemed to be the loudest thing Thomas could hear, despite the distant screaming of the rebels, gun shots, and explosions. The infected boy was gritting his teeth at this point; his control was slipping, while Thomas continued to stare at him with a heartbroken, yet pleading expression, “Thomas,” Newt snarled, taking one jerky step towards the Runner, he watched Thomas take a step back, the gun in his hand clattered to the ground, a loud snarl tore through his throat and Newt’s vision blacked out.
The last thing he heard was Thomas screaming, begging, his name being screamed, and Newt thought that was more terrible than losing his own life.
When he opened his eyes again, Newt expected to see “Paradise” or whatever he thought the afterlife would be, and for a morbid second, he thought his Paradise was seeing Thomas’ bloody face staring down at him, eyes bloodshot from crying, he was shouting, but everything was muffled and his head was absolutely killing him.
“Newt!”
The blonde blinked and furrowed his brow in confusion, “This is the worst Paradise ever,” Newt muttered under his breath, he blearily watched Thomas laugh that was completely sob ridden, before he was being pulled tight into the Runner’s trembling arms, he glanced over Thomas’ shoulder and saw Minho scrubbing at his face, Gally had a hand on the other Runner’s shoulder, muttering something to Minho, who nodded jerkily.
Thomas held Newt tight to his chest, a shaky hand tangling into Newt’s dirty, blood-crusted hair; he squeezed his eyes shut and thanked whatever higher god or goddess that granted his prayer in saving Newt. He couldn’t lose another from his Glade, he still had grief over losing Alby, he still felt guilt and anger losing Chuck, the young boy had become very dear to him in such a short period of time, the sorrow he had been drowning in when Winston had to end his own life after becoming infected, his chest hurt at the thought of losing Minho, but God forbid if he lost Newt; Thomas would have brought the world down himself, survivors and all.
Frypan knelt down next to Thomas and Newt, hands outstretched cautiously to pull Newt up, but Thomas held tight, “Thomas, we can’t stay here, we have to go,” Frypan stated, watching a large building start to crumble, the ground shook from the impact.
“Fry’s right,” Gally stated gruffly, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. “Unless you want to die right here and waste the effort of saving Newt.”
Minho shot a quick glare at Gally for being so forward, but he was offering a hand to Thomas to help pull him up, who looked up at him, completely drained, but his death grip on Newt stated otherwise.
“Tommy,” Newt whispered softly into Thomas’ collarbone, he lifted one arm to weakly squeeze at the Runner’s shoulder, “we need to move,” he shakily said, lungs burning. He could feel Frypan’s strong hands gripping him under his arms, hauling him up, he shivered at the loss of the warmth Thomas had been providing him; he was so cold.
Minho had one of Thomas’ arms slung over his shoulders, “Brenda, can you lead us back?” he asked the girl, who had been standing silent off to the side, he saw that she was still catching her breath slightly, but she nodded at his question.
“Teresa,” Thomas whispered, he felt Minho’s arm that was slung around his waist tighten slightly and he made a discomforted expression at the protest his ribs made, throbbing after the beating Newt gave him a few minutes prior.
“What about her?” Gally sharply asked, he was on the other side of Thomas, helping Minho support Thomas. “She’s probably dead, leave it,” he gruffly added.
Thomas looked up at the WICKED headquarters, he saw the lights flickering on every floor, “She said that she could get the cure to save us.”
“We gave Newt the serum that came from your blood,” Minho stated. “Newt will be fine, Brenda recovered and she had been infected too.”
“Just let her go,” Gally muttered, but his tone wasn’t as harsh this time.
Thomas’ gaze dropped from the building to look at Newt, who was piggybacking on Frypan, but he wasn’t for certain if Newt was unconscious again. He felt brief sorrow for the girl, who was going to be abandoned, left to die, but she had been too strong in her beliefs of saving all humanity; there was only hope for some.
~~~
They had made it back to Jorge, he was yelling at them to hurry before the building under them fell to pieces, and helped the struggling teenagers onto WICKED’s aircraft.
Newt had immediately been put down onto a cot and restrained down, so that he didn’t roll off, the blonde wasn’t aware of what was really happening, as his eyes kept fluttering ever so often.
Minho and Gally tried to put Thomas down on a cot as well, but the Runner was batting off their attempts and was stumbling his way over to where Newt was resting, he heard Gally’s annoyed huff and watched the taller, stricken man sit down on one of the bench chairs that lined the walls of the aircraft and buckled himself in, Thomas nodded at Minho to do the same, while the Keeper of the Runners merely frowned worriedly at him.
Frypan and Brenda had moved closer to the pilot’s area so they could see the outside and literally watch the last piece of humanity be destroyed before their very eyes, leaving behind some of the rebels they knew.
Thomas’ head lulled against the edge of Newt’s cot, he was mostly slumped to the ground, his elbow was kept him braced from being just flat on his back like he wanted to be, but he kept wanting to check on his friend, to see if he was getting any better.
“You’re a true bloody idiot, I hope you know.”
Thomas’ eyes snapped open at the hoarse insult and he quickly moved to sit up, “Are you okay?” he asked his blonde friend quickly, he wasn’t even peeved at the insult that had been directed at him.
Newt was blearily looking at Thomas, the Flare was still leaving his system; the blackened veins around his eyes were fading, his eyes were starting to lighten somewhat, returning back to their deep warmth. He grimaced slightly when their aircraft shook slightly from a ripple of an aftershock explosion that was most likely behind them, “I could have killed you.”
“But you didn’t,” Thomas replied softly, he reached shyly for Newt’s hand, his friend’s paler fingers barely twitched at the contact. “I couldn’t kill you, Newt. If I had, I don’t know what would have become of me.”
“You would have lived on and let me become a distant memory,” Newt responded, he tried to sound firm, but his voice was still shaky after snarling like a rabid dog.
Thomas shook his head, if it had really come to it, he would have run away with his eyes closed tight and have nightmares of seeing a Flare infected Newt pinning him down, frothing blackened blood, and snarling at him like a disease-ridden animal.
He knew he would still have terrors of Newt pleading for Thomas to kill him.
A violent shiver wracked through Thomas and he squeezed Newt’s hand tighter, he felt the light flex of the slimmer fingers with his own, “There is no Paradise if you’re not with me. We started this together and we’re finishing this together,” Thomas echoed Newt’s earlier words back at him.
Newt gave him a weak smile, tears blurring his vision, “Tommy,” he breathed softly.
Thomas quietly shushed him, “You should sleep, you’ve been through a lot.”
“So have you…all of us have,” Newt murmured, his gaze landed on Minho, who was clunked out against Gally, who took a silent vigil for the Keeper of Runners, glaring down at the floor.
Thomas couldn’t argue with that and simply kept his mouth shut for once. He rested his head on his free arm that he placed on the cot, his other hand was still preoccupied for the time being, but he didn’t mind, as it was reassuring to him that he could feel Newt’s pulse in his fingertips against his own; it lulled him into a well needed rest.
It was finished, they were free.