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“This’ll never work, hermano.”
“Well, we have to try. We can’t just keep sitting here doing nothing.”
Jorge’s eyebrows draw together, and he leans more on the table, closer to Thomas. “Is that what you think we’ve been doing? Nothing?”
“It’s been five months! And we still haven’t found him!”
“We’ve been trying! You know this.”
Newt can tell that lately, Thomas has been getting impatient. Newt’s been feeling it too—only, he’s been able to hide it much better. Of course he wishes that they could have already found and rescued Minho by now, but they just haven’t. Thomas and Newt have probably been working the hardest—them being the most determined to help their lost friend. Frypan’s been a big help, too—but he was never as attached to Minho as Newt and Thomas were. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care any less, though. Back in the Glade, they were all like brothers, and Frypan liked Minho. But they weren’t best buddies or anything.
“Well then maybe we haven’t been trying hard enough.” Thomas pleads, looking desperate. Newt’s been feeling desperate, too. Hope starting to slip through his fingers. There have been times when he was sure they’d never find Minho—that it’s all pointless and they should give up. And there have been times when Thomas felt the same. But when one of them is down, the other always lifts him up. They can’t fall if they’re together.
“You know we’ve been trying bloody hard, Tommy.” Newt chimes in, trying to catch Thomas’s gaze.
“We could do more.”
“We’re doing the best we can, with what we’ve got. It’s not just Minho’s life we need to worry about. There are people here that we need to protect—need to keep safe. As much as we want to save Minho, we have to remember them, too.” Thomas stares at him for a long moment, lips pressed together in a tight line, his face blank. “Go get some rest. You’re tired. We’ll figure something out…eventually. We will find Minho.” Newt continues, his voice firm. He knows Thomas hasn’t been sleeping so well lately, obvious dark bags hang under his eyes, making him look much older than he actually is.
Thomas nods, slowly, before getting up from his chair and walking out without a word. Silence hangs in the air for a few much too long moments after.
“This plan is insane.” Jorge finally says, looking to Newt. “We’re going to get ourselves killed if we go through with this.”
Newt brings a hand up to rub at his temples. “Maybe we could use a little bit of insane right now. If you think about it…this might actually work.”
“There’s so much that could go wrong, though. I mean…if things don’t play out perfectly; we’re dead.” Brenda says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“There’s too much risk.”
Yeah, Jorge and Brenda have good points. Logical points. And Newt respects their opinions. But Thomas has some points, too. They really haven’t gotten anywhere in terms of saving Minho for a long while. Things are starting to look bleak for their friend—but they can’t give up. Thomas’s plan is crazy, but sometimes crazy can be good. It was crazy for Thomas to jump in the maze when he first got to the Glade, and he somehow made that work.
Thomas has this way about him, no matter how impossible the idea seems, he finds a way. Nobody’s ever survived a night in the maze before? Thomas did. Crossing the Scorch with no idea where to go? He somehow got most of them back, most of them safe. If anyone is able to pull this plan off, it’s Thomas.
“We wouldn’t get anywhere without risk.” Jorge and Brenda look skeptical, eyes narrowed and brows drawn together in thought. Even with no blood relation, the two can look almost identical at times. Almost like they share a mind. It’s similar to the connection that he and Thomas have—being able to convey whole thoughts and conversations through a single look.
“We’ll think about it, hermano.” Jorge says, looking at Newt with an unreadable expression. “And you know the real person that needs convincing is Vince. For now, though, you need some rest, too. You’ve been working just as hard as he has.”
Newt nods, feeling optimistic. This plan is dangerous, and if things don’t fall into place as predicted, they’re not going to make it. But he has hope. It’s a good plan. Far from foolproof, but good. They’ll figure this out. They have to—for Minho. Newt misses Minho dearly; the boy being a brother to him. He doesn’t think he could bear it if they never found him—if something happened to him.
“Alright.” He says, standing out of his chair. He looks at them for a moment, before tapping his knuckles on the wooden table and walking out. Most of the time they’ve spent out in the Scorch—trying to find ways to save Minho and the other kids from WCKD—they’ve traveled to and from various hiding places and campsites, hoping they won’t be found. Recently, though, they’ve been staying in the old, worn-out ship Vince had found a while back. It’s provided pretty decent shelter, and now, they’ve gotten the electricity working. It’s not sea-ready yet, but it’s getting there. Soon, they’ll be able to leave this place. Hopefully.
He heads to the room he and Thomas share, wanting to talk to the other boy. Thomas may not have known Minho as long as Newt has, but Newt knows he cares just as much about him. It’s been hard, going on without Minho…without the other Gladers. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where Newt hasn’t thought of all the ones he’s lost. Alby, Chuck, Ben, Gally, Minho. The death of Chuck, though, still haunts him. And he knows it haunts Tommy, too. The short amount of time he spent in the Glade, Thomas really connected with Chuck. And Newt knows he feels responsible for his death. He still beats himself up about it, sometimes. Even has nightmares. Newt has them, too. But the nightmares aren’t always about Chuck. They dream about the Maze, the Grievers, the Cranks, the Scorch. And the always have each other to lean on when it gets too hard.
When one of them wakes up screaming, the other holds them, comforts them. The dreams only intensify the past, and Newt doesn’t know how long he’d hold up if Thomas wasn’t there every time—telling him it’s okay. The dreams are something he knows he’ll have to live with for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Because these things—they don’t go away. Newt will always have the memories of his friends being slaughtered clear and vivid in his mind. He’s never forgetting what happened, and he knows Thomas isn’t either. But they have each other—they always will. Thomas will always be there for him; to remind him that they’re only dreams, only memories. That those things won’t hurt him anymore. Newt can’t imagine his life without Tommy. He doesn’t want to. He trusts that his friend will never abandon him—and he’ll never abandon Thomas.
When he doesn’t find Thomas in their room—resting like he should be—Newt exits the ship, hoping he’s somewhere close. Thomas doesn’t usually run off on his own, it’s too dangerous to. But there have been a few times. He had Newt worried sick, terrified that he’d get himself killed for being so stupid. But he always came back, and he always apologized to Newt. And for some reason, Newt can’t ever stay mad at Tommy.
He finds Thomas sitting in front of the fire they keep outside; his legs crossed. Alone. He’s looking intensely at the flames, like they hold the answers to the world. Newt often finds Thomas alone, staring off into space. He doesn’t think that being by themselves is a good idea. It gives too much time to think about everything that’s gone wrong—about all the sad things. He’s afraid that too much solidarity will drive them into depression. Especially Thomas.
Thomas tends to blame himself for everything. He takes too much responsibility for all the terrible things that have happened to them. Even if hardly any of it is really his fault. Something made him think that it is, though. He needs to learn that he can’t control everything, and that he can’t save everyone. No matter what he does—what they do—people are going to die. It’s a war. And with war comes casualties.
Newt runs a hand through his hair, sighing, before walking over and sitting down next to Thomas. The fire is hot in comparison to the cold night air. It always gets so cold in the Scorch at night.
“It’s a good plan, Tommy.” Newt says, looking over at his friend. “And even if we don’t use it—or it doesn’t work—we’ll still find him. We’re not giving up on Minho. I’m not giving up on Minho, not ever.”
Thomas picks at his nails. “It’s just been so long.”
“I know. But we can’t lose hope. When we lose hope, we stop trying. And if we stop trying, we’ll never find him.” Newt bites his lip, trying to think of what to say. It’s hard to bring somebody’s spirits up when your own are so low. Because it has been so long. And he knows that every minute, Minho is suffering in one way or another. He’s afraid that it’ll take even longer to finally get him back, that he has to go through so much more pain.
“It’s just so hard sometimes.”
Newt puts an arm around Thomas’s shoulders. “Things may look bleak now, but soon they’ll brighten up. They always do. It won’t stay dark forever. And you know I’ll be there, by your side, through it all. No matter what, we have each other. I will always be there for you, Tommy. We will save him, and we will stop WCKD.” Thomas leans into his side, closing his eyes. “Look at all we’ve done already. All the trials we’ve faced. One day, it’ll all be over, and we’ll finally be okay. I promise.”
Newt rests his cheek on the top of Thomas’s head, feeling him nod slowly. The more he talks, the more he believes it himself. Someday, they’ll be safe. They have to be. And he’ll make sure Minho gets there, too. Him and Tommy. He’d die to get the two of them to safety. He hasn’t gone through hell just for two of the people he cares about most to die. Newt will get them there, no matter the cost. And something’s telling him that the cost is pretty high.
“You always find a way to make me feel better.” Thomas says in a quiet voice. He then pauses for a moment, as if carefully thinking over his next words. “You always make me feel safe. Like no one else can. Thank you.”
Newt ponders these words, deciding not to reply. Thomas makes him feel the same way. Nobody else has ever made him feel this way before. Not even Minho. There’s just something about Tommy that makes his heart feel like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling—but unusual. He’s not sure what it means, and he knows he’ll just give himself a headache thinking about it.
So he just sits there, eyes closed, the heat of the crackling fire warming his skin, and the weight of Thomas at his side and in his arms. He wants to hold on to this moment—this feeling. These days, there are very few times he feels content. Most of the time he’s either stressed or terrified. There’s not much in-between.
Right now, though, he feels okay. It’s been a while since he’s felt okay. And he thinks it’ll be a while before he feels okay again.