Work Text:
When Newt jumped, no one knew. No one was there to scream up to him that he shouldn’t—couldn’t—do it, that he was needed and wanted and couldn’t just leave the rest of them behind.
He climbed the vines until he couldn’t anymore, until the muscles in his arms were screaming in protest, and then he simply let go. He thought he had been high enough. He thought it would be quick, almost instant. A quick rush of air, and then he would be dead and the crushing, overwhelming feeling of hopelessness would be gone.
He didn’t expect the pain.
He didn’t expect the searing agony he felt when he crashed into the ground and his leg buckled beneath him with a crack that echoed through the corridors of the Maze, mingling violently with his tortured scream. He could feel blood trickling from other places—a gash on his head, scrapes along his arm. But everything else was superseded by the pain of his leg.
He didn’t expect to lay there for hours, fading in and out of excruciating consciousness and unable to move with the bones in his leg utterly shattered. He was simply left to stare at the sky as it gradually grew darker and he was slowly forced to acknowledge that he would die that night at the mercy of the Grievers. He would not get the quick death he wanted, nor anything even near a painless one, but death would inevitably come for him.
The last few moments Newt managed to remain conscious, he realized that it was dark enough that even if the Doors had not yet closed, they would be doing so within minutes. He let his eyes fall shut and he resigned himself to his fate when he began to hear the terrifying moaning screech of the Grievers in the distance, the monsters slowly starting to come out for the night.
But it was not death that came for him. It was Alby, breaking the Glade’s cardinal rule and entering the Maze just before the Doors were closing in order to find his best friend. He had blatantly ignored all of the others as they tried to hold him back and tell him that it was useless—that if Newt wasn’t back, he was dead. He shoved past them and rushed inside the section of the Maze that Newt ran, desperately trying to remember the way back in his panic to find his best friend.
When he finally rounded a corner and saw something other than the empty lengths of stone, he froze. Terror and anger and sadness washed over him in crushing waves as he saw the body lying spread-eagled on the ground, leg mangled and head bleeding. He did not even know whether Newt was alive. The one thing that filled his mind was that he had to get the boy back before the Doors closed, or he wouldn’t have even the slightest chance of survival. So he steeled himself and ran the rest of the way to Newt’s crumpled form and slid down onto his knees beside him, gently pressing trembling fingers to his neck to desperately search for a pulse. When he found it, weak and stuttering but there, he heaved a sigh of relief before leaning down and gathering the body which now seemed so fragile into his arms and getting to his feet. Newt whimpered unconsciously as he was maneuvered into Alby’s arms, but the elder didn’t have the luxury of time to be gentle with him. He started back to the Doors as quickly as he could, looking down at Newt every few seconds to check that the blond was still breathing.
He heard the grinding of the Doors starting to close just as he rounded the corner of the last long corridor, now able to see the group of Gladers gathered just past the moving Doors. The second they saw him, they started screaming for him to run to make in back through, and run he did. There was a reason he wasn’t one of the Runners. He was smart and strong and a good leader, but he was not fast. But to save Newt’s life, he ran faster than he ever had in his life. And thankfully, it was just barely enough.
He slid through the Doors mere seconds before they sealed shut. He immediately dropped to his knees, carefully laying Newt out on the ground as several Med-jacks broke through the gathered crowd and ran to his side.
“What happened?”
“Was it the Grievers?”
“Was he stung?”
Alby shook his head frantically, falling back onto his heels as he watched the boys maneuver Newt onto a stretcher and lift him to bring him back to their makeshift medical tent. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. Just save him…” he slid a hand down his face and stared after Newt as he was taken away.
“Hey,” A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up to see Minho staring back at him, eyebrows drawn together and eyes filled with tears. “They’ll fix him. He’ll be okay.”
Alby shook his head. “You can’t know that.”
“You found him in time, Alby. You gave him a chance. Whatever happens, live or—” he cut himself off, lip trembling slightly. “If he was still out there, he’d be dead. Here, people can help.”
Alby slowly got to his feet, and Minho dropped his hand back to his side. “What the shuck coulda happened to him out there?”
“Might have been a Griever,” Minho said. “He could’ve…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. But we’ll ask him when he wakes up.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Alby said flatly, sadness filling his gaze.
“Not a chance. He’s gonna wake up, Alby.”
Alby shoved him away. “You don’t know that!” he yelled, a single tear falling from his eye.
Minho took a deep breath. “Why don’t we just go be with him until he wakes up, yeah?”
The elder turned away from him but then jogged off after Newt. Minho followed, realizing just then that all of the other boys had already left to follow the Med-jacks minutes before. When they entered the tent, all of the anger visibly drained out of Alby the moment he laid his eyes on Newt.
“Ev—” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Everyone out but the Med-jacks. Give them room.” The look on his face was so grave that no one dared disobey but Minho and their leader Nick.
The Med-jacks were surrounding Newt almost entirely, trying to staunch the bleeding from his head and set the bones in his leg. Nick went to join Alby and Minho while they worked.
“You shouldn’t have gone into the Maze. You’re not a Runner.” Nick said, turning to face Alby.
“I don’t care. I’ll take whatever punishment you want to give me, but I won’t apologize for getting him outta there.”
“You’re not gonna get punished, shank. You saved Newt’s life. We’ll give you a pass this time.” Alby looked to Nick in surprise. “Look after him. I gotta go get some order out there. Tell me if he wakes up.” Nick clapped Alby on the shoulder before leaving the tent. Alby and Minho dragged two chairs from against the wall nearer to the bed and sat in wait, watching for Newt to wake up.
It ended up taking almost five days.
But on that fifth day, Newt’s eyes slowly opened. He was again met with pain. It wasn’t quite as terrible as it had been inside the Maze, but it was close. He tipped his head slightly, only making his head hurt more, but the movement allowed him to see the boy sleeping in the uncomfortable looking chair beside his bed.
“Alby?” His voice came out as a painful croak, but it was enough to wake the elder.
Alby was instantly on his feet and leaning over the blond. “Newt, I—shuck, Newt…” he cupped the boy’s cheek carefully in his hand, eyes wet with unshed tears. His brow furrowed when he saw that Newt’s tears were falling down onto his pillow. “You’re alright, Newt—you’ll be alright, I promise. I’m gonna help you get better.”
“No, Alby—Shuck, I’m sorry, I just…” he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to ignore the spike of pain that shot through his head at the action. “I was supposed to die. I was supposed to—”
“No. Newt, none of us—”
“I wanted to!” Newt shouted, and Alby was taken aback. “This life, everything in it—it’s all hopeless! And I don’t want it anymore, Alby, I can’t do it any bloody longer. I jumped off the wall. I was supposed to bloody die.”
Alby shook his head disbelievingly, letting Newt go. “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do that.”
“I was supposed to die. Why didn’t I die?” Newt demanded, his expression one of devastation.
“You didn’t die ‘cause I went out in the shucking Maze and brought you back, you slint head! You think I’d really let you die? You think I’d let that happen? Shuck, Newt, you’re the only person I’ve really got here. You know what it would do to me to lose you?”
Newt stared up at him brokenly. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Alby. I just… this life… I can’t do it anymore. Nothing’s worth it. We’re never getting outta here. We’re all gonna bloody die anyway, no matter what we do. It’s pointless and hopeless and… and so I jumped.”
Alby was silent for a moment, his previously unshed tears spilling over and down his cheeks before he leaned back down and took Newt’s hand in his. “You’re going to get better. You’re going to heal. We’ll find a way out, and then we’ll get the shuck out, and I promise you that I will get you to a life worth living, Newt, I swear it on my life. But you… you gotta promise me that you’ll never do anything like that again. Promise me, Newt.”
“I can’t. I’m so sorry, Alby, but I… I just can’t.”
“Newt.” The elder stared down at him, not allowing him to break their gaze. “Swear to me that you won’t do anything to hurt yourself again.”
Looking back into those pleading eyes, Newt’s resolve crumbled. “I promise. I won’t, Alby.”
After staring him down for several more moments, Alby finally nodded and stepped back. “I’ll get you some water and medicine. Don’t try to move. Your leg…” he shook his head. “Just don’t move, okay?”
Newt closed his eyes after Alby left. He didn’t want to be alive, but he was, and now he had made his best friend a promise to stay that way. And Alby’s trust was something that he was not willing to betray.
---
Alby looked at Newt as the Grievers gathered before them and the blond quickly tried to strategize a way past them that would result in the lowest possible amount of casualties. He smiled sadly at him, remembering the rule of the last few nights that if one of the boys died, the rest would survive. He couldn’t risk having the one who died be Newt. With that thought in mind, he slowly began to walk toward the creatures. Almost immediately, he heard Newt’s panicked voice calling after him.
“Alby? Get back here!”
Unable to risk Newt coming after him and getting hurt too, he started to run at the Grievers, trying desperately to push down his terror and hold back tears.
“Alby!” Newt screamed, and he chanced a glance back to see that Thomas had grabbed the blond to hold him back. Newt was wrestling him, fighting tooth and nail to get free, all the while staring desperately after Alby.
“I’m sorry.” Alby whispered too quietly to be heard just before he was thrown to the side and the Grievers were on him.
“Let go!” Newt’s devastated scream was the last thing he was aware of before everything was pain and then there was nothing at all. “No!” He continued to fight Thomas until it was clear that his friend was gone and there could be no saving him. He then sank back against Thomas, too stunned to even cry. He felt the boy holding him and trying to comfort him, but he couldn’t even acknowledge it.
Alby was dead.
Minho stepped up and both he and Thomas tried to help him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from where Alby had just been ripped apart in front of him.
Alby had saved Newt when he jumped, but Newt couldn’t do the same for him.
Alby’s last action in life was to try to keep his promise to get Newt to a better life. Newt realized that as they began to fight their way through the Grievers. He knew that even though Alby was gone now, he would still have to fight just as hard to keep his promise to the boy.