Work Text:
The Greenie is a bit odd.
It’s not that Newt doesn’t like him – he does, quite a lot for someone he’s just met – he just seems a bit… off.
Then again, that could just be because he won’t stop asking questions every five shucking seconds.
*
Teresa stares at the screen, watching through a computer’s eyes at Ben running the Maze. He split off from Minho only a few paths ago.
She takes a deep breath, and sets the Griever’s target.
*
Thomas is sitting on a cot in the Med-jack hut, silent as Jeff wraps a bandage tightly around his wrist.
Ben had done a real number on him – according to Clint, if it was any worse, he’d have to have it amputated.
“He was joking, y’know?” Jeff suddenly speaks up. “About amputating your arm. You can’t often tell because of his ever-serious face.”
“It’s not that.” Thomas waves him off.
“Then what?”
He pauses, mulling over his words. “Ben just… He just said something odd.”
Jeff lets out a humourless laugh at that. “Yeah, well he was Stung. He ain’t gonna make no sense.”
Thomas nods, and remains quiet when Jeff gives him the all-clear. He leaves the hut, and sets off to find Chuck.
*
Newt sits down heavily next to his hammock. Things are getting strange.
He should really be helping out in the Gardens, or badgering Louis to fix the bean frames, or doing his rounds checking up on everyone. But he needs a minute to think.
The Greenie being confused and asking a shuck ton of questions – normal. The Greenie trying to break out of the Glade when no one’s looking – a bit weird, but fairly usual. Ben getting Stung in the daytime – strange.
Alby had found him after checking on Thomas, and told him that Ben was blaming everything they’ve lived through for three years on Thomas. Shanks say weird stuff when Stung, but the conviction from which Ben’d said them and the grave look in Alby’s eyes suggested that something more is going on.
He just can’t figure out what.
*
Minho sprints out of the Maze, and immediately makes a beeline to the Homestead. He finds Newt and Alby, playing cards over an upturned barrel.
“Oi!” He pants, flopping down on the ground next to them. “Found a dead Griever.”
Alby turns to look at him seriously, and Newt jumps a little at his outburst, sending cards scattering all over the floor.
“What?” Newt coughs, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Found a dead Griever.”
Alby furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
Minho rolls his eyes, covering his eyes with an arm. “I said, I found a dead Griever. Do you want me to write it on a piece of paper in shucking calligraphy?”
Newt gets off his seat and crouches by Minho, poking him incessantly in the arm. When he lowers it, Newt asks, “Was it wounded? Or just lying down dead?”
“I don’t know, man, I was a bit preoccupied with running away.”
Alby stands up and claps Newt on the back, saying, “Get the Keepers. We’re having a Gathering.”
*
(Silently, Teresa records this onto her database. She goes up in a few days, but that’s no excuse to stop working.)
*
The next morning, Newt stands solemnly by the Doors, staring after the retreating forms of Alby and Minho. They’d decided to run into the Maze today to check out that dead Griever.
He couldn’t help but feel that he’d made the wrong choice.
It’s not like Newt was any faster than Alby, what with his limp and all. And Alby is First-in-Command, it’s his duty to do things like this. But Newt can’t squash the feeling that he’s just given himself a death sentence.
He’s frozen, staring blankly ahead, until Wyck’s voice cuts through. “Hey Newt! You good?”
He shakes himself and turns to see Wyck’s worried face. He nods, and strides off to the Gardens. He has to get his mind off of it.
*
Thomas can’t look away from Newt.
He keeps opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the words, but ultimately saying nothing.
If Newt says Alby and Minho are coming back, they’re coming back.
*
(They don’t come back in time. Thomas clocks this, and has a startling realisation of what he has to do.
So he runs.)
*
The second Teresa sees Thomas runs into the Maze, her heart nearly stops.
This wasn’t the plan.
Then again, Thomas would have no knowledge of the plan. So she just has to keep working and pray that he survives the night.
*
(It helps that she can ensure the Grievers don’t aim to kill.)
*
That idiot.
That bloody, buggin’ idiot.
Newt’s going to kill him. Or rather, he would if he wasn’t already dead.
Alby, Minho and Thomas are stuck in the Maze. Overnight. With the Grievers.
It’s a death sentence.
He can’t seem to bring his eyes away from the gap in the Doors, wishing more than anything he could squeeze through and slap some sense into the Greenie. And get all three of them out.
Faintly, he can hear Gally cursing up a storm, angrily muttering about crossing names off of walls. He’s collected a group of Builders, and is beginning to march towards the Wall, chisel in hand.
Distantly, Newt hears himself say, “Wait. Don’t.”
Gally turns around, prepared to yell, but stops short when he sees Newt. His eyes are fixed firmly ahead, but unseeing. His hands are clenched into fists, shaking minutely.
“Okay.” Gally mutters, putting his tools away. He understands. He wants them to live too. “We’ll wait.”
Then he stalks off. Slowly, the group around him begins to disperse, until Newt is left alone.
“Newt?” Frypan calls softly, voice shaking slightly. Maybe not so alone. “C’mon, I think I have some leftover stew in the pantry.”
He wraps an arm around Newt’s shoulders, guiding him towards the Kitchens. Newt puts up no resistance.
*
When he comes back to himself, he’s perched on a bench in the Kitchens, a wooden spoon hanging limply in his hand, a bowl full of cold stew in the other. Frypan is pottering around, occasionally stirring a massive pot over the fire.
“Hey Fry,” he calls, painfully aware of how hoarse his voice sounds.
“Hey.” Frypan replies, setting down the spoon and walking over to the bench. “You back, shank?”
Newt nods. Frypan smiles a bit. “Aight, I know you probably aren’t up for it, but you’re gonna need to do your rounds. People’ll start to freak if things are uncertain.”
Newt nods again, and shakily rises to his feet. Right. He has a job to do. More confidently, he walks out of the Kitchens. Immediately, he can see people milling around, not really doing anything.
“We’re having a Gathering!” Newt yells, and regrets it when it grates harshly on his throat. Heads snap up at his voice, faces either turning into relief or fear.
The Keepers troop towards the Homestead as a unit. When they enter, they don’t spread out and relax like they normally do. They’re all perched on seats, staring at Newt. He limps to the front of the room – not moving for an hour makes it stiff, big surprise – and awkwardly clears his throat.
“I’ll be taking up the mantle as temporary First-in Command, until tomorrow. No point in appointing a Second.”
Billy opens his mouth, but before he can even get the first word out he is harshly elbowed in the ribs by Louis. Louis does some weird gesture thing, and Billy’s eyes widen with realisation. He makes no other move.
“Alright,” Newt says, “I need all of you to try to calm down your respective groups. I know it’s difficult, but as long as no one is outright freaking out, things should be okay. Good that?”
Muted nods around the room. Newt dismisses them, and walks back to the Kitchens. It’s technically time for dinner.
*
They set up a camp around the Doors.
Chuck commands it, desperate to not miss a thing. It’s mostly just the Keepers.
They stare at the Doors, talking quietly, but eventually start dropping off to sleep. Newt doesn’t. Logically, he knows that he’s not going to miss anything if he goes to sleep now, but he won’t do it.
They have to be alive.
*
Overnight, the Grievers are strangely silent.
*
When he sees the three of them running out of the Maze, Newt feels like he could collapse with relief.
When he sees the state Alby is in, Newt feels horror building up in his chest.
When he hears of how Thomas killed a Griever, Newt feels disbelief running through his mind, along with a pin prick of hope.
When he sits in his hammock for a moment, Newt feels nothing.
*
“You alright there?”
Minho is standing a few feet away from Newt’s hammock, arms crossed, looking worried. Newt begins to nod, then stops.
“I need help, Min.”
It’s like someone flipped a switch. He strides over and takes Newt’s machete out of its holster, putting it into his own. He grips his wrist and pulls him up, dragging him over to the animal pens. Minho pushes him down in front of the goat pen, and sits next to him.
“We’re gonna look at these ugly shanks.” Minho declares, staring intently at a brown and white mottled goat.
Newt can’t look away from a patch of grass by his foot, but does when Minho grabs the top of his head and forcefully turns it to the goats.
“Are you looking at them?”
Newt nods, and Minho lets go.
“What can you see?”
He hesitates for a moment, focusing in on a goat, before replying. “The brown one with the white socks is Scruffy.”
“Scruffy?”
“Mhm. Winston let Chuck name her.”
Minho narrows his eyes, almost glaring at the forementioned goat. “I don’t like the eyes.”
Newt let out a breath of a chuckle. “They need them to see better.”
“Still shucking ugly.”
He rolls his eyes, and continues to look at the herd. They stay that way for a few moments, and eventually Newt feels a bit more present.
“I’m good.”
Minho gives him a calculating look, then nods. “Alright. Lets go find the Greenie. I’m fairly sure he’s jacked in the head.”
*
Teresa takes a deep breath, and walks into the infirmary. A doctor nods to her, and she lies down on a hospital bed, preparing for the Swipe.
The End is near.
*
A girl.
A shucking girl.
Just when he thought nothing could get stranger, a girl appears. And she seems to have an affinity for chucking rocks.
Just great.
*
Clint and Jeff run from Glader to Glader, applying antiseptic and wrapping bandages. Teresa sure could do a lot of damage with the rocks up there.
To every person they treat, Clint solemnly informs them that they’ll have to amputate whatever area is injured. No one but Clint finds that funny.
Even then he doesn’t laugh.
*
Teresa is sitting in the Med-jack hut, keeping vigil over Alby. No one told her to, but she wants to see how the Cure works.
Ever since she’d injected that pale blue liquid into his chest, Alby acts like he running a fever, even though he isn’t showing any actual symptoms.
He keeps flinching and muttering in his sleep. Every time he does so, Teresa jumps and leans just that much further away.
*
Janson ends his call with Ava Paige, and stalks down the hallways with a smirk on his face.
The battle has begun.
*
Thomas and Newt are leaning against a branch, a parallel scene to the first bonfire.
However, this time there are no laughs and songs, no fight circles, no field games, no drunken tales. It’s just them, and the weighty trepidation that seems all-encompassing as they wait for the End.
It’s sobering.
They sit there, in a comfortable silence, looking between the battle preparations and each other.
*
The attack on the Glade is devastating.
Not only are multiple Gladers killed by Grievers, but their home has been destroyed. Trampled and ruined by the Creators.
Gally takes this as a sign.
*
When Gally stages a coup, Newt is unprepared.
He’s still grieving all the friends he has lost, confused and desperate among the rubble, and Gally starts then.
If it had been any other day, Newt would have been able to crush this coup under his foot. He’s the calm, self-assured Second-in-Command – it would be incredibly easy.
But then again, the Doors haven’t closed. Regardless of what happens, the Grievers will be coming back the next night. They will be ravaging what is left of the Glade, and kill any left behind.
But if the Gladers aren’t there, they can’t be killed. Tomorrow, Newt thinks, they will be leaving the Glade for good. They don’t have a choice.
So he makes a strategic retreat.
*
The second Janson realises that the Gladers are preparing to escape, he sets his plan into motion.
Multiple corpses are dressed and laid haphazardly across the floor. Several scientists begin to upload information about the world and the subjects onto conveniently placed computers. He fires a gun at preplaced sheets of glass, sending fragments scattering across the bloodied floor. Janson calls a helicopter to take a select few people away.
To the rest, he turns on them with a gun in his hand and murder in his eyes.
*
(When the Gladers pass through the lab, Chuck and Gally aren’t the only ones whose blood is still warm, flecked and splattered along the marble tiles.)
*
Thomas may have sent Mary the coordinates to every WICKED base, but that doesn’t mean they are the only ones in possession of that knowledge.
Lawrence orders a sweep of an abandoned Maze Trial, and his group return with another amongst their midst, one who clings to the dredges of life like he could never let go.
*
He’s in the helicopter with the remaining Gladers.
Underneath them, he can see the vast expanse of desert, glinting under the harsh sunlight. It leads into the ruins of a dilapidated city, one that looks older than the buildings suggest, which is barren of all forms of life.
They’re alive.
But he can’t forget all the ones who aren’t.