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“I need a second-in-command,” Alby says to Newt’s back, or the part of it that’s visible behind a tree trunk anyway.
“And?”
Newt’s more one-word answers than not, lately, at least when they’re alone. He plays a part around the others, all easy smiles and friendly banter, but the act vanishes the moment they’re gone, the words swallowed up somewhere deep inside of him. If it wasn’t for Newt’s thigh pressed against his when they sit to eat dinner, the backs of their hands brushing as they stand next to each other (never quite intertwining, but always touching), Newt’s sleeping bag set up within arm’s reach of his every night, Alby might’ve thought Newt hated him.
He hates that he sometimes wishes Newt would lie to him too.
Still, that thought in all its unfairness isn’t what he’d followed Newt into the woods about. He comes around the tree to sit next to Newt, acutely aware of every point of contact in a far different way than he used to be. “And,” he says, “I want it to be you.”
Newt looks away. “I don’t really want your pity, thanks.”
“How is it pity?”
“Nobody else you might choose can be spared from their job, so you might as well pick me, since I can’t do anything else.”
“Do you really think I see you that way?” It’s hard not to be surprised at that, a little offended, maybe. He hurts for Newt when he thinks about the desperation that drove him off the edge of a Maze wall. He’s frustrated with him when he’s being needlessly stubborn. He loves him. He never pities him.
Newt just shrugs. “Wouldn’t blame you.”
“I want you to be my second because I think you’d be good at it. That’s the whole reason. You have good judgment, and people like you but you’re not afraid to keep them in line if you have to. I think some of them trust you more than they trust me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Either way, I think it would be good to know they’re following us.”
“You’ll lose Gally’s weird little faction,” Newt says, which is probably a fair call given that the two of them can’t stand to be within thirty feet of each other.
“We can probably deal with that.”
Newt’s silent for another long moment, but Alby’s gotten good at sitting through those in the last couple months. Eventually, Newt says, “You’re sure you’re not just asking me because we’re... you know, us?”
“I’m not saying that hurt your chances, but that’s because it means I know we complement each other.”
“Other people are going to assume that’s the entire extent of your reasoning, you know.”
“So?”
“Just saying.”
“They can say whatever they want, I’m making what I think is the best choice.” He tries to sound confident. Newt is a good choice for a second, and Alby believes everything he’d said about the reasons why, but that doesn’t mean he can’t already hear the whispers. A leadership position given out of pity, or out of weakness for the boy Alby’s already broken Glade rules for once. One or the other or both. He’d probably think the same, in their place. It doesn’t matter.
“Can I think about it?” Newt asks.
“I mean, you can. You definitely can, but... I hope you say yes.”
Something in Alby’s tone must be enough to pull Newt out of his haze, because the look he gives him is more focused than any Alby’s seen in a while. “You don’t have to be scared, you know. You’ll be a good leader. You already are.”
“I’m not scared,” Alby says, but then backpedals just as fast, because there’s no sense in trying to lie to Newt. “Maybe I am. I never thought—I mean, yeah, I knew I was in charge if anything ever happened to Nick, but I didn’t think it would.”
“He chose you as his successor for a reason.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to do it alone.” And that’s it, isn’t it? More than anything else, he wants Newt at his side because he doesn’t know how to do this without him.
“Well, seeing as you have me, you’re not exactly alone, are you?” Newt’s smile is small, a little ragged, but it’s real.
“Does that mean you’re saying yes?”
“I’m not saying I think it’s a good idea, but... yes.”
Alby doesn’t mean to breathe an audible sigh of relief, but apparently he must, because there’s an honest-to-god glimmer of amusement in Newt’s eyes when he says, “What would you do without me?”
“No idea,” Alby says, resting his head against Newt’s. “Never want to find out.”