Chapter Text
The darkness was absolute.
Thomas's eyes snapped open, but it made no difference. There was no light, no sound save for the grinding and groaning of machinery as the box surged upward. He barely had time to gather his bearings before the wave of panic washed over him.
He had been here before. Not just metaphorically—not a dream or memory. This was it. The Box. The first moment. The beginning of everything.
His hands clawed at the metal floor beneath him, trembling as recognition dawned. This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a simulation. And that thought was so much worse.
He began to hyperventilate.
"No," he croaked. "No, no, no, this can’t—we already… We finished this. We escaped. We got out. We—"
But the memories were crashing into him faster than he could think. The Scorch. The fight against WCKD. Newt in his arms—dying, bleeding, crying.
Newt.
Just the thought of his name hit Thomas like a sledgehammer to the chest. The grief he'd buried, carried, and tried to live with came roaring back.
The Box kept rising.
His breath hitched. It became harder and harder to breathe. It felt like something was wrapping around his chest and squeezing.
And then, the ceiling groaned. Light streamed down through the newly opened grates, and Thomas recoiled, slamming back against the corner of the box.
Silhouettes appeared, and voices echoed down.
"Another Greenie"
"He’s flailing. Looks like he’s having some sort of fit."
He recognized them. Too well.
Chuck. Minho. Alby.
They were alive.
Thomas's entire body seized. The sight of Chuck alone felt like a gunshot.
He screamed.
"No! No! You’re not real! You can’t be real!"
He scrambled to the far wall of the Box, hands tearing at his hair as the noise around him grew louder. The voices—the light—the faces he thought he’d never see again—
"Back off! Don’t touch me! This is WCKD! You’re all just illusions! I know what this is!"
Up above, confusion spread like wildfire.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with him?" someone asked.
"Think he hit his head too hard?"
"He’s panicking."
But one figure hadn’t spoken. One figure at the edge of the crowd stood completely still, not because of confusion, but because of recognition.
Newt.
He had been waiting. For days. He had woken up in the Glade—again. At first, he thought he had lost his mind. But then the others had treated him as if he had never been there. His position as Second-in-Command was gone. His memories were intact, but no one else remembered the escape. The Scorch. The trials. WCKD. None of it.
He had tried to stay calm, to not disrupt the timeline, and most of all, to wait. Wait for Thomas.
And now Thomas was here.
And he was falling apart.
Newt's heart ached at the sight. The others had no idea what to do. Chuck looked worried. Alby looked startled. Minho seemed ready to climb down and tackle Thomas if he got more erratic.
Newt gritted his teeth.
He couldn’t go to him. Not yet. Not in front of everyone.
He tried. God, he tried. He stood stiffly, watching Thomas scream, fall to his knees, claw at his arms, yell into the air. It was like watching someone drown while tied to the dock.
"They’re dead. They’re all dead," Thomas sobbed. "This isn’t real."
And then he collapsed completely. Onto his side. Curled into a ball.
And started muttering.
Newt moved.
He shoved through the crowd.
Alby turned, eyes wide. "Newt?"
"I got him," Newt said quickly. "Just—let me."
Without waiting for permission, he dropped down the ladder into the Box, landing silently beside Thomas.
"Tommy," he whispered.
Thomas flinched. His eyes opened, glassy and red.
"Wha…?"
"Hey," Newt said, kneeling beside him. "It's me, love. You're safe. You're here. It's okay."
Thomas’s breath hitched again, and he began sobbing anew. Loud, broken cries. The kind of sobs that shook the whole body. That came from some deep, buried place.
"Newt…?" he whispered.
"Yeah. It's me."
"You’re dead. I saw you die. I held you. You… You said…"
Newt reached forward gently, touching Thomas’s shoulder.
"I know, I know Tommy! but we're here, I'm here. Alive. I don’t know how we're here. I just know we are."
He pulled Thomas up slightly, enough so he could sit beside him. Then, he gently took Thomas's hand.
"Here, feel this
He pressed it to his chest.
"You feel it? That’s my heartbeat. I'm real."
Thomas clung to him like he was the last solid thing in the world.
Above them, murmurs floated down.
"What the hell…?"
"How do they know each other?"
"Since when does Newt hug a Greenie?"
"Alby, maybe you should go down there."
"No," Newt said firmly. "Give him space. Just for now."
Thomas's breaths were still ragged but slowing.
"They were all gone," he said shakily. "Chuck. Alby. You. Minho was the only one who made it. And you—you were the worst part. I couldn't save you."
Newt swallowed hard. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That none of it was. But he knew how stubborn Thomas was. How deeply he carried guilt.
"We have a second chance, Tommy. I don't know why. But we do."
"Tommy. It wasn't your fault. I stabbed myself, not you, alright? You did everything you could, given the circumstances"
Thomas looked up at him, eyes still wild but searching. He nodded "Yeah..."
But it wasn't enough
Newt sighed. They both knew it was a lie, and that they'll come back to it. Later.
"Is this a trick? Did WCKD do this?"
Newt shook his head. "Maybe. Maybe not. But right now, you're here. I’m here. That’s what matters."
He tightened his grip on Thomas’s hand.
Thomas finally nodded, almost imperceptibly.
And for a long while, they just sat there, breathing together. Slowly syncing up.
When Thomas calmed, Newt whispered, "We have to keep this quiet. At least for now. We don’t know what could happen."
Thomas nodded again, pulling himself together.
"Right."
Newt helped him to his feet. They ascended the box in silence, Newt holding onto him the whole way.
As they stepped out, the other Gladers surrounded them.
"Okay, someone better start explaining," Alby said, folding his arms.
Newt gave him a calm but firm look. "He just had a bad reaction to the lift. Give him space. Let me handle it."
Minho frowned. "You sure you don't know him?"
Newt hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really. Just know the look of someone who’s scared out of their bloody mind."
They bought it. For now.
But Thomas leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This time, I’ll follow your lead"
Newt hesitated, then nodded. "Ok. But first we need to figure out why and how we’re back."
They walked together toward the Homestead, away from the rest of the boys.
Back to the beginning.
-
As Thomas and Newt walked away from the Box, the murmurs behind them thickened like fog.
“He didn’t even flinch when the Greenie screamed.”
“He said he didn't know him”
“No way. Newt acted like he knew him. That wasn’t normal.”
Alby raised his hand. “Enough. Everyone back to work.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, but the tension lingered in the air like an itch no one could scratch. Minho didn’t move. He stood near the edge of the Box, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He watched Newt and Thomas until they disappeared into the shadow of the Homestead.
Then he followed.
-
Inside the dusty wooden building, Thomas sat on a low bench, still trembling slightly. Newt crouched in front of him, speaking low and soothing.
“We’re back at the start, alright? Don’t think too far ahead. Just breathe for now.”
Thomas nodded, fingers clenched around the edge of the bench. “I know it’s real. I felt your heartbeat. But it doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t need to—yet,” Newt murmured. “We’ll figure it out. But for now, we blend in.”
Just then, the door creaked open.
Minho stepped inside, his presence like a storm front.
“Mind explaining what that was?”
Newt stood slowly, placing himself between Thomas and Minho without thinking.
Thomas tensed.<
Newt forced a casual expression. “He panicked. You saw it.”
Minho didn’t blink. “You don’t panic like that over nothing. And you don’t calm someone down like that unless you know them”
He looked between them, something sharpening in his eyes.
“You know each other.”
“No, we don’t,” Newt said quickly—too quickly.
\Minho raised an eyebrow. “Right.”
Newt added, “How would we know each other huh? When the creators took care of our memory before this. He just needed comforting. I’ve dealt with enough Greenies to know how to talk them down.”
“Funny,” Minho muttered. “You acted like you saw a ghost when he crawled out of the Box.”
Newt stayed silent.
Thomas, still shaky, said, “I don’t even know my own name. WHY DON’T I KNOW MY OWN NAME?!”
Minho didn’t move for a long breath.
Then, with a small shake of his head, he turned to the door.
“This isn’t over.”
After Minho left, Thomas exhaled hard. “He doesn’t buy it.”
“No,” Newt admitted. “But we can’t tell him. Not yet.”
Thomas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What if he figures it out?”
Newt sat beside him, letting their shoulders touch. He turned to face him
“Then we deal with it. Together.” Newt whispered, leaning in til their noses brushed
The door opened again—this time, smaller footsteps, and they quickly moved away.
Chuck peeked inside. “Hey… uh… Greenie? You okay?”
Thomas straightened slightly, eyes wide.
Chuck.
He was shorter than he remembered. His cheeks rounder, voice higher. Completely alive.
The urge to grab him, to hug him and never let go, surged through Thomas’s chest—but he forced it down.
“I’m fine,” he forced out, voice rough.
Chuck hesitated. “You were really freaking out back there. Scared the klunk outta everyone.”
Thomas managed a tiny smile. “Sorry. Just… woke up and didn’t know where or who I was.”
Chuck grinned. “Happens to the best of us.”
He pointed at himself. “I looked almost as scared as you when I came up. Threw up on my shoes.”
Newt let out a soft laugh. “That’s slander, that is.”
Chuck laughed and waved awkwardly. “Well, I’m Chuck. If you need someone to show you around later, I’m your guy.”
Thomas nodded. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
Chuck beamed and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Thomas stared at the spot he had been standing in, eyes moist.
“God, I missed him.”
Newt rested a hand gently on his knee. “I know.”
“And you, I thought I would never see you again”
Newt put a finger to his lips “I’m here now, safe. Alive. Just like you alright”
Thomas nodded.
Silence stretched between them.
Then Thomas looked over. “Do you think we could… stop it this time? Save them?”
Newt’s eyes were heavy. “If we can, we will. But right now, let’s focus on surviving tomorrow and let ourselves decompose, enjoy the small peace before it all begins”
-
Outside, Minho stood in the shadows by the side of the Homestead, arms crossed.
He hadn’t gone far.
He’d seen too many odd things since waking up in this cursed place to ignore a gut feeling.
And right now, his gut screamed: Newt was hiding something. Important
And whatever it was, he would find out.