IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- NEAR MISS -

Gally leads the way.

Lawrence trails behind us like a shadow, limping slightly, his IV stand in tow and his cane clicking softly against the concrete floor. There's no question that he's coming to supervise. His gaze never leaves our backs, I feel it between my shoulder blades like a chill.

I don't know what I expected. Maybe some kind of tunnel entrance, or even a heavily guarded door. But what we get is... a room. Just a plain, abandoned space. It might've been a storage area once. Dust clings to the broken shelves. The ceiling has partially caved in on one side. And there, in the middle of it all is a circular hatch embedded in the floor.

Gally kneels beside it, unlocking the mechanism. The metal groans as he swings it open, revealing a pitch-black shaft that plunges straight down into the dark.

I walk over and peer in. The air that rises from it is stale, tinged with rust and something else - something old. I squint, but the darkness swallows everything past a few feet. My stomach turns. It's a straight drop into nowhere.

"What the hell?" I murmur.

Gally says nothing. He moves to the far wall where a tall metal ladder leans, partially rusted but intact. With practiced ease, he drags it over and feeds it into the hatch until it clunks into place as it hits the bottom.

We decided on the way over - it would be me, Newt, and Thomas. It made the most sense.

"Be safe, you three," Jorge says, crossing his arms and standing a little too straight. It's his version of a hug.

Brenda doesn't hesitate. She wraps me up in her arms and squeezes tight. Her breath is warm near my ear. "I know you'll get it right," she says softly, and there's no doubt in her voice - but I feel the weight of the fear underneath. She holds on longer than I expect, and I find myself clutching her back, hard. Because what if...

I don't finish the thought.

Frypan gives me a small smile and a nod. It says everything: Be careful. You've got this.

Gally tosses down two items - flashlights, salvaged and battered, but dependable. They clatter against the ladder's metal before settling in the darkness. He crouches by the hatch and looks back at us. Frypan crouches beside him, brows furrowed with serious intent. He isn't joking now. "Gally," he says quietly, voice tight. "Take care of them."

Gally meets his gaze. "Yeah," he replies, no hesitation, but in an annoyingly casual way.

Thomas moves next. Always the one ready to go. He's already got a hand on the ladder, one foot sliding down. His other hand tightens its grip, knuckles whitening.

I move to follow, tying my hair back quickly. My fingers fumble in the strands - nerves fighting muscle memory. Newt is behind me, sitting on a crooked old box to knot his shoes. I glance at him just in time to catch something off.

He's not tying his laces.

His boots are already tied. But his hands... his hands are twitching. Small spasms, almost like a tremor. He tries to play it off by gripping his right hand with his left, pressing hard, like he can hold it still through sheer will. "You alright?" I ask before I even realize I'm speaking. The worry slips in, unguarded, raw. The shakes went away months ago and I honestly thought I'd never see them again.

He freezes for half a beat - not long. But I see the pause. Then he lifts his eyes to mine and pastes on that familiar crooked smirk. "Yeah," he says. "Of course." He stands smoothly, brushing off his pants. "After you," Newt adds, gesturing toward the ladder like nothing happened. Like I didn't see the tremor. Like he doesn't notice the way I'm still watching him.