Free (Maze Runner fanfic Newtmas Newt x Thomas)

Chapter 18

Newt hadn't expected to meet anyone on his journey forward, just a hot and lonely trek to the middle and beyond. He found the flower, it was fairly obvious with the bright blue clay pot it sat in, burning Newt's hands when he bent down to touch it. Typical, WICKED didn't need them at all, pots don't spontaneously appear in the middle of a scorch, a blue one at that.

It made him wonder if this whole place was fake, like the maze, and it was just one big elaborate set? Was he really on earth right now? Real, earth? If it was, then where were the cities? Buildings? Surely not all of it had been burnt to the ground from heat alone? There wasn't even rubble in the sand, it was just.. sand. Maybe it really did destroy everything, Newt couldn't remember, and he had no way of asking for the answer either. "I'm sorry, Tommy..." He muttered to himself.

It only just occurred to Newt that since the flower was still there, it meant Minho definitely hadn't made it to the centre before him. He hadn't even thought to wait with Thomas, wait for Minho to arrive. When he walked away and again when he saw the flower, he felt a wave of emotion that made him stop care about them, stop thinking about anyone, he wanted to hurt them. It wasn't right, and it made Newt push forward.

The WICKED was on the horizon now, maybe only a day's walk away, and Newt was starting to regret all his choices. He should have carried Thomas on his shoulders, waited for Minho in the shack, convinced Thomas to carry on.. but now he was alone with just a piping hot flower pot in his hands and a half empty rucksack on his back. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was depressed, maybe if he hadn't left his boyfriend to die alone in a stone shack he wouldn't feel so weighted down with guilt. Newt tried to supress it, but the thoughts kept coming back in.

In the night, Newt could hear the WKD slithering around underground, but his slow pace and lack of speech kept him safe the entire trip. There were bags under his eyes and he kept blinking constantly so that he didn't fall asleep, feeling his limp slowing him down every step, like a weight was tied to it. A weight of guilt, he thought.

Newt was nearing the entrance when he heard someone yell his name from behind. Newt turned round, but he didn't see anyone. Another yell, but still nothing. "Wait up you damn shank!" Newt was starting to wonder if he was going completely crazy, but he stood still anyway. "Your right!"

"I'm right?"

A few moments. "Look to your right! Idiot!" Newt turned and saw a lump approaching, too big to be one person. "Come over here!"

Yep. He was crazy. Newt headed towards the shape, a sudden urge building up inside him that told him to get ready for a fight, get ready for attack. His hands turned into fists and he started running; he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to fight back this feeling, but when he tripped over a slight bump in the sand the feeling completely disappeared.

Newt just waited for the figure to him instead, two feet appearing in front of his face. "I'd love to offer a hand but they're kind of full, so get up." It was Minho. Newt looked up, a wild look in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

He shut his eyes and shook his head then reopened them, the look gone. "Fine." He stood up and let out a cry of surprise when he realised Minho had Thomas over his shoulders, wrists tied with a rucksack strap to keep them around his neck and Minho had his arms under his thighs to hold him up. "You're..."

"I can't believe you left him behind like that! The shuck is wrong with you!?"

"But.. He's..."

"He's what? I found him barely awake, overheating, dehydrated, half awake in some stone shack! He said you went on ahead! What was going through your mind!?"