Changes (Newt x OC) (Maze Runner Fanfic)

Drugged.

"Where is Brenda and Thomas!" Jorge yelled at Marcus, who glanced to the crowd of party-goers looking for help.

"Um, I sent him in here, because they s-said that they were looking for their friends! Don't hurt me!" Marcus whimpered, and covered his face with his hands, kneeling on the floor, wallowing in self pity.

"Hey, uh, dude?" a shaky voice called out from the crowd. Jorge's attention went from Marcus to the man who spoke in a split second. "Is this the kid?" The man ducked back into the crowd and came out, dragging a body and laid it in front of Jorge.

It was Thomas. "Is he dead?" I demanded, giving the man a cold glare, making him flinch. "Is he!?"

"I th-think he just passed out," the man quavered and took a step back when I took a step forward.

"Everyone out!!" Jorge screamed, and the crowd filed out of the large door, completely afraid for their lives. Marcus tried to leave along with the crowd, but Jorge got him by the collar.

Soon the club was fully empty, except for our motley little crew and Marcus. Me and Newt kneeled beside Thomas, desperately trying to get him to wake up, but to no avail.

"Dude! Wake up!" Newt shouted, shaking Thomas' shoulders. Jorge put a hand on Newt's shoulder and shook his head.

"I think he was drugged. I don't know why Marcus pretended to not know him. I thought you worked for the Right Arm you bastard!" Jorge hollered at Marcus.

Marcus shivered in fear. "I do! I swear!"

"Fry, Teresa, Minho, go look for Brenda. There's more than one room here, and she could be in any. I'll help you guys once we get Thomas somewhere a little more comfortable to be unconscious," Jorge commanded. Frypan and Teresa obeyed immediately, running off to search in the dusty, dark corner of this horrible building, but before they left, Jorge handed Frypan a gun, just in case.

We walked around a bit, Thomas in Jorge's arms, searching for a relatively cozy place, and settled on a room full of the least trash, that looked like it would be a type of banquet room if the sun flares hadn't happened to this world. We laid Thomas on a stained mattress that sat by a large window that was covered up by a blanket, and the more I thought, I remembered that every single window on this building was covered by a blanket. Probably to increase the fun at the parties.

"He'll wake up, right?" Newt asked, sitting on a dusty, old couch nearby, staring at Thomas' body.

"Don't worry hermano. Thomas will be fine. You two look after him." Jorge began to leave the room, but came back with his black eyebrows raised. "And no funny business. You know what  I mean."  

I giggled when he left and looked down at Newt who was holding in his laughter. "I guess we're gonna have to get used to people saying that," I grinned taking a seat beside him, and stared at my feet.

"Something the matter, Love?" Newt asked, pulling me to his side, and I rested my head against his shoulder, silently debating with myself it was really wise to tell him about my thoughts and what I had been thinking about WICKED actually being good.

"I've just been thinking a lot of things," I hesitated, but went along with my gut. "Like about if WICKED is actually good.

Newt shifted and I looked up him. "Maya, they put us in a Maze, whipped our memories, and made us fight giant mechanical spiders. I think it's safe to say WICKED is not good," Newt finished and I felt him kiss my forehead. "But I guess without them, I would've never met you."

"You're so full of cheese, you know that right?" I asked, laughing. He nodded and kissed my head again. "I think it's because you're British."

"Yeah, maybe."

Jorge came rushing in a minute later, his eyes wide with fear and worry. "Get another mattress! If you can't find one, take the one Thomas is on! Hurry!" he shouted, them ran back out, leaving us.

We jumped to our feet, and desperately searching for a mattress, and I found found one under a collapsed, round table with only two legs. "Newt!" I called, and he ran over from the other side of the room. "I need help getting this out!" It took us a couple minutes to get all of the trash off of the mattress, but were able to successfully drag it over to the couch, and the still unconscious Thomas.

Just as we set it down, Jorge, Minho and Teresa burst in with a very weary, sick looking Brenda draped over their shoulders, her feet dragging on the ground. Frypan came after shortly, his hands around Marcus' wrists firmly, and he shut the room's door.

Jorge set Brenda to lay on the mattress beside Thomas, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths, smelling like sweat and puke. Her wide open eyes were spooked, and her pupils were dilated. She was clearly drugged. I froze in my place above her mattress, staring at her, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling overwhelming pity and fear for Brenda.

"What in the bloody hell!" Newt shouted when Brenda leaned over the side of the mattress and puked out a mouthful of gross smelling bile and collapsed back, her face white and covered in sweat.

Jorge put a comforting hand on her cheek and turned her head so that her spaced out eyes were on him. "You're gonna be okay Bren," he whispered. "Just hang in there." A faint smile ghosted her lips, and her eyelids fluttered closed, her breaths still ragged.

"Shuck," Minho whispered, collapsing onto the couch and I followed suit. "That was intense."

Newt nodded and sat on the chairs arm beside me, and I leaned my head against his leg, the terrified look on Brenda's face still stamped into my mind.

"Here Jorge, I've got some water left from Maya's friends place," Frypan said as he slipped his backpack off his back and threw it to Jorge while still holding onto Marcus, who was staring blankly at Brenda's pain creased face.

Jorge ripped open the bag and dug into find a large water bottle, opened Brenda's mouth, pouring in some water, and made her swallow. He looked like a stressed, worried dad, and it was almost comforting to see his soft side, which faded the moment Marcus opened his mouth. 

"So, can I go now?" he mumbled nervously, looking at Frypan, begging him to let go of his wrists. 

Jorge stood up to full height and turned to Marcus. The entire room went silent, and watched the Hispanic man saunter over to Marcus. "I'm not done with you," he growled, and looked to Minho. "Get this man tied into chair. I think there's a bit more of information we can squeeze out him."