Tw: slight references toward self harm
Thomas was horrified, to say the least.
Everything would be so different now. No sun, no supplies from the Box, no protection from the Grievers. Teresa had been right from the beginning; everything itself had changed. Thomas felt as if his breath had been solidified.
Alby pointed at Teresa threateningly. "I want her locked up. Now. Billy! Jackson! Put her in the shucking Slammer, and ignore every word that comes out of her shuck mouth."
Teresa didn't react, but Thomas did enough for both of them, "What are you talking about?" He exclaimed, exasperated. "Alby you can't..." He trailed off when Alby's livid, manic eyes shot him a look of anger so venomous that he stepped back. "But how can you blame her for the walls not closing? Her arriving caused it to happen, not her."
Newt stepped up and placed a hand onto Alby's chest and shoved him off, away from Thomas. "We don't really have a choice, Tommy. She did admit it herself."
He didn't look at Thomas when he said it.
Thomas turned to look at Teresa, the sadness in her blue eyes making him feel despondent.
"Just be glad you ain't goin' in with her Thomas," Alby spat, and gave both of them a poisonous glare before leaving. Thomas had never so badly wanted to punch someone.
Billy and Jackson came forward, and awkwardly took Teresa by the arms, and started to pull her away.
Before they could even enter the trees, though, Newt stopped them. "Stay with her. I don't care what happens, no one's gonna touch this girl. Swear your lives on it."
The two boys nodded, then walked away, Teresa in tow. It hurt Thomas to see how willingly she went. And he couldn't believe how sad he felt - he'd just wanted to keep talking to her. But I just met her, he thought, I don't know her.
Yet he knew that wasn't true. The closeness he felt to her couldn't have just come from the knowledge that they were related. It had come from something that clearly came from knowing her before the memory-wiped existence of the Glade.
Come and see me, she spoke into his mind so suddenly it made Thomas jump.
He didn't know how to do it, how to talk to her like that. But he tried anyway.
I will. At least you'll be safe there.
She didn't respond.
Teresa?
Nothing.
¬¬¬
The next thirty minutes were an eruption of mass confusion, making Thomas want to run back to the safety and seclusion of the forest. Though there had been no discernible change in the light since the sun and blue sky hadn't appeared that morning, it still felt like darkness had spread over the Glade. As Newt and Alby gathered the Keepers and put them in charge of making assignments and getting their groups inside the Homestead within the hour, Thomas felt like nothing more than a feeble spectator, not completely sure how he could help.
The Builders - who were without their leader, Gally, who was still missing, his whereabouts unknown - were ordered to put up barricades at each open Door; they obeyed, though Thomas knew there clearly wasn't enough time and there weren't the materials to do much protection. It almost seemed to him as though the Keepers wanted to keep everyone busy, wanted to delay the inevitable panic attacks.
Thomas was pretty sure he would be the first one to fall apart.
But he helped anyway, he helped the Builders gather every loose item they could find and piled them into gaps, nailing things together as best as they could. It looked ugly and pathetic and scared him to death - no way that'd keep the Grievers out.
As Thomas worked hard, he caught glimpses of the other jobs going on across the Glade.
Every torch was in the compound was gathered and distributed to as many people as possible; Newt said he planned for everyone to sleep in the Homestead that night, and they'd kill the lights, in case of emergencies. Frypan's task was to take all the non-perishable food out of the kitchen and store in case they got trapped in there. Thomas could only imagine how horrible that would be.
Others were gathering supplies and tools; Thomas saw Minho carrying weapons from the basement to the main building. Alby had made it clear they could take no chances: they'd make the Homestead their fortress, and must do whatever it took to defend it.
Thomas finally snuck away from the Builders and helped Minho, carrying up boxes of knives and barbed wire wrapped clubs. Then Minho said he had a special assignment from Newt, and more or less told Thomas to get lost, refusing to answer any of Thomas questions.
Thomas felt a bit hurt, but he left anyway, just wanting to talk to Newt. He finally found him, crossing the Glade on the way to the Blood house.
"Newt!" He called out, running to catch up, "Newt, wait."
Newt stopped so suddenly Thomas almost ran into him. The older boy turned to give Thomas such an exasperated and annoyed look that Thomas thought twice about saying anything.
"Make it quick." He said.
Thomas stopped, unable to speak for a few moments.
Newt looked so tired.
Underneath his eyes were purplish-black bags, highly noticeable against his pale skin.
Thomas really wanted to force Newt to go to shucking sleep, knowing for a fact he wouldn't get it tonight.
But for now, more pressing matters. His sister.
"Um... can you let the girl go? Teresa?" He faltered as he spoke, a slight note of pleading in his voice.
She had some knowledge, so she could be essential, Thomas guessed. He could play on that to let Newt let her go.
"You know I can't let your sister go, Alby would kill me," Newt started walking away, swiping a clothed wrist over his face, rubbing his eyes, voice dropping to a slightly exhausted whisper along with his hands, "don't waste my shucking time, Tommy."
Thomas grabbed his arm gently, the skin of his palm and fingers meeting the cloth around Newt's thin wrist, and Newt span round to meet Thomas's worried glance with a pained glare.
His eyes fell onto Thomas's hand on his wrist, and his face softened, but he looked almost...fearful.
The words Thomas wanted to ask seemed to hang between them for a moment.
What are you so afraid of?
I haven't intentionally done anything to hurt you.
"Newt, I'm sorry."
"Yeah? You're sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it. I don't just want to be your fucking secret, Thomas."
Thomas, instead of pouring his confused heart out, just said, "Listen to me, Newt. There's something about her. I think she and I were sent here to help end this whole thing."
"Yeah... end it by lettin' the bloody Grievers walk through the door? I've heard some sucky plans in my day, Greenie, but this one's got 'em all beat."
Thomas groaned, wanting to let Newt know just how frustrated he felt. "No I don't think that's what it means, the walls not closing."
Newt folded his arms, looking slightly puzzled. "Greenie, what're you yappin' about?"
Ever since Thomas had seen the words on the wall of the Maze - world in catastrophe, killzone experiment department - he'd been thinking about them. He knew if anyone believed him, it would be Newt. "I think... I think we're here as a part of some weird experiment, or test, or something like that. But it's supposed to end somehow. We can't live here forever; whoever sent us here wants us to leave, wants it to end. One way or another." Thomas was relieved to get it off his chest.
Newt, again, rubbed his eyes and sighed. "And that's supposed to make me all jolly and let the girl go because this is all a sudden do or die situation?"
"No, you're missing the point. She isn't the reason everything's changing, she's just a pawn: or our last tool or hint to get us out." Thomas took a deep breath, trying not to have another episode in front of Newt. "Just because she triggered the ending doesn't make her bad."
Newt looked toward the Slammer. "You know what, I don't bloody care right now. She can stay in there for one night at least, to keep Alby happy— she'll be safer than us Tommy."
Thomas instantly relaxed at the nickname, glad that Newt wasn't irritated at him. He nodded, sensing a compromise. "Okay, well, let's get through tonight, somehow. Tomorrow, when we have a whole day of safety, we can figure out what to do with her. Figure out what we're supposed to do."
Newt snorted with laughter, "Tommy, what's gonna make tomorrow any different? It's been bloody years, you know."
Thomas had an overwhelming feeling that all these changes were a spur, a catalyst for the endgame. "Because now we have to solve it. We'll be forced to. We can't live that way anymore, day to day, thinking that all that matters most is getting back to the Glade before the Doors close, snug and safe."
Newt thought for a moment, and Thomas was distracted from his chaotic thoughts for a moment when he realised just exactly how exhausted Newt must be. Running around, making sure the Glade was safe from everything, while trying not to crack under the pressure and fear of what would happen soon, just so he could keep up an act for the other Gladers.
Thomas faltered slightly, yet Newt didn't notice, and muttered, "So you wanna dig deeper. Stay out there while the walls move." He looked up at Thomas, his eyes grim.
"E... exactly." Thomas said, slightly scared and worried about Newt. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. And maybe we could barricade or blow up the entrance to the Griever Hole. Buy time to analyse the Maze."
"Alby's the one who won't let your sister out." Newt said with a nod toward the Homestead. "That guy's not too high on you two shanks. Don't worry 'bout anyone else hating you, I like you, for one thing. I don't know the... Teresa, well enough yet. But right now, don't worry about that, we just gotta slim ourselves and get to the wake up."
Thomas nodded, "We can fight 'em off."
"Done it before, haven't ya, Hercules?" Newt said with a smirk that lit up his face, and for just a second, he didn't look tired anymore.
But just for a second.
Newt began walking away, still with the smile on his face, one that made Thomas feel like he was glowing inside and began yelling at people to finish up and get inside Homestead.
Thomas was feeling weird about the conversation. Newt seemed exhausted, yes, which was a problem they would take care of later, yet he was agreeing with Thomas.
Thomas just decided to think about it later, and ran toward the Slammer on the back side of Homestead, deciding to talk to Teresa as soon as he could. He watched as Gladers started moving inside of Homestead, most of them with their arms full of stuff.
Thomas pulled up outside of the small jail and caught his breath for a second. "Teresa?" He finally asked through the barred window of the lightless cell.
Her face popped up on the other side, startling him.
He let out a small yelp before he could stop it - it took him a second to recover his wits. "You can be downright spooky, ya know?"
"That's very sweet," she said sarcastically, "thanks, brother." Thomas and Teresa shared a smile at the word. In the darkness, her blue eyes seemed to glow like a cats.
"You're welcome," he answered, laughing a little. "I've been thinking-" he began, pausing to gather his thoughts.
"More than I can say for that Alby schmuck," she cut in softly.
Thomas agreed, but was anxious to say what he'd came to say. "There's gotta be a way out of this place - we just have to push it, stay out in the Maze longer. And what you wrote on your arm, and what you said about a code, it all has to mean something, right?" It has to, he thought viciously. He couldn't help feeling some sort of hope.
"Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. But first - can't you get me out of here?" Her hands appeared, gripping the bars of the window. Thomas felt a pang of sympathy.
"Well, Newt said maybe tomorrow. It's just Alby who wants you away." Thomas was glad he'd got that much of a concession. "You'll have to make it through the night in there— you'll be safer than the rest of us, anyway."
Teresa nodded, and Thomas wanted to let her out, feeling bad that he was going to leave her to be imprisoned.
Teresa, however, grinned and him and said, "I'll handle one night. I'm a tough girl, I'll be fine. Right, you go, it's getting dark. Don't want your murder via Griever on my conscience."
Thomas frowned, he hadn't told her about the Grievers, and he doubted anyone else had had time to. "Teresa, are you sure you forgot everything?"
Teresa nodded slowly, looking a little confused. "Yeah, but I'm guessing that I just picked things up while I was in the coma, you know?"
Thomas nodded and said, "I've gotta go now, then. Stay safe."
"You too, Tom."
Thomas grinned at her before running back to the front of Homestead, where Newt was ushering the last few Gladers inside.
Thomas followed them in, and then Newt followed last.
The mass of Gladers huddled together in silence for a few minutes, before the familiar wail of the Grievers echoed through the now unprotected Glade.
Thomas automatically tensed, recalling his encounter with one in the maze a few nights ago.
Then in the dark of the room, he felt fingers thread through his own, a warm, comforting palm of an unfamiliar yet familiar hand press against his.
Thomas didn't need to look to see who the person was who'd taken his hand, comforted him with a single touch. He could feel the frayed edge of the brown fabric on the persons wrist, feel the few cuts and many scars and lines in the skin of the hand from the years of work in this Glade.
But the tiny sliver of doubt that remained was erased as soon as a quiet hubbub broke out over the Gladers, little hissing whispers and soft murmurs, none of them decipherable, and a breathy voice breathed into his ear, lips just brushing Thomas's skin, sending tingles through him, "It's okay, Tommy, I'm here."
Thomas turned his head just slightly, his cheeks red and his stomach turned over almost pleasantly, to meet Newts warm brown eyes, large and comforting and a slight tightening of his grip on Thomas's palm.
Thomas would have been quite happy if the Grievers had killed them right that minute, he was so at peace, his nerves and fear wound away and loosened by one boy's touch.
And that should've scared him, should have told him already that he was falling too hard, too fast, for a boy he didn't just not know that well, and that he was willing to die for Newt just so Newt didn't have to feel an ounce of pain.
But it didn't scare him, in fact, it made him feel like he was recounting feelings from a long time ago, a nostalgia of a forbidden love, of quiet laughs and stolen kisses and hidden smiles and longing gazes, of arguments, of secrets, of love.
Because he did like Newt, he liked him a lot, better than all the rest.
Then Thomas realised, and fully admitted it to himself.
He liked Newt.
He liked a boy.
Oh my god, was that allowed? Was that okay? What if people judged him for it? They all seemed to like girls... Why was he like this? Why...
...Why the shuck did he have to realise that right before he was probably about to shucking die?
^^^
Meanwhile, Teresa was sat in the Slammer, picking at the chair.
Alone.
But at least she had some company, and yet she wished she didn't have to tell him this.
Hey, Aris.
Aris replied almost immediately.
Hey, Teresa. What's up?
They locked me in their prison, remember?! So you know, not much!
Alright, alright, chill out. Is it all working well?
Yep. I just keep slipping up.
Ah. Same. It's so hard not to just hug Rachel and tell her how much I've missed her.
I know what you mean. Oh, and Aris?
Yeah?
I met River. And... I'm really, really sorry. I think the Swipe didn't fully work. He has dreams about it, I think he remembers.
I'm not surprised. I was there, it was worse than you could ever imagine through retelling.
Does Rachel remember it?
Yeah, she still has ptsd from it. I'm guessing River does too.
They were both silent for a while, before Teresa asked the worst question for Aris to hear.
Do you think he remembers what happened to Alec?
Authors Note: I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE! Also it's my birthday on the eleventh I can't wait!!!
Also... there are 1.3k reads on this story. Let me repeat. One thousand. Three hundred words reads on this story.
IM SO HAPPY I NEVER EXPECTED THIS TO HAPPEN!!
Love you guys, have a good day or night, and I'm here if you want to chat <3
-Hugo :)