~-T-~
Warning: If you are sensitive with any self-harm or suicidal issues or disturbances, please DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER
For one of the rare moments you had to yourself, you laid in the grass as you watched the clouds pass overhead. Sometimes, you let your mind wander, wondering what else those clouds saw. You wondered what the rest of the world looked like outside of the little Glade you called home. Sometimes you wished you were a cloud, floating free, not a care in the world.
Sometimes, you wished you were the wind, running off with no limits, going wherever you pleased, moving to the beat of your own drum.
But never ever would you trade your life for escape. No matter how hopeless yours and the rest of the Gladers' mission seemed to get the shuck out of here, you had to hold hope. Everyone looked to you because you were always smiling. You acted like you knew that this would all be over in time and everyone could go to their respective homes. Of course, you knew no better, but others looked to you for it. After all, as a Med-Jack, you already had a caring spirit about you. You could heal in more ways than one so it seemed.
Yet, as hopeful as you were, even you needed a pick me up some days. Your personal beacon of light came in the package of a relatively tall blonde boy with a strong jaw. Newt. When you had trouble keeping things together, he was always there for you. He was your rock.
Awaking you from your reverie, Newt ran by you with Minho in tow. Without saying a word, you hopped up and ran with them. Just before they left for the door, you called out, "Shanks, wait up!"
Minho and Newt turned just before they entered the Maze. You gave them a bright smile, to which Minho gave a smirk and Newt barely returned. You cocked your head slightly at him, but he shook his head like he didn't want to talk. So you shrugged it off. You exclaimed, "Good luck on your runs today boys! Be careful, I will see you at dinner."
This was a ritual you had formed when you had come to the Glade a few months earlier. From the beginning, you had been intrigued by the Maze. Moreover, you had quickly grown close to Newt and Minho grew on you, so you made it your mission to see them off. Well, to see them off and make a silent promise that they would return that night.
Minho put his hand on your shoulder, assuring, "I'll be fine, just don't eat my dinner, got it (Y/N)?"
You nodded and he turned around, running around the corner as your gaze turned to Newt. He looked distracted, not a good way to go into the Maze. He seemed stiff and nearly sickly. You acted on a whim, giving him a quick hug to try to cheer him up before he left for the day.
He tensed even more so, you felt him pulling back so you let go and he sprinted away from you, not saying so much as goodbye. You tried shrugging it off; he was probably just having a bad day and needed the run to clear his mind.
The day passed relatively quickly; you had to patch up Archie, a Slicer, after he busted up his thigh pretty badly, not badly enough to lose the opportunity to make a few innuendos though. But you laughed with him good heartedly; he meant no harm by it. He was a funny kid anyways and you two got along well. Other than that, it was mostly Clint, Jeff, and you stocking up and helping out around the Glade.
Around 1 PM though, you saw something odd from the Homestead window. You saw Minho running into the Glade yelling. You ran down, taking a small kit with you figuring he hurt himself out in the Maze. Yet, as you neared, he appeared more panicked than injured. You watched as he pointed to the Maze and you and Alby came over at the same time.
Finally, he was within earshot and yelled, "I need help you shuckin' good for nothing shanks. Someone needs to come with me and help him!"
You ran up to him and watched his frantic state, grabbing his attention as Alby screamed over him, "We can't do anything if you don't slow down Minho. Now explain what's happened and speak slowly."
The Runner took it from there, "I was running, about to get into a deeper part of the Maze when I saw Newt on the top of the shuckin' Maze. Next thing I know, he's on the ground next to me and he doesn't look too good. We need to get him out, but I need help carrying him. I don't know what's broken, but 20 minutes ago he was still breathing. So can we all just agree to get our pretty little butts in the Maze and fast?"
You didn't so much as glance as Alby as you grabbed Minho's arm and started running with him. Your mind had gone into overload thinking of all the possible causes for this and all the possible injuries he could have. You watched as Minho took the lead and you began running for what seemed to be the longest 20 minutes of your life, adrenaline keeping you going.
Finally, you two rounded a corner and the sight in front scarred your heart. On the ground lay Newt, cuts on his cheek and arms, his back curved in a near S shape, but most disturbing of all was the way his leg was. The foot was obviously dislocated not to mention the bones in his leg had to be shattered.
Tears ran down your face as you did a mental assessment, struggling to process all that you needed to. Instead, you started commanding Minho, "Pick him up very carefully when I'm done, I'll need to put his foot back in place now and then we'll worry about the rest once we're back in the Homestead. Make sure his breathing stays normal!"
You brushed the tears off your face, focusing on fixing this to stop the blurry vision. You scanned his foot and very gently took off his sneaker. You gave a remorseful look before you felt around his ankle to make sure it was dislocated, before popping the bones back in place. As you shifted them, a sharp moan came from Newt's mouth and he opened his eyes for just moment, before he passed out once more.
Given that he was still alive for now, you worked with the utmost efficiency. You put on his sneaker, and motioned towards Minho to grab him. He picked up the slightly taller boy and the two of you jogged back to the Homestead, you hardly taking your eyes off of Newt to make sure that his legs weren't going under too much stress or that Minho was holding him correctly.
What seemed like an eternity later, the three of you ran into the Glade and you shouted orders, "Tell Jeff and Clint to hurry up and prepare a bed! We need both of them helping me, I don't care if someone slices their shuck arm off. Get more hot water and lots of drinking water as well as any extra flannels we have. Go!"
You and Minho kept heading towards the Homestead and you ran upstairs, looking at the fairly neat bed and ripping off the covers just before Minho placed the broken boy down gently. You ordered a shaking Jeff to tend to the cuts on his arms and face as you rolled up his pant leg to look more carefully at both of them. His right leg seemed to have nothing more than some heaving bruising. His left on the other hand, wasn't doing well. You prodded gently as possible, feeling something terribly wrong in the back of his calf. There was a straight break and if your eyes didn't deceive you, a hairline fracture by his ankle.
You sighed, ignoring your thoughts for the moment as you grabbed two pieces of wood and some cloth, splinting his leg, before elevating it and wiping down his face more so. You tried to move him to his side just some so you could check his back but you realized you would have to wake him up. Which would mean talking, and you weren't sure if you could face the reality of it all.
His health came before your emotions though, and you quietly asked Clint and Jeff to leave the room. They nodded, closing the door before you stared at Newt for a moment. You just stared at his closed eyes, looking so peaceful, but so lifeless. Why would he do this to himself? Did he hate himself that much? Did he really have no hope? Why did he hide all of this pain from you? He never once let on that there was something deeper than a bad day.
You felt a fresh new batch of tears as emotions rolled over you. Sadness, anxiety, worry, anger, relief, love. You reached for his hand and kissed it lightly, praying that everything would be fine. But it wouldn't.
Finally, you softly pushed his shoulder until his eyes opened. He gave out a moan of pain before closing his eyes. Your voice came out slowly and shaky, "Newt, please please don't close your eyes on me. Not again."
The look he gave you next was full of pain, but simply overflowing with remorse. Crystalline drops leaked out of his own eyes as he quickly averted his gaze and took his hand out of yours. He whispered, "Don't hate me. You don't have to talk to me, or be near me, or even see me ever again, but please please don't hate me. Just don't hate me."
He had suddenly turned fragile, shattered to pieces just like the bones in his body. You turned his face to yours, staring him in the eyes. You added, "I don't, I never could. I still like you just as much as ever Newt, it just hurts that you never told me you're feeling so dead inside."
He was silent, but his eyes turned down, towards his legs. Silence blanketed the room and after a few moments, you took his hand back in your own before asking him to turn slightly to check his back.
He did so wordlessly and you felt around, watching as your vision started blurring once more. Part of his spine seemed to be a bit out of place and you sighed. Grimacing you said, "Hold my hand tightly, this will hurt."
You adjusted his back swiftly and efficiently, but he gave out a small scream, barely able to handle that pain on top of everything else. Luckily, everything else felt fine, even his neck as you checked, though he would be covered in bruises for weeks.
Silence creeped into the room once more before he started speaking out of the blue, "I didn't want to see you hurt (Y/N). You help everyone so much, you give them the hope to live, you give me the hope to live, but when you have your dark days it is so hard for me to be your light. As I see yours diminish, I'm reminded of all of the horrible things about the life we were thrown into. I want to be strong for you and I want to be there for you and I want to see you smile, but when even I can't make you smile I feel defeated. I feel hopeless, I feel like... like dying is better."
He choked out the last few words, before breaking down into more sobs. You clasped both hands around his right one, and kissed it lightly, rubbing his hand as he let it all out. Time passed, you could distantly hear the Maze doors closing, and his sobs quieted.
You two sat in silence, only broken by your shuffling as you lit a candle. A knock came at the door not too much later and you saw two plates of dinner outside it. You grabbed them, closing the door behind you, and you helped Newt into a sitting position. He moaned in pain, but you helped him eat all he could, ignoring your own plate for the most part.
His dark eyes glanced to the untouched salad and he mentioned, "You need to eat."
The look you gave him silenced any more thoughts he had on the matter, but you immediately softened your glance realizing he was just trying to watch out for you.
You sat there, gazing at him as he looked back. You broke the silence by speaking in barely audible tones, "Promise me. Promise me that you will never do something like that again. Promise me that you'll come talk to me when you're having a bad day. Promise me that you'll stay safe." You paused, looking down as you whispered, even quieter, "Promise me that you'll never leave me."
He returned, in the strongest voice he could muster, "Never again." He then put his finger under your chin, guiding your face closer to his. He kissed you feather light on the lips, before pulling away.
You felt a small warmth blossom in your heart, melting the ice that had formed over the past few hours. You kissed him on the forehead, smirking lightly when he gave a frown. You added, "Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. You'll get a kiss every day we're together, and you said you're never leaving."
He smiled his first genuine smile the entire day. "I promise."