Waking up after being Stung was an outcome that Thomas had hoped for, but it was still a pleasant surprise when he opened his eyes the next day. His head felt heavy and he was filled with a sense of something indescribable. There were memories in his head that he didn't have before. By all means, those were supposed to be his own memories.
Then, why did it feel all wrong?
***
They didn't have much time. And the memories in his head didn't help anyone either. It was obvious what needed to be done but the other Gladers didn't see it that way.
Thomas left the room in chaos, everyone shouting over one another about the necessity to leave the Glade and go out into the maze. Newt had already left, shooting an unreadable glance at Thomas. Just thinking about that made him wince. He caught Minho's eyes. Minho waved him off discreetly.
Looking around, Thomas searched for a glimpse of Newt. He needed to apologise to the other boy. He realised that putting himself in danger, especially a danger that he hadn't been sure would leave him unscathed, broke the promise he made to Newt to be safe.
He didn't know how, but he knew how it felt when people he cared about kept throwing themselves into situations that would only result in tragedy. Sti- Thomas knew that. And yet he had done the same anyway. Thomas figured he needed to get his head checked.
He caught sight of Newt's disappearing figure, and followed him. Newt was going to the small clearing in the woods where they had spent some time before, whenever they could manage to get away. Thomas hesitated just a moment before shoring up his courage and walking forward.
***
Newt was waiting for him.
"Newt, I–"
Thomas cut himself off when Newt stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Thomas, tucking his head in the crook of Thomas' neck. Newt let out a shuddering breath but was quiet.
Slowly, as though Newt was something infinitely fragile and precious, Thomas folded his own arms around Newt, holding the other securely. He leaned his cheek on Newt's head, the hair soft against his skin.
"The Maze has taken away more people from us than we can count on both hands," Newt said, voice muffled. "Every time you go in, a part of me expects the worst. And yet, you come back anyway."
Newt raised his head to look at Thomas.
"I am tired of the Glade. But I'm terrified that the Maze–" Newt paused, searching for words that would sound a little less ominously conclusive, "–will separate us."
"Hey," Thomas said, softly. He cupped Newt's face in his hands, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. "I know that there's a way out. We got to atleast try. Freedom is almost in our reach, Newt."
Newt took in a long breath.
"Okay," he said, determined. "Okay. I'll support you. We'll leave the Glade. But promise me something, Thomas." Newt's voice sharpened. "You will not risk your life for me, Tommy. Do you understand? Under no circumstances, are you to be a dumb slinthead!"
Thomas laughed and ducked in to catch Newt's lips in a kiss. (He couldn't promise that. He wouldn't promise that.)
They broke apart, smiling.
Thomas flinched when Newt hit him on his arm.
"And what the fuck was that? Getting stung?"
Thomas winced at the vitriol directed at him. He was so screwed.
***
Some Gladers decided to stay back.
Newt hoped that they would see sense, hoped that they would realise that they are signing their own death sentence. But he had spent weeks with them and knew that there was no changing their minds.
Anger and betrayal burned in Gally's eyes.
Newt looked at Thomas, at the light of determination that blazed within him. The guilt and regret that sat heavily in Newt's chest washed away, leaving only dregs behind.
He trusted Thomas, Newt realised. He trusted the other to do everything in his power to lead the Gladers to safety. Not for the first time, Newt wondered just what kind of person Thomas had been before he was dropped into the Glade.
Did he have friends? A family? Did they love him with everything they had (because that was the only way Thomas could be loved, should be loved—the bright boy with brighter eyes and the brightest smile, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve, who didn't hesitate to defend others and, against all sense, loved Newt)? Did they miss him?
Newt remembered the scars he had glimpsed on Thomas, remembered the promise he had made to himself—to stay by Thomas' side when he is returning to his old life. He wondered, looking at the gap between the Gladers who chose to stay and those who chose to leave, if he would be able to keep that promise.
With one last glance at the friends they were leaving behind, Newt followed Thomas into the Maze.
***
Not Chuck.
That was the only thought that ran through Newt's mind.
Not Chuck. It shouldn't have been Chuck.
Newt remembered the kid who had been so, so scared on waking up in the Glade. The kid who every Glader teased just so they could see him smile. The kid who put on a brave smile even though he was afraid, who never hesitated to help others, who was just glad that he wasn't alone.
A few Gladers tackled Gally, ripping the gun from his hands.
Newt heard Thomas' mutterings of shocked denial, saw how he curled over Chuck's wounded form. Something within Newt withered away.
"Tommy," Newt whispered, kneeling down next to him.
"Newt," Thomas gasped out, eyes wild and desperate. "Newt, please, it's Chuck. Please, please, do something, god, please!"
"Tommy," Newt said, helplessly. He looked to Chuck.
Chuck gave a wry laugh, blood splattering out onto his lips. "It's okay, Thomas, Newt."
"Hey, hey," Thomas snapped, forcing Chuck to look at them as his eyes drooped. "Chuck, you shuckface, don't you dare close your eyes!"
"Thank you," Chuck whispered, earnest in a way that made Newt want to burn the building to the ground. "Thank you for getting me out."
With one last smile, Chuck closed his eyes and didn't open them again no matter how much Thomas cursed and shouted and begged.
The somber silence was broken when the entry door slammed open with a loud bang. Numerous men with militarised outfits swept into the room just as the Gladers banded together, presenting a united front, ready to fight.
"We found them! We found the kids!"
The speaker was an officer who spoke into the earpiece. They walked forward slowly, careful not to alarm the extremely wary teens.
"Hey there," the officer removed the mask covering the lower half of their face. Newt realised the officer was a female. "It's okay, you all are safe now."
Their faces must have shown their extreme disbelief as she let out a short laugh.
"We need to leave soon, okay? Our contact has the means to remove the memory modifications that you all are under. But we need to get you all out soon. This area isn't secured."
"There are others," Frypan spoke, hesitantly. He pointed towards where the Gladers had entered the room. "There's a- a Maze and there are Grievers and-"
"Kid, breathe," the officer said. She looked back and gave a series of hand signals. A bunch of armed troops moved towards where Frypan had pointed.
Thomas inhaled sharply, staring at the officer's hands. Newt frowned at him, questioning. Thomas shook his head.
"Come on, they'll get the others out," the officer said turning back to them. "We need to get you all away from here now."
"Him too," Thomas said, defiant, pointing at Chuck who lay on the ground.
If it wasn't for the way blood pooled around him, Newt could have fooled himself into thinking that Chuck was merely sleeping.
"Of course," the officer said. A few more officers marched over to Chuck.
"Now, let's go."
***
A/N: Hehe, guess who's still alive against all odds?
Lol, I'm really sorry about leaving y'all hanging for years but I was completely drained of inspiration for this fic. I was under bedrest for almost a month in June, when I had nothing to do and I managed to plan out this fic somewhat. I just need to write it.
*head-desk*
Tbh, don't expect immediate updates. I learnt the hard way that I shouldn't force myself to write and instead should just let the words come out. So, apologies for making y'all wait again.
Be safe, guys.