Newt watches in shock as the doors to the Maze slam close, trapping the greenie and his two best friends inside.
He stares at the doors for several long moments, as if he can will them to open again. If he tries, he can almost make out the pounding footsteps of Minho and Thomas, like if they run fast enough maybe they can survive.
"What do we do?" Newt shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tears his gaze away from the Maze, turning to find the other Gladers staring expectantly at him.
He's the leader now, he realizes, his heart sinking. Alby's gone, and no one else will want the responsibility.
"Should we call a Gathering?" Someone asks. Biting back a sigh, Newt nods. Of course there'll be a Gathering. It won't change anything, his friends will still be dead, but if they don't follow protocol now, then there's no way he's going to keep everything from falling apart when they lose the shred of hope they have that the three could somehow survive.
Newt feels numb as he opens the Gathering, as it is decided that James will take over as Keeper of the Runners and Newt will take over as leader, effective when the doors open the following morning. He can't help but look at Minho's empty seat and tries to avoid thinking about the fact that it's not Minho's anymore. Tries not to think about the fact he'll never see Minho smirking at him again or hear Alby calling for him across the Glade or answer another one of the greenie's bloody questions.
After the Gathering he finds nearly every other Glader waiting for him with some sort of question, and he wants to scream or cry because his friends are gone, dead, and he's still here, but instead he plasters on a weary smile and answers the same questions over and over again, because he's the leader now, shuck it, and it's his job to be strong.
Finally the crowd disperse, and Newt drags himself to the Homestead, but he can't bring himself to go inside and spend the night in the empty room he should be sharing with Alby and Minho, so instead he sits on the steps outside, staring at the Maze and wondering if the Grievers have gotten to his friends yet.
He wonders if he'll be able to hear their screams when the Grievers do catch up to them. The thought is strangely comforting; surely anything would be better than this, knowing that they can't live but not knowing if they're dead yet either.
It's ironic really, he muses, that he's the last one of his friends alive, when they were the ones that fought so hard to keep him that way. Not for the first time he wishes he had climbed a little higher before jumping off that wall, because then he wouldn't feel like this, the very thought of his friends lying dead inside the Maze making it impossible to breathe. He looks up at the walls and wonders if he could climb them again, kill himself properly this time, but then he thinks of the Gladers, and he knows he can't add another person to the list of people they'll be mourning tomorrow.
If it weren't for them, if he wasn't the leader now, he would jump. Death would be a relief. After he had jumped the first time, when he was lying in a bed in the Homestead in agonizing pain, coming to the terms with the fact that he was still alive, Alby had made him promise not to try again. Minho had promised he would keep running, that he would find Newt another way out of their bloody prison. Those two things were what had kept him from jumping again before. Now it was his responsibility to the other Gladers that kept him tethered to life, that prevented him from just ending it all and finally getting out of the shucking Maze.
He thinks about trying to sleep, but when he closes his eyes he's haunted by Minho's eyes and Alby's smile and all the things that made his life a little bit more bearable that are gone now, and he knows that sleep will just make everything worse. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself and just sits there,
staring at the sky and willing himself not to fall apart until the other Gladers wake up and he's thrust back into the role of leader.
They gather around the doors ten minutes before they open, and Newt wishes he were anywhere but there, because his friends are dead, and he doesn't want to watch as the doors open, hoping his friends are on the other side, safe, only to be let down.
The doors creak open and everyone peers forward, but no one is waiting on the other side. Newt sighs, cursing himself for getting his hopes up. He turns away, ready to order everyone to get back to work, but then someone yells something and everyone starts screaming. Newt turns around, his heart racing, and he sees Minho and Thomas heading towards them, carrying a limp Alby between them.
He wants to scream and cry and possibly hit Minho for leaving him like that, but instead he barks orders at the Med-jacks to get Alby the Grief Serum and the Keepers to call a Gathering for the following morning to discuss things and a few Gladers to get Minho and Thomas water and a place to rest, because they look close to passing out from exhaustion.
He wants to race after his friends right away, to make sure they're okay, but instead he spends two hours answering questions and trying to get everyone back to work, because they can't afford to lose a day even if the events of the previous night are unprecedented.
Finally he sends Chuck off, promising him that Thomas will be fine and that he can see him later, and he hurries towards the Homestead, unable to keep himself from his friends any longer.
He goes to see Alby first, but he's out cold and the Med-Jacks say they're waiting to see if the Grief Serum will take effect. Newt sends up a silent prayer (he's not sure who it's to) that Alby will be okay, because he can't get his best friend back against all odds only to lose him to the buggin' Changing.
He thinks about going to talk to Thomas, but the greenie's sleeping when he finds him, so instead he ends up in the doorway of the room he shares with Minho and Alby, just staring at Minho.
"What happened?" He asks finally, sitting down on the bed next to his friend. Minho looks surprised, as if it's not what he had expected Newt to say, but he answers anyway.
"The dead Griever wasn't as dead as we thought it was. It stung Alby, then ran off. I tried to get him back before the walls closed, but…" He trails off, closing his eyes for a moment, then continues. "The greenie ran into the Maze, got trapped inside with us, I freaked out. I ran, left Alby for dead." He hangs his head, ashamed. "The greenie apparently had the shucking crazy idea to tie Alby up in the ivy on the wall to keep him away from the Grievers and then managed to evade them long enough to find me again." He continues, describing how they had managed to trick the Grievers into falling off the Cliff, and how they had gotten Alby down from the wall and made it back to the doors.
Newt stares at him for several long moments afterwards, unable to comprehend what he's hearing. "You killed the bloody Grievers."
Minho nods slowly, as if he can't quite believe it either. "It was all Thomas. The shuckface is the one who gave me the idea for tricking them."
"Stupid shucking greenie," Newt says, smiling fondly, but it disappears quickly.
They're silent for a few moments before Minho speaks again, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I'm sorry Newt,"
Newt sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Don't be."
"No," Minho says, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have left you alone out here to deal with everything. I should have made it back."
"It's not your fault." Newt says softly. "It's part of being a runner, the chance you might not make it back in time."
"I know." Minho sighs. "I just… I was so worried about you, while we were trapped in the Maze all night. I know how… I know how that would have been for you and I… Shuck, Newt, I hate myself for putting you through that."
Newt lets out a strangled sob, burying his face in Minho's shoulder. "I was so bloody scared, Minho," He chokes out. "I was so bloody scared that you shanks were going to die, and I was going to be left alone in this shucking Maze forever, with everyone in the Glade looking to me for an answer for everything… Shuck, Minho, I was bloody terrified."
"It's okay," Minho says soothingly, rubbing little circles on Newt's back. "We're all okay, we're here, we're not going to leave you."
Newt's breathing slows, and he looks up at Minho. "Thanks,"
Minho cracks a smile. "You look like death, shank." He teases.
Newt reluctantly smiles. "You don't look much better." He stands up. "I should go check on the others. Get some rest."
"Fine." Minho groans. "I'll get some sleep."
Newt rolls his eyes and turns around, heading for the door.
"Oh and Newt?" He turns back and sees Minho looking at him, hope in his eyes. "We're going to find a way out of here."
For the first time in months, Newt finds he actually believes that.