Note: Most of the dialogue is taken from The Death Cure and is not original. I do not own the rights to The Maze Runner Trillogy.
They are all standing in a room, staring at Rat Man, listening to him ramble on about seemingly unimportant stuff. But then something he says catches Newt's attention. There is a slight shift in his tone of voice when he says, "There's something I need to tell you before you regain your memories. It'll be better to hear it from me than to...remember the testing."
Newt is getting confused. What was he talking about? What testing? A girl, Harriett, seems to be thinking the exact same thing. "What're you talking about?" she asks.
The Rat Man changes his expression to one of a grim nature and seems to lean in closer to the group of people from Groups A and B, looking intently at every single one of them at once. "Some of you are immune to the Flare. But…some of you aren't. I'm going to go through the list -please do your best to take it calmly."
Newt is confused. Some of them have been immune this whole time? Has he been immune this whole bloody time? He pushes out the thought. He won't let himself think like that; to get his hopes up. Still, Rat Man made it sound like there were only a handful of people who aren't immune, which means that at least most of his friends are safe. That comforts him a little bit, especially after all this time thinking that they were all fated to become one of those slinthead cranks.
Rat Man spoke up again. "For an experiment to provide accurate results, one needs a control group. We did our best to keep the virus from you as long as we could, but it's airborne and highly contagious."
He pauses, looking at them as if expecting some cry or outburst from the group, and the suspense was driving Newt crazy. He finally blurts out what he is thinking. "Just bloody get on with it. We all figured we had the buggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."
Sonya quickly backs him up. "Yeah, cut the drama and tell us already." Newt couldn't agree more.
Rat Man gives them all a deferring look, but finally clears his throat and continues. "Okay, then. Most of you are immune." Newt is the slightest bit comforted by this statement. "Only two of you are considered Candidates now, but we'll go into that later." Just get to the bloody point, Newt thinks impatiently. "Let's get to the list." Finally." The following people are not immune: Newt…"
Newt looks at the ground, painfully succumbing to his fate as Rat Man lists the rest of the people who must face the same doom. At the very least he never let his guard down, and he won't let this affect him. He is still Newt. It is better to accept your doom than to dread it. Plus, it's not like anything is any different than it had been minutes ago. No, it is different. His friends are safe. Tommy and Minho are safe. And for now, that's what matters most. He's almost glad that he is not immune. At least he won't have to watch his friends suffer. He feels almost like he is taking a bullet for them, in a way, which he would gladly do any day.
When he looks over at his friends, he sees Tommy laying on the floor, terror filling his eyes. Suddenly it hits Newt. He's a crank. Newt's a bloody crank. He's been one for a while, and sooner or later the disease is going to catch up to him and he's going to turn into one of those blood-thirsty beasts that populate the Scorch. And he realizes that every single one of his remaining hours are somehow precious. He walks over to his friend and says "Tommy, slim yourself," as he puts on his best smile.
Tommy looks up at him with disbelief in his eyes. "Slim myself? That old shank just said you're not immune to the Flare. How can you-"
"I'm not worried about the bloody Flare, man. I never thought I'd still be alive at this buggin' point - and living hasn't exactly been so great anyway." The truth in his words sink in and he almost wishes he could take them back, but he keeps his calm, still holding his fake smile for Tommy.
Tommy shakes his head and says, "If you're cool with slowly going crazy and wanting to eat small children, then I guess we won't cry for you."
Newt nods, and feeling the smile fading from his face, unemotionally responds, "Good that."