Minho was pacing restlessly through the room, if you could call it that. The other immunes sat huddled against the walls, staring blankly at the floor. Thomas and Brenda had been gone for about fifteen minutes. How he wished he was with them, doing something, finding out what the heck was going on, instead of being locked up with these shuck faces. Especially Teresa.

Suddenly, loud voices rose in the hallway outside. Minho could hear smashing and banging, and wild, crazy laughter. One of their guards – the woman – shouted something, and a gun fired. The people in the room started to shuffle uncomfortably.

"It's Cranks!" they whispered frantically. "Cranks have broken in!"

"Shut up!" Minho hissed. If the Cranks didn't realise they were there, maybe they'd just go away. He clutched the gun he was still holding.

With the room silent again, the shouts and yells outside were clearly audible.

"Shove off!" the woman called. "Shove off or I'll blast the lot of you out of your pants!" Loud jeering and catcalling answered her. There was gunfire and the sound of a launcher going off.

"Get off her!" A man's voice. Apparently, backup had arrived. "Get off her, or I'll blow you to bits!"

More jeering, but it was growing fainter. The Cranks were moving away. The woman raised her voice one more time. "You too. Run after your friends."

"No."

Minho froze.

Then he sprinted across the room and yanked open the door.

And there he was. His eyes were clear, and he stood calmly. Minho could tell by a glance that this was one of his sane moments. He stared at him, and Newt stared back.

The guard looked at him, then at the gun Minho was still holding, and then back at Newt.

"Get lost," she said and raised her own gun. "Or I'll shoot you."

"No!" All eyes flickered to Minho. "You can't shoot him!" he said quickly. "He's my friend, and he's got himself under control!"

"Minho…"

"No!" he said, interrupting Newt and turning to the guards. "Listen, why don't you klunkheads go and check on the rest of the group?"

"We can't leave you…"

"I've got a gun, and he hasn't. You think I can't keep one shank under control?" He pointed his gun at the guards. "Now go."

They both looked at him for a moment, and then, not wanting to lose any of their toes, they shrugged and walked down the hallway.

Newt turned to him. "You!" he yelled. "You! I'd almost gotten them to shoot me, and then you had to butt in!"

"Shoot you?" Minho said. "But…"

"Yes, shoot me!" his friend screamed. "Why is it that wherever I go in this bloody place, I run into one of you shuck faces?"

"Newt," Minho said. The words stung, and there was a big lump in his throat. "Newt…"

"Fuck off!" his friend yelled. Tears were streaming down his face now. Seeing him like this made Minho feel as if someone was twisting a knife inside him. And Newt wasn't finished. "I asked Tommy to kill me!" he screamed. "Since he didn't do it, could you at least not stop the few bloody people who were kind enough to try!"

Too much. It was too much for Minho. As he felt hot liquid run down his cheeks, he dropped his gun and staggered against the wall behind him. "Kill you?" he whispered. "Why did you ask him to kill you?"

Newt looked at him, and Minho saw the madness disappear from his eyes. "Because-" he said hoarsely, "Because I didn't want to give this burden to you. Because I knew you couldn't face it after… last time."

Minho looked at him through the veil of tears that clouded his vision, looked at the cuts and the bruises, the bald spots that had appeared on his best friend's head, the dirty, torn clothes - and all he saw was the boy he'd found in the Maze almost two years ago, with bones broken all over his body and one leg completely smashed. He couldn't let him do it again.

"Newt," he said, and then he stepped forward and pulled his friend into a bone-crushing hug.

And that was how the guards found them minutes later, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other and their shirts wet with each other's tears.