# Breaking

Thomas could barely seem to recognize what once had been his best friend.

What was left of Newt was nearing expiration and Thomas fought back sobs as he was implored to simply end it for him. There was not a fleeting inclination towards using his own weapon against his friend, even if Newt had lost all hope on himself, Thomas wasn't giving up on him. Deep down, he didn't think he had it in him.

His friend was still in there, even if he couldn't express it completely, Newt was still fighting. There was still hope.

Brenda was coming with the serum. He just needed to keep Newt alive until then.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm so sorry," Newt speaks to him, gently caressing Thomas's shirt where he had been pulling him from just moments before, recovering himself for a few seconds before spasming back into madness.

Newt's strikes towards him with increased strength as the infection continues to take hold of him, destroying whatever is left of the boy he knew, which is impressive considering how hard Newt fought to break through out of the darkness to address Thomas, "Just fucking kill me already you coward!"

Thomas's stomach drops. He knew it had been coming, but there is no world in which he would ever been ready to hear it.

"Please don't ask me," Thomas dodges another swing, but Newt manages to tackle him onto the ground and goes for his gun.

Thomas stares in horror as Newt lifts the weapon towards his temple, aiming to end his torment for himself.

Instinctively, Thomas screams as he snaps back his friends arm, effectively launching the gun onto the ground, "Damn it Newt, I know you can fight this!"

For a second, Thomas can see through the blood and bile, seeping from Newt, the darkest of plagues, and see a sadness creeping into his eyes, replacing his desperate anger.

"Please Tommy, I love you. It's okay, it's okay," he rasps through his bloodied gritted teeth. Thomas's heart breaks at the mention of those three words because there was no universe in which this was the situation where he'd wanted to hear them finally uttered to him.

There isn't enough time for his words to fully sink in, Thomas can feel him effectively capturing his knife and they're both struggling on their feet again.

Newt slashes with the weapon and Thomas is able to grasp it for himself but his flailing friend attempts to turn it towards him. Both charge for each other, Newt on the offensive, while Thomas deflects the best he can, but he is overpowered and slammed into the concrete. He loses his breath and then sees stars until he is snapped back into the present by the jagged hold of Newt's knife slicing into his chest.

Thomas doesn't know from where, but somehow he manages to again unarm his crazed friend before he punctured anything important. In the frenzy of the moment, while Newt attempts to capture the knife from him, Thomas registers pain spread across Newt's face and he follows his eyes down his chest, until they land onto the knife puncturing his abdomen.

"No, no, no," Thomas pleas, taking advantage of Newt being in a weakened state in order to turn him over, taking the knife out as swiftly as he can, and he is relieved to see that it wasn't lodged in deep enough to have caused damage to any vital organs from what he could tell, before placing pressure onto the wound with his hands.

Newt screams until he's back for a few more seconds, "If you were ever my friend, if you ever cared about me, you'd help me end this."

Thomas drains out every ounce of desperation and fights the urge to let tears spill, "I won't let you give up, Newt. Fucking fight this!"

He summons all of the strength that he can and he turns Newt over completely so that he is the one pinning him onto the ground, one hand still providing pressure onto his wound and the other holding his shoulder down steady.

He remembers Teresa's voice over the intercom, "You can still save him." That is all Thomas needs to remind himself of, the fact that he could still save his best friend. Despite how unrecognizable he was this far along his being infected, Newt was still fighting in the only way he could, because he had never been one to give up so easily. This was still the boy who told him that there was a place for them out there in this world and that he had to hold onto hope. No matter how dire their circumstances.

Thomas subdued him, pinning his shoulder down as hard as he could, fighting against his thrashing until he had recovered his breath, "There is a place out there for us, remember? I need you to remember. Fuck, I love you too, you know that. Please Newt, Brenda's on her way. Just hold onto me, okay?"

There was no telling whether Newt was actually gripping his words, if there was still a part of his deteriorating brain which fought off the infection to grasp onto his broken pleas, but Thomas chose to take his weakened thrashing as a sign that he was still holding onto some hope for the both of them. Just like old times. Thomas didn't dwell on the fact that he had just told Newt that he loved him, because it was the simplest form of the truth.

There was no other way around it. And just as soon as he admitted it to himself, Thomas was overcome with a sense of heartache over not having told his friend sooner. There was never time to contemplate or vocalize their emotions because they were constantly reacting to the awful things happening all around them. At the time it always seemed selfish to wish for more than the world was willing to give and they were too young and scared to take it for themselves. Newt needed to know that he had always been loved by him and everyone around him.

Newt had told him that what scared him the most about being infected was forgetting and losing himself completely to the virus.

And so Thomas reminded Newt of it in the form of a prayer, he told him he loved him over and over again, until he felt that Newt would leave with the words resonating in his brain and his soul. He wasn't alone and he was loved to the very end. It was too much of a risk to bet on his friends finding their way to Brenda on time, Thomas wasn't going to risk Newt feeling in any way like he was alone. Even if in his weakened state he couldn't grasp onto concrete meaning...he just couldn't risk it.

There was a softness spreading from the suffering boy beneath him, (yes Thomas choose to believe this, he needed to believe that Newt was still in there), underneath the black blood and sweat and tears, miraculously, Newt wasn't giving up.

Thomas hadn't realized when he'd closed his eyes, but he remembered the first time he'd met Newt in the maze and how it felt like it'd been a lifetime ago, the memory of his big goofy grin and open demeanor which had left Thomas staring along after him, wanting to get to know the boy better right off the bat, "Newt, remember the first time we met in the maze and how scared I was? I felt so alone, but you helped me. You believed in me and made me a runner even though most of the others thought I was completely nuts. You never did. Now I need you to trust and believe that you're going to make it."

Once he opened his, Newt was staring into his eyes, and for a second, Thomas let himself stoke his friend's cheek and touched his forehead with his for a few moments, "Tommy, Tommy..." he gasped, his voice breaking like bones against iron fists.

Thomas shook his head, "Shhh, please Newt. Don't ask me again."

Newt was about to object and Thomas could feel another vicious and delirious attack coming and he knew that he wouldn't be strong enough to fight him much longer, but he needed to keep Newt stable to not worsen his wound.

Turned out, he wouldn't need to.

The sound of Brenda's calls arose both boy's stares towards the distance and Thomas let out a shaky breath of relief, "She's coming! Stay with me for a bit longer, Newt."

There was a glimmer of recognition in Newt's face in response to Thomas's words and he couldn't help but to beam down at him because they would survive this too. Together.

Newt, despite his newfound hope, pleaded with him once more, "Tommy, in the necklace I gave you, there's something I've written for you..."

A strange panic settled into him at Newt's words. He faced his friend and stared him square in the eye, "And you're going to read it to me."

"Thank God," Brenda and the rest of their friends were fast, they arrived seconds later with the temporary cure and thankfully, a first aid kit inside of Minho's backpack, "I couldn't keep him from getting hurt. He's been losing a lot of blood."

Minho knelt before Newt and took a hold of his shoulder to help Thomas keep him down, "Hey, hey buddy. You can hear me right? I didn't save your ass just so that you could go and die on me now, you shank," he said to his friend and Thomas marveled at how Newt was seemingly registering his words that is if his calmed expression was any indicator. Brenda was preparing as Gally was positioning himself to help them keep Newt under control to give her clear access for her to give him the serum.

Thomas nodded to her just before she administered the shot, but then quickly grabbed at her hand to stop her. Brenda's brows furrowed as she grimaced, "What-?"

"I'll do it," he told her and her eyes softened, recognizing the desperation and need and fear in his own. She nods gently, "Thanks, Brenda."

Those words were pregnant with so much more meaning than what could be derived from their current context. Thomas's gaze was fixed on Newt, but he understood that from that moment on, he would never be able to thank Brenda enough for everything she'd done for them. How much Gally and Minho had risked as well, but that made more sense. They'd survived unmentionable horrors together for so long.

"Yeah, don't fuck this up," he felt her drop the serum into his hand and he nodded one more time in her direction before aligning the needle with Newt's vein, "Okay, hold him down boys!"

Thomas took a deep breath as he gently stroked Newt's cheek, "You're going to be okay now Newt."

Seconds after Thomas administered the serum, Newt began to convulse and contort beneath them, his more primitive Crank self fighting against the cure, attempting to reject it in order to survive.

"Keep him down!" Gally called, struggling to keep his hold on the raging boy, "Fuck he's strong for how damn lanky he is!"

Thomas held his breath the entire time and he could sense that Minho was too, "You can fight this Newt," it was barely audible, but Thomas could hear Minho's tiny prayer for their friend as he continued to thrash against them.

"He's going to make his injury even worse! Keep pressure on his wound Thomas," Brenda instructed him and she joined in on applying pressure after she'd untied a handkerchief from her boot to soak in the blood.

There was too much racing through Thomas's mind, flashes of the last months together, always in a frenzy, racing towards rescuing their friend, their days spent in the glade, quietly shared glimpses of promising moments...The promise of something more right under the surface, like roots reaching to become branches.

The why nots, almost, maybe, and not enough. Never enough. There are still so many things he wants to share with Newt, so many things he regrets not doing out of fear of ...what? Losing himself? It seems ridiculous to him now, his fears completely unfounded in the presence of what it is really like to break and shatter onto yourself.

"He's calming down," Minho breathed, calling Thomas back from his thoughts. It felt as if he could barely breathe, much less conjure any words, but by God he almost let out a weep of relief when he saw Newt slowly fall back into his friend's embrace without any more struggle.

For the first time in a long time, Thomas saw how peaceful Newt was. Thomas had only been able to see snippets of his friend at his most relaxed whenever he'd let guard down enough to fall asleep near him. After the Glade, during their waking nightmare in the Scorch, Thomas's gaze would land on Newt's unguarded and slack figure across the ground, his openly boyish features illuminated by dying embers. The stark contrast from his always calculating and pensive stares had intrigued Thomas and washed his worries away for a few moments. Hours prior, Newt had assured him that there was a place for them somewhere, a safe place. Before Newt left, he had placed his hand on Thomas's shoulder and he remembers wanting to hold onto him in return.

There were plenty moments which mirrored their time in the Glade and then the Scorch, throughout their six months together, lingering touches and soft exchanges of support for one another were common for the pair. They had always slept near each other and sometimes either of them would be caught eyeing the other from their respective hammocks

Thomas didn't want to be swept up by his optimistic promise in that moment, but seeing Newt doing something so normal and domestic, well other than the dirt and grime and sand across his face, brought forward images of a future where they were at peace. Back then, Thomas wondered if Newt was still breathing while his lips were slightly agape, his chest barely rising and falling, hair was in disarray, much like right now.

Thomas would look back on that almost peaceful image and recall how he'd arrived at the conclusion that if Newt had to leave this world, being held by people who cared for him, his friends for better or for worse, their cries and prayers ringing in his ears until the end... It wasn't a bad way to go. And he wondered if Newt would have forgiven him for not pulling the trigger when he most desperately needed him to. Would Thomas been satisfied with his exit?

Such dark thoughts halted once Newt began to wheeze and cough back into consciousness, he wiped away the bile from his mouth and turned himself over to hurl until he could properly breathe again. Thomas hadn't been aware of his vocal musings until Newt fell back into his arms and wheezed, "I'm okay. I'm okay, Tommy...Everyone can stop bloody crying now."

Although Gally interrupted the mood by claiming that he wasn't crying and anyone who would think he was is an idiot, Thomas surprised himself by letting out a whooping laugh, his entire body becoming lighter at seeing how Newt's eyes were now his own and not scarred by the virus. He noticed that Brenda's gaze lingered on him, there was a twinge of something Thomas couldn't place in the moment, but he had a feeling that it had to do with how uninhibited he was towards Newt.

"You little shank, never scare us like this again," Minho playfully hit Newt on the shoulder, sporting a huge smile of relief on his face which rivaled even Thomas's.

"We should haul ass and get him into the Berg," Brenda called Gally back to help Minho with lifting Newt back onto his feet. Thomas took some bandages from Minho's bag and bandaged Newt's abdomen the best he could, "I don't know if he is out of the woods yet. Be careful while carrying him, you two."

Thomas was about to grab a hold of his friend but then he remembered Teresa's message, "I have to get Teresa. If there's even a chance... I have to try." He ignored Minho and Gally disapproving stares and approached Newt while he was perched up onto their friend's shoulders. Thomas leaned in to hug his trembling friend, "I'll see you in a bit, okay?" he whispered, Newt reminded him to take care of himself, Thomas took a few moments to finally pull away, then he quickly patted both Minho and Gally on the shoulder before heading back towards Wicked.

"Hey Thomas, you better hurry," Brenda called to him and he simply offered her a nod as he squeezed her forearm in reassurance before continuing on his way.