A/N: I strongly suggest you to listen to the song (No One's Here to Sleep – Naughty Boy ft. Bastille) while reading this because it just fits so well! I hope you enjoy this fanfiction because the idea slapped me in the face as I was listening to the song and I felt the urge to write it and share it with you guys! This is another version of how things could have happened on the night of the attack, so it's totally normal if the beginning isn't the same.

I might upload it on Wattpad as well.

* I do not own anything *

The Glade was peaceful as everybody was going to sleep. The emotions that Alby's condition as well as Teresa's arrival had caused had went down, exhaustion wining over every Glader. The night was so quiet, it hadn't been that way for what seemed like ages, but a very few had had time to notice; the others had drifted in deep slumber in a matter of minutes. It almost felt odd, nearly impossible. The Maze was too calm…

The ground began to shake and loud and messy sounds brutally awakened the Gladers.

"What's goin' on?" Thomas frowned at Newt and sat in his hammock.

Alby, who was sleeping beside them, jumped to his feet and ran as best as he could towards the middle of the Glade.

"Hey, wait for me shuck-face!" Newt followed him.

Thomas glanced over at Chuck who was shifting in his hammock, eyes still closed, probably confusing reality with a nightmare. "Hey! Wake up, buddy!"

Chuck opened his eyes and straightened in a flash, sweating and panting as he looked around him. He stared at something behind Thomas and began to breath rapidly and unevenly. "Oh my gosh…"

"What–"

Thomas turned around to see what had caught the kid's attention. The door leading to the maze was opening. In the middle of the night. A door he didn't know even existed, as well as two others. Basically, the four existent entrances to the maze were opening.

Chaos started in the Glade as everybody was running around, screaming, freaking out. The alarm that rang when the box was usually coming up was heard but only once and the doors were all wide opened. Movements stopped for a second in the Glade as everybody tried to understand what that alarm meant.

Then the a bunch of teenagers near one of the entrances shouted and ran away towards the forest.

"Run!"

"Save yourselves!"

"Shuck!"

"We're gonna die!"

Newt watched them run and then brought his attention inside the rectangle-shaped hole in the huge concrete wall: Grievers. At least three of them. His eyes widened and he turned to alarm those behind him that were still where they'd been sleeping. But as he turned, he noticed more of those awful creatures in another entrance, then one in the third entrance and two more in the fourth one. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could've had a heart attack at any moment.

"Grievers! Grievers everywhere!"

Alby, who was kneeling on the ground still trying to catch his breath from the effort, slowly raised his head and watched the first Grievers making there way inside the Glade. He mumbled something and Newt had to kneel next to him to hear what he'd said.

"We're not gonna make it…"

Newt placed a hand on his friends shoulder. "Shut your face and get on your feet!"

Alby shook his head and tried to reply, but his eyes rolled behind his head and he fell unconscious on the ground. At the same time Thomas ran to them, followed by Chuck, Teresa and other Gladers, and helped Newt with Alby has they ran towards the Gardens.

They hid in cornstalks, but Grievers were roaming around and they had to find another shelter. Alby was getting his senses back and repeated that they wouldn't make it, sometimes missing a words or not finishing his sentence or using unknown words. They were trying to shush him, but there was nothing that could be done and they had to move anyway.

Newt gave orders to one of the Gladers with them. The guy was in charge of the others who'd followed while he and Thomas were carrying Alby by his arms and tried to follow as best as they could.

"What do we do now?" Thomas asked through the effort.

"The Council Hall… it's the only place left," Newt answered, struggling more than ever with Alby's weight.

"Isn't there any better place than hiding in a corner? The Box? Even the Bloodhouse?"

"Look around," Newt sighed. "Anything you thing about there are people inside and Grievers around… it's our last option."

"Then why not try to fight them?" Thomas proposed with a certain degree of hope and confidence in his voice.

Before he could answer Newt fell to his knees with a scowl and a grunt of effort, Alby soon following his friend on the ground. Thomas kneeled beside him and searched the grass with his hands.

"What is it?"

Newt had an horrible scowl. "Take him and go."

"What? What– no I… what's going on?" His heart began to race.

"I can't go any further. Just take Alby and hide, you'll make it in there."

Jeff and Clint were also running toward the Council Hall and Thomas nearly jumped on Jeff to get his torch to take a closer look at Newt: his ankle was purple and twice its normal size. Thomas's eyes widened but he refused to leave Newt there. He looked away behind them: a Griever was coming there way but it was still far enough for them to make it to a shelter.

"Come on, get up!" Thomas pulled on Newt's arm, but he refused to move.

"I knew that bloody limp would get me killed at some point anyway," he sighed, more for himself.

Then Newt's gaze caught with Thomas's who was still frantically trying to get him to stand up. He stopped everything and they looked at each other. With one hand he grasped the hem of him shirt and brought him closer to his face.

"Go," Newt said. "Take Alby and go." He let go of Thomas's shirt and looked down at his foot. "He's more useful than me anyway."

Thomas's eyes were filled with tears. "No…"

"Hum… I think we should go now," Jeff said as he watched the Griever approaching, hesitating on whether he should go and save himself or stay and help Thomas with whoever he'd have to carry to the Council Hall.

"Leave. Leave!" Newt said on a firm tone as he fought the lump in his throat and the tears back in his eyes.

He looked at Jeff as to tell him to get Thomas to his feet and he did exactly so. At first, Thomas refused to leave Newt behind and tried to resist, but the damn boy didn't want to move and couldn't walk anymore. Newt would never have accepted his stupid limp causing his friends' death. Being left behind was the only rational thing he could do.

He watched Thomas and Jeff help Alby to his feet, made one last eye contact with them before turning around. The Griever was still a certain distance away from him but in a matter of minutes – even perhaps seconds – it would catch up to him.

Using the last millimeters of hope inside of him Newt took a spear from behind his back and pointed it towards the Griever. Suddenly, a slim wave of confidence stroke him as he raised his weapon against the creature.

"Come on! Come get me you bloody piece of klunk!"

He screamed his lungs out, blasting the Griever with as many swearwords he could think of. It was feet away from him when he realized what was going to happen and he closed his eyes in acceptance.

Thomas and those who'd made it to the Council Hall were struggling with fighting a Griever through the ceiling. It'd taken Alby and Thomas had kicked the door open to look for a safer place when an agonizing scream coming from the middle of the Glade froze him still and caught the attention of creature threatening their leader which dropped Alby and left towards it. Everybody hurried to their leader while Thomas stood numb in the doorframe and dropped to his knees, connecting his palms to the ground to stop him from falling. His head was spinning and tears were rushing down his face as he felt his stomach twist and sink.

He'd witnessed the whole thing.

He'd left Newt behind.

Newt was dead now.

Because of him.

Thomas emptied his lungs with screams and punched the ground has Teresa and Chuck forced him inside.