Author's Note: Hi there everyone! I decided to write a Newmas fic for my friend for Christmas, and she told me I needed to upload it... So, Anna, here it is. Merry Christmas guys. You like it, I write more, deal? ;)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Newt, Alby and Thomas belong to James Dashner. Title of the story comes from Les Mis.

Despite all the craziness going on, I was aware. I could feel my mind going, the anger building, the ... urge for destruction. I was losing it. And they weren't here! WHY WEREN'T THEY HERE?

No, I couldn't think badly of them. I couldn't think badly of him. He knew. He got the note.

He promised.

I remember when he first turned up. The box coming up from the bloody ground. The newbie. The greenie.

Of course, he didn't know his name. But that wasn't what made me notice him. All greenies are like that. He was no different.

His eyes, though. They were piercing blue, filled with confusion. Despite that, they were incredibly clear. After that? Well, his dark tousled hair. I was lucky. I got to show him around, got to show him the ropes.

I don't know what made me love him. I thought he was stupid when he fought Gally. And then? The bloody shank ran into the maze after Alby. I was sure the shank was dead. And then he came back. He'd saved my best friend's life.

I think that was it. That was the moment I knew. The moment I saw him carrying Alby, my heart was his. I only had eyes for the bloody shank.

I remember that night. The night Alby set the maps on fire. The sky was bright with stars, and lit by the flames. I remember Tommy yelling, and others. But mostly Tommy. That... That was when I slipped my hand is his, pulled him away from the wreckage and over to the little forest that Tommy seemed to love so much. He was still talking about the map room, but he hadn't removed his hand from mine.

'Newt, what's going on?' He finally asked, though I pulled him closer and shut him up, pressing my lips against his. I felt him still in shock, but then he softened, arms going round my waist, reacting.

I shook my head, getting rid of the memories. His touch lingered, and I could still smell the woody scent that was so unique to Tommy.

The shank. The bloody shank. He promised. He said he loved me and he would do whatever he could to help me.

He lied.

Footsteps. HIM. 'I thought I told you bloody shanks to get lost.'