So this is a one-shot about *spoiler alert* Newt's death. Also known as the terrible page 250 of The Death Cure, but in Newt's point of view.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Maze Runner Series. All rights go to James Dashner, the wonderful genius and human form of satan.


Newt dragged himself along the pavement, trying to keep his mind focused. He couldn't remember the last time he slept, nor the last time he had ate. His vision was blurred slightly, but he was still capable of seeing what lay before him.

He watched wearily as a group of cranks ran out of the nearest building, blood dripping down each of their chins.

Please don't see me, please, he thought, picking up the pace.

Newt barely felt his limp anymore, for his body seemed to hurt in every possible spot, but he knew that he still couldn't outrun the cranks.

A wave of nausea overcame him as Newt saw the group break into a run, coming straight for him. His vision blurred completely for a few moments as he panicked, and all he could see was the blurred figures racing towards him. Newt panted, beginning to run as fast as his poor body could take him. He turned a corner onto another block that had the sides of the road barricaded, as if they were sound barriers created to keep sound away from houses that had once been near the street. It seemed as if such a world had never existed.

Newt's mind had cleared momentarily as he ran, but strange thoughts that seemed indescribable kept popping up at him. He forgot the cranks were behind him and slowed, which wasn't the best decision.

He screamed as he was overtaken by someone behind him, and was knocked to the ground. Newt's body hit the ground with a thud, and he felt someone grabbing at his hair. He thrashed at the crank on top of him, kicking out his legs and swinging his arms. His scalp felt as if was on fire as tufts of his once long hair were torn from his head.

Sharp nails scratched at Newt's face, and he rolled onto his side, the crank falling from his back. Newt stood and kicked at the man who had been just pulling out his hair, beating him senseless. The action triggered a memory, a memory of a boy named Ben.

Newt stopped kicking, and backed away from the man, who had been abandoned by his companions.

Ben.

The Banishment.

The Glade.

Newt screamed in frustration, but it sounded like a mangled cry. He sunk to the ground and squeezed his head with his grime covered hands, trying to block thoughts of his friends.

He suddenly stood, his mind turning blank. All he could think about was walking. He saw his feet moving, but he couldn't feel it. Slowly, he dragged himself down the street and onto another block, where an amazing sight waited for him.

Several cars were driving in circles, crashing and banging into one another. A crowd of about twenty people were fighting over a big pile of something he couldn't quite make out, tossing debris and pushing and shoving, throwing punches.

Newt suddenly felt drawn to the sight, a longing for the garbage pile coming straight from his gut. His mind remained blank, and the only thoughts on his mind were the crowd and the longing. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he knew he was about to go past the Gone. He was almost as much as an animal as all the other cranks.

The sane part of his mind knew that it would be better to be with the group than alone, so he decided against running away.

Suddenly, a van, charging at full speed, flew towards the crowd and the cars. The attempt to get through failed, and the van spiraled off towards a wall. Newt could only stare at the van and the blurry figures inside. Something was wrong, something was off.

The van took off at full speed again, but stopped abruptly a few feet into the drive. A boy, nearly a man, with shaggy brown hair and long limbs scrambled from the van with a gun. He slipped the pistol into his jean pocket and walked half the distance to Newt, eyeing the crowd of cranks. The boy stopped.

Something was off, definitely off.

"Hey. Newt. It's me, Thomas. You still remember me, right?"

The boy spoke, and Newt's mind and vision seemed to clear.

Thomas.

His heart seemed to swell and harden at the same time.

"I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can't go completely crazy in a few days."

Thomas cringed as Newt spat the words at him, remembering the occurrence of a few days ago.

"Then why are you here? Why are you with...them?" Thomas asked, glancing at the cranks.

Newt turned his head to stare at the cranks as well, and then stared back at Thomas, contemplating his next words.

"It comes and goes, man. I can't explain it. Sometimes I can't control myself, barely know what I'm doing. But usually it's just like an itch in my brain, throwing everything off-kilter just enough to bother me- make me angry," He explained, staring at Thomas, relieved to see his friend.

"You seem fine right now," Thomas observed.

"Yeah, well. The only reason I'm with these wackers from the Palace is because I don't know what else to do. They're fighting, but they're also a group. You find yourself alone, you don't have a bloody chance."

Thomas stared at him for a moment, a look of sorrow in his eyes.

"Newt, come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safe, somewhere better to..."

Newt laughed, his head twitching strangely. At these words, he narrowed his eyes and he felt himself turning cold. He was a crank, not a person. Thomas was oblivious to the fact.

"Get out of here, Tommy. Get away."

"Just come with me," Thomas begged. "I'll tie you up if it makes you feel better."

Newt felt himself getting angrier and more frustrated, and his next words shot out in a rage.

"Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn't you read my note? You can't do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you! I always hated you!" He screamed, losing his mind to the fury. He knew he didn't mean it, but he felt as if he did.

"Newt..." Thomas whispered, tears brimming in his eyes.

"It was all your fault! You could've stopped them when the first creators died. You could've figured out a way. But no! You had to keep it going, try to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the Maze and never stopped. All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should've thrown you down the Box hole!"

Newt took lumbering steps towards Thomas as he spoke, his face turning red and spit flying from his mouth. He was angry, so angry, and it really was Thomas's fault. Every word he said was true, and he knew that it hurt Thomas. He decided that he didn't care.

Someone in the van behind Thomas yelled something and Thomas shouted back, but Newt couldn't register what they said.

Thomas faced Newt, terror reigned across his face.

"Newt, stop. Just listen to me. I know you're okay in there. Enough to hear me out."

Newt balled his fists, shouting even louder than before.

"I hate you, Tommy!" Thomas took a step backward as Newt stepped forward. They were only a few feet away now. " I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk I went through in the bloody Maze, you can't do the one and only thing I've ever asked you to do! I can't even look at your ugly shuck face!" Newt screamed.

Thomas took two steps back.

"Newt, you need to stop. They're going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!" Thomas begged, and he was shouting now too.

Newt paused, his anger fully taking him over. He screamed and rushed forward, and a flash of light shot from the van and landed behind him. He tackled Thomas, punning his old friend down.

"I should rip your eyes out," Newt spat, "Teach you a lesson in stupidity. Why'd you come over here? You expect a bloody hug? A nice sit-down to talk about the good times in the Glade?"

Thomas shook his head, his fear evident. A random thought popped into his head then; he never told Thomas how he got his limp.

"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you? No, I don't think I did."

"What happened?" Thomas asked, slipping his fingers around his pistol.

"I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the doors closed. I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day," as Newt spoke, his anger returned, thoughts of the Maze and Alby triggering his fury. " And it was all...your...fault!"

Suddenly, Newt twisted around and grabbed Thomas by the hand that was holding the gun. He yanked it from his hands and pressed it against his forehead, the metal cool against his skin. He pressed Thomas's hands to the trigger. He wanted this.

"Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else. Kill me!"

Thomas tried to pull his hand away, but Newt pushed it back towards the trigger. His fury was overwhelming.

"I can't, Newt, I can't." Thomas's pleading just fed Newt's flames. His whole body trembled.

"Make amends! Repent for what you did!" His voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he tried to control his anger. "Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery."

Newt begged him, waiting for the sensation of death. He didn't want to fail as he had last time. He wanted death.

"Newt, maybe we can-"

"Shut up! Just shut up! I trusted you! Now do it!"

"I can't."

"Do it!"

"I can't!"

Newt still trembled in his fury, and he felt himself losing it completely.

"Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!"

"Newt..."

Newt screamed, his throat on fire from yelling.

"Do it before I become one of them!"

Thomas stared at his friend, trembling now too.

"I..."

Newt exploded.

"KILL ME!"

And then Newt's eyes cleared, as if he's gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened.

"Please, Tommy. Please."

Newt begged, and then he felt tears streaming down his face as Thomas closed his eyes.

A sharp pain exploded in his skull, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Then everything went black.

Reviews are appreciated! Yes, I did take exact dialogue from the book, so credit to James Dashner for that.

- Shuckfaced Crank