Thomas just couldn't keep his face from smiling and it hurt.

But the good kind.

Minho cried again and Thomas had no idea why he didn't. Maybe it was the shock? Thomas didn't move from his sit next to the blond, eyes fixed on his friend. Newt couldn't fully realise the scare he gave his friend and Thomas almost envied him. Brenda acted like a weight has been taken of her shoulders weirdly enough, she didn't say much but massaged Minho's shoulders trying to help it sink in. They were free now. Free of the waiting, and maybe finally free of WCKD and everything they left on the continent.

Minho monopolised the discussion talking about the camp and what Newt was missing on. He kept on endearingly comparing Newt's coma as laziness. He had made its personal mission to focus their conversations about idle activities going-on around the camp.

"You did well, really," mocked Minho. "You woke up just after all the hard word's finished!"

Newt's tired smiles and muddled answers started to increase barely an hour after he woke up. Brenda did not even had time to fetch food before the blond fell asleep again.

Brenda started off with a wise, pushing the bowl into Thomas's hands; "Maybe we shouldn't leave him without supervision."

"I'll stay," announced Thomas but none even acknowledged him. Only Brenda spared him a glare, seemingly still judged for refusing to go lay down earlier.

Minho shrugged. Sonya and Harriet had come around too, debating with Brenda the benefice of letting the blond rest and the risk of letting him sleep. Could he still fall into a coma? He seemed coherent enough but did it mean he was out of the woods?

Gally was the first to snap. "He is fine."

But the little group started to fall into superstitious fear that maybe Newt wasn't asleep. It was ridiculous, but this whole thing was unbelievable to begin with, so Thomas kept his hand locked around the blond's wrist, watching careful his face, his mouth open breathing slowly in and out against the pillow, chest rising a little bit at each step.

Minho stood silent, eyes moving from Thomas to Newt when someone came in through the door.

"Did I declare national holiday?" scoffed Vince. "I want to see everyone back to their job now. But you, Thomas, didn't you listen last time I told you to rest? You look even worst to wear."

Thomas tried to open his mouth but somehow nobody seemed interest in his answer.

"You all need to chill," ordered Vine. "Let the poor thing sleep."

Gally let his eyebrows show his complete support to Vince's surge of authority. A bit like a "I told you so" without words.

"I'll send someone with some food later," cut Vince not interest in anyone's rebuttal. "Now everyone out."

—

The first day New woke up, everyone felt light. The first 24 hours were a fucking bliss if Minho could be frank. Maybe it was a biased observation but even the rest of the camp seemed lighter, like an anchor had been taken away. The last person stuck between life and death, between the last city and the safe haven, was back here, was safe and sound.

"It's hard to talk to you alone," began Minho legs hanging from the bed getting ready for their daily card game in the late afternoon. It was almost a ritual now. Thomas could watch but not play, too good or too bad at it, depends who you ask. It was a Minho and Newt thing, like they used to do back in maze with Alby after Newt's so called accident. It would be the three of them under the trees, far enough from the rest of the Gladder to enjoy some calm but never too far. It was the moment before the sun fall down, a moment when they just could be themselves, not thinking about their responsibilities, playing games and laughing at each others. Minho always thought about that time when they played nowadays, and he could only wonder if Newt did the same.

Newt didn't answer straight away, he would have shrugged if it wasn't from the hole in his chest keeping him moving.

It was the same dance each day; wake up with hesitant smile and quite words. Their friends would come and go throughout the days. They were the only activities interrupting Thomas and Newts maps.

"I don't think we've been alone since I woke up?" guessed Newt, trying to push the fog out of his mind, for once thinking back on those few days.

Thomas and Newt were mostly left to their own devices. Both 'forced' to rest, they were restricted Newt's room where Thomas decided to set up camp. Today, the brunet had left for a shower, leaving Newt to answer the demanding questions of his friend.

"How are you doing?" Asked Minho again but without his usual energy grabbing the pack of cards. He was concerned but even could feel the uselessness of the question. Knowing very well the same questions will have the same answer.

"Fine," mumbled the blond. "Just tired, but I guess that's to be expected. You?"

Minho just raised his eyebrows at the comment. Is it to be expected? Yes, sure, it wasn't the question. The amount of sleep those boys were getting didn't raise any red flags, it was just exhaustion. Thomas would turn left and right in his bed at night and sleep throughout the day, while Newt was constantly either asleep or sleepy, nights and days mingled together.

"Getting there," answered Minho finishing up with the dealing. "Been working with Gally, we're still fetching wood for the camp. It's nice outside, still warm, lot of green. The trees are amazing, reminds me of… you know…"

Newt tries to hide his discomfort, hands clenching on the bed sheet, eyes focusing on the cards. The Glade was all he ever had to call home, and he hated it. But somehow he missed it terribly, feeling the grass, the leaves falling and the smell. It was home, a cursed and hollowed, deceiving and deadly, but somehow it was home with bonfires, hammocks and friendships. Newt even came to wish he could go back there without having to remember their last days spend there. But now he was here. Would he be able like Minho to walk under the trees? Reminiscing of the good time without going crazy?

"Sorry," cut Minho trying to refocus everyone. "She says I'm bottling up. Brenda, she's pestering me about talking."

Newt raised an eyebrow. "Talking?"

"To you, to Thomas, about… stuff," explained Minho eloquently.

"Oh…" mumbled Newt somehow understanding. They didn't have much to say to each others that were still part of the safe subjects, as the days unfold. Thomas and Newt both found silence comfortable enough, lost in their own thoughts, too tired to talk but memories of what happened were yet too fresh to be silenced. But Brenda was right, they shouldn't bottle up. "Us neither..."

Minho nodded along, understanding the "us" and learning to accept it. Newt and Thomas, nap partners. None of the boys seems to catch it. It was clear as day that Thomas didn't speak up about his feelings, whichever they were.

"If you need to," said Newt. "You can talk to me, you know?"

Minho didn't even look up to the blond knowing his eyes would just roll. He started putting a card down nudging Newt to take a card from the deck.

"Actually, Brenda thinks we should all just say what's on our mind."

Newt looked up from his cards neatly arranged in his hand, "She's right."

"I'm glad you're here," started Minho without warning.

Newt looked away hurriedly, fingers fidgeting with the card. "Me too," smiled Newt. "I'm glad you're here too."

Minho nodded and continued on playing. They made two round before Minho began again.

"But you're an idiot."

Newt finally looked back at him.

"Actually I need to have this talk with both of you," argued Minho his voice turning rash. "What were you thinking?"

"What?!"

"Thomas maybe, sure! But you!" continued Minho angrily.

"You told Thomas you'd prefer to die but to stay with WCKD," reproached Newt bitterly.

"But not at this price!" shouted Minho. "What were you thinking going back for me?"

"What?" Tears started to swell up int Newt's eyes. "How can you ask me that?"

"It was suicide!"

Newt put his cards down moving backward. "You know what, I'm not sure, maybe I was thinking it didn't matter if I died? Maybe that was what I wanted," cried Newt. "Is that what you want to hear? That I try again?"

They both fell silence. MaybeBrenda was wrong, maybe they weren't ready to talk.

"My plan was never to get us out," bit out Newt, making sure Minho regrets it. "My plan was to make it stop, to finish it. Happy to know now?"

"I didn't mean that- "

"Would you have excepted me to just hide here?" demanded Newt. "Knowing the Gladder I was suppose to protect were dead or tortured? I failed way too many of my friends as it was-"

"It's not your fault," hissed Minho, realising what Newt was saying.

"Shut up!"

"Guys?!" asked Thomas walking in, hair still dripping from the shower.

Newt brushed the tears away.

"Is everything okay?" asked Thomas again.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," sighted Newt. "Minho was leaving."

—

"It's okay."

Thomas kept on repeating it again and again. Like a mantra, a prayer.

Maybe if you want something hard enough it happens. Maybe if Thomas said it again and again it would be okay.

"It's okay."

"It's okay."

"You're okay."

But who is Thomas kidding? There had been so much blood, there is no way anyone could fix it.

"Are you okay? Tommy?"

Thomas turned to his friends' bed, barely seeing Newt's shape through the room. It must still be early in the night for the darkness to be so thick. His friend had sat up turned to him.

"Sorry," coughed Thomas. "I'm fine. Sorry, I woke you up."

"Don't worry."

Thomas excepted the blond to got back to sleep, to hear the ruffling of the sheets as his friend moved around, wincing between his teeth.

Days had started to pass by, somehow, and each day Thomas found it harder to sleep. He just couldn't sake off the feeling that it was all a dream, that WCKD was still lurking around them. It made him want to run away, to grab his bag, to get Newt and Minho out, to beg for Brenda to come with them.

Because it just couldn't be true. How could it be? How could any of that be real? How could it be okay?

Images kept on intruding his mind any time he tried to rest.

And it was all Thomas was suppose to do now. It was awful.

The only answer keeping him from running was Teresa. If she died, if she was not with Thomas now, it's because everything was real, that the tower collapsed on her and what was left of WCKD. Teresa was gone and that pain was the only thing keeping Thomas from thinking of that island as another of WCKD jail or trial.

He had kept on asking about her but Brenda was clear; she was dead.

Thomas would have prefer to be dragged around the camp like Minho, worked to the ground until he had no choice but collapse on his bed at night.

A hand hazardously fell on his arm. Thomas jumped at the contact, grabbing the intruder's wrist like a reflex, tugging it away down on the bed. It was Newt.

"It's me," hissed the blond, breathless, body wrapping around Thomas's hand in pain.

Thomas sat up letting go, "Sorry!"

Newt bend over the bed in pain leaning against Thomas. Without another word, Thomas helped him to lay down on the bed, making enough place for the blond to lay down next to him.

"I'm so sorry," urged Thomas. "Are you okay? Any of the stitches broke?"

"I'm fine," sighed Newt. "Stop apologising. Just lay back down."

Thomas obeyed his arm still stuck under the blond's head. On his side Thomas could make enough space between them, not to feel on top of each others.

Newt's breathing settled back down on a more evened out pace. Thomas stayed silent, eyes fixed where his friend's face would be.

"If you wanted to take my bed, you could just have said so and we would have exchanged," teased Thomas quietly as of not to wake up someone.

Newt chuckled, "Sorry, I'll move back in a minute." Newt moved a bit father out, unconsciously maybe, trying to give a little space back to Thomas. "I just wanted to check with you." Almost against his will adding, "You sounded scared."

Thomas wasn't sure what to say making himself as still as possible, his breathing as quiet as possible, as if scared to give away to Newt the truth.

"Nah," shook off Thomas. "Just tired, my mind's like going full on paranoia at night time."

He faked a chuckle but Newt did not join in. "Paranoia?"

"It's just too good to be true," whispered Thomas, worried even that those words could be enough to break the spell.

Newt's head moved, hair ruffled against Thomas's arm as he looked up to his friend. "Tell me about it…" sighted the blond. "It's like something is going to happen but I don't know when or how. Like it's not finished. Like we are not safe."

Thomas moved closer, bumping his head with Newt's, catching himself before he could push his face against Newt's temple. "You're safe," corrected Thomas. "I won't let anything happen to you again."

"But you don't have to," said Newt his voice steadier and louder than earlier. "For the moment, we are okay. Stop worrying."

"Yeah…" agreed Thomas half-heartedly, as he started to think back about what Minho said. About deciding what to do if Newt would wake up.

"You still don't know how to lie, Tommy," laughed Newt. "Just sleep, we're safe."

Thomas smiled before realising he could see him and decided to hum in agreement. It didn't sound as unrealistic as when Brenda says it. So Thomas gave it a shot, closing his eyes. Newt's breathing was still clumsy and harsh, and Thomas was so close he could even feel the ripple and quaver every time his lungs stretch and pull on his flesh. With the weight on his arm, and Newt's calming scent Thomas could almost let go. He let his mind focus on his friend, drowning slowly the worries out.

Somehow the boys found the silence wrap around them, sleep threatening them both. Before they realised it, they were dozing off.

"And no need."

"What?"

"To move back," explained Thomas, eyes closing and opening lazily. He tugged the blanket over them both. "I was cold anyway."

Thomas could swear he heard a sarcastic "sure" coming from the other but preferred not to check.

After a stretched moment of silence, Thomas caved in and added, "You're not taking up much space anyway."

This time the disbelieving "sure" was loud and clear, and Thomas decided to press his other hand on his arm keeping the blond in place.

"Stay," asked Thomas.

Newt hummed in agreement already falling back asleep. "Just don't kick me."

—

Their life fell quickly into what Thomas called "a tranquil pace" and Brenda "the beginning of depression."

Their discussions had been circling on the same subjects; Food, weather, Minho's daily activities and camp's politics. Brenda was less understanding than the other and didn't want to wrap the boys in bubble wrap. Thomas would even dare to ask the questions burning his mind when she showed up alone.

"Do we know what's going on the continent?" he would ask the way you fake mere interest, like when asking your parents about a fight they've been trying to hide.

"We don't know," would say Brenda, or "No news, good news," or "You worry about getting back on your feet and let Vince worry about the continent."

So many people were still missing, so many immunes dead or lost. There was a sense of urgency steeped in opioids and confusion, that Thomas couldn't quiet down. What was happening to them? Each day passing was a day lost for them, a day closer without knowing what would happen to WCKD.

Each night listening to Newt's brittled and short breathing couldn't reassured him, even when he moved closer to Thomas. Sleeping together had become a habit, and Thomas didn't want overthink it, happy to keep it quiet for now. It was impossible for him to even rest if he didn't have his friend at arms' reach.

Newt would just randomly whisper short answer like, "It's fine" or "We're safe." But even Thomas could see it wasn't helping neither of them, not when Thomas anxiety was pouring on Newt. Newt would sleep too much and more often than not, but energy seemed to be drained out of him a little bit more each day. Thomas didn't comment on it, wishing Newt closer and to the point that going outside, knowingly leaving Newt behind was stressful.

Brenda didn't need more to stage an intervention and one morning dragged Thomas outside demanding he goes with Minho for morning walks. After all if he "could just run off the day he woke up, that boy could walk in the morning."

Newt didn't escape it neither and was given the difficult task of walking around the room two times a day.

The week had just passed when it started. Newt was getting on his second turn around the room. When he just stopped, "I want to go outside."

Thomas looked up, tired from the spotty nights of sleep he was getting and anxious from the next one to come.

"I just want to go outside," repeated Newt with the same childish tone. "See the sea! See the trees! I'm tired of being stuck here."

Thomas stared at his friend, wondering how he could say no. It was late, and probably not the safest idea, all Thomas could think off was how to keep Newt safe nowadays, but before Thomas could decide, Newt walked out.

It didn't take long for Thomas to get to him, he just stood outside the tent looking at the camp in awe, the sea father down.

"It's beautiful," mumbled Newt.

Thomas nodded slowly feeling the cold wind against his arms.

"If only it didn't remind me so much of the scorch," said Newt in a humorous tentative, feet digging in the sand.

Thomas shrugged.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Newt.

"What?"

"You don't sleep," accused the blond. "I know you don't."

"I told you, I just can't believe it," said Thomas with a shrug. "What is this? What if WCKD is still around? What if they had caught us? What if-"

"What?" Newt sighted. "Just say it now."

"What if you're dead."

Thomas voice quavered but Newt didn't comment on it and simply grabbed Thomas's hand. "I keep finding myself short on inspirational speeches recently," confessed Newt softly. "When it seems that it is all you need."

"I think it's time to stop thinking," smiled Newt, holding his hand out. "Now help me stand up, I can smell Frypan from here."

In the next few weeks Newt would first go out once a day, soon enough they started to join in the life of the camp, with the dinners and the breakfast.

—

"Vince's doing a great job," said Harriet one night sitting for dinner to Thomas. "Sure… he's overworked but still."

Thomas could only agree, Vince had made an amazing job, and nodded mindlessly at Harriet as he let Newt stealing some food from his plate.

"There is just so much to do," sighted Sonya. "I'm trying to get an election set up for next month but no-one presenting has leadership experienced."

"Nobody, who knows what it implies, wants to get the responsibilities," chided Minho. "Nobody's that crazy."

Gally snorted stabbing his fork into a soft potato. "It's not that hard, really."

"Why don't you do it then?" taunted Brenda.

The ex-Gladers looked up, but did not dare to mention anything preferring to wait and see. Minho's smile froze turning to Brenda. Newt stopped picking into Thomas's plate, suddenly remembering their Coup d'Etat / come back to power in the maze to free Thomas and Theresa. As the blond remembered the tensions running the camps and constant confrontation with Gally, Thomas ended up remembering only the lost of lives, of Chuck and the delay Gally caused, stopping them from saving more Gladers. He knew they had to talk about it, talk about that time but it was too soon.

It felt like it would never be the time but then someone would say something and each one of those bitter and unjust thoughts would come out and stab their friendship in its heart.

But Gally just laughed. "I'm not leader material, learned it the hard way," he said off-hand, not upset nor bitter. "I prefer getting stuff done, not compromising with idiots. Plus I'm already in over my head from building habitations and food reserves. So thanks but no, thanks."

Sonya didn't insist, nodding along wondering about the sudden drop in temperature. "At this point I just want someone who knows vaguely how to talk to people and make them cooperate."

"Newt should run!" exclaimed Minho.

Newt jumped, his spoon falling into Thomas's plate as he had been fishing out a potato. His eyes widen at suddenly being thrown into a conversation he was not part of. He could feel Thomas's eyes on him as he looked up to Minho speechless.

"I think I've run enough," commented Newt wittily, but only Thomas picked up on it.

"That would be amazing!" shrieked Sonya, brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm looking forward at working with her brother. She had come over to see Newt a few times and started off a strange brother and sister relationship.

"He was a great second in command, and a great leader," Continued Minho stopping only to eat another spoonful of Frypan's food. "Everybody knows him. Do we really have to go through Sony's mock election if we know Newt is the one?"

Sonya outcry for the necessity of democracy in a new society was drown by everyone shouts and laughter at the table, all seemingly enjoying the idea.

"No," interrupted Newt eyes locked on Minho hoping to make him understand. All it succeed in was to bring back everybody's attention back to him.

"What?" asked Gally on his slightly pissed but on frankly totalitarian tone.

"It's not happening," Newt continued and Thomas could feel the shiver ran through Newt's body. "I'm not a leader."

"Come on! Don't make us beg," Gally drawled apparently not taking a no when he knew for a fact it would be the best solution for everyone here. Newt fixed his eyes on Gally but continuous exposition to Newt's silent glare apparently made of Gally part of a whole new type of immune. He therefore continued without a shadow of fear.

"You're good at keeping people together." Everyone at the table stared speechless. "Even I can recognised it. He is one of the good guys, you listen to people… it's kind of annoying…" The last point didn't sound like a praise.

Thomas was going to interrupted as he was watching Newt slowly close on himself but Gally was quicker.

"It's not like you can do much more than talk anyway," teased the ex-Gladder.

Brenda choked on her drink, and no one dared to move. Nobody would have ever talked to Newt like that, but at the same time everyone knew Gally was joking. Nevertheless, the truth hanged on.

Newt's eyes stayed fixed on him. It was true, after all.

What was he going to do now? Newt always got around the Glade, working on the agriculture but their last journey had take a toll on him. His limp was much more pronounced due mostly to his shortened breathing.

Yes, he needed time, they all did but there was so much left to do before they could fully be established here and Newt was not improving fast enough, if he was improving at all. His hands started to shake, his ribs forced movement started to burn his chest all around his lungs and he knew he could stay there.

"You're right, I'll think about it," Newt conceded and hurried to get up as best as he could without Thomas's help.

Thomas was too stunt to move or too busy trying not to jump on Gally. "Newt-"

"I need to get some rest. Tell Frypan the food was great," smiled Newt already leaving without waiting on an answer.

"Well done, Gally," hissed Minho. Brenda placed a calm hand on his arm still quietly wondering how a perfectly fine diner ended so fast so badly.

"So it's my fault he can't take a joke!" growled back Gally, standing up to leave in another direction. "It's not like no one noticed he can't do anything on the camp?!"

Thomas glared at him, standing up slowly. He didn't want to listen to Gally now, to be honest he haven't even talk to him yet. They'd exchanged random small talk but nothing had been resolved and Thomas wondered what he was waiting for to tell the man what he really thinks.

Chuck, Teresa and Newt; Gally had that unlucky gift for hurting the people Thomas cared about, but God knows why Thomas had not remediated to it. Actually no, Newt was the reason why Gally hadn't been punch to the ground yet. Understanding others and rationalisation were not often behind Thomas's actions.

Thomas glanced at Minho making clear not to follow. "I'll be back," he murmured as he rushed toward Newt's tent.

At the surprised of everyone, it's Sonya how snapped.

"You are a coward, Gally, and a bully," she growled. "You better think next time you talk because I won't have it."

"I'm a bully?" Shouted Gally. "I fought for what I believed was right, you did what? Hide in the mountain? Letting your friends get captured? Ready to leave without them?"

"We tried!" shouted Sonya getting up, Harriet trying to get her to step back. "You have no idea what happened! We had no choice."

"They came back for us," growled Minho. "That's enough for me."

"So why can't that be same for me?" shouted Gally.

"What's going on?!" Vince couldn't arrive earlier.

Brenda kept glancing back and fourth not knowing where to start.

—

"Wait!" Thomas called out once out of sight from the other. "You okay?"

Newt did not stopped, walking in to sit on the bed like even the way back from the fire place had been too much. His head was turning and his breathing erratic. He looked at his hands.

"I'm fine."

Thomas kneeled down in front of him. "That was stupid of him."

"It's fine."

"They like you," insisted Thomas. "They would trust as their leader, that's all they meant from it."

"Tommy don't." Newt breathed in, hands shaking on his knees.

Thomas could not wait anymore and grabbed the other boy's hands. It was too hard to see the boy in pain and just leave it on its own. Again.

"Just talk to me, Newt."

"It's nothing… I just don't want to run, okay?" asked Newt. "I just… I can't do it again."

"What?" tried Thomas, Newt's hands silvering between his fingers. "What can't you do again?"

"Please, Tommy," breathed Newt. "You know… Everybody knows…"

It was the first time they came that close to talk about it. About before. Newt tried to withdraw his hands but Thomas hold back.

"It was never meant to be me," muttered Newt. "Ably should have been there. Ably would have save more of them."

Thomas was too shocked to react.

"I was second in command because everyone pitied me," whispered Newt. "I'm not a great leader. I did the best I could but I can't repeat that."

"That's not true."

"I can't walk!" interrupted Newt breathing quickening. "And I might turn into a crank at anytime!"

"Newt."

"So many person are dead because of me. Of what I told them to do! Of the decisions I took!"

"WCKD did that, not you. You told me that, in the pit; we didn't have a choice," tried Thomas but Newt couldn't stop now. The words were getting out and there was no stopping.

"Thomas!" cut Newt exasperated. "You don't understand the responsibilities? There are those mornings when I can't even get up. I don't even want to! It's like my body don't want be here, like I can't move or breath," choked out Newt on hand coming up to dry his eyes. "I want to go home but there is nowhere because there never was a place. It was all WCKD! And I keep on thinking, what if Alby never found me that day in the maze, maybe more people would be alive, maybe if I wasn't-"

Thomas pushed his hand against the side of Newt's face drying some of the tears. "Don't do that to yourself. It's gonna be okay. We did the best we could and I don't think anybody could have done better than you. What ifs will get you nowhere."

"I know…" sighted Newt. He did not dare to move his hand still caught in Thomas's. "I just… I can't do it."

Thomas stood up. "You know I'm terrible with those pep talks because you're always the one who find what to say. But let me tell you, all of those things you are feeling, we all are dealing with it. But now we have the chance to start again, make this place a home, our home. We need to give it time."

Newt nodded slowly still not daring to look up.

"And you can walk," laughed Thomas. "You ran around with that limp while continuously being chased by cranks! Nobody is asking you to run a marathon."

That got a smile from the blond.

"And Brenda is doing amazing, what we gave you was the cure. You are not going to turn," promised Thomas letting the silence fall down between them. Thomas pushed Newt's face up. "Nothing will happen to you, not while I am alive."

"Tommy…" sighted Newt as Thomas's fingers trailing on his cheek.

"And all those people!" He said pointing to the rock outside. "Their names are also on me! I was part of WCKD, I tried to save Theresa!" he laughed bitterly. "I told you guys to trust her. It's all on me."

"It's not," mumbled Newt stopping Thomas's hand from running through his hair. "You saved us, Tommy. You saved me twice, at the very least."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, hazelnut eyes running on the blond's face. "My blood barely counts, and I don't count as being stabbed with a sword as "saved" really…"

"I remember the gun," said Newt looking down as he said those words his finger playing with his sleeves.

Thomas wasn't sure what too answer, they hadn't talk about it and to be honest Thomas hoped Newt didn't remember. He hadn't had another choice, he wasn't watching Newt blow is head off.

"And I would have died in the Glade," continued Newt eyes fixed on the blue sleeves of his sweat, not saying those words from courage but exhaustion. "I hated that place. It was only a matter of time before I tried again. "

Thomas wanted to reach out, take those ideas out of Newt's head to repeat again and again to the blond that it was over. That it would never happen again, that he had one word to say and Thomas would go back to find them and kill them.

"You have nothing to feel guilty for, Tommy," said Newt softly but coming back on less shakier and painful grounds. "You got us out, not Alby, not Minho, not me, you."

"We all did it," Thomas said trying to calm his mind, his fears and angers. "You can't change my mind, Newt."

Thomas sat back down next to him on the bed. "Like I can't change yours."

Newt shrugged still not looking up, "Maybe we can both share the burden then?"

Thomas smiled at that, because he could do that, he could do anything if it knew that Newt was by his side.

"And you're a great leader, you know?" asked Thomas so softly Newt did not even tried to fight it. Thomas nudged him with his elbow. "None of the Gladders would have followed me out. Without you, I would not have been able to even get back out there! We would have all died in that place. You centred me every time I was losing it. When I learned I was working with WCKD or when we were lost in the scorch…"

"Being depressed, or whatever is it you feel, doesn't define what you are," continued Thomas. "What happen in the maze doesn't have to hold you back, like you said to me in the Maze. We are here and we are different. Now we need a leader. And, all those things you just talked about makes you an amazing leader; you are practical, cold-headed but understanding and kind. You care more about the others than anything else."

Thomas chuckled, "You broke into the last safest building in the world to get your friend out as you were hallucinating and turning into a crank for fuck's sake. All the way through, with a limp and only me and Gally as backup!"

"You're a great backup," mumbled Newt smiling too.

"And cheeky enough to point out the flaws in my plans," Thomas laughed. "What did you tell us after we decided jumped out the window?"

Even hiding his face in his hands, Newt could not hide his blush. "You told us to jump and said you weren't sure if we would survive!"

"Bloody inspired," laughed Thomas holding his sides. "You stood there, like Great." He started mimicking or trying at least to pull off a Newt's accent. "Great. We are all bloody inspired."

"I don't sound like that," Newt laughed out-loud, and tried to push him off the bed. "Knock it off!"

Thomas decided to aim low and started tickling him. Newt could not stop laughing, as the other boy pushed him on the bed. The fight was rapidly ruled out with Thomas pinning down the blond against the mattress. Newt had fought bravely but Thomas did have the advantage of surprise from the beginning. Thomas had shown no pity and continued to torture Newt as he begged for mercy for another minute.

Finally both had to catch their breath, but still ready for another round, slightly on the edge because Thomas knew Newt would never give up that easily and Newt would never trust Thomas when he had that smirk on his lips.

Newt relaxed under Thomas weight stolen seconds flying by, eyes still dreamy from the laughter. Thomas's eyes fell down to the other boy's lips, realising that war was not the only option anymore and love seemed much more appealing.

It would have been so easy to kiss him, but Thomas was too scared to try. He had jumped off a tower, ran into the maze, and crossed the Scorch with that boy but somehow a kiss seemed even more reckless than what he could usually do.

Thomas tried to focus on something else but only noticed Newt seemed as lost as him. For the first time since Thomas met him in the maze Newt looked like he should always be, alive, healthy and happy with his cheek flushed from laughing out loud and blond strands falling all over his face. Before Thomas could rethink his course of action, someone bragged into the tent.

"Is everyone okay?!" Shouted Minho breathless from the sprint, a shotgun in hands. "I heard screaming!"

Thomas was too embarrassed and quickly sat up, as Newt started to crack up.

The two other boys turned to the blond thinking he finally drove himself crazy.

"We're bloody mental!" Newt tried to explain between fits of laughter and tears holding his sides. "Someone screams and your first reaction is to rush in with a shotgun!"

That said, both Thomas and Minho turned to stare at the gun in his hands, and around them, the tent, the normality of it all, the sea around, the speech Vince had given them when they arrived in the back of their heads. They all started laughing.

"I was just being careful!" tried to explain Minho between tears. That did not help, Newt laughing harder, rolling on the side. Minho tried to calm down and lessen the blame with a "Thomas would have done the same thing!"

Thomas shouted no and threw a pillow for good measure. Once pillows were involved, all hell broke lose, and the boys could not remember last time they laughed so hard.