Chapter Three

The hours dragged. Thomas couldn't sleep and he got up several times to pace; the action a release, channeling the tense energy that was continually building over the quiet calm that blanketed the Glade. Thomas almost resented it. The whole world had changed. Newt had been Stung and yet the air was settled and familiar as it was every night. He had to work to keep himself calm. Destroying part of the Homestead would not go down well with Alby or the others. It just got more difficult as the minutes dragged reluctantly into hours.

The first light of the oncoming morning found Thomas settled in his cross-legged position by the door, watching the slow and steady movement of light breathing across the sky. When it was light enough that Thomas could see the tree-line across the Glade silhouetted against the backdrop of the pinkening sky he stood, pressing his face to the door to ask his captors to let him out.

"It's morning. I spent the night. Everyone will be getting up now, and i can bet you have jobs to do that are more important than baby-sitting me."

He met FryPan's eye and the other boy shrugged, nodding.

"I should be starting breakfast soon, and i'm totally shucked after… yesterday."

He looked away as he spoke, and Thomas coughed.

"Yeah man, look… I'm sorry about that. But Newt-" his eyes began to burn again and he swallowed thickly, "It hit me hard, y'know?"

The bigger boy shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Jeff. Ben must have left at some point, because try as he might to angle his gaze through the spaces in the door, Thomas couldn't see him.

"Yeah man, i know. Newt was good people. He- Hell he was the only decent thing about this place First day."

FryPan's eyes were troubled and heavy, and he looked to Jeff again. The scrawny boy nodded, his dark eyes holding a terrible sadness as he looked to Thomas uncertainly. His voice lowered.

"Is it true?" he shifted away from FryPan's warning swat, "Is he really… You know, himself?"

Thomas looked him right in the eye. He could read the other boy's doubts, see how they were kept at bay only just by hope. They were all just kids, weren't they? They couldn't help but hope. He nodded as seriously as he could, his eyes never straying.

"He's in there all right. The poison- it's only masking him, like a cover over his head. He spoke to me guys, he did. He was really clear and he knew who he was and he wanted to know what had happened. Right before Gally showed up. Newt is still in there, i'm telling you."

Two sets of wary eyes looked back at him and Thomas absently licked his lips and swallowed, nervous that they believe him. How else could he convince the Gladers not to banish Newt? They needed to be working on a way to get him to surface from the poison's grip, not throw him out to the Grievers.

He didn't belong to the Maze.

Jeff looked to FryPan and Thomas was relieved when the GladeCook nodded solemnly, seeming to accept what he was saying. The two boys shifted to open the door.

"I gotta start breakfast. You just make sure and not cause any trouble with Gally and Alby, at least for a few hours you hear?"

Thomas smiled gratefully, the rush of air that greeted him as he was turned loose intoxicating.

Jeff caught his wrist.

"Man, they didn't even wrap you! They must've been mad as shuck. Here, hold still."

Thomas had forgotten all about his arm and looked down at the other boy's touch, startled. As though switched back on by the act of being noticed, the three deep gouges began to throb, and Thomas winced as Jeff's cool fingertips ran over the raw skin.

"Shit, these are deep man. How did you cope with that in there?"

Thomas shook his head, struggling to pay attention to the conversation or concern now that he was free to return to the Pit. He looked out across the morning as though the Pit called for him. His heart was racing again, kicked up from the pain in his arm and the longing to see Newt again. He was practically hyperventilating before Jeff let him go and he took off in a sudden sprint, surprising even himself.

He raced to the Pit side in a matter of minutes, and ignored the surprised and sleepy cries from the two Gladers posted as Guards. He knelt before the Hatch door, straining through the lingering darkness to see the blonde. He looked up when Ryan touched his shoulder, and when he recognised the boy he had punched the previous day he paled.

"Man i'm sorry, i didn't- I wasn't thinking straight…"

The boy didn't smile, but he shook his head.

"I know. It'll slide, but only this time."

Thomas nodded his gratitude as he tried to steady his breathing, every breath harder than the last. He was sure he'd pass out before the day was done at this rate. He swallowed. Ryan sighed.

"You pack a helluva punch, anyway Greenie. Cummon Vik. Let's go. It'll be breakfast soon."

As the other boy hesitated, Ryan took his elbow.

"Cummon, he isn't going to do anything too stupid, are you Thomas?"

Thomas's eyes had strayed back to the figure at the bottom of the pit, and it was almost painful to look away again to address the two boys. He tried to crack a smile and failed.

"No more so than usual."

"I didn't hear that." called Ryan, already making his way down the slope in the direction of the Kitchen. Thomas sighed with relief, turning back towards the Pit hatch with worry squirming in his gut.

Newt was sleeping, the rise and fall of his chest gentle and steady, and Thomas was immeasurably relieved to notice that the awful rasping breaths had faded into quiet puffs. He didn't do anything for several long moments but watch, the morning light reaching like thin fingers in amongst the shadows, one tuft of his light hair glinting like hidden treasure in the dirt. He let the rise and fall of Newt's chest level his own breathing, and he felt his heartbeat relax for the first time since he'd seen Newt and Ben stumble into the Glade.

Thomas lowered himself onto the dry ground, leaning back against one side of the Pit hatch. The Glade was waking up properly, the relaxed calls of the morning workers muffled and comfortable in the air. He watched the forms trekking across the open green, the atmosphere of a regular day unfolding as though the previous day's events had not occurred. It made Thomas feel vaguely irritated, but for now he was content to sit in the morning quiet and wait for whatever was coming next.

He turned his face to the side, leaning against the smooth surface of the bamboo as he watched his friend sleep.