"Newt!" Thomas scrambled upwards, taking half the bedsheets with him. "How do you feel?"
But Newt looked terrified, trying to move but crying at the pain the effort caused him. His eyes roamed panickedly around, his hands shaking, breathing rapidly.
"Newt, calm down, okay? Calm down. You're safe."
"Stop...please stop…" Newt moaned. He tried to curl in on himself, but couldn't "How many times...do you have to cut me...before you stop?"
It seemed like he was still in a dream, but his eyes were wide open, terrified, though glazed over. "Please...let me go...don't...DON'T HURT ME!" Newt screamed, thrashing about in his bed, so much that Thomas could see blood leaking out of torn stitches.
"HELP! Newt, calm down, PLEASE HELP!" Thomas screamed, trying to contain Newt.
"PLEASE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Newt continued screaming, so loud and raw that it made Thomas's head hurt.
"HELP ME!"
Minho rushed in, followed closely by a couple doctors, who immediately injected something into Newt's arm, and he fell still.
"What the hell just happened?" Thomas asked, horror-widened eyes still locked on Newt's sleeping form. The doctor sighed, and ran a hand down his chin.
"Normally, his body would have to work hard to heal from those wounds. But every time he wakes up, he's like that. Nightmares. After effects of torture. And that thrashing he does tears apart his stitches, and he doesn't calm down without the use of sedatives. The extra chemicals, the strain on his mind, and the constant drug induced coma is what's killing him, on top of life-threatening injuries."
"So if he didn't wake up screaming like that…" Minho started.
"He'd have a better chance of surviving." The doctor finished. "But it won't stop. And we're still worried about that gunshot wound. He's lucky he survived this long with that thing. Some of us think it's more humane just to let him go."
Thomas couldn't listen any longer. He pushed past Minho and left the medical tent, because he knew if he didn't, he might kick down the walls. Ignoring the curious glances, the frantic calls of his name and the panicked whispers, he crossed the compound, keeping his gaze hard on the ground in front of him.
Because the people we were before the Maze, they don't even exist any more. But what does matter is who we are now, and what we do right now.
Thomas started running.
Pick your ass up and finish what you started. Because if we do nothing, then Alby died for nothing and I can't have that.
There was nothing but the ground in front of him and a whirlwind of memories.
Well we followed you out here Thomas, and now you're telling me you have no idea where we're going and what we're doing.
Thomas pumped his arms harder, his breathing intensifying.
Alright, I get shotgun.
People. In the mountains. Mountain people. That's the plan?
We're all bloody inspired.
There is a place for us, somewhere out there. I don't know where it is, but I do know a lot of our friends have died for us to get this far.
And he was running so fiercely, pushing himself harder and harder, his lungs heaving, his legs burning.
We're with you Thomas.
The world was blurring, the only senses he was conscious of was the laboured breathing, the pounding heartbeat, the blazing muscles, the fact that he could still go faster...
We started this together. May as well end it that way too.
Finally, his legs gave out from exhaustion, and Thomas collapsed to the ground, heaving and wheezing as the surroundings cleared, but he stayed sprawled out on the beach, his body slowly returning to normal.
You can't give up. I won't let you.
"Damnit Newt, I'm not letting you give up either," Thomas murmured into the sand, and with a small grunt of exertion, he pushed himself up and sprinted back in the direction of the medical hut.
The bang that the door made on the adjacent wall made the doctors inside the hut jump as Thomas burst through. He zeroed in on the doctor closest to Newt, who was filling something into a needle, and with a distressed cry, he lunged forwards.
"No! You can't!"
"Listen son, he doesn't have a chance,"
Another doctor held him back as Thomas tried to reach the syringe, to destroy it, rendering it unusable, as the doctor holding said needle still stood, frozen in shock.
"I won't let you! I won't let you do it!" Thomas was desperately sobbing, throwing himself forwards to reach Newt, but each time being restrained.
"He's not going to wake up again, Thomas. The last sedative was too much on his system, and he won't wake from this coma. His wounds won't heal, and the kindest thing to do is to end his suffering." The doctor tried to sound comforting, but he spoke in a strict voice that made Thomas feel like he was being scolded.
Thomas visibly slumped in the other doctor's arms, lower lip trembling as he focused on the ground.
"Can-can I least say goodbye?" he asked in a much smaller voice, and the doctors parted to let him through.
"Newt…" he whispered dejectedly. "I'm sorry."
He took Newt's hand, not wanting him to be alone for his passing, and lowered his forehead onto Newt's cold knuckles. But suddenly, a soft hand gently touched his head, tenderly grazing Thomas's hair.
"Tommy."