Author's note ~ Hope you enjoy.
Adrian's worry continued to grow – he wouldn't eat, he started losing weight, his face was covered in an unkempt crop of stubble.
In the late afternoon a full four days after being dragged from the maze, Newt finally woke up.
Newt came to slowly, his thoughts fuzzy and disjointed. He felt as though he'd been asleep for ages, and groggily wondered if he'd wake up only find he was now an old, old man. The thought made him want to giggle as he wound his way through the fog and confusion. He was vaguely aware of the rumbling of a deep voice and felt like it should be familiar, like he should know who it was. The same voice had been speaking to him for all the years he'd been asleep and, while he couldn't make sense of the words, the warm steady tone kept him company while he lingered in the dark. Less comforting were the vivid, convoluted dreams that had struck sporadically and with perfect clarity, only to fade away just as quickly as they'd come, fading out of his memory and leaving him with a vague sense of foreboding.
He felt no pain, no loneliness, no fear. The voice cradled him, lulled him into a feeling of security and contentment. Maybe I should stay here, he thought dreamily, stay here where it's warm and safe and gentle. The voice will take care of me.
Consciousness got closer and he weakly tried to push it away, wanting nothing more than to burrow back down into the protective arms of the darkness. As he got closer to waking pain and sensation began trickling back into his limbs, until he felt as though he'd been alternately beaten with a large stick and wrapped in a suffocating lead blanket. The voice began to become clearer, and Newt could start making out the actual words.
"...swear to God, your buddy Minho's got one serious case of narcissism. You'd think he'd be a bit more humble, living rough and tumble with so many other strong, capable guys, but noooooo. I mean, the other night..."
That's right, he had a friend named Minho, didn't he? And there was Alby, and Jeff. Old friends, who'd been with him for as long as he could remember. And someone else, someone new but no less dear. Why couldn't he remember the name?
"...I think he'd just jealous, to be honest. He really hates it when someone comes to me instead of him; he always feels the need to be the center of attention. I wish you could have seen his face the other day – the new greenie, Billy, asked Minho some question or other and before he could even answer, one of the builders cut in and said 'You should go ask Adrian, he'll know.'! Minho's face was absolutely apoplectic! I thought his head might literally explode from the scandal of it all!"
Adrian. That was the name he was searching for.
No, not Adrian.
Addy.
The rediscovery of the name sparked a mental mudslide, memories and images tumbling back in a frenzy of color and texture. Some areas remained blank or murky, but the majority of things came back to him. All the improvements they'd made to the glade since their awful beginning here. The runners he'd worked side-by-side with for over a year. Frypan. Ben. Clint. All the other gladers.
And of course, Addy.
Gone were any thoughts of retreating back to the depths; he was right at the surface now, fighting to fully wake up. He could feel the pressure of a warm hand, lightly cupped around his own still fingers. He tried to force his eyes open but someone may as well have glued them shut. Adrian prattled on, talking about everything and nothing as Newt fought a hideous internal battle.
"...anyway, I'm sure you'll have a good laugh about it all when you wake up. Although, come to think of it, if you're out for much longer they might just start calling you greenie again. Come on, kid, nap time's over. Time to get your ass back up and moving."
Newt tried, mentally squirming and twisting as he struggled to break the surface.
"I mean it kid, you've been out long enough. Rise and shine."
He couldn't open his eyes, but he thought he'd managed to wiggle his toes a little. Encouraged, he focused everything he had on one more heavy duty push.
"Kid...Newt. Please. I need you to wake up."
Adrian hung his head, the plea bitter on his tongue, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He felt about a hundred years old; creaky and brittle, hunched from sitting on the same low stool he'd occupied for the last four days. Physically he was almost at his limit – he barely slept, he couldn't bring himself to eat. Not with the stress and guilt of the whole situation festering away inside him. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an ineffective attempt to ease the throbbing headache that had plagued him for days. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.
The fingers in his twitched, ever so slightly, before slowly curling inward and giving his hand a weak squeeze.
He looked up sharply, almost willing to believe he'd imagined it.
"Kid, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand again if you can hear me."
Another weak squeeze. Adrian's heart lifted, and he let out his first genuine laugh since Alby had stumbled back through that closing gate.
"Hey kid, hey! Welcome back to the world of the living. Do you know who I am?"
Newt's lips moved, the word a hoarse whisper forced through a stiff jaw. It felt like his mouth was full of sand.
"Aaaaaa...dy."
"Yeah, that's right, it's Addy. Come on back now, all the way. You can do it."
Newt's heavy lids trembled from the effort but he was able to lift them enough to get a blurry image of a lean face, shadowed in scruffy stubble, leaning down towards him. Adrian smiled wide enough to almost crack his face, unshed tears of relief shining as he celebrated the fact that Newt was awake.
"You're probably pretty disoriented, pretty confused. That's okay, it'll all pass. God, am I glad to see you!"
"Aaaa...dy...wha...happnnnnd...I..."
"Don't worry about it now." Adrian hushed him gently, releasing the boy's hand and delicately lifting first one eyelid then the other to assess his responses. Briskly moving on and checking Newt's heart rate and temperature, he continued the one sided dialogue cheerfully. "Your only job at the moment is to heal. We'll have all the time we need to catch up on everything else after you get some strength back. Are you feeling much pain?"
Newt managed a garbled grumble in response and Adrian immediately brought over a small jar of painkilling medicine, dutifully prepared every morning, just in case. It wouldn't cloud the mind or force sleep as the others had, it was just to ease the pain and relaxed the boy's abused muscles. He gently lifted Newt's head and held the jar to his chapped lips, controlling the flow carefully. Newt choked a little at the first swallow but eventually, with Adrian's help, he drank the whole dose. As Adrian turned to set the jar aside, the boy mumbled something he didn't quite catch. He leaned back in close to try and hear.
"What did you say, kid?"
"tsssts...like...klnnnnk..."
Adrian laughed breezily, the sudden break in tension leaving him almost in a state of euphoria. He placed a hand on the boy's head and watched, listening to Newt's breath slow as he fell into a lighter, more natural sleep. Knowing full well how exhausting it was to be in pain, understanding how much effort it took to make your way back for even a few minutes, Adrian knew it would take a while yet before the boy could stay awake for any length of time. But time they had, in abundance, so he closed his own eyes and said a few silent words of gratitude.
The worst of the danger had passed.
Newt was in and out a lot in the next couple of days. It felt as though every time he surfaced, a different face was hovering nearby. Jeff, Alby, Clint.
And Adrian. Always Adrian.
Whether front and center or fading into the background, every time he opened his eyes Adrian was there, watching over him. When the pain would start to overwhelm him he was fed any number of noxious tasting brews that would ease the agony and leave him drowsy, allowing him to slip back into sleep, waking only to repeat the same scene over and over again. On the second day after he awoke the medjacks were confident enough in his current stage of recovery to remove the numerous bindings that lashed his body to the table.
His strength appeared to be returning and his periods of wakefulness became more frequent; he found he was able to stay conscious and clear headed a little longer each time. The blanks spots also started to fill in, the misplaced memories of his recent actions returning fully intact. The third afternoon after his reawakening Jeff, Clint and Alby joined the ever present Adrian in the office. Newt lay trapped on the table, trying not to sweat as he looked from face to face; having all four of them in here together meant exactly one thing, and he was wasn't looking forward to it in the least.
They were here for answers.
"We're all here, and since you're awake," Alby started, "I figure it's as good a time as any for you to fill us in, and tell us just what the shuck happened out there."
Newt rolled his eyes; Alby was, as ever, a master of diplomacy, subtlety and tact.
"How you got out there aside, what did you see? What did all...THIS to you? I've never heard of a griever – "
"It wasn't a griever." Newt deadpanned, cutting the leader off.
"What was it then? What got you? Can you describe it? If there's something else out there..."
"Nothing got me." Newt said dispassionately , carefully not looking at anyone but Alby. "I fell."
"You fell." Alby asked, incredulous. Clint and Jeff exchanged confused glances; relieved that there didn't appear to be any fresh threat to contend with, but at a loss as to how an experienced runner could have sustained such severe injuries from something so innocuous.
Adrian remained still, leaning against the wall of the office, his face composed and blank.
"So, what, you tripped over your own two feet and that's how you ended up with – what was it, Adrian?"
"Shattered leg, dislocated shoulder, cracked ribs, concussion, cuts, scrapes, bruises." Adrian rattled off impassively, his gaze focused intently on Newt's face.
"I climbed the ivy to get a better vantage point. I must have lost my grip." Newt said carefully, less than willing to share the actual circumstances with the others, but not wanting to outright lie. Alby's suspicious face was making him nervous, twitchy – and defensive.
"Look, I lost my grip and took a tumble. Shame on me for being clumsy." He made the mistake of glancing towards the man, and those searching green eyes bored into his. "It was just a bloody accident."
Adrian turned and braced his hands on the solid surface of the work counter, using it to keep himself upright on suddenly weak knees. His stomach churned greasily. His heart ached.
And he knew.
The second he'd locked eyes with the boy he'd known.
A kaleidoscope of of feelings blew through him, leaving behind a volatile mix just waiting for a spark. He held himself in check by the the tips of his fingers.
"Everybody out. I need the room."
"Hey man, you okay? What's up?" Jeff asked nervously, the jagged, raspy cadence in the man's voice startling him – and making him more than a little uncomfortable. Clint and Alby stared at the man, instantly on edge, disturbed by the sudden change in atmosphere.
"I said, everybody out." Adrian demanded, refusing to turn and look at any of them.
The three able bodied boys looked around the room, glancing uneasily at each other, clearly torn.
The tension in was thick enough to walk on; Newt, pale and bruised but defiant, all the same. Adrian could have been carved from granite, a harsh sculpture of barely contained emotion. No one spoke as the two medjacks and the leader slowly slipped from the room – all three afraid of what may happen in their absence, each secretly relieved to escape the highly charged scene. It felt as though they had stumbled into a bomb shelter just in time, shaking and sick as they waited for the first shell to drop.
Adrian closed and barred the door after their exit, ensuring complete privacy for his chat with Newt. He kept his back to the table, not trusting himself to look at boy, bracing his balled hands on the thick wood of the door for support. When he found his voice the words came out too cold and flat to be an actual question.
"What did you do."
"What does it matter?" Newt shot back, a sneer in his voice. "It's not like you're planning on sticking around anyway. Why should what I do – or not do – matter to you?"
"You jumped."
Again, more a statement than a question, the words devoid of all emotion and inflection. From his vantage point on the table Newt couldn't see the man's face, couldn't read the pain, the sorrow, the betrayal so clearly painted on his features. He couldn't see the tight, tense muscles in Adrian's shoulders, or the way his fisted hands trembled against the wooden door.
"My choice, my right." Newt said mockingly, too far gone into his own anger and bravado to care how his words sounded. He closed his eyes, hearing the man's voice in his memory speaking those very same words, the sentiment echoing in his ears. "Like you have any bloody call to gripe at me over my decisions."
He heard Adrian's breath hitch in once, then again, taking it as an expression of surprise and shock rather than despair.
"This...this isn't your only option. This isn't the way out for you." Adrian whispered, the words screaming in the emotionally charged air.
"Really? Oh, do tell." Newt's reply dripped with sarcasm as he shook his head, tired, in pain. Defeated.
"What was it you said Addy? 'There is no happy ending. It's already over. The only way out is death.' Or was it 'Death comes for everyone, eventually.' Why should I bother, why should I fight and bleed and hurt, when we're never gonna shuckin' get out of here? Why shouldn't I just check out? You obviously don't care about me...about us. If you did, you'd at least try to stick around, try to shucking help us. But then, you already have your answer, you've made your choice, about what's best for you. Knowing that, knowing you're putting your own selfishness above our welfare, what possible reason can you give to convince me I'm better off staying? What's the bloody point?!"
Adrian moved silently, getting to the bed in three long steps. His vision literally tinted red, he grabbed Newt by the front of his tightly wrapped bandages and yanked his torso up, leaning down until they were nose to nose. Newt gasped at the sudden sharp shock of pain and his eyes flew open. Shocked, he instinctively focused on the man's face, dazedly taking in Adrian's furious expression.
The man's misty green eyes were swimming, and a lone tear had escaped to trace a clear trail down his cheek. It wasn't just anger that Newt saw, it wasn't rage that warped the man's face – it was anguish; a pain so deep and brutal it twisted his features into someone unrecognizable, stunning the boy.
"You'd use my words? You, who have a chance, a real fucking chance, to get out of here and actually get a shot at the rest of your life? You'd toss it all away just so you can throw it in my face? You have the goddamn nerve to call me selfish?" He dropped Newt back to the table with a painful oof!
"You have no idea what's at stake here, boy." Although the tone was venomous his words shuddered with emotion, and he stepped away from the table before he could lose it and grab the injured boy again.
"I lost everything the minute I got here. Everything. My family, my friends...my chance to breathe free air, or see my next birthday. I wonder, can you understand that concept? Do you, in that self absorbed brain of yours, have any idea what I would do to see the people I love, one more time? I can't think of anything I wouldn't give, for just five minutes to say goodbye."
Newt was thunderstruck by the raw pain in the man's voice. He tried to push himself up to his elbows, hissing in pain.
"Adrian, I..."
"I'll never see them again. And they'll never know what happened to me." Adrian said distantly, another tear sliding down his face. "Every day that I'm stuck in here, they're out there, searching, desperately looking. Hoping. Never knowing what's become of me. And then, when I'm dead..."
Newt flinched at the bluntness of the statement, and the sudden acidity in the man's voice.
"They'll keep looking, keep hoping. For weeks, months, years, they'll just. Keep. Looking. I'll have rotted away to dust and bones, and they'll still hope, still believe that one day, ONE DAY they'll see me again. I'll be gone."
Adrian jerked a shoulder, trying to make the movement casual but only looking more miserable and bitter than before.
"And they'll still be here. They'll suffer and worry, fear and obsess until maybe, one day, they're lucky enough to stumble onto whatever's left of me. Failing that? They'll look and suffer and worry for the rest of their lives. I know how that feels." Adrian said brokenly, turning his face away. "When I was young I didn't have a lot of friends around my age. I was only really close with two others, and we were inseparable – more brothers than friends. After the disaster...I never saw them again. Despite logic telling me they couldn't have survived, despite common sense and a realistic view of the world, despite everything, I've still spent more than half my life searching for them. I don't want to believe they're gone. Everywhere I go, every new group I encounter, I feel a little flutter in my stomach; an aching, painful kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll see them again."
"God, Addy, I'm sorry – "
Adrian whirled around to look at the boy again, his eyes scorched dry by the sheer heat of his gaze, his tortured tone hardening in an instant.
"You're sorry? Sorry for my grief, for the pain of my family, for the loss of my friends? This isn't about me, kid. I didn't tell you all that to earn your pity. This is about you."
"I – "
"Yeah, you. You, who has no concept of how hard, how shucking brutal it is to try and accept the consequences of doing the right thing. You, who hears half a goddamn conversation, one that has nothing to do with you, and decide...what, exactly? It's the end of days, better abandon ship? He doesn't care, why should I? You figure it's better to leave your friends – your family – behind to suffer and mourn, and fight through the challenges of this place on their own?"
Instantly angry, Newt tried to snap back.
"Like you've got any bloody right – "
"You're a coward, Sally." Adrian snapped, cutting him off yet again. "Wallowing in teenage angst and ready to throwing it all away because things aren't going your way. Poor little you."
"A coward?!" Newt choked, outraged.
"Yeah, a coward." Adrian spat, curling his lip, his anger flying through the air like razor blades. "I'll let you in on a little secret, kid. You can't always get what you want, and life doesn't always go your way. Sometimes it even hurts like hell. But everyone has someone or something worth fighting for, worth staying for. That's the bloody point."
Adrian could feel himself loosing control, could feel the pain fueled vitriol rising up and threatening to spew out. He turned on his heel and heaved the bar off the door, breathing heavily.
"Some things in life are worth dying for. Your crisis of confidence isn't one of them. "
He stormed through the open door, out of the building and passed the trio of concerned boys hanging around the front entrance. He would have kept right on going if Jeff and Clint hadn't run after him, easily catching up.
"Hey...hey!" Hey man, what's going on?!" Jeff demanded, trying to keep up with the man's ground eating strides.
Adrian just kept going, trying to put some distance between him and the kid before he could do something truly regrettable.
"Adrian – you gotta talk to us, here." Clint asserted, edging in front of his distraught mentor and subtly turning his shoulder to block his forward progress. "We don't know what to do for you if you don't talk to us."
"I can't be here right now." Adrian bit out shakily, barely resisting the urge to shove the well meaning boys aside. "Let me go."
Jeff started to splutter protests but Clint nodded his understanding, stepping in and taking the man's rock tight shoulders in his steady hands.
"You've been on this for days; it's passed time for you take a break." Clint agreed, watching the man with knowing eyes. "Take all the time you need, Jeff and I'll keep things running smooth in the meantime. But do come back, hey?" He said, putting a saucy gleam in his eye and adding an easy joke to try and break a little of the tension. "Just don't think you'll be getting out of work so easy the next time."
Adrian let out a strangled parody of a laugh, giving Clint's arm a halfhearted squeeze in thanks before edging past them and making a beeline for the woods, running full out towards the safety – and privacy – of home.
After a quick check up from Clint, which Newt endured petulantly, Alby asked for his own bit of alone time with the patient. The door had barely closed behind the medjack when Alby jumped right in.
"What the hell is going on here, Newt?" He demanded, pulling up the stool and watching Newt with dark, measuring eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it." Newt turned his head away, tired and wrung out from the highs and lows of the emotional roller-coaster he'd already ridden once today. He had absolutely no desire to get back in line and take another spin. "I just want to sleep, alright?"
"No." Alby stated equitably, "I think you've slept enough for now. It's time for you to give me some answers. What happened out there, in the maze?"
"I don't want to talk about it." Newt repeated, pouting like a child and still refusing to look at the leader. "Leave me alone."
"You went out there, despite having been put on the bench. You left the glade, against direct orders. I dragged you back in pieces." Alby was working towards angry now, frustrated by his friend's refusal to respond, sickened by the suspicions he'd been trying to deny for days.
"When you stepped through that gate...you never planned on coming back, did you?"
"So? So what if I didn't?" The hostile, hissy whisper confirmed the older boy's worst fear.
"I've been out of my mind with worry over you for days – days! And you just...why'd you do it? Are you insane?! What the shuck were you thinking?! "
Now Newt turned to look at Alby, locking eyes with him, outrage on his face.
"Me? You're judging me, now? You bloody hypocrite! I didn't exactly hear you kicking up a fuss when Adrian told you all about his little plan to die, about how it was his choice! And you just condone it, agree with it? What kind of leader are you? Why should I have to justify anything to you?"
"What are you – "
"I shuckin' heard you!" Newt shouted, his face red with anger. "By the farm! All tight and cozy, all chummy-chummy as he's making plans to leave and off himself! Why? Because he doesn't care about us, because we're never shuckin' getting out of here, and he knows it's the only way out!"
"We'll get out." Alby stated, deadly serious all of a sudden. His face slumped into lines of cold pity as he shook his head at his old friend. "The next time you decide to believe something you've heard, you may want to verify all the facts before you work yourself into a fit."
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"I was fighting with Adrian, trying to get him to agree to stay here when they try to take him back. He refused, saying that whoever's on the other side will start killing us off until they get what they want. He's not willing to let us die. That's one reason he's decided he has to go."
"Like klunk. The bastard probably – "
"The other is his family."
"His family?" Newt parroted, bewildered. "What's his family got to do with this?"
"The creators, as he calls them, want to get their hands on his family. If they can take him alive, torture him, break him...he's afraid they'll use him as bait to get their hands on his family. He loves them, Newt, more than anything." Alby said, his tone hard and cold. "I heard it, in his voice, when he was talking about them. To save them, he'd sacrifice himself. He's not planning on killing himself for the experience. He's terrified, but... he'll still stand as a shield in front of the people he loves. If anything's worth dying for, it's that."
"His...why would they want his family?"
"Who the shuck knows? One thing I do know, though, is he's got a little sister, our age or younger. And she's his whole damn world. He'd do anything for her."
Alby got up, turning his back on his old friend in disgust.
"Oh, and as far as he's concerned? He doesn't have a choice in the matter. It's their lives, and our lives, or his. Still think he doesn't care?"
Alby exited the room, leaving the speechless boy wrapped in a painful silence.
He thought about the hard, angry words he'd thrown at the man, the accusations, the insults. He recalled the tears of pain in Adrian's eyes. Every drop of blood drained out of his face as he finally understood.
"Oh God. What have I done?"
Author's note ~ See you next chapter!
~Ruby