A/N: This is a long chapter. But I really wanted to include the whole scene. The dialogue is taken directly from The Death Cure.

The day those immune shanks came to visit was the worst day I had. Tommy, Minho, Brenda- what were they doing here? What did they want? I told them to get lost- I told the guard to tell them and I bloody yelled it at them myself.

They wanted me to come back with them. How stupid of them. I couldn't just go back. Not with this shuck brain. I was going crazy. I already was crazy. If I went back, who was to say I wouldn't snap their necks or break their noses or knock them out with my fists only to feast on their still functioning but oh-so-bloody delicious brains?

My head was hurting more that day that any other time my infected brain would let me remember. I was not in the condition to deal with these people, especially that shuck-face Tommy. How could he be doing this to me? This was worse than throwing us in that bloody Maze. He was letting me go insane. He was one of my best friends, one of my brothers, and he was letting me suffer like this.

And all I could think was that I was going crazy because I wasn't dead. And I wasn't dead because of Thomas.

I had given him that note in confidence. I knew he would be able to do it. Shouldn't he understand?

It felt like my brain was on fire at this point. My whole body ached, and words began to jumble in my head. Those so-called friends of mine just needed to leave. I couldn't take much more of this before this shuck disease took over entirely.

The looks on their faces were filled with sympathy and pity. Almost like I was some shuck dog who was missing a leg or something.

But I wasn't missing a leg. I was missing my brain.

And that look was what finally sent me over the edge. I couldn't stand being looked at like that. I just wanted them to leave me alone.

I grabbed the launcher beside me (which, I might add, wasn't terribly hard to obtain) and pointed straight at Thomas. I wasn't dead, and that was his fault. So if one of them was going to suffer because of me, it deserved to be him.

"Whoa, there," Minho tried to calm me down. Because that would work. "Slim it nice and calm. There's no need to point a shuck Launcher at my face while we talk. Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

"I stole it. Took it from a guard who made me…" I strained my crazed brain to come up with the word. "Unhappy."

I knew this wouldn't be enough to make them leave- not yet. "I'm…not well. Honestly, I appreciate you buggin' shanks coming for me. I mean it." And I really did mean it. Somehow in that moment knowing that they cared lessened the pain just a bit. But just a bit and only for a little while.

"But," my voice strained, and I was afraid that it might start to crack, "this is where it bloody ends. This is when you turn around and walk back out that door and head for your Berg and fly away. Do you understand me?"

That was a stupid question- of course they understood. But would they act?

"No, Newt, I don't understand," Minho said. Liar.

"We risked our necks to come to this place and you're our friend and we're taking you home. You wanna whine and cry while you go crazy, that's fine. But you're gonna do it with us, not with these shuck Cranks."

Of course I'd rather go crazy with those guys- the problem was, I had no intention of going crazy at all. How had they not figured that out? Anger boiled inside of me until I was sure one of my bloody organs would explode. I jumped up, rage taking over.

"I am a Crank, Minho! I am a Crank! Why can't you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?"

I had lost control of my body at this point and could feel myself shaking more with every word. But I wasn't done.

"And you, Tommy. You've got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me to leave with you. A lot of bloody nerve. The sight of you makes me sick."

I could see the confusion in Tommy's eyes. Hadn't he read the note? Hadn't he known how bloody important it was? Obviously not.

Something in my brain softened, and I put down the Launcher.

"Newt, I don't get it. Why are you saying all this?" Tommy said quietly. So quietly I had to strain to hear it. And that just made everything hurt worse. But I had to keep myself calm.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm sorry. But I need you to listen to me. I'm getting worse by the hour and I don't have many sane ones left. Please leave."

I never wanted anything so much before in my life. More than I wanted to get out of that Maze or survive the buggin' Scorch. I just wanted them to leave.

Tommy was going to try to argue.

"No! No more talking from you. Just…please. Please leave. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to do this one thing for me. As sincerely as I've ever asked for anything in my life, I want you to do this for me." It pained me to say those words, both emotionally and physically.

"There's a group I've met that are a lot like me," I continued, "and they're planning to break out and head for Denver later today. I'm going with them."

I paused to collect my wits. My sanity. I had to just survive this a little while longer.

"I don't expect you to understand, but I can't be with you guys anymore. It's gonna be hard enough for me now, and it'll make it worse if I know you have to witness it. Or worst of all, if I hurt you."

That was my biggest fear. After all the abuse and trials I've been through, after seeing lives taken by Grievers and knives and lightening, I refused to hurt anyone more. Or at least, the sane side of me refused.

"So let's say our bloody goodbyes and then you can promise to remember me from the good old days." I tried to inject some sarcasm in that last part, but it just came out flat.

Minho still didn't understand. "I can't do that," he said.

I lost it again. "Shuck it! Do you have any clue how hard it is to be calm right now? I said my piece and I'm done. Now get out of here! Do you understand me? Get out of here!"

I sat back down and went back to just trying to calm myself down. My brain had started to feel like it was on fire again. My body shook and ached and my breathing had become strained and jumpy.

By the time I looked back at the group, Minho and some Cranks were in a fight. I couldn't take it.

"Stop it!" I screamed. "Stop it now!" I grabbed the Launcher. I was done with this. "Stop or I'll start shooting and not give a buggin' piece of klunk who gets hit."

My finger tightened around the trigger and I didn't even bother to notice which of the Cranks got hit.

"I told him to stop," I said quietly, almost as if my insane brain was justifying it to my normal brain. I turned the weapon on my old friends. "Now you guys leave. No more discussion. I'm sorry."

"You're going to shoot me old pal?" Minho asked cockily. It brought back memories of our old Glade life, something that just ultimately made all of this worse.

"Go. I asked nicely. Now I'm telling. This is hard enough. Go."

"Newt, let's go outside."

"Go! Get out of here!" I stepped closer to them. WHY WOULDN'T THEY JUST LEAVE!?

Finally, Tommy of all people got it through his shuck head. "Let's go. Come on."

Minho seemed surprised. He seemed sad. "You can't be serious." Tommy nodded. Minho said something else that I couldn't hear. I was tired of it.

"I'm sorry. I'm…" I stuttered, "I'm going to shoot if you don't go. Now."

Finally, they turned and left. Slowly, but all the same.

I sat down and left the Launcher at my feet. If I had been able to produce tears, I'm sure I would have cried.