A/N: This week I've been thinking quite a lot about future. The future of my own as well as the future of this fic. And I must say, things are starting to work out in both cases. The plotline is taking shape brilliantly, finally! Here's chapter 6 for you, I wish you keep enjoying it! A bit of action ahead!

I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down

Newt spent most of his day working on the Fields. There were always weeds to get rid of, water to carry for the plants and many other things to take care of. Newt had always found the physical work immensely satisfying. He liked working with his hands and tending plants felt natural to him in some way. The fact that the Gladers produced most of their food by themselves made Newt feel proud of all of them. Organization and order helped him feel like they could have at least some sense and stability in their otherwise restricted and outright crazy lives.

In the late afternoon the grumbling of his stomach and the delicious smells drifting from the kitchen lead Newt finally to take a break from work and head off for dinner. As he passed the Homestead, he couldn't help but sneak glances at the group of Builders bustling around the construction. He spotted Thomas amongst them, his shirt sticking to his sweaty skin as he carried heavy-looking branches beside the wall of the building they were currently working on to repair.

Newt didn't dare to stop by and interrupt their work. He didn't exactly have the energy to confront Gally and the others with an empty stomach. And the Greenie seemed to manage just fine. As fine as one could with the Builders, anyway.

There was peaceful enough in the kitchen as Newt stepped over the threshold. He stopped by the counter and filled his plate with mashed potatoes, steak and beans. He walked over to his favourite corner and sat down, starting to eat his dinner by himself.

This time no one came to interrupt his meal time. Usually Newt enjoyed the company of the other Gladers but today he just didn't think he would make such a great company to anyone. He snatched the last of his meal to his mouth and found his eyes descending on Frypan who was doing the dishes while whistling some odd melody. As he rose from the table, he decided to take care of another one of his responsibilities as he was already there.

Newt went around the counter and leaned on the wall behind Frypan who was still whistling by himself, totally oblivious to the fact he had got company.

"Cheers, Frypan," Newt greeted the boy before him.

A heavy, soapy pan slipped from the cook's hands and hit the ground with a clatter as the boy visibly jumped and whirled around, gasping for air, his eyes widened.

"Shuck it, Newt! What the hell do you think you're doing, creeping up on people like that! I almost got a heart attack, for Christ's sake," the visibly irritated boy spluttered as he wiped his hands to his apron.

Newt snickered and crouched down to raise the pan from the ground, offering it to the cook. Frypan snatched it from his hands, still scowling at Newt. He turned the pan around in his hands, searching for damage.

"You're lucky it's still intact. It would've been all your fault if we had had to live without my fried steaks before the shucking Creators felt willing to send us a new pan," Frypan grumbled, putting his precious tool carefully back to the sink.

"Sorry, mate. Should've figured how much you care for your dear pans," Newt chuckled, amused.

Frypan snorted derisively. "Whatever. Did you have something to say to me or were you just amusing yourself by scaring the shuck out of poor, oblivious people?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

Newt nodded in acknowledgement. "Actually, yes, I did have something to ask you about." As Frypan gestured with his hand for Newt to continue, the blonde-haired boy shifted slightly before opening his mouth again.

"Well, as we know, our Greenie, Tommy, spent the previous day with you. And as I'm one of the people keeping up with his dealings in the Glade, I'd just like to know how Tommy did here. Would he make a better cook than you?" Newt smirked at his last statement and watched as Frypan snorted again, clearly amused.

"Thomas's one great kid. Works hard, tries harder, has one brilliant sense of humor. Gives hell of a nice company," Frypan chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. "Still, too restless for the kitchen. I fear he might actually become claustrophobic here, staying in one room for most of the day. That Greenie needs grander schemes. He's got pretty clever mind in that head of his. Not enough patience to cook some delicious minestrone, though," Frypan licked his lips at the mere thought of the soup, breathing in through his nose as if being able to smell it in the air.

Newt listened closely, his mind eagerly collecting any new information and insight possible considering the dark-haired Greenie. He wasn't fully aware of the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth but instead kept gazing pensively out of the window that gave a view over the Homestead as Frypan started babbling about the finesse of soul it took to be able to distinguish just the right amount of spices and how few people actually ever had the patience to master that particular skill. Eventually Newt snapped out of his daze and turned his attention back to the cook before him.

"So, from what I can gather, you can keep your pans all to yourself," Newt summarized, turning his head to the side.

Frypan was nodding along. "I guess you're right. I'd sure keep that shank around if only I didn't see he's clearly meant for something bigger. Not many Greenies I've dealt with have-"

Frypan's words were cut off by loud shouts and cracks erupting outside. Both boys frowned, confused. Newt's gaze snapped back to the window and he felt his eyes widen as he took few shaking steps to grip the frame of the window, staring out in disbelief.

The group of Builders had formed a circle beside the Homestead, cheering and sneering loudly. In the center of the group two boys were engaged in a fierce combat, kicking, hitting and wrestling the hell out of each other. Newt couldn't make out the actual fighters as the Builders around them kept moving as well. Suddenly one of the boys stepped aside and made a clear view for Newt to observe the situation. As it became clear just who were out there dueling, Newt felt all color drain from his face as shock shivered all over his body, his limbs starting to feel numb.

"Tommy.." a whisper filled with terror slipped past his lips. Suddenly his sight became crystal clear and blood rushed through his veins as he finally registered what his eyes were seeing.

In a second Newt whirled around on his heels and strode out of the kitchen, knocking several Gladers to the ground in his pace but not stopping for a moment. As soon as he was out of the door, his eyes were glued to the spot where the group of Builders, and already even more other Gladers, were being gathered. There was only one thought in his head that kept screaming at him to hurry up, one voice that repeated the Greenie's name in his head all over again..

His legs didn't slow down until he'd pushed through the circle of boys around Thomas and Ben.

"STOP! What the bloody fuck do you shuckheads think you're doing?!" the shout was so loud it hurt Newt's throat but he couldn't have cared less. As the boys didn't even seem to realize someone else had spoken, Newt growled and dove straight into the melee, pushing Ben off of Thomas, catching the boy off guard and sending him sprawled to the ground, dumbfounded, but only for a second.

"Stop it right now, both of you! I won't tolerate any-" Newt shouted, standing between the two of the boys, his hands in tight fists, veins popping out of the skin of his arms and blood rushing through his body, until Ben effortlessly jumped up again and smacked Newt straight to his face so fast he had no time to react.

Newt lost his footing and fell to the ground as a sharp, throbbing pain spread over his left cheek. His arms grazed the little rocks under him and he stared at Ben with a murderous gaze as the blonde, broad-shouldered boy hovered over him, sneering with a wildness in his eyes that sent shivers of cool horror down Newt's spine. Something was definitely off with that gaze.

As Ben was about to open his mouth to retort one thing or another, Thomas suddenly rose from the ground, his shirt ruined, bleeding and panting hard, interrupting him with a trembling shout, "Don't you dare touch him! Don't you dare-" And he kicked Ben behind the knee, making the boy howl in pain, and attacked him again with his fists.

Newt couldn't quite believe that this was really happening – or on second thoughts, he really shouldn't be surprised, it was Thomas and Ben after all – but this was really getting out of hand. Badly.

Newt started to rise from the ground and as he prepared himself to interfere again, he was a bit startled when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Frypan nodded him with a severe expression on his face, a few other Gladers along with him. Two sturdy boys stepped forward, seizing Ben's arms and starting to tore him away at the same time as Frypan and Newt took hold of Thomas. Newt felt Thomas's biceps flexing rapidly under his grip as the boy growled and resisted all he could as Newt and Frypan desperately tried to hold him back. In the end they got the two enraged boys away from each other, shouting at them to calm themselves down.

"Slim it, Tommy! You aren't a bloody kid anymore, so don't act like one," Newt hissed to Thomas's ear, slipping his hand around Thomas's waist, holding him close as the other boy still kept trying to charge forward, his muscles quivering.

That seemed to froze Thomas and made him realise who exactly was holding him in place. He glanced at his left side where Frypan simply kept his strong hand around his bicep and turned his gaze slowly to Newt who was holding him peculiarly close. Thomas noted the red bruising on Newt's cheekbone which stood clearly out of his pale skin. Thomas's eyes darkened again and his muscles tensed under Newt's hold as if he was about to try and free himself again to finish the fight.

"What's the meaning of this?" came a low, dangerous voice behind the group of Gladers.

Newt turned his head to the side and looked as Alby made his way to the clearing. Alby looked angry, his tight fists on his sides, his body pulsing with thinly veiled irritation.

"Newt? What's going on here?" Alby pierced Newt with his gaze, gesturing around him, narrowing his eyes at the sight of bloody, heavily panting Ben and Thomas who were still being held back.

Newt cleared his throat, looking Alby in the eyes as he answered. "Ben and Tommy here decided it was convenient to start a nasty little fight. The shanks were punching the bloody hell out of each other by the time I got here," he explained, disappointment dripping clearly from his voice.

Alby raised his eyebrows, clearly irritated now. "And why exactly were they fighting?" he demanded.

There was no answer. Ben raised his gaze at Thomas and sneered at him, and Thomas tried once again to pull himself free but Frypan and Newt's hold of him was strong enough to keep him in place.

"No answer? Well then. Don't you think I'm just gonna forget about this. You both know our rules. 'Do not hurt another Glader.' You've both ignored that very simple rule and you're just not getting away with it." Alby looked over at the boys, glaring at them. "Slammer, two days, both of you. Separately. Starting with Ben." There was no arguing against Alby's tone. "Med-jacks! Get those shanks checked and right after send Ben to his punishment. Everyone else, go back to whatever the hell you were doing. The show's over."

As Newt looked, Alby nodded to him. Suddenly he felt Thomas swaying on his feet a bit, stumbling a step back. Newt immediately tightened his hold on him, his forehead wrinkling with worry.

"Tommy, are you ok? Tommy?" Newt asked urgently, turning to look at Thomas's face.

Thomas's eyes were nearly closed, sweat sticking to his forehead, a look of pain flashing over his face. "I'm.. I don't feel too good," Thomas mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Newt felt his heart beat rapidly against his ribs. "Fry, let's get him to lie down. Fast," he said, slipping Thomas's right arm around his shoulders.

Together they started to haul almost unconscious Thomas inside the Homestead, a Med-jack walking right behind them.