A/N: Wow, your response to chapter 18 really blew me away! I'm so very grateful for each and every one of you who are still putting up with me, you are the best! Also, I want to give my warmest welcome to all new readers! Enjoy the ride (I guess I should say 'run' in this case, though)! x
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
The deeper Newt run into the Maze, the narrower the corridors seemed to change, and no matter how much air he drew in his lungs it never seemed to be enough. His breaths were short and ragged, his quick pace making his muscles burn from the effort already. It had been months since the last time he had run, and his stamina had weakened from what it used to be. On top of all that, the sharp pain in his ankle whenever he laid too much weight on it surely didn't help matters at all.
Newt's body wasn't the only one contradicting against his race through the Maze. His mind was strained to its limits, and he would be lying if he didn't admit that a part of him was constantly urging him to turn around, run back to the Glade and hide in the forest, concealing himself from the Gladers' disappointment and the shame he would feel for his own fears and his failure.
But in spite of his inner struggles, whenever the fear and panic of being in the Maze again started to overwhelm him, an image of Thomas flashed through his mind, urging him on; an image of the dark-haired boy beaten up and covered in blood, lying unconscious by the Cliff; so close to the edge that a simple breeze of wind would send him tumbling into the darkness and out of Newt's reach for good. The image was so vivid it twisted Newt's heart in the most painful of ways, making the lump in his throat almost choke him until he slimmed himself, forcing his feet to pick up their pace.
The clock was ticking, and he didn't have a minute to lose.
His ears were tuned in to catch even the slightest out-of-ordinary sounds around him. Besides the steady sound of running steps of his own, the hammering of his heart in his chest, and his sharp, quick intakes of breath, it had been unnervingly quiet.
The buggin' Grievers had better stay in their bloody rotten holes, Newt growled to himself inside his mind, but couldn't help clenching and unclenching his fists nervously by his sides as a sliver of a fear licked at his insides.
As Newt was about halfway through the route to the Cliff, he simply couldn't go on anymore without taking a small break. He halted to a stop in the middle of a corridor, bending over and placing his hands on his knees as he panted hard, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat. He tried to will his heart to slow down its awful pace and shrugged the backpack off his shoulders. He opened the lid with shaking fingers and snatched a water bottle, taking a quick swig of the fresh liquid. Relishing in the instant relief the water gave him, Newt lifted his chin up and took a look at his surroundings.
The corridors throughout the Maze were almost identical. Some walls were covered with lush green vines, occassionnally revealing patches of grey stone underneath, while others were almost bare from flora, consisting only of worn, chapped stone. The air was easy enough to breath even if it smelled surprisingly moist given it never actually rained in the Glade. The smell of rock and ivy filled his nostrils as he slowly tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes at the sky as he noted the slight change in the light there.
Rounding his shoulders determinedly, Newt took a deep breath and threw his backpack back on, his feet picking up their pace again. He had miscalculated his stamina and the speed he was able to keep up, and if he didn't hurry up, both he and Thomas would be doomed.
Newt liked to think he had a good sense of orientation, and back when he'd been a Runner, he'd been one of the sharpest minds amongst the boys and had memorized the different routes almost effortlessly. He still remembered the way to the Cliff like the back of his hand, no maps needed.
Finally Newt reached the familiar pattern of the last few turns that lead to the Cliff. His heart started to pound painfully hard in his chest as a sudden fear and doubt crept back to the surface, questioning everything he had done since waking up that day.
What if Ben really was lying? What if Thomas isn't here at all?
What if it's already too late?
What if it was always too late?
Squeezing his eyes shut, Newt turned to the last long corridor before the final turn to the Cliff. He hated the uncertainty and doubt nagging at the back of his head, but as he drew in a shuddering breath, he realised he would've done nothing differently. In his heart Newt knew that even if there hadn't been any real clue as to where Thomas could be, he would've gone after the boy, nevertheless. Inexplicably, Newt just knew that it wasn't too late. Not just yet.
Newt steeled himself to whatever awaited by the Cliff, and rounded the corner.
The sight that greeted him made his steps falter, and his heart beat one long, painful thump that made him feel like something inside him cracked.
Blood stained the floor of the corridor in several places, and the stark, deep colour of it against the stone horrified Newt to no end. There was a body lying on the ground, a few feet from the Cliff. As his eyes registered the blood-stained clothes and the still form of the dark-haired boy, he couldn't stop himself from fearing the worst as something black and bottomless started to envelope Newt's heart.
"Tommy!" a pained shout escaped his throat, and suddenly Newt came back to his senses, rushing toward the crumpled form in a panicked haste.
He fell to his knees beside the boy, his breath coming out in uneven gasps as he placed his shaking hands over Thomas's chest, taking in the shredded shirt and the bruises and cuts that shone through the slices of it, quickly moving his fingers to the boy's throat, searching the pulse point clumsily.
"Tommy, no, nonono, please don't-" the words slipped past Newt's lips as panicked pleas, and Newt felt like his whole life was tied to this moment and if he- if Tommy is-
His mind wouldn't allow him to finish the thought.
His fingers were trembling so badly and his own heart was pounding in his ears so loudly that it took a few moments longer than necessary to feel the weak, slow pulse under his fingers at the side of Thomas's throat. The relief that filled Newt was so overwhelming in its intensity that he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. The voice escaping his throat was a raspy mix of sadness and happiness.
Leaning closer slowly, Newt slipped his both hands gently around Thomas's face, sweeping his fingers through the boy's hair that was slightly covered in blood in places.
"Tommy, wake up! Tommy, come on," Newt urged, taking hold of Thomas's shoulder and shaking the boy gently. Soon it became clear, however, that Thomas wouldn't wake up with only gentle wishes, and Newt's nerves had been so tight for so long he almost didn't have the patience anymore.
As to agitate himself even further, his mind unhelpfully pointed it out to him that until Thomas actually opened his eyes, there was always the possibility that the boy would never do so again.
"TOMMY!" Newt shouted then, tightening his grip on the boy's shoulder immensely as he shook him in panic.
Suddenly Thomas's eyes flew wide open and he gasped in a huge gulp of air, his body automatically jerking away from Newt and struggling against his hold as a strangled cry escaped his throat, his eyes wild now.
Newt was taken aback by Thomas's sudden fight, but his grip held and he raised his voice quickly, his tone urgent and as calming as possible.
"Tommy, calm the bloody hell down, alright! It's Newt, it's okay, everything's okay now-"
Startled, Thomas stopped trying to break free, seeming to finally see Newt for the first time, and his expression softened immediately, a gasping breath of a different kind escaping his lips as his body relaxed again.
"N-Newt? Is it- Is it really you?" Thomas asked in wonder, raising his trembling hand from his side.
"Yes, Tommy, it's me. You're safe now," Newt answered softly, sighing in pleasure as Thomas's fingers reached his jaw, sweeping over his cheek and sinking into his hair in a tender gesture.
Then Newt could no longer stop himself, and he swiftly closed the distance between them, pressing Thomas down to lie fully against the ground again as he brought his lips on the ones of the injured boy. Thomas sighed in the kiss, as if relieved, answering to it eagerly. The kiss was a little messy, and a little fast-paced, but still worked as a reassuring, calming caress to Newt's jagged nerves.
Newt moved his hand further into Thomas's hair, and his fingers pushed against a rough, slightly wet patch of skin beneath the hair, realising too late what it was. Thomas cried out in pain and drew his mouth away, his face turning into a deep grimace of pain.
Newt startled and pulled back immediately. He felt his face pale as he noticed that his fingers were wet with blood.
"Oh God, Tommy, I'm so sorry- I didn't realise-"
"Newt, calm down, it's okay! It just hurt-" Thomas tried to reassure the panicking boy, resting his hand on Newt's arm, when his eyes suddenly focused on their surroundings, and widened.
"What the-"
Newt swore he could see the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place in Thomas's mind from his eyes as the boy finally realised what was going on.
"Newt, why are we still in the Maze? What the hell do you think you're doing? You shouldn't be here-"
Thomas's eyes started to turn wild from worry and sudden anger, and Newt quickly cut the boy off, knitting his eyebrows together as he scowled at the boy.
"What do you think, Tommy? Did you seriously think I could've just abandoned you here? You would've died here!" Newt growled, his hands curling into fists in his lap.
"I don't want you to risk your life because of me! It's- It's not right! You-"
"You would've done the exact same thing if our places were reversed, wouldn't you? Even if you hadn't taken a single step to this bloody Maze ever before, you would've run after my sorry ass and sacrificed yourself for nothing-" Newt's eyes were getting dangerously wet now and his voice trembled, and he hated it.
Thomas was quick to react with an indignant response. "Of course I would've! But it wasn't you who was taken, it was me, and-"
"ENOUGH, Tommy! I came after you and there's nothing you can do about it, so slim yourself and let me patch you up. There's not a bloody minute to waste if we're going to make it back in time, let me tell ya," Newt growled, agitated and sick from worry.
Thomas's stormy eyes settled, and his mouth hang slightly open for a while before he closed it and lowered his gaze, shame washing over his face.
"I'm sorry, Newt.. I just- I still can't believe you would do something like this. Just.. Why?" Thomas raised his gaze to meet Newt's again, and the blond-haired boy stopped fumbling with the contents of his bag at the vulnerability he found in those hazel-brown eyes. "How can you possibly know if I'm worth saving at all?"
Newt's breath hitched in his chest and he just stared at Thomas for a while, collecting his thoughts. Eventually, he lowered his hand to Thomas's chest, placing it over his pounding heart.
"Because I know you, Tommy. I know with every lovin' piece of my being that you are worth every effort and every risk possible. And I know what I feel, too. There's no way in hell I could ever have left you behind like that," Newt said, staring intensively into Thomas's eyes, witnessing the warmness spreading there at his words.
Thomas's hand found its way to Newt's lap, intertwining his fingers with Newt's and bringing his knuckles to his lips.
Newt smiled warmly at the dark-haired boy's gesture and swept his thumb gently over Thomas's jaw. With his other hand, he dug out a water bottle and a sandwich from the backpack, handing them over to Thomas. Thomas's eyes cleared at the sight of food, and he started to rise up to a sitting position with Newt's help, grunting.
"Eat quickly. We gotta head back real soon now," Newt reminded, shuffling a bit forward to support Thomas so that he could rest his back against the wall of the Maze.
After a while of observing the boy, Newt handed him two pain killers which Thomas accepted gratefully.
"Tommy.. What did they do to you? How badly are you injured? And where's all that blood from?" Newt asked, taking in the dark-haired boy who was breathing in shallow gasps.
Thomas raised his gaze from the sandwich quickly, but then lowered it again, his forehead creasing deeply as he gazed back at the corridor darkly.
"I don't really remember much of it. They struck me so hard in the head back in the Homestead that when I gained consciousness every once in a while, it was only momentary and it was all kind of a blur, really. They wounded me pretty deep in my arm, though, so I guess the blood's from that, mostly," Thomas muttered, shrugging his right arm.
Only then did Newt discover the long, deep slash on Thomas's forearm through the shredded sleeve of his shirt. Newt gasped audibly and seized the boy's wrist, his face turning pale.
"Let it be, Newt, we don't have time for that, and you know it," Thomas argued, making Newt to meet his gaze. Newt's eyes were pained, and his inner struggle could clearly be seen on his face.
"Newt, do you want us to get back to the Glade in time, or feel sorry for my little cuts, trapped in here?" Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows in question.
Newt growled indignantly. "That's not a little cut, and you know it. The wound is so deep you could've bled to death!"
"I think you're overreacting a bit there-"
"I am not! Look at you! You can barely sit straight from all the bruises and cuts covering your whole body, you have serious wounds in the back of your head and on your forearm, God knows how much you've already lost blood, and considering the place we're currently at.. Do I need to go on?" Newt demanded, coldly.
Thomas looked at him, silent, for a long time before averting his eyes. "I get your point. They wanted me dead. Well, at least Ben wanted me dead."
"I can clearly see that," Newt mumbled, anger washing over him in waves again at the mere thought of the Builder. "The question is, why in bloody hell would he do something like this? No one has ever done anything even remotely like this before.. The Changing bloody turned him into a full-time psycho."
Thomas gazed at Newt quickly before mumbling quietly, "He's been saying things.."
Newt narrowed his eyes, and something told him there was something significant in what Thomas was about to say.
"What do you mean? What kind of things?"
Thomas avoided his gaze again, tossing the water bottle back and forth in his hands.
"Well, he.. He's been saying he's seen me before. He keeps saying he knows who I am, and what I have done, that this is – all of this – is my fault. He keeps saying he knows what I'm trying to do, and that he won't let me do it," Thomas listed, his gaze devoid of any emotion as he stared into nothing, clearly deep in thought. "The other day, before – before the fight, he claimed that you were using me – that you always did the same with the new Greenies, playing nice with them and getting them around your little finger, keeping them on their toes before tossing them off like trash – and then he said that we actually deserved each other, since I was using you too to fulfill what I was sent here to do and-"
Thomas's voice quieted as Newt suddenly leaned over and pressed his forefinger against Thomas's mouth. Newt gazed at the dark-haired boy with thinly veiled rage towards the Builder burning inside him like a bright fire, but he tried to swallow his bitterness the best he could.
"Stop it, you bloody shank, that's the most ridiculous piece of klunk I've ever heard you say before. I wish you wouldn't have let that shucking lunatic get into your head like that. Ben is wrong, okay? About all of it," Newt assured, swiping his thumb over Thomas's lips. "None of this is your fault. How could it possibly be? And when it comes to those ridiculous claims about me and what I do.. I guess you should already know it by now, but I can assure you that my behaviour towards you is anything but ordinary."
Thomas stared at Newt with such an open and vulnerable expression that Newt couldn't help leaning closer to place a reassuring kiss on the boy's chapped lips. Thomas clung to the kiss, seeking solace and assurance Newt couldn't have been happier to share.
Soon he pulled back, and Thomas sighed, his fists buried in Newt's shirt.
"I can't remember anything, Newt. This new life was given to me, just like for the rest of you. In one thing I agree with Ben, though.. I think we weren't sent here just for kicks. I think there's a reason behind all of this," Thomas uttered, fierceness filling his eyes again that Newt was so familiar with, and looked up to, as well. "And I'm damned if I don't want to find out what it is."
Newt placed his hand on Thomas's cheek, sweeping his thumb over the soft skin. His eyes were warm as he answered, "And we're gonna find it out. I know we will. But first, we gotta get our asses out of here. Come on, the hour's up. We gotta go now."
Thomas frowned, confused. "'Hour's up', huh?"
"Yeah, I made some calculations and estimated the time we could rest here and still have time to go back to the Glade before the Doors close," Newt explained and packed the water bottle back in its place.
"Okay, I'm ready," Thomas said, nodding curtly.
"Good that."
Newt pulled back and swung the backpack over his shoulders again, raising to his feet, and held out his hand for Thomas to take for support.
Thomas took in a deep breath and slowly stretched his feet under him, accepting Newt's hand. With Newt's help, the boy got to his feet with a groan and immediately started swaying. Newt was on him in a second, curling his arm around the boy to support him and keep him standing. He looked over at Thomas in an evident worry.
"Tommy, you okay?" Newt's voice was rushed and anxious.
Thomas's eyes were squeezed shut and a drop of sweat travelled down the side of his face. After a while, the boy blinked his eyes open, shaking his head as if to clear it.
"Yeah, yeah.. Just felt a bit dizzy for a moment there. I guess I've been lying there on the ground for quite a while," Thomas muttered, staring at the spot where Newt had found him, marked by blood. He turned to look at Newt, trying to settle for a reassuring expression. "But I'm all fine now. Let's go."
Newt looked at him for a while, his eyes searching, but in the end he nodded briskly. "Alright. Do you need me to support your steps?"
"No- No no, I can go on by my own just fine! Just - lead the way!" Thomas assured him, but Newt couldn't help but wonder how much of the boy's attitude was there just to reassure him. However, Thomas knew as well as Newt that their time was limited, and whether it hurt or not, they had to make it back.
"Well, if you're sure," Newt said hesitantly, his tone laced with doubt, but in the end he stepped away to give Thomas some room. He didn't wish to cross Thomas right now and waste time on yet another stupid quarrel.
Newt watched as Thomas took a few limping steps forward, his face pale and Newt could tell Thomas was clearly suppressing the grimace that tried to twist his features after every step. Newt's heart lurched as he saw how much the boy was suffering and he felt awful for making him go through this, but they had no other choice than to go on. After a while Thomas's walking got a little better and Newt turned to face the corridor of the Maze ahead, his thoughts heavy.
They didn't talk much as they made their way corridor after another, slowly but surely. It took every bit of Thomas's concentration to just take one step after another, looking for support from the wall with his other hand, and Newt was too out of his mind to talk. He wasn't the wordy type in his best days, and definitely not under a pressure like this.
Still, Newt kept muttering quiet words of encouragement to Thomas every now and then, and the dark-haired boy made his best to try to smile back. Sweat was covering his forehead and his breaths were shallow, and Newt didn't think he had ever been so worried in his life.
By the time they had completed about a third of their journey, they had had to stop for three times already. The fourth time they rose up and continued their way, though, Thomas crashed back down with a loud groan.
Newt's heart jumped to his throat as he immediately crouched next to the boy, placing his hands on Thomas's trembling shoulders.
"Tommy? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, urgency and worry lacing his tone.
Thomas's breath was ragged and his face was a mask of pain as he slowly raised his blood-shot eyes to meet Newt's.
"I-I just can't go on anymore. Would you – please – help me?" Thomas whispered, and Newt hated to see the shame that took over the boy's features. He knew Thomas hated not to be able to have control over his own body and having to ask for help. Thomas detested being weak and rely on other's help, just like Newt did.
Newt understood him, but he was damned if he didn't want to do everything he possibly could to make this all even remotely easier for Thomas – even if it would make the boy feel bad about himself.
"Of course, Tommy, don't worry about it. We still have time, okay? Just lean onto me," Newt said, slipping his arm behind Thomas's back, and placing Thomas's arm over his own shoulders.
Thomas nodded to Newt with a weak smile on his lips, and he looked so exhausted it hurt Newt's heart. Newt nodded back and together they rose up to their feet, Thomas taking support from Newt.
Thomas was more strongly built than Newt, and his broken body felt heavier than usual. Newt grunted under his breath but steeled himself, and slowly they started to make their way forward again.
"Thanks, Newt," Thomas said after a while, his voice warm even though every muscle in his body was tight and shaking from effort.
Newt glanced at the boy quickly, trying to smile as reassuringly as he could. "It's no big deal, Tommy."
The two of them managed to keep up their pace for another set of long corridors and sharp turns, and then another, even if exhaustion and pain from all the physical effort was trying to snap every joint and muscle holding Newt's body together.
"Just- just one more break, okay?" Thomas wheezed with a shaky voice just as the straining pain was starting to get too much for Newt. Newt gave in with a grunt, and the two of them slumped to their knees, resting their backs against the cold stone wall.
Newt's eyes drooped closed as he pressed the back of his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Thomas beside him wasn't doing any better.
Newt's head felt heavy beyond words, and his thoughts jumbled together into an irrational heap. Eventually, he blinked his eyes open again and took in their surroundings, trying to form the map inside his head back into place and figure out how much they had left to go.
They drank the last drops of their water and as Newt's mind slowly started to clear just a little bit more, his brow creased in confusion. Newt stumbled back to his feet and whirled his head from side to side, his body turning in a circle.
"Newt, what are you doing?" Thomas asked, his voice as weak as ever.
The reality of their situation crashed into Newt's consciousness like a fist to his stomach, draining all breath from his lungs as his eyes widened in shock and his heart skipped a painful beat.
This.. this couldn't be happening.
How in bloody hell-?
His voice trembling even worse than his hands, Newt whispered out the words,"Tommy, I-.. I think we're lost."
Thomas's eyebrows drew together and an utterly confused expression formed on his face, and just as the boy was about to utter out a word, a blood-chilling voice pierced the silence of the Maze.
A voice that made Thomas's face drain of color completely.
A voice that turned the blood in Newt's veins into ice.
A voice of a Griever.