A/N: Hello again! I've had a pretty amazing week but I'm glad it's weekend now, nevertheless! About the story; I'm planning on updating once a week till I'm finished with this. Now, enjoy chapter 20 while you still can since things are about to get tough! x

When the gusts came around to blow me down
Held on as tightly as you held onto me

Shock overtook Newt's body for a few paralyzing moments. His stance was rigid as he stood in the middle of the Maze corridor, his eyes staring into nothingness as the world went completely still for a while. His ears registered a shuddering intake of breath in the sudden silence, and it took a while before Newt realised it was his.

Behind him, Thomas's voice uttered out a few shaky words. "Was- Was that a Griever?"

As if answering to his question, another terrifying, bloodcurdling cry broke out somewhere inside the Maze.

Newt closed his eyes tightly shut, a crushing weight settling into his chest. His hands curled into tight fists by his sides as a poisonous self-hatred seeped into his mind.

"How can I be so bloody stupid?" Newt screeched suddenly, the awful reality of their current situation washing over him in suffocating waves. He launched himself towards the nearest wall with a growl and struck his fist against the ivy-covered stone, pain spreading through his knuckles and radiating up his whole arm. Swearing vehemently, he jumped away from the wall and shook his aching, slightly bleeding hand.

"Newt! What the hell are you doing?" Thomas shouted. There was a sound of shuffling and grunting behind Newt, indicating that the dark-haired boy was trying to get up by himself.

Newt turned on his heels and finally faced Thomas, blinded by rage at himself. "Can't you bloody see, Tommy? I've ruined everything. We had a chance to get out of this place, and I screwed it, and there's nothing I can do to fix it. We're dead, Tommy. We're dead. Because of me, we're dead." By the end of his sentence Newt's voice broke, and he had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Thomas stared at the fair-haired, shouting boy, completely taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, leaning into the Maze wall in an unsteady, trembling manner, only barely keeping himself on his feet.

As Thomas tried to adjust himself to stand straighter, he looked Newt steadily into eyes and cleared his throat. Searching for a calming tone despite the fear that was plain on his face, Thomas said, "Newt, look at me. We're not dead, okay? We still have time to make it back, and those voices, they- they were far away. We can still get out of here if we just-"

But Newt wasn't having any of it. He thrashed forward, closer to Thomas, sticking his hands into his own hair and tugging at the blond locks desperately. "No, nonono- Tommy, you don't understand, you couldn't possibly understand! We're trapped here, don't you get it? I screwed, and all this is my bloody fault! Almost three years in the Maze, and it's like I learnt nothing! Almost three years of mapping these bloody corridors, and I still manage to take one bloody wrong turn and get us completely off the path. And the worst part is, I can't even figure out where I got lost, and it could take hours just trying to figure out the right path again. And we don't have that long, now do we?" A hysterical laugh bursted out of Newt's mouth then, and it took a while until he could continue again. "There's no way we can make it out of here alive. Even if we tried, we can't avoid the Grievers all night long. No one survives a night in the Maze. Remember when I told you that?"

Suddenly Newt felt as if all the air had been sucked out of him, and his burst of panic and rage seemed to subside. Instead, he was filled with numbness and such overwhelming guilt that he was forced to take a stumbling step back and place his other hand on the wall to support his slumped form, a few yards away from Thomas.

Tears stung his eyes, and he quickly turned his face away, burying his forehead to his forearm leaning against the ivy. Newt's breath came in and out in quick, unsteady bursts, and he could feel desperation tearing his insides apart.

A sound of heavy, dragging steps approached Newt, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. Then Thomas's low voice called out his name next to him, "Newt, I do remember. And I remember the look that used to appear in your eyes whenever the Maze was mentioned," Thomas said and Newt visibly twitched at his words. The dark-haired boy slid his hand from Newt's shoulder across his neck and gently rested his palm on his chin, making Newt to turn his head and lock his tear-filled, dark eyes with Thomas's hazel ones. "I don't know what happened to you here that made you stop running, and it's not my place to ask you about it.. But I can tell it's nothing good, and it has left its mark on you. I know you haven't put a foot inside these walls ever since it happened. And yet, here you are, because of me. You risked yourself and overcame your fears because of me, and I'm not going to take that lightly. We can't give up, not now, not after all that has happened. We have to try, Newt. I won't give up on you," Thomas said, his tone firm yet gentle.

"Tommy.." Newt's voice was a trembling whisper as he took in Thomas's words, his heart heavy with emotions. "I- I'm so s-"

"No, stop it, Newt. This is not your fault. If someone's to blame, it's me. But we-" Thomas's voice faltered as another shriek of a Griever pierced the air, and Newt could have sworn it came much closer this time.

Thomas swallowed, and Newt could see fear flicker in his eyes, but as he spoke again, his voice was filled with strength and determination. "Newt, we gotta get moving. We could – we could track our way back and at least try to find the right route to get back to the Glade."

Newt couldn't understand how calm Thomas could appear to be while he himself was on the edge of falling apart completely. Thomas's words, however, ignited something inside of him and he knew the boy was right – they couldn't give up.

Newt raised his hand and curled his fingers around Thomas's which were still holding up his chin, and squeezed. "You're right, Tommy, you're right," Newt said, nodding, and took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Newt stepped closer to Thomas and wrapped his arm around the other boy to give him support. Thomas leaned heavily on Newt, but adrenaline was now pumping steadily through Newt's veins, and they started making their way back to the direction they had arrived from as brisk a pace as they could manage.

Newt and Thomas traced their way back through several corridors, stopping at every corner to make sure the path ahead was empty. After a fourth turn, Newt stopped and pointed ahead.

"This is it, Tommy. Here's where I turned right instead of left – see, we just gotta walk down this corridor and we're back on track," Newt realised, and a small, relieved smile spread on his lips.

"That's – great, N-Newt, I knew you – c-could do it," Thomas uttered out between ragged breaths, his body trembling from exhaustion against Newt's side.

Newt knew they both needed a break, but they didn't have any other choice than to go on. The shadows of the walls were getting longer, and the sun was dipping lower as the moment of the closing of the Doors came closer. The darkness descended inside the Maze earlier, anyway, thanks to the half-a-mile long blocks of stone and concrete around them.

They had just taken a right turn at the end of the corridor, when a weird, rhythmic voice made Newt's steps stumble to a stop, almost sending them both crashing to the hard ground. Thomas yelped at the sudden pause of movement but as his ears registered the same noise as Newt's, the boy's eyes scrunched in confusion.

Whirr, click-click-click, whirr, click-click-click...

"What is that-"

"We have to go!" Newt yelled, his heart in his throat, securing his hold of the frozen dark-haired boy and dragging him along, the howling and shrieking and clicking of the Griever echoing off the walls around them, suddenly frighteningly close.

Thomas was visibly struggling to keep up with the intense pace they were forced to continue. His weak, beaten-up muscles tried their best to comply, but halfway down the new corridor they had just turned to, his knees gave up and he fell down, gasping for breath desperately.

"Newt – I – we'll never make it to the Glade in time – you have to go on – without me," Thomas panted, raising his eyes to meet Newt's as the blond quickly lowered himself down next to Thomas, ready to help him up again. At Thomas's words, though, Newt growled and stared at the boy in front of him.

"You can't be serious, Tommy, there's no way in hell I'll-"

Newt's voice faltered as his ears registered an all-too-familiar sound, one that froze him to the spot as a painful pang of realization hit his chest; the unmistakable, deep, and fairly distant sound of low rumbling and screeching as the Doors closed shut for the night.

Desperation and guilt hit Newt so deeply that he had to close his eyes as his hands trembled around Thomas's arms.

Their time was up.

They hadn't made it back in time.

They were stuck in the Maze for the night, there was a Griever on their track, and it was all Newt's fault.

"Newt, the Doors-"

Anger and panic blinded Newt once again, and he snapped, "I know, Tommy! We're stuck here for good now, you think I didn't realise that?"

The look of hurt that flashed in Thomas's eyes slit Newt's chest, but then the movement behind the dark-haired boy drew his attention quickly, and his face paled at the scene that his eyes witnessed there.

A creature unlike anything Newt had ever seen before emerged from the corridor Newt and Thomas had left mere minutes ago. It was an enormous, misshapen thing with nothing natural or rational about it. All kinds of nasty-looking blades, needles, and other weapons were protruding from its pitch-black-coloured body alongside with several pairs of arms and legs. It moved by pulling itself into an odd-shaped lump, its appendages miraculously withdrawing themselves inside its body, and rolling a few feet forward accompanied by a chorus of mechanical whirrs and clicks.

The Griever stilled at the end of the corridor, right after its grotesque body had rounded the corner, and turned to face the two boys about twenty yards ahead. After a moment of stunned silence, the Griever's limbs once again reappeared from its body, and one of its spider-like arms (or legs?) rose high up in the air, turning from side to side and shaking furiously until suddenly, a bright light appeared at the end of it, blinding Newt's eyes momentarily. The light moved from wall to wall, up and down and finally along the length of the corridor, until it settled on Newt and Thomas.

The dark-haired boy had turned towards the noise coming from behind them, and Newt could tell the boy was paralyzed from shock at the sight his eyes took in. As the light turned to point straight at the two boys, however, they both startled, and right on cue the Griever shrieked venomously, the light swaying as the Griever shuddered and snapped its weapons against each other.

Then Newt shook out his momentary paralysis and screamed, "RUN!" as he scrambled to his feet, tugging Thomas's arms desperately. The injured boy yelped and miraculously got his feet under him in a record-time, and just as the Griever reformed into a ball of squishy flesh, ready to roll ahead, the boys broke out into a limping run, away from the hideous creature.

Deep and all-consuming fear for both their lives rattled Newt's heart as they made their unsteady way forward. He knew they couldn't possibly keep up this mindless pace forever, but what other choice did they have than run? They had no weapons; absolutely no way to defend themselves, and soon enough Thomas would be too weak to even stand on his own feet.

The boys finally reached the other end of the corridor but before they took a left turn, Newt dared a glance over his shoulder at their chaser. His heart shuddered as he noticed how quickly the Griever had already closed the distance between them, which was now about a half from what it had been just a minute ago.

It was no surprise that they didn't even reach the middle of the next corridor until the screams and howls and clicks of the Griever intensified again as it rounded the corner after them. Thomas was struggling for breath, and Newt kept his hold firm around the boy who was fighting through his pain against all odds beside him.

The heavy thumps of their feet and the horrible voices of the Griever kept echoing off of the walls around them, almost disappearing under the loud rush of blood in Newt's ears, and thus he barely registered the first signs of the change that took place right ahead of them.

Fifty yards ahead, a piece of wall on their left crackled and inched out of the main wall, starting to move to the right and close the path ahead of them slowly but surely. As the familiar, screeching sound of stone against stone filled Newt's senses, the realization of what was about to happen hit Newt like a lightning bolt, and he barely prevented himself from tripping over his own feet.

"Tommy! Look! The Maze – it's changing! We gotta make it to the other side of that wall before the Griever catches up to us, so it'll get trapped on the other side!" Newt shouted, his voice unsteady from the physical effort.

As soon as Thomas realised their chance, the boy tried to pick up his pace as best he could, tightening his hold of Newt in the process. Newt felt hope crawl into his heart as every step took them closer to safety, away from the monstrous beast on their heels. He could already smell the warm, disgusting stench drifting from the Griever as it chased its prey, getting closer by the minute.

Thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards...

The wall ahead of them was over halfway closed now, and just as Newt thought they would make it, Thomas's legs gave out, and he crashed to the ground, taking Newt down with him. The sudden impact with the cold stone floor sucked all air out of Newt's lungs, and scorching pain radiated through his entire body. Thomas groaned in anguish next to him and rolled on his side, but Newt was already struggling to get up, panic washing over him in waves.

"TOMMY! You have to get up – getupgetupgetup!" Newt shouted desperately, ignoring his pain and dragging Thomas across the ground by his armpits.

Gasping and trembling all over, Thomas tried to get on his feet again, but it was all in vain since he just ended up crashing back down immediately, over and over again.

Thomas raised his pain-filled, tearful eyes to meet Newt's, his body leaning limply against Newt's as the fair-haired boy desperately tried to get him to stand.

"Newt, I'm so s-" Thomas started, but was cut off as suddenly there was a deafening scream right next to them, and a rusty, long blade was struck to the stone floor right where Thomas's leg had trembled just a second earlier before Newt had braced himself and yet again yanked the boy a few inches closer to the ever-closing wall behind them.

Both boys cried out in fright at the sudden strike, but the Griever was nowhere near finished. Before they had time to react, it had pulled its bladed arm out of the stone, leaving a cracked hole behind. The Griever howled in disappointment, and sprung out one of its arms – this one armed with a large mace – swaying it in a sidelong motion towards the two boys, missing Thomas's chest by an inch.

"TOMMY! Get behind me – you have to go through the door-" Newt shouted, gathering his strength as he dragged the boy a few steps backwards before he stepped to the side and stood between Thomas and the Griever.

"No, Newt, goddammit, I'm not- NEWT!" Thomas started with frustrated voice that quickly turned into a panicked exclamation as the Griever made another approach and thrust its squirmy, thick, and spiky arm forward, hitting Newt full-on to his stomach and slamming him to the side. Newt's body hit the Maze wall with a force that cracked something in his shoulder before he slumped to the ground, his vision blurring.

Newt's ringing ears were barely able to make out the desperate calls of his name coming from somewhere behind him. His left shoulder was on fire, and Newt could feel it was dislocated, or something worse. Blood trickled down from his hair line – apparently he had also hit his head against the stone. As his vision started to sharpen again slowly, Newt's mind caught up with the situation at hand, as well.

"TOMMY!" the shout came out of his mouth before he could even turn his head around to see the other boy.

The sight that awaited him made Newt's heart skip a beat. The Griever had outnumbered Thomas probably in seconds, and the dark-haired boy was currently lying on the ground and struggling against the Griever's probing and attacking appendages. Thomas was screaming and fighting back as best he could, but the Griever was just too strong, its whole body was hovering over the boy and crushing him against the ground. The Griever was wheezing and making all kinds of sick, mechanic noices, its lightbulb moving restlessly all around as the creature was constantly on the move.

As Newt gathered his strength and pushed all his pain away to try to get up, only one thought buzzed in his brain: I have to save him. His hazy mind barely registered the definite sound of the wall behind them closing shut with a shuddering thump. He didn't care about the stupid wall anymore. His eyes only saw Thomas now as the boy struggled for his life under the unyielding attack of the half-creature-half-machine beast.

With an enraged scream, Newt finally got to his feet and he stumbled forward, throwing his body against the Griever, pounding his fists against its disgusting, stinking and squishy skin. The Griever shrieked, distracted, and seeing his chance Newt leaned in even further and kicked a blade that the creature tried to strike towards Thomas with all his force, sending it off its course and missing the boy on the ground.

"Newt, NO!"

Newt heard Thomas's desperate, pain-filled shout until a cry of his own rose up his throat and drowned Thomas's voice as the Griever pressed one of its clawed arms against Newt's broken shoulder. All its attacks were now concentrated solely on Newt, tearing at his skin and striking blows, one after the other.

Newt tried his best to struggle against the slimy tongs that seized his body and lifted him off the ground, but he was no opponent to the Griever in his weakened state. When a tail like that of a scorpion's rose up behind the Griever, a long thin spike protruding from its end, Newt knew that this was it.

They couldn't possibly live through this. They had missed their chance, and there was nothing they could do to get it back.

Quicker than a thought, the Griever swung its tail, and the spike sank in Newt's stomach, stinging only briefly before it was retracted, and then swung at him again, and again. With each strike, Newt could feel numbing pain spreading from each wound, making his body turn limp against his will, until suddenly, the Griever stopped his assault, screaming louder than ever before, its whole body convulsing. In the chaos that was caused by the wounded Griever, Newt got moved to the side, getting a look of what had happened.

Thomas stood on his knees on the ground, holding a piece of black and oil-dripping metallic arm in his hand. A multi-coloured set of electric wires protruded from one end of the leg, and on the other end of it there was the familiar flashlight that now was flickering unevenly. Newt had no idea how the boy could have done it, but somehow Thomas had managed to get a hold of one of the Griever's arms and pull it off while the creature was focused on Newt.

Newt stared at Thomas in a shocked awe, but the Griever wasn't taken aback for long. With a deafening screech, it swung its mace-arm at Thomas, swiping the boy from the ground and smashing him to the stone wall in no time. Newt's screams tore at his throat, but the creature only tightened its hold on him and rolled closer to Thomas's still body next to the wall. The Griever raised up several of its weapons, ready to thrust them straight through Thomas, but suddenly, inexplicably, it froze, its weapons still pointing straight at the boy.

Newt's yell stifled as suddenly a complete silence settled over the Maze, save for the tortured, loud bursts of breath from the two boys. Newt couldn't take his eyes off of Thomas's unmoving body lying crumpled on the Maze floor, a few yards below himself. Minutes passed, and the Griever stood steadily in place, not even a muscle twitching. Newt was too scared and exhausted andin pain to try to say anything or move in any way at all, and so he lay limply in the Griever's grasp, fearing that even a slightest noise or movement would make the beast give his final, fatal strike.

Nothing could have prepared the fair-haired boy for the ten-feet fall that he suddenly experienced as the Griever loosened its hold of Newt altogether, sending the boy crashing to the ground.

The impact knocked all breath out of Newt's lungs, and he didn't have any strength left to roll on his side and witness what the hell the Griever was up to now. He heard several jagged, uneven clicks and wheezes coming from behind him, but after a while the sound grew steadier, and Newt couldn't quite believe it, but unless his hearing was deceiving him completely, it sounded as if the noises became more and more distant, minute by minute.

Whirr, click-click-click, whirr, click-click-click...

The Griever had..given up? It had turned tail and run?

Why on Earth-?

Tommy!

Newt could feel something foul and poisonous working its way through his system. Cold sweat was rising up to his skin everywhere, and every single muscle in his body hurt. The pain on his shoulder was almost enough to make him faint, but somehow he kept that pain at bay, still holding on to the blurry edges of his conscience.

Excruciatingly slowly, Newt turned his head to the side and his shuddering, weak breath got caught in his throat as his tearful eyes took in the sight of the dark-haired boy, just about a yard away from his grasp.

Thomas was laying on his side in a crumpled fetal position, his eyes closed, blood staining his face and his ripped clothes. One of his arms was stretched across the stone, his fingers twitching.

"Tommy," Newt croaked, his voice weak and raspy from all the screaming. "Tommy!" he tried again after clearing his throat in an attempt to bring more strength to his voice, but all it did was make his mouth taste like blood.

Newt watched as Thomas shuddered a little at the slightly louder call of his name, and his eyes blinked open, ever so slowly. A relief filled Newt's chest despite the despair of their situation.

"Newt.." Thomas whispered, his voice barely reaching Newt's ears.

Even though Newt's vision was blackening already as all the injuries in his body and mind finally started taking their toll, he gathered the last bits of his strength, and outstretched his uninjured arm over the stone floor, pressing his forearm against the ground, and inched his weak body forward, as far as he was able. It was a small movement, but the pain doubled all over him and he couldn't stop the groans of pain from straining his sore throat. World spinning behind his closed eyelids, he gave up and his body slumped to the ground, and Newt didn't think he could ever get up, ever again.

He could feel the last bits of energy leaving his body as a sickening, stark venom spread deeper and deeper through his system.

Newt's head rested against the cold stone, and it took minutes until he gathered enough willpower to open his eyes, one more time.

His tired eyes settled on Thomas and with a painful pang in his chest he realised Thomas's eyes were closed again. Panic fluttering in his chest like a bird in a cage, Newt refused to give into his worst fear, and instead drew in a sharp breath and straightened the fingers of his hand that was still reaching towards Thomas. As if by a miracle, he could feel just the tips of his fingers brushing against the other boy's palm.

"Tommy," Newt whispered. He doubted that Thomas could hear his weakened voice anymore, but the burning in his chest was just too strong; he couldn't tell if it was the poison going through his system that raised all his emotions to the surface or if deep down he knew that this was probably his last chance to open his mouth again, but nevertheless the deep, deep emotion rose up inside him, nearly suffocating him in its intensity; the emotion that had been only growing in strength ever since he had laid his eyes on the dark-haired boy all those weeks ago, and he had to-, he had to..

"Tommy, I l-"

But it was too late.

Maybe it was always too late.

Newt's voice died down as his body had finally had enough. Thomas's face blurred in Newt's eyes, his head span and hurt like never before, and then,

then he could feel nothing,

nothing at all.