Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Newt remembered barely being able to see, barely being able to hear anything but the relentless sounds of gunfire and explosions that thundered in his ears. The sounds of rebellion engulfed him, drowning out all other noise, except for the steady rhythm of his own breath, which seemed to slow with each passing moment.

As he lay wounded, the knife lodged in his chest served as a cruel reminder of all the suffering he had been through. Each breath he took was a struggle, as if an invisible weight pressed down against his lungs. His last coherent thoughts drifted to his friend Tommy. At first, he just wanted to be free. Then, he just wanted Tommy to be safe. But now, more than anything else:

He just wanted it to end. 

But it wouldn’t end, not so soon. He remembered playing in the forest. A girl with innocence in her eyes and boundless energy stood beside him. Their laughter echoed through the forest as they played, running through the sun-dappled glades and under the towering trees. He remembered their exhilarating races to the tops of trees. The girl’s blonde braids flowed behind her as they ran. He remembered always winning, followed by her declaring, "Next time, I'll win," with a determined glint in her eyes. Though she was never quite fast enough.

He remembered a woman, her face blurred in the shadows of his mind. Her essence seemed to fill the air around him, calming him. Each night before bed, she would sing to him. He remembered her voice: oh, how lovely it was. He could hear it, traveling closer and closer to him, singing the same song:

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow.

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow.

Lay down your head, and close your eyes.

And when they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, and here it's warm.

Here the daisies guard you from every harm.

Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true.

Here is the place where I love you."

Newt was no longer scared anymore. He felt someone pick him up, carrying him to his next destination. He was not sure where that destination was, but he hoped he could find peace. 

He hoped his friends could find peace. 

He hoped the girl from his dreams could find peace, maybe she finally reached the top of the trees before him.

He remembered the forest, he remembered the song, he remembered her.

Lizzy.

And he remembered no more.

Chapter Text

Thomas awoke for the first time in a long time with a sense of calmness. His ears were welcomed by the sounds of a beach. He could hear the waves softly crashing, and a breeze blowing on by. Was he dead? Is this what peace finally felt like? Thomas wasn’t sure. He slowly opened his eyes to see that he was in a tent of some sorts. This certainly wasn’t what he expected to find. He raised his head to see the wind gently pushing the flap-door open. Through the crack, he could see what looked like remnants of a beach. That was when it hit him. He was here. The Safe Haven. There was no more WICKED, no more battles…and no more running. For the first time, he could just breathe. But the thought of breathing peacefully quickly became a reminder of how lucky he was. For some people, their battles weren’t over. For some people, they wouldn’t…couldn’t breathe, not anymore. 

Thomas’ calmness was overturned with a sense of grief. The last thing he remembered was Teresa falling to her death, after saving him, and Newt sacrificing his own life to save him. It was his fault that they died. If Thomas had just been faster, stronger, anything, he could have saved Newt and Teresa. He could have held Newt off a little longer. He could have grabbed Teresa and stopped her from falling. He could have done something. But he didn’t, and now they were gone.

He shook his head. Brenda would have killed him if she heard him say these things. She would tell him that it wasn’t his fault, and that there was nothing he could do. Except in fact, all Thomas could think about was things he could have done, should have done for that matter. 

He tried to get up but felt a burning sensation in his side. Oh right, he had almost forgotten. He got shot. He sighed heavily. He knew this would heal, he had just hoped the void his dead friends left would heal too.

After a while of deep thoughts, Thomas finally gained the willpower to go out to the Safe Haven. He took a deep breath and slowly exited the tent. He was quickly blinded by the bright light of the midday sun. But once his eyes recovered, it revealed a landscape of lightly golden sand lined with a deep blue ocean. There was a skyscraping mountain range that surrounded the other end. He had never seen anything like it.

A breeze blew on by pushing his messy hair more out of place. He heard laughing to his right and saw children running around in the sand. They looked as if they did not have a care in the world. It almost seemed…peaceful, something Thomas couldn’t ever remember experiencing. 

He made his way towards the beach and admired it. He saw the waves calmly press onto the sand with a familiar gentleness to it. The gentleness of his friend Newt. Thomas sighed. Newt would have loved this place. It was what he had dreamed of after all. He remembered that night. The first night in the bunks before the Scorch Trials, when they thought they had reached a peace:

“So this is what is outside the Maze? Hm, not quite what I expected it to be.” Newt sighed.

“Well, what did you expect it to be?” Thomas asked.

“Well, maybe not ‘expected’ but maybe more hoped. I always thought if I were to ever get out of the Maze, I would…I don’t bloody know…find a nice beach I suppose.”

“A nice beach?” Thomas chuckled.

“Now you can laugh all you want, but it’s true. I have never seen the ocean before. I feel like if I were to ever see one, I would jump straight into it. Well, maybe slowly get into it. After all, I don’t actually know if I can swim.”

“I’m starting to doubt if any of us can actually swim.” Thomas laughed softly. “But a beach, I can understand that, a beach seems…um…”

“Peaceful.” Newt responded.

“Yeah, peaceful. Well anything seems better than this place. I don’t trust it.”

Thomas all of a sudden saw a pillow flying towards his face. Followed by Newt’s words: “Speak for yourself! This is the first time I have had a proper bloody bed in years!”

Thomas chucked the pillow back in Newt’s direction, barely missing him. They each grabbed a pillow and started fighting each other. Thomas got the upper hand and pinned Newt on the ground, but Newt grabbed Thomas’ pillow and yanked it out of his hands at the last second.

“Not fair!” Thomas exclaimed. “I had you!”

“You’ll have to try a lot better than that if you want to beat me in a fight.” 

They both laughed, smiling at one another as they finally got ready for bed.

“Hey Newt.”

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“I’m going to get you to that beach someday.”

“Yes well, good luck with that. Let's be honest, we will get lucky to even see some nice weather in this world.”

“I’m going to do it.” Thomas told him, looking into his eyes once more.

“Ok Tommy, whatever you say…” Newt snickered as he climbed into his bunk, breaking their eye contact. “Goodnight Thomas.”

“Goodnight Newt.”

Thomas looked back at the horizon. He never did get him to that beach. He wondered if Newt would have really ran into that water. Or if he would have been a bad swimmer. Thomas would never know. God how he missed him. 

Thomas kept walking down the edge of the ocean, his arms swaying down at his sides, when he suddenly felt something in his pocket. He stopped and took it out. In his pocket was a clear glass vial containing a vibrant blue liquid which was all too familiar. It was the cure. The last one left. He had forgotten that Teresa gave him this. What was he supposed to do with it? With Teresa gone, could they even still make a cure? Would it even be worth it with the limited supplies they seemed to have? It wasn’t like they had a fancy medical center or anything. No one left alive, besides him, even knew it existed anyway. But Thomas wanted to help. That is what he always wanted to do. Maybe it was even what he wanted to do before the Maze. Was that why he worked with WICKED? He still wasn’t sure. He could never be sure. But what he did know is that he had a cure. He was the cure. Maybe, just maybe, he should do something about it. He couldn't save Newt, but if he saved people like Newt, wouldn't that be worth a try? But where would he start? He didn’t know the first thing about making the cure. The only two that had known were Teresa and Mary…and they were both dead.

His thoughts were stopped by the sight of his friends. He halted in place, they were all a few feet away: Minho, Brenda, Frypan, Jorge, and Gally. They were sitting in a circle around an unlit fire pit. It seemed like they were just talking casually, like it was a normal day. Brenda’s eyes perked up and seemed to notice Thomas for the first time. Her face lit up in a huge smile. “Thomas!” She shouted. 

Before Thomas could even say anything back, she jumped into his arms and gave him a loving embrace. When she released her grasp, she said “You’re alive! We weren’t sure if you were going to make it!” Thomas gave a small smile back. He felt a sense of happiness to see them all smiling, especially after everything that had happened.

The other followed suit, each giving him an embrace. Gally’s embrace was more of a pat on the back, while Frypan’s was a full on bear hug, lifting Thomas into the air. Thomas hissed. His injury on his side had not yet fully healed.

“Sorry man,” Frypan said. “We are all just relieved to see that you are okay.”

“No it’s okay Fry, I um…appreciate the warm welcome. How are you all doing?”

“Great now that you are awake. We were getting worried about you Shank, we thought we might have been too late.” Minho smiled as he went in for a hug next. When they were released, Minho’s sudden change in expression made Thomas think there was something bothering him.

In fact, they all had the same unsure look underneath their smiles. They all paused and looked around at each other like they were hesitant on what to say next. “So…” Jorge finally started. “How much do you remember, hermano?”

Thomas sighed. “I remember everything but..it is all hazy. The only part I remember vividly is…losing two of my best friends in the same night. Teresa fell off a burning building, and Newt…Thomas choked, looking away to gain back his composure. “Newt is gone…”

An awkward silence took over for a while. No one had said anything after him. At this point, it was clear to Thomas that something wasn’t right. “All right, what’s going on? Did something happen? You guys just keep staring at me.”

The silence had somehow seemed to get louder. They all looked at each other hesitantly when Minho finally spoke up. “There’s something we have to tell you.”

“Is this the best time?” Gally interrupted. “We don’t want to get his hopes up just for them to come crashing down again.”

Frypan sighed. “Maybe you’re right–”

“No!” Thomas interrupted. “What were you going to say? You guys can’t just keep things from me!" Thomas took a deep breath; his voice got soft. “Especially now.”

“Thomas…” Minho began.

“Newt isn’t dead.”

And Thomas ran.

Chapter Text

Newt drifted in a still darkness…but he did not mind it. In fact, he felt calm, even relaxed. There was no more danger. He could just be at peace. He sensed subtle movement around him, occasionally shuffling to and fro. But he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t scared of whatever presence was in front of him. It was different from what he normally experienced. It felt gentle, loving even. Newt wasn’t sure where he was. He thought he was dead. Was death just a void of darkness? Would he be stuck here forever? At least it was calm. It was the first calmness he had felt in a while…maybe it was the first calmness he had felt ever. The darkness was steady and tranquil, but in the far off distance he could hear something. It was...a voice?

“Higher!” The voice exclaimed. It sounded like a young girl’s voice. It seemed so familiar…

“Push me higher!” It spoke again. The voice echoed closer to him, he could hear the giggles that followed. Newt felt a child-like pleasure when he heard the laughter, it gave him a sense of happiness. Happiness was something hard to find these days.

The echoes led him to an old playground. There was a bright sun setting in the background. Shades of orange and purple flooded the sky. The playground was surrounded by tall, lively trees. He recognized those trees. Those were the ones he remembered, the ones he raced to the top of against…who was it against again? He looked back at the playground. It was empty. To Newt, that made sense, considering that it was almost dark out. But why would he be looking at an empty playground? He heard the giggles again. Newt looked closer to see a swingset in the corner of a playground. He saw two little children playing at the swing set. There was a little girl, about four or so, with two blonde, messy braids. She had a big smile on her face. She swung on the swing while a boy pushed her up from behind. He looked to be 2-3 years older at most, with blonde hair as well. His hair was short and also kind of messy. Both of them were delightfully laughing, but even though their image was clear, their voices were hazy like they were far off in a dream. 

“I am pushing you higher!” The boy giggled.

“Higher!” She exclaimed again.

The boy took a deep breath and mustered all his energy into the biggest push he could give. It was too much for the girl. The girl tumbled off the swing and into the ground, scraping both of her knees. Tears immediately started streaming down her face. She tried to muffle her cries but failed as one came wailing out. 

The little boy ran to her, as quickly as his little legs could take him. “Lizzy!” 

Lizzy. Now he remembered. She was the blonde girl with braids. The one Newt saw before. The one he raced against to the top of the trees. This must be the same girl. But the racing he remembered before was just quick flashes, something he barely could make out. It was just something familiar…like this was…Then it hit Newt like a ton of bricks. The playground vision wasn’t a far off dream, or something his head made up. It was a memory. It was something that happened before the Swipe. But how could he remember things before the Swipe?

“Are you okay?” The boy asked. 

The girl sniffled. “It hurts. It hurts a lot.”

The boy looked around for someone. And for the first time, Newt had a clear look at the boy. 

It was him. 

Well, not him now, he seemed to be much younger. Newt certainly didn’t remember himself back then, but he had the same eyes, same hair, just a younger face. It had to be him. Newt was even more confused. How could he see himself in his own memory? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was the flare still eating away at his brain? Was he even dead? Why was he remembering things now?

“I’ll get mommy. Mommy! Mommy!” The boy shouted out.

A woman came running to them. Unlike the kids, her face was blurred. It was like a puzzle piece that could not quite be placed. The vision started to become hazy. Newt could make out the girl getting picked up by the woman. The boy taking his mom’s hand. The woman turning and kneeling down to look the boy straight in the eye.

“You two shouldn’t be out here. Now, it is time for you and your sister to quickly come inside.”

Sister. Of course! The boy had called out for their mom. This girl wasn’t random, he was his sister! Newt had a family…or used to. Newt felt a new sense of pain. He had always wanted a sister. He would talk about it during his time in the Maze to Minho and Alby. How she would annoy him to pieces but he would love her anyway. Every glader wanted a family, but Newt wanted a sister. Maybe this was why. Maybe a small, almost microscopic part of him remembered that he had a sister. Seeing her now made it all click. His longing for a sister, his gentleness towards others, his protective nature. He protected someone before the Maze, he just didn’t know it yet. Where was she now? Had the flare got her? Were they separated? Where was she the day Newt was sent up in the box? How did he fail to protect her? The memory started to become even more hazy. The echoes of the voices traveled farther away. No! Newt needed to know more. Newt needed to know what happened to her.

“Why can’t we play out here anymore?” The boy gestured to the playground.

“It is not safe anymore.” His mom said, dismissing his curiosity.

“Why?” The boy asked again, begging for an answer.

The woman sighed. Though Newt couldn’t see her face, he could hear her dismay.

“The world is changing.” She told him in a stern tone.

The boy said nothing in return.

The image started to fade, their faces got blurry as they walked away from the playground. Any ounce of happiness was gone. The echoes left, leaving only one thing ringing in Newt’s ears over and over.

“The world is changing.”

Newt no longer felt calm in the still darkness.

Chapter Text

“Thomas!” Minho called out, but Thomas didn’t listen. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. A thin layer of sweat formed at the nape of his neck. His pace started to quicken as he gained momentum. He looked down to see his feet barely touching the ground before springing back up again. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, scanning for any obstacles in his way. His leg muscles ached as the blood flowed through his entire body. He could hear more voices shouting behind him, but they were gradually fading away like they were a far away dream:

“Thomas!” 

“Come back!”

“Thomas stop!”

Thomas pushed the voices farther back from his mind. He only focused on one thing: Newt was alive. Thomas had to find him, Was he in one of the tents or maybe–

That’s when he forgot one crucial thing: Minho was faster than him.

Thomas' arm was grabbed by Minho and was yanked back bringing Thomas to a full stop. He struggled against Minho’s grasp but he wouldn’t budge. Thomas bared his teeth. “Minho let go!” 

“Thomas, you have to listen to me!” Minho demanded, refusing to let Thomas pass.

“No! Not until I see him first!”

“Thomas!”

“Let g–”

“THOMAS LISTEN!”

Thomas and Minho had been through the Maze, the Scorch, and the Last City together. They had saved each other from countless near-deaths and watched people die left and right. They had fought, faced WICKED, and survived together, And yet, Thomas doesn’t think he had ever heard Minho yell at him like that before. There was this pain in Minho’s voice he never noticed before, not in the Maze, not in the Scorch, not when he was taken by WICKED again. He had always remained strong for the group, never quivered, never showed any vulnerability to Thomas. But at this moment, Minho was standing in front of him looking one word away from breaking. One wrong move away from being vulnerable. One push away from pain. Thomas stopped struggling against Minho and took a deep breath in, looking into Minho’s dark eyes with a new sense of understanding. He would listen. Minho seemed to notice this and released Thomas’ sore wrist from his tight grasp.

The rest of the group caught up to them now. Silence filled the Safe Haven. Thomas could hear nothing but the waves crash against the shore, and the sound of the wind caressing the nearby trees.

Minho took a deep breath, seeming to regain his hard exterior. He looked at the group and then back at Thomas. “Newt he…he isn’t the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“He won’t wake up. He is weak, Thomas. When they brought him in, he looked like he was already dead. The Right Arm’s medjacks are doing everything they can but…they told us earlier today that he wouldn’t last the night. It’s too late for him.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say? His whole world was broken again. The hope was gone. Thomas felt a deep pain, deeper than he was willing to admit. Losing Newt again was somehow worse than the first time…

Brenda reached up and placed her hand on Thomas’ shoulder, but Thomas was quick to shrug her off. His best friend. A piece of him. Shuck, his everything was gone. And it was all his fault. He couldn't carry Newt to the serum. He couldn’t even hold Newt off long enough. He couldn’t save his best friend. It was all his fault–

“I didn’t get him here quick enough.” Minho cut in before Thomas could finish his thoughts. “I should of been faster, I should picked him up quicker–”

Thomas blinked and picked up his head suddenly, “What are you talking about?” 

“After you left to go confront WICKED, we checked his pulse. It was weak but still there. I picked him up as we ran back to Jorge and the burg. They took him to the Safe Haven from there and the medjacks have been treating him ever since. But we were too late. They told us that he had lost too much blood and that it was a miracle he had made it this long. I’m sorry Thomas, I should have been better.”

There he was. Minho proved himself once again to be what Thomas couldn’t: a hero. He was faster than Thomas, stronger than him, and heck he could even lift Newt back to the burg. Minho saved Newt.

Thomas heavily sighed, letting his head drop as he wiped tears that welled up in his eyes. He looked back up at Minho, who had wiped his eyes from incoming tears. Thomas spoke up. “It isn’t your fault man, you did everything you could. I was the one who ran off when he needed me. I just assumed he was dead. You tried to save him. You are a better friend than I ever will be. I just…I should have known that there was no hope of him coming back. He’s dead and I need to understand that.”

“Aris told us that we should all come in and say our goodbyes later tonight,” Gally said. Thomas broke eye contact with Minho and looked at Gally. He had almost forgotten that all his friends were surrounding him and Minho.

“Wait. Why would Aris say that?” 

“Well Sonya and Aris have been caring for him,” Frypan told Thomas.

Thomas paused and tilted his head slightly. “Why are Sonya and Aris–”

“Thomas.” Brenda interrupted. “Will you come with us to say goodbye to Newt tonight? I know this is hard on you. It is hard on all of us. But I don’t want you to miss out on your chance of getting a real goodbye.” 

Thomas quivered. The last time he saw Newt…Newt had died, his only word spoken being “Tommy.” Thomas never got to tell Newt how much he meant to him. He never got to tell Newt that he cares more about him than he even cares about himself. Newt may not be able to hear him tonight, but Thomas has to tell Newt how much he cares about him, and how much he will miss him before it is too late.

Thomas shook out his intrusive thoughts and looked up at Brenda who was wide eyed waiting for his answer. “Yeah. Yeah of course I will, I promise. It’s just…do you think I could spend some time alone? Just to take this all in. I promise I’ll be back in time to say goodbye.”

“Sure hermano. Take your time. We know this is a lot to take in.” Jorge told him. 

“Thanks Jorge.” 

Thomas started to wander away from the group. Once he was out of sight, he ran. He couldn't be seen like this, about to break. Thomas stumbled into the hut he woke up in, his heart was heavy with emotion. He could feel the tears coming up again. They threatened to take him over any second. He was about to let them loose when Minho appeared through the entrance. “Shuck, what part of spending some time alone does Minho not understand?” Thomas thought to himself. Thomas forced back his tears. Minho hasn’t seen him cry since the Maze, and that was before Thomas was the leader. Thomas promised himself that day that he would be strong. Minho couldn’t see him like this, especially after Minho thought he lost both him and Newt. 

“Hey Thomas,” Minho spoke softly. 

“Hey Minho.” Thomas cleared his throat in order to try to hide the shakiness in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you wanted some time alone but I wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and held out his fist. “I found this on you when they first brought you in here.”

Minho opened up his fist and inside it held a silver necklace. But not just any necklace…

Newt’s necklace.

“Yeah…that’s mine.” Thomas could feel the tears welling up again. “Thanks Minho.” 

“No problem. I’ll see you tonight.” He patted Thomas on the back before leaving the tent.

Thomas held the necklace in his hand. He ran his fingers over the cold metal again and again. It was a simple necklace, a trinket really, but it held so much meaning for Thomas, because Newt had worn it every day. As he continued to examine the necklace, he found himself lost in the memories he had of his friend. He remembered Newt’s infectious laugh, his kind smile, his gentleness, and how he always knew exactly what to say to encourage everyone. WICKED was right about one thing: Newt was the glue that held them together. He tilted his head. Did the necklace have a lid? Thomas carefully untwisted the necklace open revealing tightly rolled up pieces of paper inside. Thomas took a deep breath in. He slowly unfurled the paper, revealing a handwritten letter. 

Dear Thomas,

This is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously I don't know if I've written any letters before the Maze. But even if it's not my first, it's likely to be my last. I want you to know that I'm not afraid. About dying anyways or forgetting. It's losing myself to this virus, that's what scares me. So every night I've been saying their names out loud. Alby, Winston, Chuck. And I just repeat them over and over like a prayer. And it all comes flooding back. Just the little things. Like when the sun used to hit the glade at the perfect moment, right before it'd slip beneath the walls. And I remember the taste of Frypans stew. I'd never thought I'd miss that stuff so much. 

I remember you. I remember you first coming up in the box, just a scared little greenie, who couldn't even remember his own name. But from the moment you ran into the Maze, I knew that I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have. If I could do it all over again I would, and I wouldn't change a thing. My hope for you is when you're looking back, years from now, is that you'll stay the same. The future is in your hands now Tommy, and I know you'll find a way to do what's right, you always have. Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy, Thank you for being my friend. 

Goodbye mate, 

Newt

Thomas couldn’t take it anymore. He wiped away the tears that started forming in his eyes, and took off out of the tent. He had to find Newt. He had to see him. On top of a hill, Thomas saw Aris exit a tent. Aris was caring to Newt, meaning that was Newt’s tent. 

“Thomas?” Aris called out. 

Thomas’ gut had told him to run past Aris right towards Newt, sick or not. But then it hit him like a brick: he remembered his promise. He was supposed to say goodbye to Newt with his friends. Thomas slowed down his speed, and came to a stop. He had already hurt everyone so much already. If he made this promise, he was going to keep it.

“Thomas!” Aris called out again. A smile lit up on Aris’ face. Thomas wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Aris smile, let alone smile that big. 

“Thomas there you are!” Aris exclaimed, jogging towards him from on top of the hill. “I heard the good news that you had woken up! How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine but…”

Aris gently grabbed Thomas’ arm and pulled up his sleeve, causing Thomas’ words to trail off. Aris’ eyes grew wide. “Your scars are almost completely healed! Do you think I could run some physical tests on you later? I’m supposed to do that before releasing patients from the medical tents but you just kind of walked out–”

“Yeah sure...Hey, can I ask you about…”

Thomas’ word slowed. Does he really want to ask about Newt again? Thomas wasn’t even sure why he started to ask. It was almost like an instinct to check in on Newt’s well being. Thomas held his tongue. Did he really want to hear about his best friend’s chances of dying tonight? Aris looked at him strangely, tilting his head to one side. Their eyes connected. The last time they connected like this Thomas could communicate with Aris in his head. Now, with Thomas’ chip gone, he couldn’t do that anymore. But nevertheless, Aris seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, almost as if Thomas was communicating it into Aris’ mind right now, without saying any words out loud. 

“Newt,” Aris spoke. “You wanted to ask about Newt.”

“Yeah…”

“Come with me.”

Aris took off down the hill to the beach below. Thomas hastily followed, looking back at Newt’s tent once more before fully turning towards the beach.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked.

“I wanted to show you something.”

Thomas looked up at him, confused on what could possibly be here on an open beach. “What is it?”

“Just follow me.” 

Thomas nodded, his interest piqued. Once they reached the sand, they walked past the rock cliffs towards the very end of the beach. Aris then turned away from the ocean and walked until they found a secluded cove. Aris climbed up onto a rocky outcropping and Thomas followed him, almost losing his balance in the process.

“Be careful. We are almost there,” Aris called out to him.

Finally, Aris pulled back a curtain of vines to reveal a small cave. Inside the cave there were walls covered in sea moss. It was cool in this cave, but comfortable compared to the hot sun outside.

Thomas gasped in awe. “This is amazing, Aris. How did you find this place?”

“I found it while exploring when I first came here. I come here sometimes when I need to be alone.” Aris took a deep breath in. “I have never shown anybody this place, but it helped me so I thought it would help you too.” 

They locked eyes and tears slowly started forming in Thomas’ as he wiped them away quickly again. Aris put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “You are strong Thomas. I know you have been holding back your tears, trying to be strong for the rest of us. But here, you don’t need to be. 

“I can’t Aris," he said, pushing away his tears again. “I have to be strong for everyone else. I have to be the leader.”

Aris frowned. “Being a leader doesn’t mean you have to hold in your tears. It is okay to be vulnerable sometimes. Trust me, I know it better than anyone. I was in the Maze with all the girls after all. They taught me that being vulnerable…it shows that you are human.”

Thomas closed his eyes and let out a gasp, allowing himself to finally break down and cry. He sat against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. The tears came rushing out. He felt Aris put his arm around him, and squeeze his shoulder.

For the next few minutes, Thomas sobbed uncontrollably. He let it all out for the first time. All the torture from the Maze, Scorch, and the Last City poured out. He cried over all the people he lost. He cried over his best friend, Newt, who he was going to lose. Aris stayed with him the whole time, not saying anything but being there for comfort.

Thomas attempted to settle his mind a few minutes later. He took a deep breath in and sighed. “Thanks Aris,” he said, his voice still shaky. “I needed that.”

Aris gives him a sincere smile. “Anytime.” He gave Thomas’ shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry about Newt, he was a great guy. I know you guys were super close.”

Thomas looked up at him. “So there is no way he will survive the night?”

Aris shuttered and looked away. “I’m sorry Thomas, I really am. But I have been a medjack for a while now and this doesn’t look promising. I guess you never know though, miracles do happen.” He looked back at Thomas and shrugged. “I wish I could be as optimistic as you and Sonya–”

“Sonya’s optimistic?” Thomas interrupted.

“Well, yes and no. She has refused to let even the idea of Newt dying be an option. She has been working day and night trying everything she can do to help him. I have to give her credit, it has made him survive a little bit longer than we originally anticipated, but unfortunately not even her effort is enough. I’m really sorry Thomas. I wish there was more we could do.”

“It’s alright…I understand.” Thomas shuttered. “Thank you for trying. You did everything you could. I wish I could just focus on something else for the time being.”

Thomas noticed Aris’ gaze move towards the entrance of the cave. “Well maybe you can,” Aris smiled. “Look.” He pointed his hand out. “It’s the sunset.”

Aris and Thomas went to the entrance of the cave where they could get the full view of the horizon. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the ocean. Thomas watched in awe. This was his first sunset of the Safe Haven, and it was the most beautiful thing Thomas had ever seen.

Aris spoke up. “The Scorch may have been horrible, but the one thing it did give us was beautiful sunsets.”

The two boys sat side by side. For a while they sat in a comforting silence, Thomas was lost in the sky as he watched it shift from bright oranges and yellows to soft pinks and purples. The waves crashed against the shore, creating a soothing rhythm that filled his ears. For the first time Thomas understood what peace felt like. Maybe, just maybe, he could make a life here. Maybe he could finally be happy. Wasn’t that why Newt wanted him to live? Isn’t that why he wrote that letter? To allow Thomas to be happy?

Thomas grabbed onto Newt's necklace, he had almost forgotten he had put it on. Thomas grasped it tightly. He was not going to let Newt’s death be a waste. He made a promise to himself to try his best to give back to others and live the most fulfilling life he could. Maybe it was time to make closer connections…he could start by learning about the kids from group B, the kids he would spend the rest of his life with.

So, Thomas spoke up. “So you, Harriet, and Sonya were all in the Maze together. Did you guys have a leader like we did?”

“Yeah,” Aris smiled. “Harriet was, well still is, our leader. She is a great one too. She can take the risks and make the tough decisions like no one else.”

Thomas smiled. “Yeah, Harriet seems pretty great. I somehow don’t know her too well even though we spent six months together.”

“She actually has become close friends with Minho.”

“What?!” Thomas exclaimed. “I did not expect that.”

“I know, isn't that weird?” Aris responded. “They both have very bold personalities so I’m just surprised that they don’t bicker all the time!”

Thomas chuckled. “I hope to get to know her better.” Thomas looked out at the sunset and then back at Aris. “What about Sonya? You said she has been taking care of Newt. She never struck me as a medjack. Was she one in the Maze?”

“Well here’s the interesting thing,” Aris smirked. “She wasn’t one. Plain and simple. She was second command in our Maze. She was always more of a fighter than a caretaker. She led us, not cured us. It wasn’t until they brought Newt in that all of a sudden she wanted to help. She actually has surprised me with how good she is at caretaking. When I asked her why she all of a sudden decided to be a medjack, all she said was that she just had a ‘feeling’ that she needed to help Newt, whatever that means. Maybe she helped people before the Maze or maybe…maybe…”

“...Maybe she knew Newt before the Maze?” Thomas added on.

Aris sighed. “Yeah it's just a theory though. She would deny it, but she really hasn’t left Newt’s side since he got here. Harriet and I have to drag her out of the room to get her to eat a meal instead of caretaking. Even our most professional medjacks here still find time to eat. Not to mention, her focus has been on Newt and only Newt. I bet she doesn’t even know you are awake.” Aris chuckled.

Thomas stared up at Aris. “Do you think she remembers him?”

Aris put his head down as if he was pondering how to answer. He looked back up at Thomas. “Remembers him as if she has memories of him? No. But part of me thinks helping him is like muscle memory to her. Just like she said, a ‘feeling’ she had, like an instinct.”

“Like I had with Teresa…” Thomas trailed off.

Aris sighed, and looked out onto the almost completely set sun. “I’m sorry about Teresa, Thomas.”

“Yeah me too.”

“You know, it’s evening.” Aris said after some time.

“So that means…”

“Yeah it’s time. Let's go see our friends.”

Thomas and Aris walked back across the beach. In the distance, they saw a small gathering of people standing around a fire pit. It was their friends. All of them were here: Minho, Harriet, Brenda, Frypan, Jorge, Vince, and Gally. Well, all were there except Sonya. Thomas supposed she was probably still taking care of Newt. As they approached their friends he could sense that something was different. There was no longer a somber feeling, it felt more like a sense of acceptance. Everyone knew Newt’s time was coming to an end and wanted to be with him in his final moments. Brenda came up to him and gave him a huge hug, then went to Aris and did the same. Soon everyone was hugging and a sense of peace washed over them. 

“So are we going to do this?” Frypan’s voice shaked as he asked Aris.

“Oh I don't make the call,” Aris replied. “We will have to wait until Sonya calls out for us.”

Thomas felt someone tap on his shoulder. It was Harriet. “Hey,” she spoke. “Minho and I were about to take a walk on the beach, you know something to distract us with while we wait. Do you guys want to come?” 

Thomas hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted to leave and be further away from Newt. But Aris patted him on the back and said, “Sure Harriet. We would like that.” Thomas looked at Harriet’s hopeful face and nodded. 

As they walked down the beach, Thomas made sure they didn’t stray too far from the others. The presence of Harriet, Minho, and Aris was comforting to Thomas. He felt a new sense of gratitude for being able to just be with them.

“So Thomas, what do you think you will do in the Safe Haven?” Harriet asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, Aris is a gardener, I am a hunter, and Minho helps with the farm."

“Minho helps with the farm?!” Thomas exclaimed. Minho was the last person he could ever see settling down to farm life.

“Yeah dude,” Minho chuckled. "Farming is hard, and for the record it takes a lot of running to gather all the animals.”

“It’s not a bad thing…I’m just surprised that’s all. I’m not sure what I am going to do. I can’t remember doing anything else other than being a runner.”

“I’m sure we will find you something,” Harriet said. "We all pitch in here. It is kind of nice being in a little community.”

“Yeah I think I will like it here,” Thomas smiled. “And honestly, anything is better than running for your lives constantly.”

Ahead of them, Thomas came across a large rock in the distance. As the group came closer, Thomas got a better look at it. The large rock stood solemnly in the middle of the beach. It was weathered, with patched lichen and moss growing in crevices. However, it still had a smooth surface. On the surface of the rock were names etched deep into the stone. 

Harriet spoke up. “This is a tribute, or a memorial of some sorts. The names are of the people we lost because of the WICKED trials. They are carved into the stone as a permanent reminder of their sacrifice.”

Thomas stood there silently reading the names engraved on the rock. There were some girls names that he didn't recognize, he supposed they were from group B. But there were also names he did know: Winston, Mary, Alby, Chuck… 

“Hey Minho,” Thomas spoke softly. “Do you have something I can carve with?”

“Yeah here.” Minho whispered and handed him a carving tool.

Without a word, he reached for the tool and carefully etched Teresa’s name into the rock. Thomas looked towards the group. “She may have betrayed us, but she saved me in the end. She was only trying to do what she thought was right. She deserves to be remembered too.”

The others nodded in agreement, and for a few moments, they stood there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of those they lost.

Then, Minho spoke up. “After we say goodbye to Newt tonight, I am going to come back here and carve his name in. I won’t be able to move on until I make sure he will be remembered.”

It may have been a small gesture, but it meant a lot to all of them. Thomas nodded in approval and patted Minho on the back. Harriet gave Minho a soft embrace and Aris gave Minho a look of understanding.

“Should we be heading back?” Harriet asked.

“Yeah,” Aris said. “It should be about time to say goodbye–” 

“Help!” shouted a voice in the distance.

From across the beach, Thomas saw a girl running frantically towards them. Her blonde braids were swinging wildly with each step. Thomas got a closer look and realized it was Sonya.

“Aris help!” She shouted again. As she approached the group, she gasped for breath, her chest heaving with exertion.

“What is it Sonya?!” Aris said urgently as he tried to calm her down.

“It’s Newt!”

“What about Newt?!” Thomas quickly asked.

Sonya locked eyes with Thomas. His world stopped again when he heard her next words:

“I think he is about to die.”

And Thomas ran again.

Chapter Text

Newt always had a struggle with the unknown. 

He remembered when he first came up in the box. No memories, no nothing. He couldn't even remember his own name. He remembered feeling like something was missing, like a part of him was gone. 

Newt used to yearn constantly for his lost memories. The feeling of not knowing who he was, where he came from, or what he had experienced gnawed at his fragile existence. One day, he couldn’t take it anymore. He woke up early and ran straight into the Maze. He climbed to the highest point he could and jumped off it, hoping to end his misery. 

But he didn’t die. Alby found him and gave him a second chance at life. 

From that day forward, he took that second chance. He shaped himself into a new person, his own person. He turned his head away from the past. He accepted that he would never have his memories again, he would never see his forgotten loved ones again, and he would probably never leave the Glade. 

The Newt from before was gone.

…and Newt was at peace with that.

But now, uneasiness surged through him. With each resurfacing memory, he faced the grim possibility of unearthing the memories he had once yearned for. But instead of feeling excited, he felt uneasy. He was afraid of what he would reveal.

“But when has fear ever bloody stopped me before?” Newt thought to himself. 

And it didn’t stop him.

He wanted to know what happened to Lizzy, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. But the more he remembered, the more pain he felt. His pain was raw and visceral, a blend of confusion, fear, and a profound sense of loss. The unknown, once a seemingly innocuous void, transformed into a terrifying abyss that threatened to engulf him. 

Remembering almost seemed like a fate worse than forgetting.

Newt found himself trapped in a perplexing maze of forgotten memories. Echoes of what his mother said resurfaced, whispering through the recesses of his mind. “The world is changing.” The words played over and over again like a broken record. What was she referring to? The Flare? The Scorch? WICKED? Newt wasn’t sure.

“How did I even end up in WICKED’s hands anyway?”

Newt suddenly found himself confronted with a jolt of recollection. As the memory resurfaced, it crashed over Newt like a relentless wave, pulling him back into the forgotten. 

Newt found himself surrounded by chaos.

It was a time of devastation, where the once-vibrant world seemed to crumble under his feet. The sun, a blazing orb in the sky, beat down mercilessly upon the desolate landscape, wilting the once-lush greenery that now lay brown and lifeless. The earth, once teeming with life, now cracked under the relentless scorch. Buildings crumbled and decayed, their foundations weakened by the weight of time and neglect. The remnants of society stood as mere echoes of what once was.

In that hazy recollection, Newt saw himself as a young boy, a bit older than his previous memory. Newt watched the young boy witnessing the backdrop of destruction through a small window. His sister, Lizzy, clung to him, her small hand clutching his tightly. She looked up at him, seeking solace and reassurance. The boy turned to see his parents quickly pacing around their home. They were packing up their belongings, but more than what was needed for a couple day trip. Newt sensed that something was wrong. It seemed his younger self had sensed that too when he asked:

“What are you packing for?” 

“Oh nothing honey. We are just going to take a quick trip.” His mother said, her blurred face putting on a quick smile before quickly returning to what she was doing. Newt still couldn’t clearly see their faces, but their body language said all he needed to know. Something was terribly wrong. Newt wasn’t sure if he was ready to witness what tragedy would come next.

The boy’s father called him over. The boy built up the courage to let Lizzy go and went over to him. His father took a knee and put his hand on young Newt’s shoulder. His voice trembled as he spoke. "Son," he said. "Take these.” He handed the boy two identical necklaces. 

Newt recognized the necklaces! One was the same necklace he put Tommy's note in. He had never realized the necklace’s significance, he had always just had it. It had come up in the Maze with him. The more Newt thought about it, the more he realized how he wore the necklace under his shirt so it wouldn’t be seen, and more importantly, so wouldn’t get lost. He would always caress its smooth exterior when he was tense, in order to calm down. He would open and close it again and again, wondering what was meant to be inside it. When he was dying, he had entrusted it to Tommy. He had subconsciously cherished it all this time and never knew why. It was a gift from his parents, a key to his past and he never even knew it! Newt felt like a bloody idiot for not putting together its significance sooner.

His father continued. “One is for you. The other is for your sister. Use these to remember that no matter where you go next, you will always have a family that cares so much about you.” His voice trembled even more. Newt could tell that he was trying to stay strong for his son. It was similar to what Thomas, Alby, and Minho did in the Maze. Newt watched as the boy didn’t say anything. The father and son stood face to face, their eyes locked with an unspoken understanding. The father's strong arms enveloped his son in a hug. It was short but Newt could tell it meant the world to his father.

When they released, his father spoke again. “You must promise me something. Promise me that you will stay with Lizzy, no matter what happens. Protect her, please.” 

The boy mustered the strength to respond, his gaze locked with his father's tear-filled eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. "I promise, Dad. I'll protect Lizzy, no matter what." 

Questions started arising in Newt’s head. Was this where he lost his sister? What was putting his parents so on edge? Were there cranks outside the doors? Was it WICKED? Who does he need to protect Lizzy from?

As if on cue, the memory began to fracture and crumble before Newt's eyes. His surroundings faded, dissipating like mist in the wind. No! This couldn’t be happening. Not when he is so close to knowing the fate of his sister. What happened to her?!

But before the memory disappeared entirely, a cacophony of sound pierced his ears. Loud, frantic pounding on the door reverberated through the house followed by the ringing of bullets, shattering any last illusion the young boy had of peace or safety.

The memory had faded into nothing. But this time, Newt didn’t need the rest. He could sense the truth deep inside him. He knew those sounds. They were the sounds of WICKED’s guns. He didn’t know how, but he knew that those shots were aimed at his parents. He knew that WICKED wanted Lizzy for their cruel experiments. He knew that Lizzy was immune. He knew because he had remembered.

One question rang in the back of his mind. If WICKED killed his parents and took him and Lizzy, was she even still alive?

Chapter Text

Thomas hurried towards Newt’s tent. As he began ascending the hill, his strides quickened as his feet firmly pressed against the incline. His brow glistened with beads of sweat, as he quickly raced against time. 

“Time that Newt might not have.” Thomas thought, almost stumbling at the reality of his situation.

Thomas shook away his intrusive thoughts as he continued to stride. Once Newt’s tent was in sight, his determination grew stronger. He was driven by the sheer will to save his best friend's life, even though he had been told by everyone that it was impossible. 

What made matters worse, was that he had no idea of how to save Newt’s life. 

But that wouldn’t stop him. The world around him seemed to blur, but he narrowed his vision, focused solely on reaching Newt in time.

After a relentless pursuit, Thomas finally reached Newt's tent. Without a moment's hesitation, he swiftly entered the tent, his heart pounding with anticipation. 

He was not ready for the horrible sight that greeted him.

Newt was consumed by restlessness. Despite his body shaking, his eyes remained tightly shut. He violently twisted and turned as if his subconscious mind was engaged in a tense struggle. Gasping for air, he struggled to draw in deep breaths, followed by exhales that were feeble and strained. His limbs thrashed with fervor, as if desperately reaching for something that was just beyond his grasp.

Thomas froze, paralyzed from the dreadful sight that laid before him. Thomas knew Newt’s body must be fighting against his illness, yet had no idea how to help him.

But he had to do something. 

He watched Alby get killed by the grievers. 

He watched Chuck get shot by Gally. 

He let Winston shoot himself in the head. 

He watched Teresa fall to her death as the burning building crumbled to the ground. 

He wasn’t going to stand around and watch Newt die too, not if he could do something about it.

Thomas snapped out of his thoughts and ran closer to Newt's side. His voice trembled as he called out to Newt, desperately trying to rouse him from his restless sleep. "Newt, wake up!" He pleaded. 

When there was no response, Thomas reached out and gently shook Newt, hoping to jolt him back to consciousness. But when Newt remained lost in his troubled dreams, Thomas shook him more vigorously, urgently calling out his name.

Thomas's senses heightened as he noticed the flurry of activity towards the entrance of the tent. Harriet and Minho had rushed into the room, their faces engulfed with strained worry. Aris and Sonya entered quickly behind them, their faces holding the same expression.

However, their presence faded into the background as Thomas directed his focus solely back onto Newt, who seemed to be getting paler by the second. Ignoring the commotion around him, Thomas pressed on, desperate to awaken Newt. Thomas pleaded, begging Newt to wake up, while he continued to shake him persistently.

"That won't work, Thomas!" Harriet's voice rang out, as she forcefully grasped his arms and pulled them off of Newt.

Before Thomas could reach back, Aris stepped in. He asserted himself with a strong push towards Thomas, creating more space between Thomas and Newt. "Everyone except Sonya, stay back! Let the medjacks handle this!" 

Aris’ voice resonated with a newfound authority that silenced the chaos. The unusual display of aggressiveness from Aris caught Thomas and the others off guard. Momentarily stunned, Thomas, along with Harriet, and Minho quickly recognized the seriousness in Aris' demeanor and stepped back, allowing him and Sonya to take the lead.

As Thomas observed the two, he saw Sonya acting swiftly. She grabbed a small flashlight from a nearby table and directed its beam onto Newt's eyes. Simultaneously, Aris took hold of Newt's hand seemingly taking Newt’s pulse.

"He has no reaction!" Sonya shouted towards Aris. Despite not fully understanding the meaning of her words, Thomas sensed their significance when Aris' eyes widened at her statement. Helplessness washed over Thomas. He hated being confined to the role of a passive observer. He wished he could do something to help Newt.

In an instant, Thomas shifted his gaze back to Sonya, noticing her rise in panic. "He hasn't responded to anything I do!" She shouted towards Aris, looking to him for help. Thomas noticed her breaths grow more jagged as she spoke. "It's as if he's trapped in some kind of trance!"

Thomas exchanged a glance with Aris, but Aris quickly pulled his eyes away and refocused them back on Sonya. With a disheartened expression, he gently lowered Newt's arm. "His pulse is weak and unchanging. Sonya, this is not a good sign."

As the weight of the situation pressed upon the room, a medical tool slipped from Sonya's trembling hands, clattering against a nearby table. Frustration seemed to tinge her voice as she spoke, “I know it's not good, Aris!” Sonya’s forehead glistened with sweat, which she hastily wiped away. “I don't understand what's happening! Typically, he remains still!” Aris quickly went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath, seeming to sense her own franticness and attempted to calm down. “This is far from normal, Aris. He is normally calm, almost peaceful." The worry in her eyes mirrored the growing unease gripping the tent. 

Thomas turned his gaze towards Harriet and Minho, noticing their intense fixation on Sonya and Aris. They, too, were trapped in a state of weakness from being unable to contribute meaningfully. The room began to fill with an overwhelming sense of panic, accentuated by the gradual weakening of Newt's breaths. Minho and Harriet, consumed by their own anxieties, began to voice a flurry of questions and observations, when Aris and Sonya seemed to be stuck.

“What are you guys going to do? Look at him!”

“Is he dreaming?”

“He is barely breathing! Do something!”

“Can you wake him up?”

“You have to work faster!”

“What is happening to him?”

“Will he survive?!”

Thomas said nothing. He remained fixated on his dying friend, feeling paralyzed by the weight of his helplessness. 

Eventually the questions made Minho's frustration reach its boiling point. “Aris, look at him!” Minho gestured to Newt's weakening state. “You medjacks should have fixed him by now! Why is he so restless?!”

Aris didn’t look up at him but spoke. “Minho, you are distracting me,” he said in an aggressive tone. “Look, I don’t know yet. You just have to trust me.” He went back to his notes.

“You don’t know yet?! And I'm just supposed to trust that he’ll be okay?! You better know soon, you shank! I will not have my best friend die because you don’t know! ”

"Minho, your frustration is only making things worse!" Aris exclaimed. "We need to stay calm in order to think clearly and help Newt!"

Harriet swiftly stepped in, her presence a much-needed anchor amidst the mounting turmoil. “Stop! Both of you!” She shouted, her voice carried a firm yet soothing tone as she sought to break up the tension. But Minho would not calm down. In an outburst of frustration, he forcefully kicked a chair, causing it to topple over with a resounding crash. 

A sudden hush fell over the tent as Sonya's voice cut through the commotion. "Guys! He’s speaking!" she exclaimed, her words commanding the attention of everyone present.

The tent fell into a sudden silence, each person awaiting Newt's words with bated breath.

"Stop," Newt pleaded, his voice weak, and trembling. The words that followed were devoid of coherence, fragmented and scattered as they slipped from his lips. "No, don’t touch her!" He gasped, those words louder than the rest. The urgency in his voice tugged at Thomas's heart, pushing him to extract meaning from Newt’s scattered words.

Thomas looked down to see Minho's fists clench. "Shuck! He's speaking utter nonsense!" Minho exclaimed, his disbelief laced with irritation. "Who is 'her' ? I don't even think Newt knows any girls!"

Harriet's voice rose in response. "Of all things, that's what you decide to bring up?!" she shouted, clearly exasperated.

"I'm just trying to make sense of it!" Minho defended. "He's clearly not in the right state of mind. It's all nonsensical!"

Aris, who looked more weary and resigned by the minute, released a sigh. "Minho has a point," he conceded. "Newt's mind is clouded. Engaging in this debate won't bring us closer to understanding his condition." Thomas could feel the weight of their helplessness bore down on the room, overshadowing any attempts to make sense of Newt’s words.

Newt's body continued to thrash about. Every fiber of Thomas’ being screamed for him to take action, to do something that would help Newt. But what could he do? He wasn’t a medjack and had no experience healing people. In fact, he was usually the one getting healed.

“Aris we got to do something!” Sonya shouted as she ran to hold Newt down. She turned over Newt’s arm to reveal his veins. Thomas gasped when he saw them. The veins were a haunting shade of black, that snaked all the way up his arms. As Aris and Sonya continued to shout orders at one another, Thomas tuned them out, focusing solely on Newt’s veins. He had seen them before. Of course! Newt still had The Flare. 

“Aris! I don’t know what to do!” Sonya’s voice snapped Thomas out of his thoughts. “I have been giving him the serum but it seems like his body is rejecting it!” Thomas looked closer at Newt and realized Sonya was right. Newt was spitting up blue liquid each time he coughed. “Not only that,” Sonya continued. “His body has seemed to stop healing entirely!”

“Stopped healing?” Aris questioned, a mix of confusion and alarm spread across his face. "I thought the serum was supposed to act like a cure!"

Cure.  

The word sent Thomas’ mind spiraling to a halt. The other’s voices faded away into the back of his mind, each sentence getting quieter than the last.

“Aris, what do I do? You’ve been a medjack longer than me!”

“Sonya, I know you want to help him, but I don't know if there is anything we can do.”

Thomas instinctively reached into his pocket, his fingers searching until they grasped a small vial. With a swift motion, he brought it up to his eyes, peering closely at its contents—a familiar thick, viscous blue liquid. The cure!

"Sonya," Thomas called out, but his voice seemed to go unnoticed amidst the chaos. He tried again, this time raising his volume. "Sonya!" he repeated, his tone laced with urgency, but both she and Aris remained fully engrossed by Newt's condition. Feeling the weight of the moment, Thomas raised his voice to a shout, breaking through the din in the tent. "SONYA!" The force behind his cry pierced the room, and the medjacks quickly silenced. The attention of the room instantly fell upon him.

"Would the cure help?!" Thomas exclaimed, holding up the vial in his hands, his eyes locked with Sonya's.

The room stayed in silence, broken only by the faint sounds of Newt's labored breathing. All eyes were fixed on Sonya as tears streamed down her cheeks. But she seemed to pay no attention to the others, and swiftly wiped her tears away. With a new sense of hope in her eyes, she quickly took the cure from Thomas' hands and rushed to a nearby drawer. Her hands trembled as she searched frantically, finally retrieving a syringe. The tension in the air thickened as Thomas and the others looked on, unsure of the implications of Sonya's actions.

Before anyone could protest, Sonya searched for a vein in Newt’s arm and injected the cure into his body. Almost instantaneously, Newt's restless movements ceased, and he laid still once more.

Aris stared at Thomas in shock. “Cure?” He spoke up. “I thought those didn’t exist.”

“Thomas,” Harriet’s voice trembled, her eyes fixed on the now empty vial. “Where did you get that?”

Then, suddenly, the flaps of the tent burst open. Gally, Brenda, and Frypan burst in, puzzled by all the stunned faces.

"What the hell is happening here, Greenie?!" Gally demanded, his voice breaking the silence of the room. "First, we hear tons of commotion, and now you all look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Thomas..." Sonya began, her voice shaky. "He...he has a cure."

Frypan's mouth gaped. The words that followed were barely a whisper. "Where did you get that, Thomas?"

Brenda started to speak, but her words caught in her throat, her disbelief evident on her face.

“No he can’t–” Brenda cut herself off. “That’s not possible.”

"Yes...it is," Thomas replied with a soft voice. "In fact, it was used to cure you."

Thomas could feel everyone's attention shift between him and Brenda. 

“Mary made it without knowing, and Teresa…” Thomas trembled.  “She was able to recreate it before…before her…”

"Thomas, how do you even know it works?" Gally angrily interrupted. Ejecting an untested cure into someone could have dangerous side effects or even—"

"Or even what?" Minho interjected, his tone resolute. "Kill him?” Minho took a breath. “If you haven't noticed, Newt was already dying, Gally. Look, I might be the one who despised Teresa the most! After all, she betrayed me and tortured me for months! But let's face it: she was a scientist, and a damn good one at that. So, if Thomas says she made a cure, then I believe him."

Thomas nodded at Minho, glad that his best friend agreed with him.

Brenda furrowed her brow. "But how can we be sure?"

Minho's gaze softened as he positioned himself in the center of the tent, seemingly to ensure that everyone's eyes were fixed on him. "I'm choosing hope. Brenda, you are living proof that a cure has worked before, and none of us realized! This is Newt's last chance. Before tonight, I thought I'd have to say goodbye. But now, I have something to believe in again. If it even gives us the smallest chance of bringing my best friend back, it's worth the risk…and the consequences."

“Okay,” Gally nodded his head. “If you believe in the cure, then I do too.”

The room nodded, and filled with agreements. Everyone acknowledged the fragile hope that Minho's words had ignited. If there was even a chance to get Newt back, they would take it and believe in it. Thomas and the others all embraced each other in comforting hugs and offered reassuring pats on the backs.

As Thomas leaned in for a warm bear-hug from Frypan, he couldn't help but notice Sonya's hesitance. Her eyes were fixed on Newt, searching for any last glimmer of improvement. But, when she didn’t seem to find one, she let out a quiet sigh. 

"At least he's calm now," Sonya whispered so softly that only Thomas caught her words. She then glanced up at Thomas and the rest of the group, her expression transforming into a hopeful look. “I’m sorry, guys. I injected the cure without waiting for everyone’s approval. But everyone seemed to think that there was no hope, and I wasn’t ready to give up. Now, we have a reason to hope again! I don’t know if it will work, I don’t even know how a cure is possible, but I will watch him every day and try everything I can to save him.”

"Thanks, Sonya," Thomas said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. While he may not have known Sonya that well, he couldn't help but admire her deep sense of compassion and unwavering willingness to help others. It struck a chord with him, reminding him of someone else – Newt. The same caring nature that Sonya possessed had been a defining quality of his best friend.

As he looked at Sonya, he realized that she embodied the very essence of what made Newt special. If she shared even a fraction of Newt's compassion and selflessness, then he knew without a doubt that Newt would be in the best possible hands. 

The others started to disperse, leaving Sonya and Aris to tend to Newt. Thomas reluctantly tore his gaze away from Newt, who lay still and peaceful. With a heavy heart, he followed suit, but not before stealing one last look at his best friend, silently hoping that this would not be their final goodbye.

Throughout the night, Thomas found himself consumed by thoughts of Newt. Each passing moment only heightened his worry. He desperately wished for the morning to come soon, eager to check on Newt's condition and find him awake and well.

However, the night was not merciful to Thomas. Hours passed with restlessness, and sleep remained lost. His mind was a tumultuous storm of concerns, memories, and hopes for Newt's recovery. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Newt lying motionless haunted him, causing him to snap awake again.

The night seemed endless as Thomas tossed and turned, caught in an unrelenting cycle of anxiety and anticipation. He yearned for the first light of day, a glimmer of hope that might bring news of Newt's improvement.

By the time the morning light finally crept into the room, Thomas had become weary and bleary-eyed. But even in his exhausted state, his eagerness to be by Newt's side did not waver. The sleepless night had only strengthened his resolve, and he knew he would not rest until he saw Newt awake and well again.

Chapter Text

Newt’s recollections deepened as he delved further into the recesses of his memories, each layer unfolding like chapters of a haunting novel. The pain of losing his parents gnawed at him. Their gruesome death was still fresh in his mind, and the echoes of the bullets lingered in his ears. He remembered how WICKED ruthlessly took him away as a control group–a group of ordinary children who were just like everyone else, not immune . The taking of his sister worried him more because, unlike him, she was immune. The mystery of her fate weighed heavily on Newt, leaving him to wonder how he had lost her.

His mind drifted back to a memory of his young self. The boy appeared to be at least a couple of months older than he was in Newt's previous memory. He was dressed in a sterile, all-white uniform seemingly provided by WICKED. The boy moved stealthily throughout the hallways, seeming to be in search of somebody, but Newt didn’t know who. 

Then Newt saw another boy quietly creeping up behind young Newt, this one with dark brown hair and a mischievous smile. ”Boo!” he shouted. Newt’s younger self jumped at the sound. He turned to see the brown-haired boy, seemingly relieved before shaking his head. “Not funny Tommy,” he whispered.

Tommy? The brown-haired boy was Thomas! Newt couldn’t help but marvel at the familiar features of the boy; he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t recognized him before. Same tousled brown hair, same expressive eyes that held a spark of mischief, and the same cheeky smile that Newt adored. Newt felt an unexpected but profound sense of relief that they were friends before the Maze. He had always wondered whether he had been friends with the Gladers before the Maze or if they were complete strangers. He supposed that the shared history between him and Tommy was why they made friends easily in the Maze.

“Oh, come on!” Young Thomas said. “It was funny, I got you!” 

Young Newt sighed, a small smile forming on his face. “Okay fine you did, but I need you to focus.” Young Thomas straightened, his focus seeming to form solely on the other boy. Young Newt continued, “How do I get into the vents, and which direction are the girls’ rooms?”

Young Thomas took a deep breath. “Ok,” he started. “This is going to be a little complicated so make sure to listen closely. I am going to have to hoist you up. Once you can reach the vent, use this screwdriver to unscrew it.” Thomas opened his hand to reveal a screwdriver, while giving a soft smirk. “But make sure you screw them back in so nobody notices. Most importantly: don’t lose this screwdriver. It is your only way to and from the dorms.”

“Tommy, where did you get the screwdriver?” The young boy asked, his gaze filled with astonishment towards the item. 

“I stole it off of a desk,” he smirked again, proudly raising his eyebrows. 

Young Newt smiled and pulled young Thomas into an embrace. “Thank you,” he sniffled, his eyes welling with tears. “I can see her again, thank you.”

Newt’s heart swelled with gratitude as he reminisced about Thomas. Thomas had helped him. Thomas had given him the opportunity to see his sister again. It came as no shock to Newt, however. After all, Thomas had time and time again proved to be the most selfless person Newt knew.

Newt watched as young Thomas hoisted his young self onto his shoulders. From there young Newt unscrewed the vent and climbed inside, making sure to screw it back on from the inside. The confined space was lit only by dim shafts of light filtering through the vents. The boy tucked the screwdriver in his pocket and took a deep breath. Hesitantly, he crawled forward. His breath heightened from the claustrophobic atmosphere as he navigated through the ducts, Newt felt a weight of anticipation hang onto him as he watched his younger self peer down each vent, searching for a glimpse of his sister. The young boy pressed on through the cramped passageways, until one vent unveiled the sight of the girl’s rooms.

Newt’s heart skipped a beat when he saw young Newt’s face light up like a beacon in the dimly lit vents. The boy’s uncertainty and doubt vanished, replaced by an unmistakable glow of recognition and joy. Newt knew what this had meant, he had found his sister. As the boy hastily retrieved the screwdriver, Newt couldn't help but chuckle at the determination and excitement displayed by his younger self. The metallic clicks echoed through the vent as bolts were swiftly unscrewed. The vent door then swung open, revealing a room beyond the vent door. The boy stopped for a second, hesitating about something. Newt picked up on his younger self’s hesitation. There was a long jump down from the vents. As the young boy drew a deep breath, Newt sensed a mixture of fear and determination because he himself knew too much about jumping from high places.

Miraculously, he landed on his feet with a soft thud, bringing a jolt of relief for both Newt and, seemingly, his younger self. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the silence hung for a moment. Younger Newt hesitantly looked around, only to hear a gasp that escaped from someone behind him. Slowly turning, young Newt locked eyes with his younger sister, who stood there frozen in disbelief. The buzzing fluorescent lights of the ceiling cast illumination on her tear-streaked face. “Is it really you?” She whispered, uncertainty lacing her every word. It didn’t seem to matter to young Newt, who propelled forward, sprinting towards his sister and enveloping her in a tight embrace. The siblings clung to each other, Lizzy’s tears streaming down her face. Newt could see his younger self crying too, his own eyes blurred with tears.

“Lizzy,” the young boy had whispered.

“No…” she said softly.

“What?” Young Newt asked, confused.

“I’m not Lizzy anymore. They gave me a new name.”

Newt did not need to see young Newt’s face to know what he was thinking. Because Newt still felt the same, she would always be Lizzy to him.

“It doesn’t matter,” young Newt responded. “You are always Lizzy to me.”

His sister squeezed him even harder. “Do you wanna know my new name?”

Newt’s heart started to race as he felt a sudden tightness in his chest. Her new name. It could be the key to everything. If she had been in the Maze trials under this new name, then someone, somewhere, must have known her by it! In that moment, Newt grasped the undeniable truth, his death was not an option. The urgency to uncover the truth surged within him. He couldn't die, he had to survive in order to find out what happened to her, to see if she was still alive. 

But the memory started to fade, slipping through Newt’s mental grasp like grains of sand escaping between his fingers. “No!” Newt thought to himself. Panic surged through him, as he refused to succumb to the darkness again. He would not lose his memories this time. He needed to know what happened to her. Who was she to everyone else? Newt focused on the dissolving memory. Straining to extract every morsel of information as he delved deeper into the labyrinth of his own mind. However, as the memory slipped away, Newt still pushed deeper and deeper into his memories. A vast array of memories came flying at him. Jumbled and disjointed, these fragments each had different quotes soaring around him, he realized these were all his voice . Newt couldn’t make each one out, but these quotes must have been ones he must have said in the past.

“That’s not her name, her name’s Lizzy.”

They can do whatever the bloody hell they want with me. I’m not immune. I’m basically dead anyway. But I won’t let them hurt her.”

“Lizzy, I’m sorry.”

Newt’s mind was an overwhelming labyrinth of blurred-together memories. He felt emotions rise and threaten to drown him. The weight of each memory pressed upon him, each demanding attention. In the midst of the mental storm, he drew a deep breath and felt a newfound strength from within him, almost as if it was being pumped into his veins. With his newfound strength, he steadied himself, focusing on finding a single memory, navigating through all the distorted ones. The echo of his heartbeat resonated as he finally discovered the memory he had been searching for: The day he lost her.

Newt saw himself once again navigating through the narrow passages of the vents. He was much older this time, about 15 years old if he had to guess. He seemed to be very familiar with screwing the vent closed behind him and crawling to where her room was. He seemed like he must have been doing this routine for years, with the same screwdriver Tommy gave him. When he reached the room he jumped down, with no hesitation. But Newt noticed a very solemn look on his younger self’s face. What had happened? What was going on that day? Newt anxiously waited for his younger self to speak up.

“Hi Newt,” Lizzy called out from behind the boy. His younger self turned to Lizzy, tears welling up in his eyes.  

When young Newt turned to reveal Lizzy, Newt’s world stopped. She had grown up from the young little girl she once was. And not only that but, he recognized her. He recalled meeting her in the Scorch, the conversations they had eased the weight on his shoulders, the feeling of an instant connection they made, even though he had barely known her. The worry he had for her safety when she was in WICKED’s clutches, and the sense of failure he felt when she was taken alongside Minho–all of it now made sense. He remembered a specific instance with Thomas. Thomas was frustrated when they had picked the train car without Minho in it. But Newt, though frustrated at the loss of Minho, felt silently relieved that she was on it, and that she was safe. He had never known why until now, but now it finally made sense. His sister wasn’t gone. He had been reunited with her all these years later and he didn’t even know! How could he be so bloody stupid?! His sister was Sonya. He had family all this time–

“Newt, what’s wrong?” Lizzy’s voice cut through the air, laced with concern and urgency, interrupting Newt’s thoughts. Newt watched as Lizzy (or Sonya for that matter?) quickly approached young Newt. Her eyes met his and a wave of realization swept over her face. “No, no. It can’t be you today, right?” she murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief. Panic flickered through her eyes as she continued, “I thought Thomas bought you more time! I thought–”

“It’s okay Lizzy,” young Newt interrupted, his voice trembling with a mixture of strength and defeat. His eyes had a hint of anguish that he desperately tried to conceal. He pulled her into a tight embrace, a physical manifestation of the protective older brother he aspired to be. “It’s okay,” he repeated softly with a quiver in his voice and unshed tears in his eyes.

“No!” Lizzy pulled away abruptly. “No, it’s not! I won't let them take you. I won’t let them force you into some Maze with–”

“Lizzy…”

“No!” Lizzy grabbed onto young Newt’s arms. “I won’t let you die!” 

“Lizzy, I’m sorry,” young Newt said in an attempt to calm her down. “I don’t want to go in either, but I don’t have a choice…they are putting me in tonight.”

Newt could see the struggle etched across his younger self’s face. He could see young Newt struggling to hold in tears. Of course, he didn’t want to leave his sister. Of course, he didn’t want to be sent into a Maze of horrors. Of course, he wanted to cry.

Lizzy crashed into his embrace. The worn white fabric of young Newt’s uniform soaked in all of his sister’s tears. Newt watched the weight of the impending separation bore down on his younger self, finally letting the boy’s tears flow. His grip tightened around her, as if trying to shield her from the harsh reality that loomed ahead. “I wish,” young Newt sniffled, his voice straining from the tears. “I wish I could stay and protect you from them.”

“Newt no,” Lizzy started slowly pulling away from his embrace. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay–”

“No,” Newt said suddenly. “No, I’m supposed to protect you. That's what dad had told me to do. And I’m going to fail. They will eventually put you in a Maze too and I won’t be there to defend you–”

“Newt, stop please!” Lizzy grasped his arm and looked him in the eyes. “For once, please worry about yourself. You are going to be facing a lot worse than me right now. Just please try to survive please…”

Young Newt hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and answering. “I will, I promise.”

A wave of sadness washed over Newt because he knew the truth—he hadn’t kept his promise. He remembered the desperate moments in the Maze when the pain seemed unbearable. 

When it felt like nothing mattered anymore.

Where he climbed to the top of the tallest wall he could. 

And all he wanted to do was jump. 

And so he did. 

He had failed her once again. 

It was almost ironic to him that not long ago, he had wanted to end his life, and now he would do almost anything to save it.

“Newt?” Lizzy looked up at his younger self with knowing eyes. “You are going to forget me right?”

Young Newt hesitated. Newt noticed how the room felt stifling, the walls thick with the unspoken words between them. Lizzy continued to hold his gaze, her eyes pleading for an impossible answer.

“I know you will,” Lizzy spoke softly. She reached out, holding his arms tightly as if she’d let go, he would disappear. “But if you could try to remember me, even if it is something as little as my blonde hair, or just noticing that I am no longer there…” she snuffled again, but this time seemed to try and keep a brave face.

“Lizzy,” young Newt started. “Of course, I will try to do everything I can to remember you.” The boy reached into his pocket. “In fact, here.” He pulled out two identical necklaces.

Newt saw that they were the same necklaces the boy was given in the previous memory. The one he had given to Tommy after he thought he was going to die. The necklace he trusted to hold the note for the boy he held so dear.

“What are those?” Lizzy asked.

“They were given to me by our dad. One for me and one for you. Whenever you miss me, just hold on tight to the necklace. I’ll sneak mine on when I go into the Maze…” Young Newt took a deep breath. “I hope it will be enough to remember you, Lizzy. Every time I have looked at these necklaces I have thought of you…and mum, and dad. He paused, seeming sad at his reminder of his parents, before continuing. “I hope you can do the same.”

Lizzy takes the necklace from the boy’s hand and puts it around her neck. Young Newt does the same. 

Lizzy pulls young Newt into one more embrace. Her embrace tightened as if she knew it would be their last. Young Newt's voice, though whispered, carried a weight that echoed through the silence:

“I promise to remember you, Lizzy.” 

Another promise he failed to keep.

And the memory faded into nothing.

Newt felt his own tears streaming down his face. He refused to die. He needed to see her again. He needed to make up for all the promises he failed to keep. If he died here, he would fail.

And he couldn’t fail her again.

Newt felt a newfound strength course through his veins, empowering him to resist the encroaching darkness. He honed his focus on the rhythmic cadence of his weakening breath and clung to his consciousness like a lifeline. As he drifted in and out of his liminal state, fleeting images and sensations teased at the edges of his consciousness. Fragments of memories, like scattered puzzle pieces, started to assemble themselves into a coherent narrative. Faces, voices, and the distant echoes of conversations danced on the periphery of his mind. He saw Minho, Alby, Thomas, Lizzy, and other Gladers flit across his consciousness, intertwining with bits of shattered memories from all his days before the Maze. He saw his parents and, for the first time, could barely make out their faces. He could see his mom’s loving smile, his dad’s wise eyes, and their genuine care for him.

His dreams faded. The once imposing walls of WICKED turned into the comforting embrace of a woven tent. His tired eyes looked up to see a familiar silhouette emerging against the muted backdrop. His gaze focused, revealing the same blonde hair intricately braided, the same bright eyes, and the same necklace hanging from her neck.

“Lizzy,” he breathed.

Then he saw no more.

Chapter Text

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent flaps and onto his face, Thomas stirred, rubbing his eyes. In an instant, the events of the previous day came rushing back, jolting him awake. Tossing aside the quilt Aris had given him, he rushed to the mirror, barely held in place by fraying strands of twine. His reflection stared back at him with dark, shadowy circles under his eyes and wild hairs jutting out in every direction.

Thomas groaned. He had never cared much about his appearance, but the lack of sleep was starting to take a toll. Hell, he could probably count the nights of good sleep he’d had on one hand, and he knew deep down he wouldn’t be getting much more anytime soon.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A voice called out, making him jump. He squeezed his eyes shut, recognizing the voice immediately. “Not really,” he sighed, slowly turning to face Minho.

“Me neither,” Minho shrugged. He was still in his pajamas, looking arguably worse than Thomas himself. Thomas couldn’t help but notice the faint hint of bad breath coming from Minho. “I just laid there all night and stared at the ceiling. My mind was too busy," Minho said with an exhausted sigh. “So when you're ready, I’ll come with you.”

Thomas furrowed his brows. “How do you know where I’m–”

“Because we’re going to the same place.”

Thomas nodded and quickly got ready. Stepping outside, he was immediately hit by the humid air. Despite the sticky warmth, a serene melody filled the morning—the cheerful chirping of birds, the rhythmic thud of axes splitting firewood, and the soft splashing of water as others collected it from a nearby stream, all wove together into a symphony of daily life. Watching the camp bustle made Thomas feel a flicker of contentment. Their collective effort made him wonder what his role would be in the Safe Haven.

“Minho, hurry up with the hair gel,” he called back into the tent. “I wanna go visit Newt.”

Minho shoved the tent flaps aside, practically strutting as he stepped out. “For the record, this ‘hair gel’ is all-natural. And perfection,” he said, gesturing dramatically to his face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “can’t be rushed.” Thomas rolled his eyes and swatted Minho’s hand away. As he glanced upward, he noticed the sun had already climbed higher into the sky.

“Come on, let’s go,” he urged, and together they set off towards Newt’s hut.

The uphill walk felt longer than usual, each step heavy with the uncertainty of Newt’s condition. At last, they reached their destination, where Newt’s tent stood with an uneasy stillness.

Thomas took a deep breath and then paused in his steps.

“Wait.”

“What?” Minho asked.

“How do you knock?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I’ve kind of only barged into tents so far. I don’t actually know the right way to enter one.”

Minho burst out laughing. “You shucking idiot! You can outsmart WICKED, but you can’t figure out how to open a tent?” He shot Thomas a smug grin. “Watch and learn—”

Before he could show off, the tent flap swung open, making Minho stumble back.

“Hey guys,” Sonya said, stepping out of the hut.

Minho’s jaw dropped. “How did you even know we were here?”

“Well, I could hear you two from inside, and tents aren’t exactly soundproof, so I thought I’d—” Sonya shook her head, cutting herself off. “Never mind, you don’t need to hear all that. Come on in,” she said, gesturing inside.

As Thomas pushed through the flaps, his eyes immediately fell onto Newt. A wave of relief washed over him at the sight of Newt’s calmness, the only motion being the soft rise and fall of his chest. Thomas also noticed that the worry lines that usually creased Newt’s face had softened, easing for the first time since—well, since Thomas had met him.

“Any updates?” Minho asked.

“Yes, actually,” Sonya replied with a gentle smile. She moved to Newt's side and carefully flipped his arm over. “Look at his veins.” Thomas leaned in, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. Newt’s once-blackened veins had faded, now returning to a familiar greenish-blue hue.

“So he’s cured?” Minho straightened up, a hopeful edge to his voice.

Sonya’s smile faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “I want to believe it,” she said slowly, “but it’s hard to say for sure. His veins returning to normal is a good sign, but we don’t have the tools to know what’s happening internally. I just hope the cure Thomas gave me is enough. He lost so much blood from the stab wound, and the Flare stopped him from healing properly.” She paused, her gaze falling to Newt. “But… something is changing in him, and I have a feeling it’s good. Earlier, he even—”

She abruptly stopped herself, cutting the sentence short.

“What?” Thomas pressed, stepping closer. “What happened?”

“It’s probably nothing,” she said quickly, brushing it off with a small shake of her head as she turned away.

“No,” Minho interjected, his voice firm. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Sonya took a breath in, looking slightly flustered. “I woke up early this morning and was doing a routine checkup when…” she hesitated, biting her lip before continuing. “When I thought I heard him say something. But it happened so quickly, I might have imagined it.”

Thomas’ head shot up. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know. It was too quiet to make out—just one word, and then nothing.”

“Oh…”

Sonya sighed deeply. “I’m sorry but I don’t want to give you guys hope over something that might not have been real. But, he has made progress, and that’s what really matters, right?”

Disappointment weighed heavily in Thomas’ chest. He had clung to the hope of Newt waking up, though the thought was a bit unrealistic. But he reminded himself that even small steps forward were still progress.

“Let’s go,” he said softly. “Thanks, Sonya.”

Together, they left the hut. But Thomas glanced back one last time, as if to reassure himself that Newt was still there. As they stepped outside, Thomas noticed the sun was now high in the sky, casting long shadows along their path as they began the walk down the hill.

After wandering for a while, Thomas and Minho found their way to the beach. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was almost soothing, but Thomas quickly regretted the decision as sand began to pile into his sneakers with every step. It only got worse when a large wave surged over his feet, leaving them completely soaked. But Thomas reluctantly pushed through, trudging along behind Minho.

“I just wish we could do something,” Minho muttered, his voice barely rising above the sound of the ocean waves.

“Me too, but you heard Sonya. He could wake up soon.”

“Or he might not wake up at all.” Minho grabbed a rock and hurled it into the sea. Thomas watched it disappear into the waves, unable to tell if Minho had purposely thrown it that way—or if he was just bad at skipping stones.

“We need to get busy. We can’t just sit around and wait anymore.” Thomas kicked at the sand, immediately regretting it as more piled up in his shoes. “Shuck! What do you normally do here again? Farming?”

“Yeah,” Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But after what happened with Newt, Vince gave me time off, said I wouldn’t be able to focus.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be busy though? Have something to take your mind off things?” 

“It’s hard to think about anything else right now.” He picked up another rock but this time threw it hard on the ground. “God, just seeing him like this, it’s killing me!”

“Me too, but there’s still a chance. Isn’t that better than nothing?”

“I know it is, I just, I need him to get better. I need him to wake up.”

A small smile formed on Thomas’ face. “Yeah, imagine how nice that would be, the three of us back together. Where do you think Newt would work? On the farm?”

“If he does, he is working without me. Once I hear about Newt I’m ditching that shuck farm.”

Thomas glanced over at Minho. “What’s wrong with the farm?”

“Nothing,” Minho replied with a shrug. “It’s fine—peaceful, even. And I should be happy with it... but sometimes…sometimes I miss the thrill of being a runner.” He picked up another rock and flung it into the ocean.

“Wha—”

“Don’t get it twisted,” Minho cut him off. “The Maze was hell. But in the Glade, I was at the top of the shanks. I was the Keeper of the Runners. People looked up to me. Respected me. Every day, I risked my life trying to find a way out…I was a hero.” He paused, words hanging in the salty air. “And now? Now, I’m just a shuck farmer.”

Frustration seemed to bubble over him as he chucked another stone into the sea. Groaning loudly, he shouted towards the ocean. “God! How do you even skip these shucking rocks?”

“You know, you don’t have to be a farmer.”

Thomas jumped at the sudden voice, whipping around to see Brenda approaching. She was dressed far more appropriately for the beach—a makeshift swimsuit, her hair tied up (which Thomas swore looked longer every time he saw her), and sandals, a far better choice than his soggy sneakers.

“Oh, hey Brenda,” Thomas said.

“Hey, greenie,” Brenda shot back with a smirk, crossing her arms.

Thomas’ mouth widened. “Where did you learn that?”

Brenda’s grin widened. “Gally taught me.”

“Gally. I’m gonna kill—”

“So,” Brenda cut him off smoothly, turning her attention to Minho, “you’re looking for a job with a bit of danger?”

“Umm...yeah. That's one way to put it, I guess,” Minho said, shrugging.

“Well then, how about we put you on mainland runs?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Mainland runs?”

“It’s my job,” Brenda explained. “I’m in a group that travels back to the Last City to scavenge for supplies. Jorge and I have been doing it ever since we arrived here.”

“But won’t the city run out of supplies eventually?” Minho wondered.

“It’s just a temporary solution. Right now, we need to rely on scavenging. Once we can productively provide our own food and equipment these runs won’t be necessary anymore. Then I’ll probably end up with some boring job like Minho–”

“Hey!” Minho cut in, narrowing his eyes. “Actually...fair.”

“That sounds great, honestly,” Thomas chimed in. “Wait, Minho,” He turned to him. “Why don’t you already do that?”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think Vince ever offered me the position–”

“Obviously he didn't!” Brenda interrupted. “Vince thinks you guys can’t handle it. That you are too ‘traumatized’ to go back there and see cranks again.”

Thomas looked at Minho. “I mean–”

“But I know better.” Brenda crossed her arms. “I see the fire in you two and I know that you need the adventure! You need that adrenaline rushing through your veins. You’ve had it as long as you can remember–”

“So like, four years?” Minho snickered.

Thomas chuckled. “You’re lucky, I only have one.”

Brenda reached out, slapping Thomas on the arm.

"Ow!"

"You both know what I mean. You need this. So are you guys in?”

Thomas and Minho looked at each other. “We’re in.”

“Awesome! I’ll go convince Vince.” Brenda turned and left the beach, her footsteps quick on the sand. Thomas and Minho watched her go, then continued walking along the shore. As the sun slowly moved west, the sky became painted in shades of pink and purple, and the air went from humid to cool.

Thomas enjoyed being with Minho and just talking. It has been a long time since they could afford to do that. But the thought of going back to the Last City started gnawing at him.

Thomas shook his head and turned towards Minho. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, we’ve spent our whole lives running. Running away from the grievers, cranks, and WICKED and we finally have a chance to stop, but we just want to get back out there again?”

“You know, running isn’t always a bad thing. Even here you are still running. I mean, you ran to Newt when you found out he was still alive, and then you ran when he needed you. Hell, you might have even cured him. Just…” Minho looked towards him. “Look, what I am saying is that running does good too. And I don’t think I can settle down, not after everything. I won’t force you to come with me.”

Thomas sighed. “Who am I kidding? Knowing me, when Newt gets better and everything's okay, I won’t be able to resist.”

As they walked along the shoreline, their steps slow and aimless, they came across a familiar stone jutting out from the sand. Thomas’ breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her name, etched into its surface– Teresa.

The world seemed to quiet around him. The crashing waves dulled to a distant sound, the salty breeze no longer blew against his skin. He stared at the carving, tracing each letter with his gaze, memories flooding back in like the tide.

He must have looked as lost as he felt because, after a moment, Minho’s voice broke through the silence.

“Still hurts, huh?”

“Yeah,” Thomas whispered.

A quiet pause settled between them before Thomas broke the silence.

“She did it, you know, she made a cure.” Thomas noticed Minho shiver, no doubt recalling bad memories. With a small shake of his head, Thomas sighed. “I know what she did…what they all did was wrong, but sometimes I wish I could finish what she started. That I could spread the cure to the infected now that we have it. No more experiments, no more torture, just the cure. But Mary and Teresa were the only ones who knew how to make it and…”

“...And they're gone.” Minho patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

“No, I'm sorry for even bringing this up. We went through horrible things, you especially. WICKED was terrible but they did make a cure. And now that it exists I guess I just wish we could use their years of torture for some good. And if Teresa’s cure does work, we shouldn’t be the only people in the world allowed to live just because we’re immune. There are so many people out there, people like Newt, and if we are able to save him, shouldn’t we try to save others?”

Minho looked towards him, pondering for a moment before speaking. “You know Thomas, I actually agree with you.”

Thomas stared at Teresa’s name, his fingers tracing the carved letters. Images of her flooded his mind—her jet-black hair, the piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through him, the sharp mind that had once worked alongside his. He remembered the trust they’d shared, the way she had betrayed them to WICKED, and, in the end, the way she had saved him. A whirlwind churned inside him—grief, anger, gratitude—all tangled together in a way he couldn’t quite unravel. And then, all of a sudden, it stopped. What was left was the answer, almost like she came up with it herself.

“That’s it,” Thomas breathed.

“What?”

“We need to go back to WICKED headquarters.”

“What?! It was destroyed!” 

“Yes,” Thomas looked towards the sea. “But maybe not all of it.”

“Thomas, what are you saying?”

“Teresa! Her whole research was there. If we can find it. Maybe we can learn how to make cures.” 

Minho grabbed Thomas by his shoulders, seeming to try and snap him back to reality. “We don’t even know if hers will work!”

Thomas pulled away. “It’s gotta work, I refuse to believe it won’t. You saw Newt’s veins. We could save people like she wanted–”

“Thomas, this is crazy. There’s no way we’ll be able to find anything–”

“It’s worth a shot right?” Thomas interrupted, turning back towards him. “Look, you don’t have to come with me, who knows what old memories will come out from being back there? But I have to try. WICKED may have been terrible, but they might have made a cure, and if we have the possibility to save people, Isn’t it worth looking?”

Minho paused for a moment and sighed. “You’re one crazy shank, you know that?”

“Yeah…”

“I can’t believe I am saying this but…what’s the plan?”

“Really? You don’t–”

”I will, you shank. But we have to be careful,” Minho interrupted. “I doubt Vince will be okay with it. Also, it’s in the heart of the city, probably surrounded by cranks.”

Thomas nodded. “We can’t go right away. We have to make sure Vince doesn’t suspect anything. And we have to learn our way around the city, just like the maze. We’ll spend the first month mapping it out, and then when we know the way, we can get the cure.”

“Well, I did miss being a runner,” Minho smirked.

“Guys! Guys!”

A voice rang out from behind them. Thomas and Minho turned to see Aris sprinting toward them stumbling across the sand, but that didn't wipe the huge grin from his face.

“Aris, what's going on?” Thomas smiled back at him.

“He's awake! Newt’s awake!” 

And Thomas ran once more, but for the first time, he was happy about it.

Chapter Text

Newt’s eyes flickered open. As his vision cleared, he found himself staring up at the ceiling of a small hut made up of wooden beams and stitched-together tarps. A soft rustle drew his attention to the entrance flaps, which shifted in the wind. Fading sunlight filtered through the crack, casting a warm, golden glow across the floor. Past the flaps he heard a distant crash of waves and smelled the crisp scent of salt in the breeze. Could it be? Had he made it to a beach?

Newt scanned the tent and saw someone crouched over a cluttered table, tinkering with what looked like medical equipment. Her back was to him with long blonde hair tied in a messy braid. Newt’s breath caught in his throat. He blinked and thought carefully before he spoke, then whispered hoarsely, “Sonya?”

The girl froze at the sound of his voice. She turned quickly to him, a smile widening across her face. “It worked!” she gasped, rushing towards him. “I can’t believe it worked! You’re awake! Wait! I have to do your check-up. Do you mind?” Newt nodded slowly, unable to say or do anything else.

She turned professional in an instant, checking his pupils with a small flashlight, pressing a thermometer to his forehead, and checking his pulse with steady fingers. She was quick, but Newt wasn’t focusing on the medical tests. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

Bloody hell. It was her. Lizzy.

He knew he had already known it. But seeing her here, alive, and real–it shattered any last doubts lingering in his mind. This wasn’t a dream or some hallucinated flashback. This was happening right now.

As he looked at Lizzy, well Sonya as he would have to call her, he noticed something he hadn’t before. The resemblance was so obvious. Same sharp yet gentle eyes, same rounded nose, same pale blonde hair. The only difference was her voice: no accent. Why didn’t she have the accent? The question itched at the edge of his mind but it was overwhelmed by a much bigger one: How was he alive?

“How..?” He murmured as Sonya gently turned over his arm. His eyes widened at his veins. They were a normal color! But how ? His veins were blackened with the Flare, and there is no cure for it. And even if there was, didn’t he stab himself in the chest? If the flare didn’t kill him, wouldn’t that have? His breath hitched again.

Sonya looked towards him. “Mind if I take a look at your chest?”

Newt nodded wordlessly again. Why couldn’t he just speak to her like a bloody normal person? She unwrapped the bandages and Newt looked down at the wound in his chest. He was stunned to find it mostly healed, ringed with nothing but some pink scar tissue. Nothing made any sense. How was he healed? How did they save him? Sonya let out an amazed laugh, “Your stitches healed so fast. It’s incredible!”

Before Newt had any time to ask questions, she jumped up abruptly, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh my gosh, I have to tell Aris! Be right back!”

She quickly ran out of the hut, her footsteps pattering in the distance. Newt barley caught her gleeful voice shouting, “Aris! He’s awake! We did it!”

Newt smiled. The warmth in his chest grew as he let his head fall back against the pillow. She did it.

Right away, she returned practically vibrating with energy. “Li—Sonya” Newt finally blurted out, which instantly caused her to settle down. “What’s going on? I thought I was as good as dead.”

Sonya knelt beside his bed and gave him a soft, almost teary smile. “You were cured.”

His brow furrowed. “What? How? That’s impossible. A cure doesn’t even exist.”

She looked down, brushing a strand of hair that fell out behind her ear. “I don’t know, honestly. You were doing really bad, and I thought—well, I thought you weren’t going to make it. I tried everything and nothing seemed to work. But then Thomas…he, um…”

Newt jolted upwards at the sound of Tommy’s name. “He what?” Please tell me Tommy didn’t do anything stupid.

“He just showed up with a vial in his hand and called it a cure. I took the chance and gave it to you and it worked.”

Newt looked around taking in everything he just learned. “Sonya, where are we?”

“The Safe Haven,” Sonya said softly. “We made it, Newt.”

The Safe Haven.

He couldn’t believe it. They had talked about it, of course—dreamed about it, even. A place untouched by WICKED or the Flare. A place far from all the death and fear. But deep down, he never truly believed it was real. Sure, Vince had told them stories and painted pictures with his descriptions to keep their hope alive, but Newt had always suspected it was just that: stories . Something to hold onto when everything else was slipping away.

And yet…here he was.

How had they even gotten here?  

Was WICKED truly gone for good this time? 

Where did the cure come from? 

Did Thomas have more of it? 

A million questions raced through his head.

But at the same time, all he really wanted in that moment was something simple.
To step outside with his sister. To breathe in the fresh air.

No running.

No hiding.

Just living .

And he was going to do just that. 

Newt swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but they trembled the moment his feet touched the floor, causing his knees to give out almost instantly. Sonya darted forward, catching him just in time and wrapping an arm securely around his waist.

“Woah, easy!” she said, steadying him. “I know you’re excited, but you’ve got to take it slow. Your body needs more time to rest and recover.”

“I’ve done enough resting,” he said firmly. “Please… I need to see it. I need to know I’m really here.”

Sonya sighed and gave a quiet nod. She tightened her grip around his waist and guided him gently toward the entrance. With one hand, she pushed open the flap of the hut.

A cool breeze rushed in, brushing against his face like a breath of life. He blinked at the sudden light and then froze, wide-eyed, taking in the view that met him outside.

The ocean.

He had made it. He actually made it to a beach.

The waves shimmered beneath the last golden sliver of sun, their surfaces catching the light like diamonds. Streaks of orange and violet stretched across the sky, soft and endless. The colors bled into the horizon like something pulled from a dream he’d once had as a child—before the Flare, before WICKED, before the running.

The breeze kissed his face, cool and salty. For a long moment, Newt couldn’t move. His chest ached, but not from pain. From wonder. From the unbearable weight of relief. From the terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe , it was really over.

His eyes stung, but he didn’t dare blink. He was afraid it would all disappear if he looked away. After everything he had endured, after the hopelessness, the goodbyes, the fading strength in his own body, he had made it. He was here. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t just surviving. He was alive. Newt had never seen anything so…well so grand .

Then, in the distance, he saw movement. There, running up the hill was a boy.

“Newt!” A voice cried out.

His heart nearly burst at the sound. That voice. He knew it anywhere.

“Tommy…” he whispered.

Before he could take a step towards him, Thomas was already there, breathless and wide-eyed. He pulled Newt into a tight hug, nearly lifting him off his feet as he wrapped both arms around him.

“You’re alive,” Thomas choked. His whole body trembled, but he kept the hug firm. “You’re actually alive!”

Newt felt his throat tighten. “Tommy,” he muttered, barely holding back tears. “I missed you so much.”

“Alright, alright. Get off him, my turn!” came a familiar voice from behind.

Minho appeared, practically shoving Thomas aside and pulled Newt into a hug. It was rougher than Thomas’s hug but still so relieving.

“Minho,” Newt said smiling.

Minho held the embrace. “Damn right it’s me! Took you long enough slinthead!”

Newt peeked over Minho’s shoulder mid-hug and spotted Aris standing nearby, who shyly waved at him. He lifted a shaky hand and waved back. But as Minho pulled away, Newt’s knees gave out causing him to buckle.

Sonya reacted instantly, catching him before he could hit the ground and guiding him to sit. “Whoa whoa, easy,” she said.

Newt looked up at the worried faces around him and tried to smile. “Don’t worry guys. I’ll be fine, just a bit weak right now.”

“And he needs rest.” Sonya interrupted firmly, eyeing the boys. “I know everyone’s glad to see him awake. Believe me, I am too. But he’s been through a lot. The rest of the reunion can wait until morning.”

“She’s right,” Aris added.

Newt sighed. He wanted to stay out here and talk to all of them, to see Frypan, Brenda, Jorge, even Gally. Hell, Teresa would even bring a smile to his face. But he knew Sonya was right. “Alright, alright. Doctor knows best I guess. But promise me you’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Of course we will,” Thomas said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

Sonya leaned down to help him up, but Aris stopped her. “Oh no, Sonya. You are going to take a break.”

“What?”

“You are going to take a break.” He repeated firmer that time.

“No, but I can’t—”

“Sonya.” Newt interrupted, squeezing her hand softly. “Really…I’ll be okay. Please go relax.”

She looked at him, hesitating, but then nodded.

“I’ll take care of him tonight,” Aris said quietly, helping Newt up.

With one last lingering look at the ocean, Newt allowed himself to be guided back into his tent. As he sank onto his cot, exhaustion washed over him, but for the first time in what felt like years , it was calm.

As his eyes drifted shut, the sound of the waves whispered in his ears, and the echo of his friends’ laughter lingered in his mind. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

The worst was over. The future was beginning.