Apricity
[Table of Contents]
CHAPTER TEN, Resultance
Day 33/34, Sunday night / Monday morning
The sun shines brilliantly off of Newt's golden hair, lighting the spot in the field that the man was grazing, pulling weeds and plucking something or other from the tops of the growing crops. He looked peaceful, standing there with a content smile, just going about his day as if farming wasn't the most boring thing in the entire world. The only reason you had even made it through one day was because you had picked play-fights with him, throwing random weeds and clumps of dirt at his apron, trying to make it into his front pocket like it was some sort of game. He had laughed- and by the creators that laugh- and deigned to throw some from his basket right back at you. He'd, of course, had more in his basket than yours. But you could tell he was going slower than normal to begin with, so he wouldn't speed ahead and leave you in his literal dust.
Now, however, you were off work. You were working with Gally now, who was just too sweet no matter what anyone else said. You could see why Ben liked the man, he had a soft spot for people in need, even with his gruff exterior. You let your eyes scan the Glade lazily, looking for Ben through the throng of people. It wasn't until you scanned the whole Glade that you remembered he was a Runner, and his day off didn't coincide with yours. You saw him every time he was off, though. He would always visit Gally and follow him around like a little puppy dog, not working with him but watching him work. Considering Gally said you were 'still in training,' that meant he sat nearby you constantly as well.
You were sitting atop one of the lunch tables, letting your feet dangle off of the side while leaning back on your hands behind you. You suddenly feel the wood under you begin to shake and rattle as someone jumps up onto the table, and you let your head fall backwards to lazily look at Thomas, his upside-down face smiling at you and leaning in awfully close. You can see the sun dance across his eyelashes, making his darker brown eyes alight enough that they seem to melt in swirls- although that could be because your head is rather inverted right now.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" He questions, and you laugh softly as you stare into his mesmerizing earthen eyes. You feel connected, in an odd way- in a way you would've never expected given that you're not from this universe. The thought always sends a jolt of panic through you, but you're tired and languid today, and the thought just coasts away just as easily as the fake, puffy clouds above do.
"You." Your answer is plain and causes a scoff and an eye roll from Thomas.
"I meant, what were you looking at?" You lift your head back up, letting your eyes scan the Glade once more before they, inevitably, land back on Newt. You feel the wood underneath you shimmer and shake, and as you feel a tap on your right upper arm, you casually scoot over enough that Thomas can take a seat next to you, copying your position.
"Newt." Your answer is once again short and to the point. You catch Thomas giving you a quick glance from the corner of your eye, but he turns his head away just as fast before you even begin to consider looking back. Newt bends down, causing the sunlight to glint off of his head at a certain angle, and Thomas raises one hand to block the sun from his eyes before slapping the hand back down once again.
"That all?" Thomas mumbled, though you could hear a hint of something in his voice. You try to parse it out, but the time has passed and he's no longer saying anything else. Plus, you feel really rather tired at the current moment. You've had a long first couple of days of working for Gally, who seems ready to work you to the bone. You'd even thought about just heading over for a day of sleep, but the thought of watching Newt work peacefully felt more compelling at the time.
"He's rather beautiful, isn't he?" Your voice is only a whisper as you say this, and you don't want to turn your head so you try to watch Thomas from the corner of your eye. He doesn't turn either, or act surprised that you had said as much. He almost seems contemplative, tilting his head back and forth before sighing and nodding slowly.
"Yeah."
You don't expect to get anything else out of him, so you finally push yourself up from your straining arms. You turn on the table, lifting one leg on top so you can face Thomas fully. The man looks over at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and with want of anything else to do, you raise a hand and poke at his muscled arm. "You're a different kind of beautiful, though." You pinch the edge of his sleeve between your fingers, feeling the thin, worn threads and wondering for how long he's been forced to wear this ratty thing. There were little moth-eaten holes along the edges of both his sleeves and the bottom hem, and you wonder whether the creators even care as much about this project anymore. It's been a lot longer than anyone would've expected by this point, you assumed. Especially since this current timeline was nothing like the actual books or movies.
"Yeah?" Thomas repeats himself, though with surprise instead of suppressed longing. You raise your gaze back up to his eyes, letting your hand drop away from his sleeve and land atop his closest hand. You feel his rough skin under your touch, letting your fingers gently graze along his scars and calluses. You nod slowly, staring into his now shadowed eyes as he tilts his head downward toward you- and you only just realize he's beginning to lean in closer.
"Tommy," You begin, feeling the name like a weight on your tongue, like something only one person should be able to say yet here you were, copying Newt when it comes to Thomas, and copying Thomas when it comes to Newt. Who were you to get in the middle of them? "Do you think…" You trail off, letting your eyes unfocus and see through Thomas, your smile settling and numbing into a neutral expression on your face. "Do you think you could find yourself, find love, when you get out of here?" You blink yourself back into reality- this reality, anyway- and let your eyes meet with his confused ones. "Do you think you could let yourself?"
"What," Thomas leans forward even more, taking his free hand from the other side of him and pushing himself onto his side to face you, moving the hand to cup your cheek. "What do you mean? Let myself?" You bite your lip as you stare into his befuddled expression, leaning ever-so-slightly into his hand.
"Tommy," Your whisper is even quieter now, but you can tell he can still hear you. If anything, the way he's so intensely focused on your lips could prove that he'd read them if the sound didn't quite reach his ears. "Let yourself fall. Let yourself have him. It'll make everything so much easier if you have someone to lean on." You raise your hand from its resting place on his own, brushing your fingers through his hair and trying to straighten it into something resembling order, although it was a fool's errand. "You're not alone. In here, or out there."
Thomas drops his hand suddenly, as if burned by your words. You watch him swallow roughly, then turn away and retake his leaned-back position, staring off into space. You continue your light grooming, brushing your fingers through his messy hair and combing it back out of his face. You figured if he wanted you to stop, he'd say so or stop your hand, so you continue on. It wasn't just calming for you, you come to realize, as his shoulders slowly fall from around his neck.
"You know what I did, don't you?" Thomas glances at you for a moment, but it seems like looking at you is too painful so he turns his gaze away once again, downcast.
"You didn't do anything they didn't force you to do."
"How could you even know that?"
You're silent for a few beats, waiting for him to realize. As he sucks in a breath, you believe he remembers your quiet talk from not too long ago, when you had told him you knew of Wicked. He blows his breath back out slowly, raising his shining gaze toward you. You drop your hand from his hair, rubbing a thumb across his cheek and swiping a tear away before anyone else can see it. You lean in close, wrapping your arms around him in a much-needed hug, turning your head to whisper into his ear.
"You're deserving of love, Tommy."
There's talking around you… Quiet whispers, like they're trying to be polite and maintain the status quo so you can stay restful. But- no, you can't. You can't quite remember why, but you need to get up. You need to be up, and- and running. You need to get away, it's not safe, it's not safe-
You groan, and finally something has happened. It's like you're trapped in your own body, but you're slowly gaining your senses back, your facilities back. You try to move your fingers, curl them into a ball, but it's hard. It's getting easier. You groan again, this time aloud, apparently.
“I get that you don’t wanna sleep, but you don’t have to make all that racket, Tommy.”
You try to wiggle your toes, and you feel that tingling sensation that comes when you've sat on your foot for too long and it needs to reawaken itself. You try to wince from the feeling but your face doesn't want to work. You're starting to get annoyed- this is your body, you should be able to move it. That's when it finally registers in your brain, the sound that you'd heard were words. They were Newt's words, Newt's voice- that meant he was here. You needed to see him, why was he in the maze?
"That wasn't me."
The maze! That's right, what happened in the maze? You groan again as images flood your mind's eyes, flashing too fast for you to comprehend, though you don't need to. You lived through it all, you remember. It's too much all at once, and you raise your arm, moving your hand to your face to rub your eyes roughly. When that doesn't stop the images, you open them slowly, blearily. You rest your elbow on the cot and begin to push yourself up to a lean, heavily enough on one side that you drop the other arm back down, leaning then on both elbows. You blink a few times, then look at your surroundings.
You were in the Medjack's hut- that much was for certain, you could tell that even in the dead of night. You'd been here before when it was just as dark before, though with different company. This time, however, your eyes land on Newt, sitting to your left in a rickety, can't-be-comfortable chair, a large book spread across a leg that was draped over the other's knee. His mouth was agape, his eyes hopeful, and it felt like too many emotions to deal with all at once. To your right, on top of another cot but sitting straight up as if ready to spring into action, was Thomas. He looked just as surprised, though not quite as hopeful. He almost looked… Angry? You glance back at Newt one last time before dropping your gaze to your lap, feeling ashamed.
"Sorry…"
"For what?"
"You better be."
They both spoke at the same time, though what surprised you the most was that it was Newt's voice indicating that you should be sorry. Thomas, with his angered expression, didn't seem to understand what you were apologizing for. You keep your eyes lowered as you hear Thomas begin to stammer, likely since Newt shot him a quick glare for his words. "I- I mean," Thomas starts, then just never finishes his sentence. You look up slowly, watching the boys stare at each other as if silently communicating something, before Newt slams his textbook closed, turning his full attention to you. He stands, walking closer to the head of your bed, laying the book down on your nightstand and leaning just slightly over the bed to get a better look at you.
"Are you alright?" You weren't quite expecting those words, at least not so soon following his last ones, and you struggled to keep up with where his mind might be at. You blink a few times, then take a deep breath and look down at your body. You wiggle your toes, watching them move, and raise a hand to feel at your stomach. Nothing hurts- not even your ankle, which you would've assumed would be even worse off than when you first injured it. Confused, you look back up to Newt.
"I- I think so."
"Good," Newt begins, then slaps the side of your arm roughly. You flinch away, staring up at him incredulously. You could hear aggravated cot springs to your right, and you figured Thomas was getting up to get closer to the both of you, but you didn't dare take your eyes off of Newt right now. He looked murderous. "How dare you do something like that to us! How- How dare you just run off into the maze without so much as a good-bye, and then-" He swallows, and you can hear the emotion in his voice, the tinge of anger and sadness and anxiety that you know you put there yourself. "And leave this- this stupid, bloody, shucking letter-" He pulls a square from his pocket, flinging it back and forth as if to unravel it quickly before throwing it down with force onto your bed. It was just a lightweight piece of parchment, however, so it didn't land with even a fraction of the force he used to throw it down with. He places both hands down on your cot, leaning over it and breathing heavily. "Saying you- what, you'd rather die than spend another day in the Glade with us?"
"No," You're quick to defend, shaking your head and widening your eyes, and you can feel tears spring to them but you try to blink them back. This isn't about your feelings, you did this to them- to him. What you feel doesn't matter right now. "No, of course not. I just couldn't bear another second of knowing how to get out of this stupid fucking hell-hole, watching you day by day just give up more and more. I know how to get you out, Newt. I wanted to help!"
"I don't want out if it's not with you!" He yells, and you suck in a breath, the tears blurring your vision until you blink them away, feeling the trails of warmth flow down your cheeks. Thomas has finally made his way around your cot at this point, encircling Newt's shoulders with one arm and pulling him in against his chest. Newt coughs out a sob, turning and burying his face into Thomas' chest. You can feel yourself gaping, your mouth opening and closing like a poor imitation of a fish on land, and you meet Thomas' eyes now that you can no longer see Newt's. He's not angry any longer, you can see in his eyes, but there are questions there that you know you'll have to answer at some point. Whether he's told Newt about Wicked or not- that'll be the deciding factor of whether it's now or later.
"Newt," You whisper, after waiting for his cries to quiet. When he doesn't turn, you can feel your heart twisting and ripping in your chest. "Newt, please." He slowly pulls away from Thomas, and you can see him raise his head enough- and in turn Thomas turns his gaze away from you finally- and their locked eyes must give him enough strength to carry on. He raises a hand to rub roughly at his face, wiping away his own tears before he finally turns back around to face you. He sighs out slowly, then lets his gaze travel over your form before resting on your face once again. He isn't meeting your eyes, rather letting his own eyes rest on your lips, but he reaches out and takes one of your hands into his own.
"Tell me your story, [Y/N]."
You bite your lip, glancing at Thomas and then around the room in search of something. In search of that blinking red light that revealed that Wicked was watching. Except- it's been so long now, hasn't it? They could've developed who-knows-what at this point, they could be watching right now. Was it safe to talk about? Would it ever be safe to talk about? You let your gaze wander back to Newt with a wince, then glance over to Thomas as if pleading with him to understand. Somehow, you think he does. He reaches forward, placing a hand on his forearm and leaning in even closer.
"Newt, I don't know if now is the time."
"Now is most certainly the time, Tommy. I'm not waiting another moment."
"You-" He stutters as Newt turns a sharp glare onto him, but presses forward regardless. "You might need to wait just one more moment. Long enough for us to know that they aren't listening." Newt's face relaxes in understanding, turning back to look at you with an appraising look. Thomas turns to look at you as well, and the way they both stare at you soothes the ache that had been there not but a moment before. Like you were their whole world, just laying there on a medical cot.
"Is there anywhere we could do that?"
It's silent again between the three of you, and you wrack your brain for something- anything. And that's when it finally hits you. It might be a long shot, but as far as you knew Gally hadn't told hardly anyone else about that spot.
"I think I know a place."
You move to get up, pulling the blanket aside and tossing your legs over the left side of your bed. You sit there for a moment, dizziness overtaking you, and you watch Newt reach forward as if to catch you when you wobble unsteadily. You blink a few times, waiting for your vision to return fully before glancing upward. Newt and Thomas took a few steps to the side, as if to give you space to stand, though before you have a chance your hand slips when your gaze lands on another body.
It could only be Chuck, with that body shape under the blanket, and that head of hair at the top. You swallow roughly, turning your head first toward the boys before letting your eyes finally separate from Chuck. You look at them questioningly, and Newt nods, Thomas speaking up quietly.
"He's alright. He woke up earlier, during the day. He's just resting more now, but he's perfectly fine. Something in that blue serum healed him- both of you, it seems, completely." You nod slowly, trying to ingrain his words into your mind so you can calm the worry that spiked from seeing him- from remembering. You push yourself to a stand, and you feel a hand on your shoulder from Newt, and another hand on your waist from Thomas who reaches past Newt to help as well. You can't help the smile that comes to your face from their attempt to help, and you want to lean into them but you need to see for yourself.
You take a step away from their grasp, closer to Chuck's cot. You let yourself lean against it, leaning over Chuck's sleeping body to take a peek at his face. It's covered by his mounds of curled hair, so you reach over and gently pull it to the side. His face is peaceful at rest, something you've always found comforting every time you catch him napping during the day on his days off. You study his sleeping face for a few more moments, watching as his body rises and falls from his breath, before letting his hair drop right back out of your grasp. You turn toward the boys, giving them a soft but guilty smile. "Alright. I'm ready."
It was rather easy to find Gally's secret little hide-away bunker, considering it was at the very corner of the Glade inside the Deadheads. As you circle around what looks to be just a little hill, you come across the flat metal doors of the bunker you knew would be there. It's tied together by some sort of hempen rope, likely just to keep the door closed as it's not very hard to pull the rope out from between the handles. Gally was probably worried if he ever locked it then it would practically become useless when the time came. You drop the rope to the ground, taking one last look around.
You'd been keeping an eye out this whole time, and you thought at one point you saw a blinking flash of red, but it sped in the direction of the Medjack hut, and you hoped that Wicked was too tired and oblivious to notice the three of you heading into the woods. It didn't seem like the rest of the Glade noticed, anyway, considering the majority of them were asleep under their little overhang across the way. You don't notice any more blinking red lights, and your eyes land on Thomas who seems to be doing the same sort of sweep. Once his eyes land on you, and you receive a nod in affirmation that he didn't spot anything either, you pull open the doors and make your way down into the dark hole. While you still had enough light bouncing off of the giant walls into the hole, you located where Gally put the matches and lit a small lantern, just in time for Thomas to close the doors behind the three of you.
You hang the lantern along one of the ropes covering the ceiling, letting it sway above the three of you as you take a seat on a random box nearby. You only realize after you sit that it's the same box you had sat on before, back when Gally had shown you to this spot and became surprisingly vulnerable with you. You shake the memory away, looking up as Newt gingerly takes a seat, sitting on the edge of a box like he's ready to jump up at any moment, but also like he's trying to give you space to be able to speak freely. Thomas, predictably, is too restless to sit, but he does take a few steps away so he's not pacing between the two of you.
"Alright, so…" You begin, but you're not quite sure where to start. Luckily, Newt seems to pick up on that, and he digs out a square piece of folded parchment from his pocket- the letter he had thrown at you not too long ago. You must've missed when he picked it right back up and pocketed it once again. Thomas must've as well, from the surprised look he dons.
"Let's start with this." He tosses it onto the ground between you, and you bite your lip. Truthfully, you barely remember what you even wrote, considering you were in a rush to get it all out before the doors started to close. You blink down at it, then raise your gaze back up to Newt. He gestures toward it with a sigh. "You go ahead and read it, take it step by step. You don't have to read it aloud, I've memorized the words by now." That takes you by surprise, but you heed his advice and push yourself from the box you sit on just long enough to stretch and snatch it from the dirt-covered ground, brushing the stray pieces from the worn parchment. You glance back up at him, slowly unravelling it with a question on your lips.
"How long, exactly, was I out for?"
"Just an extra day. We found you the morning after you entered the maze, injected you with the serum almost immediately- as soon as Clint realized what you'd done to Chuck. Then it was all day and- well, partly into the night until you woke up." Thomas was the one who answered, still pacing back and forth while recounting the story as if in a daze. You swallow, then nod slowly. You finish spreading the paper out in front of you, looking down at the hastily scribbled words on the paper.
'If you're reading this, then I'm dead.'
So much for that. You continue reading, then take a long breath as you try to compose what you would like to say in your head. They're patient- as patient as they can be when their entire life is on the line. Thomas continues to pace, and Newt just stares at the empty ground between you where the letter once lay. The first thing that comes to mind, though, starts with the second paragraph…
"I'm sorry I lied to you, Tommy."
He freezes in his steps, and as you glance over to watch him, you can see Newt react similarly in his seat. He freezes, then slowly looks up and looks between the two of you. You wait for Thomas to do something, to say something, but he stands there as if you've just given him grave news. Eventually, when it seems as if you won't elaborate, he sighs and roughly rubs his face with his hands. He turns toward you, crossing his arms with a stern expression. "For lying about working for them?"
"I never once said I worked for them," You counter, raising a hand. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I explicitly said I did not work for them." You watch as Thomas freezes, then pulls his brows together like he's trying to remember your conversation. He hesitates, slowly uncrossing his arms.
"You… You did say that, but…" He hesitates, then huffs a disapproving breath, shaking his head. "But how could you know so much without working for them? Surely you remember by now?"
"I-" You swallow roughly, then glance down. "That's what I'm sorry about. I lied about how I remember so much. I knew, at the time. It was just…" You close your eyes, then squeeze them together, raising your fists to cover them. "The truth sounds more far-fetched than working for Wicked, trust me."
"Wicked?" Newt questions, and as you release your hold on your eyes you finally let yourself look at him. He looks confused, and pissed off for being confused, and both you and Thomas realize at the same time that you should be including him in this. In all of it. It's Thomas who speaks first, clarifying.
"The creators. They're a- a company? Named Wicked. The letters that come up on the box, W C K D. It's an abbreviation for Wicked." Newt swallows roughly, then waves a hand as if messily saying to carry on. You turn your attention back toward Thomas, though it seems as though he's lost his fight now, moving to take a seat on a box near Newt, across from you. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and takes a deep breath before looking up at you. "Fine. I understand you think it's not going to be believable. But starting with that is enough. You tell us the truth, and no matter what it is, we'll believe you."
You blink a few times, then wonder if he really means that. And you mean really means that, after he hears what you have to say. You didn't write it in your letter, technically. You'd hinted at it, sure, but the reality of the truth is so much heavier, so much harder to accept. You bite your lip, looking between the two boys you realize you have fallen in love with, and wonder how exactly they'll react. Perhaps they'll find you so unbelievable that they won't just leave you forever, but completely ignore your valid way of escaping out of this place. Although… Maybe they shouldn't leave… Nothing else could happen if they stay here, if they continue to live in this place that supplies them fresh food and water, that keeps them safe from the sickness.
But that's not fair, for you to choose for them.
"I think the easiest way to explain it- is that I'm from another universe." You give it a second, waiting for them to interrupt or berate you, to ask you to tell the truth. After they just stare at you, waiting for you to continue on and explain what you mean, you begin to feel a warmth fill your chest. It seems as if, for now, they're willing to believe whatever it is you say. "Everything here, all of this. You, both of you-" You hesitate at this part, taking a long breath in before blowing it back out, nodding. "This is all just a book series to me. Or- was. It all was a book series, until I woke up in that elevator."
"Did you remember everything right away?" Newt questions, his expression open and not-disbelieving. You blink for a moment, taken aback by his specific question, considering any other he could be asking. But, you assure yourself, if he's asking questions like this then that means he believes you- or at least, is trying to.
"Not right away. And," You glance between the both of them with a smile, "Not when I remembered my name either. It came slowly, over time. Dreams, and memories hit me out of nowhere. I didn't know what was happening at first until I had a dream, I think about a week in?"
"Oh," Thomas interrupts, sitting up straighter with a thoughtful look. "I- I think I remember that one. You had said something like," He huffs out a breath, staring unseeing at the ground as he tries to remember. "You asked me why I was still here? That I was supposed to get out by now?" You nod along, then tilt your head back and forth in contemplation before sighing.
"I think it was the night after that one, actually. That had been a flashback, a memory of the books but it hadn't been what alerted me to my situation. The next night, I woke up from a weird dream and knew then. But no one else had been up, and I took a little walk around." You sigh once again, shaking your head. "Not the point."
"What did you mean, then? If you remember?" Newt asks, unmoving from his current lean forward, his elbows on his knees as he studies you, hands clasped together. "When you asked Tommy why he was still here?" You suck in a breath, nodding.
"Yeah, so, that's the thing. This is all pretty reminiscent of that book series, but it's not quite the same. In the books," You nod toward Thomas, growing worried about how he might react to this information. "When Tommy got sent up, he was pretty quickly after attacked by Ben."
"Ben?" Thomas questions, and you can understand the confusion between both boys. You nod along, taking a deep breath.
"So, Ben had been stung in the maze. No one knew how it had happened, or why. But he ended up- well, going crazy." The two of them nod, sharing glances as if they knew exactly what you were talking about. You supposed they would, at this point. "So, when he attacked you- and no one knew how to cure it- well…"
"He was banished." Newt completes your sentence as if this was obvious, nodding along. Thomas shuffles in his seat restlessly, leaning back and raising a hand to run it through his hair roughly. It's pretty obvious he doesn't enjoy this story so far, but you doubt he'd enjoy any of it, to be honest.
"Yeah. That kinda kick-started the whole thing." The boys look confused, so you continue without prompting. "Alby and Minho went to go check around the maze, and they thought they came across a dead Griever. Apparently, it had only pretended to be dead, and stung Alby." You watched as Thomas leaned forward again quickly, paying close attention. "They escaped it, somehow, and Minho was helping Alby get back to the Glade but they were running late. They weren't going to make it. So," You look over to him, nodding, "Tommy ran in."
"Of course he would," Newt mutters under his breath, leaning back finally and slumping his shoulders in defeat.
"The three of them got locked in the maze at night. That's how Tommy was able to kill a Griever for the first time. It was-" You stare off into space, images of your night in the maze flashing before your eyes. "You just use the maze against them. Let the stone crush them, or trick them into jumping off the edge of a cliff. Things like that."
"That's what you did, then?" Thomas asks, and you finally come to, looking up to meet his stern gaze. You nod again, agreeing, and watch him sigh out slowly.
"After you all escaped the maze and gave Alby the Grief serum-"
"The what?" Newt interrupts, his brows furrowing.
"The blue serum, the one that I gave Chuck?"
"Grief serum," Newt mutters to himself again, then takes a deep breath and nods to indicate you can continue.
"Minho and Tommy went back in. Found the dead Griever, pulled the stinger out-" You hesitate here, then look at them sharply. "Wait, where's my backpack? It had the stinger in there, right?" Newt nods, but Thomas is the one who speaks up with exhaustion.
"Minho took the bag, and the stinger. We read the letter out to him, so he began trying to solve that puzzle you mentioned immediately." You nod along, letting out a breath of relief.
"Good, that's good." You look back down at the letter, scanning it quickly to see if you were forgetting anything. You reach the bottom of the page, swallowing roughly at what you had written there. As if reading your thoughts, Newt's calm voice speaks up once again.
"There's still a few more questions I have about that letter." You nod, already knowing what he might ask. You hear it anyway; "Why did you warn us about Gally? To take the shot?" An ache begins in your chest, having written out that they shouldn't trust him. He's obviously different now than in the books… Was that Ben's doing? Was his exile the reason Gally had become so hard and distant in the books?
"I don't know why I wrote that," You whisper, but Newt interrupts just as quickly.
"We need to know, [Y/N]."
"In the books," You take a deep breath, placing the letter to your side on the box, looking back up at them with a guilty expression. "Look, you have to keep in mind that Ben was exiled, Tommy was made a runner almost immediately; his entire world was falling apart."
"[Y/N],"
"Gally didn't want to leave the Glade," You begin, letting your eyes fall back to the ground so you can try and remember things fully. "He tried to stay, and tried to convince others to stay with him. He was pretty successful, about half of what remained of the Glade stayed. But, they were all killed when the Grievers attacked again. At this point, the doors weren't closing at night-" You stop, raising your hands to rub your face roughly. "I don't know how I'm going to explain everything to you, it's all such a mess."
"It's okay," Thomas murmurs, his voice trying to be gentle. "Just try."
"Wicked didn't like that you found the stringer, or perhaps just didn't like that you were in the maze at all, Tommy. They sent Teresa in, said she was the last one ever. This wasn't but a week or two after you came up. After she was up, the doors stopped closing. It was a race to the exit, otherwise everyone would die at night when the Grievers attacked. Alby sacrificed himself that first night so that you all could survive." You let out a breath, raising your eyes to them. They were both understandably horrified, and you shrug with a humourless laugh. "I guess Gally making this bunker would've worked out better back then."
"And Gally still wanted to stay? After the doors didn't close?"
"He thought we'd- well, you had angered the 'creator's, and wanted to sacrifice Tommy to the maze. But he had too many friends, and a good bit of Gladers, including you, Newt, helped him out of his binds and escaped into the maze to leave. Some came with, some stayed behind with Gally." You sighed, leaning your head back on your shoulders. "So, Gladers that stayed behind died, Gally chased after you all. He had been stung, I think? Either that, or he was losing everything and had nothing left. He was pointing a gun at Tommy, trying to hold him accountable for everything that happened."
"I wouldn't blame him," Thomas muttered under his breath, which caused both you and Newt to look at him sharply. Newt spoke up before you could, however.
"Don't say that." He lets out a slow breath, waiting for Thomas to meet his eyes before continuing. "Do not start blaming yourself for something that never even happened." Thomas blinks a few times, as if coming to this realization. This really hadn't happened, not in this timeline anyway. After Thomas takes another deep, calming breath, they both nod and turn their attention back to you.
"He shot the gun," You immediately say, watching Thomas flinch. This next part, even just the thought, hurts you to say. "But, Chuck jumped in front."
"That's why you said protect Chuck," Newt mutters once more, and you nod.
"He killed him. Chuck died trying to protect Tommy, and I just… I couldn't have that happen again." You let your eyes fall from them, staring at that spot on the ground once again that you've become so accustomed to so far through this conversation. "I said not to hesitate so maybe Chuck wouldn't get hurt. There's a spear, I think? Maybe- maybe Minho threw it? I can't quite remember, but it pierced Gally and everyone thought he was dead."
"Thought?" Newt asks softly, and you scoff out a laugh, shaking your head.
"That turns into a long story. But no, he didn't die." It's quiet again, and you don't quite blame them. It's a lot to take in, but even just trying to remember what happened in the books is getting harder and harder as you live through this life. You think perhaps they're trying to reconcile what you know versus what has actually happened in their lives. Maybe they were trying to figure out what happened along the way to stop all of these events from occurring. You knew you had always wondered, this whole time. It's a few minutes before Newt finally breaks the silence, his voice tired and grave.
"So why did you say Tommy is the cure?"
