The Deadliest Generation: The Maze Of Monsters

The Code of The Maze

Minho folded his arms and sighed. "We hid the Maps. Because of Alby's warning and the so-called ending your sister triggered."

Thomas was so excited to hear this news that he temporarily forgot how awful things had become. He remembered Minho acting suspicious the day before, and it all clicked into place. Thomas looked at Newt, who nodded. 

"They're all safe and sound," Minho said. "Every last one of them. So if you have a theory, start talking right away." 

"Just take me to them first." Thomas said, itching to get started. 

"No." Newt snapped. Thomas turned to him, a little startled, only to see New surveying him crossly, eyes darting to his legs and his face. "Minho, take Teresa, don't kill each other, please, while I sort her idiot of a brother out."

Thomas blinked at him, a little despondent, having wanted to sort the maps and the code out first, but Newt's furious look told him not to argue back.

"Alright," said Minho, then gave Teresa a sweeping, searching glare. She stared back, looking a little confused, and her lip twitched. Minho nodded slowly at her, eyes narrowed, then finally spoke, "come on then, Mother Teresa."

He lead her away, and when Thomas tried to peer over to where they were, Newt pulled Thomas back, away, and Thomas automatically stiffened, especially when Newt wrapped his hands around Thomas's wrist, (which also made Thomas freeze up again) and tugged him toward the Med hut. 

They got there, passing several Gladers getting various injuries bound and washed and disinfected, they passed Alby, and an even more shattered looking River, who smiled softly at them, and toward an empty room at the end. 

Thomas instantly recognised it as the room he'd slept in after his night in the Maze, but couldn't take it in a lot, as Newt huffed and pushed him into sitting on the bed and knelt in front of him, looking at Thomas jeans, that were stained a disturbing rusty colour. 

He glanced up at Thomas, taking him completely off guard, Thomas almost starting to edge backward in panic. Newt very gently asked, "Are you okay?"

Thomas nodded hurriedly, but confirmed it by saying, "Yeah. Yeah, I- I'm fine."

Newt nodded too. "Good... good that." He said, and asked, "Is it okay if I roll up your jeans?"

Thomas relaxed ever so slightly, and said, "Yeah, um, yeah. Go ahead."

Newt met Thomas's eyes, and Thomas realised -  not that he'd never noticed it before, it just really hit him this time - Newt's eyes were brown. A soft, calming brown, with flecks of gold in them, eyes that seemed to say everything at once, yet tell you nothing at the same time. Newt smiled, and his eyes lit up in a way that made Thomas's stomach feel weird, in a way that made Thomas want to just... hug him or something.

Newt sighed, and rolled up both of Thomas's jeans legs ever so slowly, stopping and checking in with Thomas every time Thomas made a noise of discomfort. 

Newt grabbed a piece of cloth from the side table and walked to a sink in the corner of the room that Thomas hadn't noticed before and rinsed the cloth with cool water. The short sounds of rushing water brought a brief peace into Thomas's head. But it was quickly cut off, and Newt walked back to Thomas and knelt back down in front of him, dabbing at the dried blood on Thomas's knees. He wiped away the crusted blood, and the cuts reopened. Thomas hissed in pain, looking up at the ceiling as Newt bound the cuts in some fabric. "How'd you manage to do this, Tommy?" He asked, exasperated. 

"I stood on some glass from the window the Griever smashed up," Thomas muttered.

"Why didn't you get them sorted out first?" Newt asked.