Newt

Walking

Newt spent a great deal of time with Minho. The others came to visit him occasionally, but none as faithfully as Minho. Every day after he completed his run, the boy came to the homestead and sat beside Newt's bed. He spoke of the run, how he found nothing new, cursing like crazy the entire time. He pretended to be miserable, said that Newt was "his stupid shucking responsibility," but Newt knew that he wanted to be there. And Newt was more than happy for it. He liked Minho.

Alby visited him a few times, but he was no longer the kind mentor Newt looked up to. He was cold. Distant. George's death changed him. He didn't know what to say to him anymore. Every conversation seemed hollow, like they were trying to hard to make it seem like everything was okay. Newt was too tired to try to salvage anything.

As his strength grew, it became easier to deal with the darkness. Somehow the process of healing his body helped to heal his mind as well. Now it wasn't all bloody roses, but it did get easier.

Most of his body healed after a while. All but his leg. That never quite healed right. Even as he took his first shaky steps, leaning heavily on Minho, he could feel that he would never walk the same way again.

Minho couldn't stop smiling, though, as he supported Newt during his first steps. "Come on. That's it, shuckface. That's it." Despite the pain, Minho's enthusiasm was addicting and Newt found himself smiling.

Some of the other Gladers stood and watched as Newt, with Minho's support, walked again. There were some judgmental stares, but most of them seemed relieved. Happy. This took a huge weight off of Newt's shoulders. He'd been scared of what they would think.

Minho took him out every day as he learned to walk again. The limp never seemed to go away, and Newt soon gave up hoping it would. He learned to live with it as he learned to live with everything else.

One thing was certain, however.

"You can't be a Runner, Newt," Minho said, his hands on his hips. His voice was low and his eyes were on the ground, as if he was terrified of seeing Newt's reaction. Newt knew that Minho was just scared he would sprint off and try to jump off another wall or stab himself in his shuck face. He didn't blame the kid.

"Well I thought that was bloody obvious. My leg won't buggin' work right. Why should I hop and skip through The Maze?" Newt tried to cover his hurt with humour. Minho either didn't notice or chose not to comment. He just nodded and grinned. It almost wasn't forced.

"Looks like we've got to get you a new job. Want to go work with your ol' pal Winston?" he joked, elbowing Newt in the ribs. Newt rolled his eyes, letting out a small bark of laughter before he could stop himself. He liked Winston well enough, but the knives freaked him out more than he cared to admit.

"Where am I supposed to work? I'm not bloody good at anything." Newt had just finished the sentence when he saw Alby walk up to him. Alby had been very quiet around him since his injury. Now he spoke to him as if they were good friends again.

"I know the perfect job for you, Newt." He was smiling. Alby the great stone giant was actually smiling. Alby the iceman. Alby the statue. Alby the general with a stick shoved right up his pretty little-

"Newt, are you even listening to me?" the older boy repeated. Newt snapped out of his very disturbing daze and shook his head, looking at the ground in an apology. Alby just rolled his eyes and repeated what he said.

"I think I need some help running this place. Need someone to keep all these shanks in line. Think you'd be up for it."

All Newt could do was nod. He finally had a place here. He finally had a purpose. A small shred of hope wound its way into his chest and everything was just a little bit easier.