Experiment 18- Newt fanfic

Chapter 28: What does Alby need..?

"Can I say something now?" he asks. frustration raised the volume of his voice. "I'm sick of you guys talking about me like I'm not here."

I glance up at him and nod. "Go ahead. This bloody meetin' can't be much more screwed up."

"I don't know why Gally hates me. I don't care. He seems psychotic to me. As for who I really am, you all know just as much as I do. But if I remember correctly, we're here because of what I did out in the Maze, not because some idiot thinks I'm evil."

Someone snickered as Thomas finished.

I nod satisfied. "Good that. Let's get this meeting over with and worry about Gally later."

"We can't vote without all the members here," Winston insists. "Unless they're really sick, like Alby."

"For the love, Winston," I reply. "I'd say Gally's a wee bit ill today, too, so we continue without him. Thomas, defend yourself and then we'll take the vote on what we should do with you."

"I didn't do anything wrong. All I know is I saw two people struggling to get inside these walls and they couldn't make it. To ignore that because of some stupid rule seemed selfish, cowardly, and ... well, stupid. If you want to throw me in jail for trying to save someone's life, then go ahead. Next time I promise I'll point at them and laugh, then go eat some of Frypan's dinner."

I could tell Thomas was wasn't trying to be funny. He was just dumbfounded that the whole thing could even be an issue.

"Here's my recommendation," I say. "You broke our bloody Number One Rule, so you get one day in the Slammer. That's your punishment. I also recommend we elect you as a Runner, effective the second this meeting's over. You've proven more in one night than most trainees do in weeks. As for you being the buggin' Keeper, forget it."i look over at Minho. "Gally was right on that count-stupid idea."

The Keeper didn't seem surprised, but argued all the same. "Why? He's the best we have-I swear it. The best should be the Keeper."

"Fine," I respond. "If that's true, we'll make the change later. Give it a month and see if he proves himself."

Minho shrugs. "Good that."

Thomas quietly sighs in relief.

I glance around the room. "Okay, we had several recommendations, so let's give it a go-round-"

"Oh, come on," Frypan says. "Just vote. I vote for yours."

"Me too," Minho says.

Everyone else chimes in their approval, filling me with relief and a sense of pride. Winston was the only one to say no.

I look at him. "We don't need your vote, but tell us what's bonkin' around your brain."

Winston gazes at Thomas carefully, then back to Newt. "It's fine with me, but we shouldn't totally ignore what Gally said. Something about it-I don't think he just made it up. And it's true that ever since Thomas got here, everything's been shucked and screwy."

"Fair enough," I say. "Everyone put some thought into it-maybe when we get right nice and bored we can have another Gathering to talk about it. Good that?"

Winston nods.

Thomas groaned at how invisible he'd become. "I love how you guys are just talking about me like I'm not here."

"Look, Tommy," I say. "We just elected you as a buggin' Runner. Quit your cryin' and get out of here. Minho has a lot of training to give you."

"What about my punishment?"

"Tomorrow," I answer. "The wake-up till sunset."

The meeting was dismissed and everyone except me and Minho left the room in a hurry. I hadn't moved from my chair, where I sat rocking Valley. "Well, that was a good time." I murmer.

Minho walked over and playfully punches Thomas in the arm. "It's all this shank's fault."

Thomas punches him back. "Keeper? You want me to be a Keeper? You're nuttier than Gally by a long shot."

Minho faked an evil grin. "Worked, didn't it? Aim high, hit low. Thank me later."

I couldn't help smiling at the Keeper's clever ways. A knock on the opened door grabbed his attention-he turned to see who it was. Chuck stood there, looking like he'd just been chased by a Griever. Thomas felt the grin fade from his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, standing up.

Chuck wrings his hands. "Med-jacks sent me."

"Why?"

"I guess Alby's thrashing around and acting all crazy, telling them he needs to talk to somebody."

I walk for the door, but Chuck held up his hand. "Um ... he doesn't want you."

"What do you mean?" I ask

Chuck points at Thomas. "He keeps asking for him."

I walk to the door continuing to rock Valley, Thomas at my tail. We walk to the second door on the right and I knock lightly; a moan sounded in reply. I push open the door.

I step into the room and was motion for Thomas to follow. As he entered I look to the bed and see a very weak-looking teenage boy lying in his bed, eyes closed.

"Is he asleep?" Thomas whispers.

"I don't know," I say quietly. I walk over and sit in a wooden chair next to the bed. Thomas takes a seat on the other side.

"Alby," I whisper. Then more loudly: "Alby. Chuck said you wanted to talk to Tommy."

Alby's eyes flutter open-bloodshot orbs that glistened in the light. He looks at me then across at Thomas. With a groan he shifted in the bed and sat up, his back against the headboard. "Yeah," he muttered, a scratchy croak.

"Chuck said you were thrashin' around, acting like a loonie." I lean forward. "What's wrong? You still sick?"

Alby's next words came out in a wheeze, as if every one of them would take a week off his life. "Everything's ... gonna change.... The girl ... Thomas ... I saw them ..." His eyelids flickered closed, then open again; he sank back to a flat position on the bed, stares at the ceiling. "Don't feel so good."

“What do you mean, you saw—” I ask.

“I wanted Thomas!” Alby yells, with a sudden burst of energy that I  would’ve thought impossible a few seconds earlier. “I didn’t ask for you, Newt! Thomas! I asked for freaking Thomas!”

I look up, questioning Thomas with a raising of his eyebrows. Thomas shrugs.

“Fine, ya grouchy shuck,” I say “He’s right here—talk to him.”

“Leave,” Alby says his eyes closed, his breathing heavy.

“No way—I wanna hear.”

“Newt.” he pauses. “Leave. Now.”

“But—” I protest.

“Out!” Alby sits up as he yells his voice cracking with the strain of it. He scooted himself back to lean against the headboard again. “Get out!”

My face sinks in obvious hurt— the after a tense moment, I stand  from my chair and walk over to the door and open it.

“Don’t expect me to kiss your butt when you come sayin’ sorry,” he said, then I step into the hallway.