~A/N: Low key one of my favorite chapters.

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~Newt~

The brightness of the light once he was led out of his prison sent a stabbing pain through his eyes.

Newt was a bit disoriented since the guards so graciously woke him up, and he didn't even bother to struggle with them this time. 

His whole body felt... different. It was as if he'd lost a great deal of his strength in the past few days.

It'd been a long period of isolation; about three weeks. Newt was exhausted, and he didn't even understand why they had to separate everyone like that. But it all seemed to him that they'd been put through another set of trials.

Bloody ridiculous. 

All he wanted to know was where they took Sara. He didn't care what she did to them in the end. He'd learned to try to trust her; he promised her that, so that was what he was gonna do.

"Tidy yourself up," the guard's gruff voice instructed as he led Newt to the showers. "Tell me when you're done so I can take you to meet your friends."

Finally, something promising. It could've also been another trap to be wary of, yet he didn't know.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he stepped inside the washing room. "Where's Sara?" he asked them, even though he doubted the guards knew the answer to that.

"You have fifteen minutes," one of the men grumbled before shutting the door in his face.

Newt stood there for a few seconds, before a crawling sensation emerged inside his head.

Not again, he groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his head with both hands.

It'd been happening every once in a while. A terrible feeling that came and left. Like something was crawling inside his head, an itch that tried to squeeze its way inside somehow. He had an idea of what it was doing to him, but he tried not to think about it as much. He wasn't willing to accept what he was turning into.

And he probably should've told Sara, but he didn't want to worry her.

He didn't even know if she was alright. They both weren't even in the best of terms before they broke apart. And she betrayed them a second time!

A wild fury suddenly possessed him, and he slammed his hands on the wall, screaming all his frustrations out like if the wall in front of him were the source of all his problems. The screams continued until his anger reached a maximum point, and he thrust his fist against the wall several times.

Then, as if a veil were removed from his eyes, he realized what he was doing. His hand, as he brought it down, was burning and stinging at the knuckles. He shakily turned it face down to take a better look, and he saw that the whole back of it was bloody.

Why's this buggin' happening to me? Panting, he leaned on his back against the wall, feeling the sweat trickle down the side of his face.

The door burst open, and the guard poked his head inside. "What are you doing! You have ten minutes left, so I'd suggest you don't waste them!"

Complying to his orders, yet still angry, Newt stripped off his dirty clothes and hopped in the shower. He let the warm water run down his back for a few moments as he wrecked his brain over what was going on inside his head.

The stinging on his hand remained, but at least it was clean now. His gaze lingered on the scars on his right wrist now that he didn't have his band around it during his shower. He thought of Sara, and how she reacted when she saw those scars. He missed her even more.

"Hurry up!" He heard the guard despite the sound of the running water.

"Alright!" He yelled back.

He hurried to finish washing himself, then threw on some clean clothes provided for him on one of the cabinets. He had to admit it felt nice to be clean after such a long period of wearing the same old clothes, getting sweat, sand, and blood on it for days. It reminded him of the old hoodie Sara gave him, but even having clean clothes again was a minor relief compared to his other worries.

The guard opened the door and took his arm right away, barely letting him finish adjusting his shoes. Newt scowled at him, but the man was either pretending not to look at him or he just didn't care. Or both.

Without a word, the guard led him to a large lobby, where relief filled Newt's chest at the sight of his friends. He only saw a couple of them, but still, it was way better than being alone. Among them were Minho, Frypan, and Winston, followed by Lizzy, Harriet, and a few other guys and girls he recognized. The guard let him enter before disappearing out the door.

Minho and Lizzy were the first to jump out of their seats to greet him.

"Shank, you're alive." Minho clapped him on the back. He sounded excited, but Newt could tell Minho also spent a rough couple of weeks, wherever WICKED had him. Newt stifled a laugh but still lacked the energy to express his relief to see him alive and well. All Newt could manage to do was pat him on the arm and smile at him, which Minho didn't appear to mind at all. Minho never really was the sentimental type. He always just masked it with a curtain of sarcasm.

Next was his sister, who embraced him with tears in her eyes, and a radiant smile. Newt let out a breath of relief to have her in his arms again. He kissed her on the head. "Are you alright?" he asked in a soft voice.

She nodded before she planted a kiss on his cheek. "And you?"

Newt pursed his lips and hesitated a nod. Lizzy didn't need to know either. He would hate himself if he inflicted that burden upon her or Sara.

"Brother, talk to me," she pleaded desperately, but Newt shook his head, repeating the only words people knew how to say when asked to open up to someone: I'm fine.

A couple of people in white coats entered the room with bags and armfuls of food packages. As they set everything on the table in the middle, they instructed everyone to eat and patiently wait for the rest of the groups to be brought and reunited with them.

Newt wasn't very hungry, and he struggled to get sufficient bites out of the apple in his hand without feeling like he wanted to throw it up. He was sick of getting food from them. Several other Gladers lost their appetite too, but there were still plenty of others whose appetite was unaffected. Minho—as always—was one of them.

Aris and Teresa walked inside next with no guard escorts.

Of course.

After a couple silent seconds of everyone giving each other awkward stares, people started to ignore the two of them after they both sat down. Newt didn't know what they expected after everything they did, and everything that was shown to them about them both during the last few days. It was clear to everyone that those two didn't care if anyone in the group died.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" Minho mumbled to him before taking the last bite out of his sandwich.

Newt wanted to say: Well, what do you think, you bloody shank? It's been three weeks, and I haven't heard a buggin' word about her! Instead, his only response was a slow, cautious nod.

But Minho scoffed. "She's probably fine, shank. I mean, besides a couple screws that need some adjustments in her head."

Newt set his half-finished apple on the table before turning to Minho. "What did you say?" He didn't think he would be able to suppress his rage if Minho continued fueling the fire.

"What?" Minho extended his arms in defense. "She suddenly betrays us, and we hear nothing of her after that? She's just like those two slintheads sitting over there," he muttered while pointing at Aris and Teresa.

Sara was nowhere near those two. Newt didn't understand why she called WICKED, but he saw the look of despair in her eyes as she did that. Something must have gone terribly wrong. She might've even saved them from something worse, how would he know?

But if Minho was the sarcastic one, Newt was the stubborn, more reasonable one. Or at least he tried to be. "You, as her best friend, should know her better than that," he snapped at him.

"Open your eyes, Newt," Minho retorted. "Why would she hide her identity from us—her friends? And what about those shuck slintheads, Jorge and Brenda?" He scoffed. "They're out of harm's way. Did you see how the guards treated them? They work for WICKED! Just like Aris and Teresa. Just like your little girlfriend always has!"

And that was the last straw. Newt yelled out in fury and charged at him, sending them both to the floor. Minho was taken by surprise, and Newt got a few punches to Minho's face, regardless of the pain on his knuckles from that episode of his earlier.

Everyone was petrified, except for Winston and Frypan, who tried to separate them after Minho had turned Newt around and sent a couple blows to his face in return.

"Don't you bloody talk about her like that!" Newt shouted at him as he struggled with Winston pulling him back.

Newt heard Lizzy scream his name with horror, but it was too late to back up now.

Minho spat out blood before shouting back. "Your problem is that you've always been too attached to her. You always depended on her! You're weak, Newt! And now look where we're stuck again because of her!"

Newt couldn't believe how the roles had changed. Minho defended her so fiercely in the Glade, back when Newt was the one who didn't trust her. Now it was strange to see Minho more skeptical than Gally ever was.

"Don't talk to me about problems—we don't even know the whole story!" Newt argued, trying to go back and beat the klunk out of him. Yet Newt wasn't even so sure of his own words. He wanted to trust her; he'd promised he would, and even if it was hard to, he felt he owed it to her.

Catching Winston off guard, however, Newt stepped on his foot and yanked his arms from his grip. Minho's veins popped out, and he freed himself from Frypan as soon as he saw Newt charging back at him. A feral rage took control of Newt's body, and he wrapped his arm around Minho's throat, while Minho tried to pry his arm away.

Two guards rushed forward and separated them. "Enough!" one of them shouted. "If you don't want problems, don't cause them!"

They left afterwards, but not before allowing Rachel to enter.

She stared at Minho first, wondering what was going on, but he didn't even notice her.

Both boys were panting, staring each other down with an unrestrained dose of adrenaline coursing through their veins. Newt stared at him with hatred—almost, while Minho eyed him with disappointment.

"What's up with you, shuck-face?" Minho shook his head. "You're not like this at all, you were never the violent type. I'm more like that. And if somebody would've ever told me before, that you would be the first to pick up a fight someday, I would laugh in their ugly klunk-face. But now..." He trailed off, before wiping a bit of blood from the side of his mouth, then flopping down on one of the chairs.

Embarrassed, Newt bowed his head, and slowly took a seat himself. Minho's words kind of cleared the haze in his mind, but he felt that if he apologized, it was just gonna sound so dry. Insincere. Shuck, he couldn't even control himself.

Winston and Frypan looked almost pitiful.

"I'm sorry, Newt... but he's right," said Frypan.

"I agree," added Winston.

Newt gave out an annoyed huff before turning his eyes away from them.

Rachel angrily walked towards Minho. "Are you serious right now?" He broke out of his anger for a second as he realized she was the one who came in last.

"Rachel!" both Minho and Aris exclaimed at the same time, and Aris rushed to her.

Both guys glared at each other, and Minho looked ready for a second fight. 

"You!" He shouted at Aris before catching him off guard with a blow to the face.

Aris held his jaw in pain but returned the gesture to Minho afterwards. Minho was unfazed by it, and they engaged in a series of punches and wrestling while Rachel stood there, looking at both with disgust.

Again, Winston and Frypan stepped forward to save the day and managed to separate them before the guards even bothered. It was annoying, but if they weren't there to stop either fight, things would've ended badly.

"Stay away from her," Minho gritted his teeth. "She hates traitors like you, and so do I."

"You only defend her 'cause you like her." Aris scoffed. "She was with Sara on this too, in case you didn't know."

The kid had a point, but he was still talking about Sara in a way many would agree with him, except for Newt.

Minho rolled his eyes and sighed. "But she wasn't the one who called the Rat Man!"

"You're forgetting a small little detail," Aris sneered. "She's mine since the Maze. We know each other more than you and her do. Stop saying she hates traitors like you're talkin' about me. I'm not one of them. She loves me."

A couple of Gladers and girls snickered, and Minho flat-out burst out laughing.

Rachel looked like she was about to beat the klunk out of both of them.

"Excuse me? Yeah, I hate traitors," she said, and Minho crossed his arms proudly, while smirking at Aris. "But I also hate childish fights over the least of our worries. That goes to both of you." She looked them straight in the eyes. Both guys were reluctant, but they calmed down enough to prevent another fight.

Without a warning, she walked over and leaned over, right in front of Aris, in a threatening way. "And how dare you claim that I love you when you ruined everything between us? We never dated, Aris, and we never will."

He looked defeated as she walked over to get food, but it was also crystal clear that he was nonconforming.

Several other Gladers and girls were brought over during the whole argument. The guards stopped intervening, probably because they knew nobody would dare get out of control anymore. At least for now.

And finally, Tommy delighted them all with his presence. He looked around and was relieved to see the familiar faces.

"Well, I've been shucked and gone to heaven. It's Thomas!" Minho called out, as if nothing had just happened before Thomas got there. His voice was followed by hoots and cheers, and catcalls from a few girls. However, Tommy's eyes focused on Teresa. Her eyes were pleading, but his gaze was indifferent.

Newt stood up to greet him next.

"Well, at least you didn't roll over and die, Tommy," said Newt, squeezing his arm tightly. Newt's voice came out grumpier than he would've liked, but Thomas nodded and smiled at him either way.

Minho started blabbering dumb things at him again, but then Thomas eyed them both a bit more closely. "Did WICKED beat you guys up?"

"Y—yah... more or less. Don't worry about it," Newt said, and he and Minho shared a hard look.

Teresa, probably bothered by the fact that Thomas wasn't rushing into her arms, stood up to go greet him herself.

"Hey," she said, and he returned the greeting with awkward formality.

What he said next, burned out the flicker in her eyes. Like he couldn't care any less about talking to her. He turned back to the rest of them and asked, "Have you guys heard anything about Sara?"

Rachel stepped forward, looking worried. "I don't know exactly where she is, but I'm sure she's had a pretty serious one-on-one with Janson."

"So, what does that mean?" asked Jeff. "Is she comin'?"

"I highly doubt it," answered Clint.

"I've only heard rumors," said Rachel, and they all snapped their heads toward her. "The guards talk, and I've heard them say, 'I doubt she's gonna cooperate. I don't get why Janson's so focused on her anyway.' But then..." She trailed off, her frightened eyes settling on Newt.

"Just say it," he urged her with a nervous tone. Newt took a deep breath, preparing to hear something unpleasant.

Rachel slowly began, "They said that she wasn't gonna make it another week if she continued like that. That's what I've picked up from their talks." She frowned, unsatisfied with her own answer.

Newt felt the surge of a painful weight on his chest, his breathing quickening. "What do you mean? Is he torturing her?" he asked, his voice sounding hysterical.

Helpless, she shrugged, and with a fearful tone, she said, "I don't know. I have no idea what's going on. That's all I've heard. And they ignored me when I tried to ask."

Newt ran both hands through his hair, groaning with despair. The tears blurred his eyesight as he paced back and forth. With every fiber of his body, he swore to himself that he would finish him if he killed her. He would beat the klunk out of anyone that hurt her. And he wasn't afraid to shed blood for her sake.

His own breathing turned insanely bloodthirsty until he felt two hands grip his shoulders. When he looked up, he scowled at the sight of Minho.

"Look, man," Minho began, "our arguments aside, I do worry about her too. And I didn't like it one bit to hear what Rachel said. But you need to calm down. Newt, you have to tell me what's wrong with you. You're not being yourself mumblin' a bunch of scary klunk like that. Talk to me, man."

"I'm fine." Newt pushed him away by the shoulders, his eyes wide as he said so.

Lizzy patted Minho on the shoulder. "Don't be too hard on him." Her voice cracked, and Newt's heart broke to see the way she was looking at him.

He didn't want her to see him like this; to see how any little thing sparked the monster inside of him.

Before anything else was mentioned, Rat Man came marching down the aisle clapping his hands. "Everybody take a seat. We've got a few things to cover before we remove the Swipe."

He said that so casually Newt almost didn't catch it.

Everyone grew quiet as Rat Man stepped onto the stage in the front of the room and cleared his throat. "That's right, ladies and gents. You're about to get all of your memories back. Every last one of them."

All around Newt, people listened as Rat Man acted like they hadn't lost several friends to the trials. He acted like whatever each of them saw in the last three weeks was enough to persuade them to help him with WICKED's next plan.

Newt's own experience was... well, he couldn't bring himself to even think about it. It all simply made him want to refuse the memory restoration even more. Sara told him that he didn't want to remember, and he believed her. He saw her face. She knew. If her reaction to knowing about his past was that bad, then he couldn't expect anything better from himself. Especially now that he... wasn't really acting like himself anymore.

Between Minho and a couple others, threats began to get thrown around, back and forth. He'd be joining them too if he weren't so exhausted. There was a chorus of disagreement, many in favor of the removal of the Swipe while the others stayed firm. When Teresa and Aris both declared their compliance, more girls decided to give in.

Minho, Thomas, Rachel, Lizzy, and Yuna were the only ones who openly disagreed, and Newt counted himself along with them. If the rest wanted to remember a life of pain—he wasn't saying their lives now weren't in any way worse—they had all their right to do so. Nevertheless, the memory of Ben and Alby's faces when they remembered, plus what Sara told him, gave Newt enough motives to stand his ground.

"Okay, I think we're just about ready," Rat Man interrupted his thoughts. "One last thing, though. Something I need to tell you before you regain your memories. It'll be better to hear it from me than to... remember the testing."

"What're you talking about?" asked Harriet.

"Well, I'm sure I've told you only some of you are immune—did I tell you that?" he pondered, sounding uninterested. "Yeah, I think I did. Anyway, I'm gonna go through the list of those who aren't immune, so please do your best to take it calmly."

The room sucked in any trace of human noise until there was only an eerie hum of machinery, and a faint beeping sound in the distance.

Rat Man started rambling about the most efficient way to carry out experiments and getting all fake-emotional about it until Newt interrupted him.

"Just bloody get on with it," Newt snapped. "We all figured we had the buggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."

Janson took a deep breath before delivering the grand news. "The following people are not immune: Newt, Zart, Clint, Jackson, Winston, Claire, and Lily. There were plenty of others but they're among the casualties we've come across throughout the trials."

Tommy was the one who hadn't been taking it well at all. Like if he'd zoned out of the world after the mention of Newt's name, staring at him with a pathetic look on his face. Minho actually hid his own face from Newt, bowing his head.

Did none of them hear about the others? It wasn't just him. A couple of girls, and then Winston, Zart, Clint, and Jackson. Friends of his who had no idea about this now got told they were doomed to the virus for real. And no one cared about them! Not even that the Rat Man called the ones they'd lost 'casualties.'

Newt did something very out of place as he looked into Thomas's eyes. He folded his arms and forced a grin. "Tommy, slim yourself."

Thomas straightened up. "Slim myself? That old shank just said you're not immune to the Flare. How can you—?"

"I'm not worried about the bloody Flare, man. I never thought I'd still be alive at this buggin' point—and living hasn't exactly been so great anyway," said Newt, maintaining his smile, although it was probably fading.

Thomas looked unsure, waiting to see if he was joking or not before cracking a smile himself, saying a bunch of empty words to which Newt didn't even bother to listen.

What else could Newt say? He had this coming. He figured it confirmed to him and explained to the others why he'd been acting out of the norm. Every word he said to Thomas was true. He was more upset about his friends who weren't taking the news very well. They didn't deserve that. Not to mention, some of the girls who were huddled together, consoling their non-immune friends. None of them deserved that.

Rat Man continued his buggin' speech in the meantime. "We have three—no, two final Immune candidates in mind. The whole point of this operation has been to pursue a cure. Most of you who are not immune are in the early stages of the Flare, and I have every confidence that you'll be taken care of before it goes too far. But the trials required your participation."

He locked his eyes on Newt in particular for a moment, and Newt didn't have to be an intellect to know what that meant. He wasn't part of most of those. He was a bit more far along, and he knew it.

Newt must've done something horribly wrong in his life. He didn't know what it was, but it made sense. None of his friends deserved being told they had the disease. None of the poor girls crying deserved to be hit with that kind of news. It was better that he took the major toll for this.

It made him feel remotely better about himself. And more importantly, he would be gone in peace, knowing that his dear Sara was immune. Her name not being mentioned in the list brought a particular aura of relief and joy, despite everything. That was all it took to bring forth the calm.

And he would settle for that. It was done.

Rat Man ignored all else as he introduced the marvelous technology that they would be using to restore everyone's memories. He was in the climax of his explanation when one of the employees, who had her hair in a bun, walked over and whispered something in his ear.

He got uncomfortable and tried to continue his talk, but the employee said out loud, "Sir, she's already here. Rebecca says it's important."

Newt became fully alert after hearing that, and he watched as Rat Man rolled his eyes and nodded, giving permission for whatever the employee informed him about. He couldn't have looked more annoyed. Everyone watched as he fixed his shirt and cleared his throat.

"Well, ladies and gents. One more thing. I'd forgotten about one more friend of yours," Rat Man chuckled, his tone a bit nervous.

Newt directed his eyes to the door as one lady in a white lab coat opened it and entered. She reached behind her back and pulled someone's arm, revealing who she'd brought with her.

Newt nearly passed out.

Staggering, Sara stepped forward, in very ill condition, looking about to collapse to the floor. Her hair was no longer braided; it was messy and covering most of her face. Then she fell on hands and knees with a weak grunt.

"Sara!" Limp and all, Newt got to her much faster than anybody else. He gently slid his hand under her chin, pushing her hair out of the way, and raised her head so she would look at him.

Her eyes were droopy, like two chocolate pieces that had started to melt. Surrounding her eyes were deep, dark circles indicating severe lack of sleep. Her cheeks lacked their usual rosy color, and she was so pale that she looked frightening. And her body... his heart twitched as his hands embraced her. He'd be able to count several of her bones if he really tried.

"Love," he cooed at her. "Darling, it's me. What did he do to you?" he choked out the words, hugging her body closer to his.

She coughed a couple of times before lifting her eyes back at him, with the little strength she had. "I'm... I'm sorry, Newtie," she mumbled weakly, before falling limp in his arms.