The day was going pretty good, or, as good as days get in the Glade. Nothing had gone wrong, everyone had done good work, and Nick wasn't as crazy as usual. Alby should have known it was too good to be true.

"Hey, Frypan, have you seen Newt?" Alby asked the hairy cook. He found it strange that he hadn't seen the boy all day.

"Nope, haven't seen him since breakfast. Didn't even come for lunch," Frypan responded, and continued working on dinner.

That's weird, Alby thought. Newt never misses lunch when it's his day off.

Something wasn't right.

Alby asked everyone and got relatively the same answer from them all. Winston hadn't seen him since about 10:00. Zart talked to him at nine. Someone saw him go into the Deadheads, but that was several hours ago. Someone saw him walk into the maze.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"I don't know," the kid, Ken, said. "I called out to him and he just kept walking."

"Why would he go out into the maze?" Alby wondered out loud. "That doesn't make any se-"

He never finished that sentence because, all of a sudden, it did make sense. He had seen Newt's expression when he thought no one was looking. The look of hopelessness and total, utter despair. Alby knew what Newt wanted to do. And he had to stop it.

He bolted into the maze as fast as he could. He stuck to the left-hand wall and remembered each and every turn so he would be able to at least get his body back if. . .

No. It was an impossible thought, Newt would know the way back. He knew the maze better than he knew the Glade. Alby still kept track all the turns, though.

It was getting late. There was only a couple hours left until the doors closed. If he didn't find Newt soon, there's no telling what the runners would find tomorrow morning.

It was ten more minutes until he came across the still body lying on the ground. He felt like his heart was in his throat and he subconsciously held his breath. He ran over and fell to his knees at Newt's side. He sat there for a few seconds, afraid to check for any sign of life in case there was none.

Alby put two fingers to Newt's neck. His body was still warm. He doesn't know long he was sat there, on his knees, just searching for that rhythm that would give him hope. Then he found it. It was slow and faint, but it was there.

Alby shook Newt's shoulder, "Newt? Newt, can you hear me? Come on, the doors are closing soon, we have to go."

"Alby?" Newt's voice was barely over a whisper.

"Come on," he said gently. "We have to go."

"I can't even die right."

"We'll talk about this later, but now we have to get out of here," Alby bent down and put Newt's arm across his shoulders and wrapped his other arm around the boy's waist. Trying not jar his ankle that was bent at an odd angle, Alby hauled Newt up on his feet and let Newt put his full weight on him.

Slowly but surely, they made it back to the final stretch. As they turned the corner, he saw Nick and Minho there waiting for them.

"Newt!" Minho exclaimed upon seeing his friend so obviously in pain. As soon as they stepped foot into the Glade, Minho was at Newt's other side and was helping Alby half-help, half-carry him to the Homestead.

No sooner had they crossed the threshold of the Homestead than the rumbling of the doors closing started up. They had barely made it.

Through all of this, Newt had been panting heavily. His face was pale and his eyes were barely open.

They laid him down in one of the Med-Jacks' rooms. Minho was immediately next to his friend and, displaying more love and care Alby ever thought he would see from him, Minho gently brushed Newt's wet bangs out of his sweat-soaked face.

Nick walked in the room with Jeff following right behind him.

"Alright, what happened?" Nick asked as Jeff started untying Newt's shoe as carefully as he could.

"I found him like this," Alby said, taking a seat in the chair that was tucked away in the corner.

"I jumped."

He had said it so quietly Minho was the only one who actually heard him.

"You what?" Minho yelled the tears finally falling. "Why?"

"I can't take this anymore, Minho," Newt had fresh tears in his eyes. "It's too much."

As Jeff tugged his shoe and sock off, Newt barely stifled a scream that came out as a gasp.

"Yeah," Jeff said, standing up. "Definitely broken."

He went the the cabinet and grabbed a couple rolls of bandages and a washcloth. He handed Newt the cloth and said, "Bite down on that. This is gonna hurt. Sorry in advance."

Newt put the cloth in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"One. . . two. . . three," On three, Jeff set the snapped bone back into alignment and Newt passed out from the sudden burst of pain.

"Newt?" Minho said, concern for his friend written all over his face.

"It's probably better this way," Jeff said as he started wrapping the bandages around Newt's foot. "This would probably be hurting him, too. Let him sleep through the night."

"Do you think he'll be able to run again?" Nick asked the question that was on all of their minds.

"Time will tell, but I don't think it'll ever be the same again."

*****

When Newt woke up, everyone tired to get him to stay in bed. But he was still a runner and he couldn't sit still. So, with Alby's help, he walked to the East Door and back. Everyday, he would walk for short periods of time.

After three months, or so, he was able to walk on his own, though with a heavy limp. After six months, he was working in the gardens with the track hoes, just to have something to do. After nine months, Nick died, Alby became the leader, and he made Newt second-in-command, to the surprise of no one but Newt himself. ("You were more-or-less third-in-command, and everyone knows it.") After ten months, there was a new greenie named Thomas.