A/n: Thomas figures that Newt's presence can be very comforting. {That's the subplot aside from different dialogue, yep.}

Universe: Gives references to book scenes, but otherwise not specified.

Pairing: Newt/Thomas

Warning(s): Mentioned canonical character death (Ben).

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, don't bother to sue. This is slash, but don't even bash. (:

There were some things that you couldn't get out of your head. It had been a wonder at all that Thomas had barely managed a wink of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ben, grotesque in a sickly way, thin and frail and half-mad. Thomas could still feel the ghostly impressions of his fingers like talons gripping into him, jaws snapping closed with horrible clacking noises, and then that horrible feeling of teeth pressing against his skin and through cloth. The brunette had thrown himself into the lake and scrubbed at his skin raw before being bandaged and tended to by the medjacks, but no matter what he tried, the ghost of the other boy had left its mark on him.

Even then, Ben had seemed frightened. He had thought he was doing the best thing, wasn't it? "If you kill me, you'll be killing the wrong guy! He wants to get us out of the Maze, return us home! No, no, no, no, no,nononononono." Thomas hadn't understand with a lick of sense, but even so, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Nobody deserved to be out in the Maze. He could've been rehabilitated, right? They could have ... he didn't know what they could have done, but they could have done something. But instead, he hid behind someone else like a coward, too afraid to speak up, to defend the boy who had attacked him.

Boy. That's what they all were, weren't they? How could anyone send them someplace where they could kill each other?

"Thinkin' bout it doesn't change anything, green bean," comes a soft voice from nearby. Thomas jerks involuntarily, before realizing who it is. Newt, the second in command and perhaps the most friendliest person there. He had an aura of kindness, of patience that the other leader didn't seem to possess, always willing to listen to Thomas' prattle, and had often sent genuinely concerned looks at the younger. He had a calming effect on people, he's noticed.

"Yeah, I get that," he says, tucking his knees closer to himself. Gnashing teeth tearing into his shoulder, the blood that welled and slathered down his side. Ben's wild and frightened eyes.. How could he ever forget that? How could anyone forget that?

"Tommy.." He feels a hand rest atop his, and he tenses. His eyes snap open, surprised at where he found his own hand, picking and scratching at the wound inflicted by the half-crazed Glader. Well, ex-Glader. "You're hurting yourself. Don't worry about it." Newt sounded completely sincere, his warm eyes full of worry and concern. Thomas drops his hand and instead wraps it around his legs. "There's nothing you could have done to stop it."

He's right, he's always right. Thomas guesses. "Thanks, Newt." The blond smiles at him before slipping down to sit next to him. Thomas says nothing, scuffing his shoe in the dust and just trying to focus on - the horrible feeling of nails scraping across his body, the click of bones, the awful sensation of pain flooding through and - anything but the attack and Ben's banishment. Newt nudges Thomas with his shoulder, and the brunette offers a half-smile.

"You'll be working with Zart today," Newt says, changing topic, as if sensing how dangerously close the newbie is to focusing on the incident. "He's the Keeper of the track hoes, and he'll probably work ya to your bones. He's the one up in front of the pole. Probably help you keep you mind off of things, Tommy." He offers a smile. He taps the edge of his shoe to Thomas', who nudges back with an unsure smile. He continues, "They're like the farmers, here, working and tillin' in the gardens."

Feeling Newt's shoe tap against his again, he chuckles under his breath and a bit more forcibly and with surprising precision. "Sounds fun," Thomas laughs when Newt shoulders him, who then pretends to look innocent when the brunette cranes his head to get a proper look at him. Shank, Thomas thinks fondly, but finding that he doesn't mind. Newt had a way of taking his mind off of what happened yesterday, and that was just with the older boy's calming presence. "What, so is that why you got me up? To send me on a track hoe mission?" He quirks his eyebrow for emphasis, smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

Newt scrunches up his nose, but looks downright amused by the sudden question. "What, don't like seeing my face first thing on wakeup?" He had rested his wrists along his knees, and with them both sitting outside the Homestead, pressed against the walls and with nobody nearby, it felt oddly intimate.

"Actually, it's always the best part of my day," Thomas replies, still feeling elated from their close companionship. He doesn't notice what exactly he had said, because his slightly sleepy mind had yet to catch up. It is evident at Newt's hushed response - which isn't all that odd, considering the boy seemed more of a listener than talker - that maybe he shouldn't have said that. He's honestly too surprised with himself to feel embarrassment. "Wait, that - ... didn't come out right." He had intended to reply with 'no, not really,' but then these - these - words just wrenched themselves from him, as if they had a right. He hadn't intended to say it at all, and yet he had. He could play it off as a joke, couldn't he?

A sharp and steady intake of breath causes Thomas to look over, and Newt settles his calloused hand along Thomas', feeling like an anchor to weigh him down. "Then how was it supposed to sound, Tommy?" He did not have disgust in his eyes, just confusion.

Thomas swallows thickly, debating on how to handle this. He could joke, saying that it wasn't much of an improvement from everybody else, or .. He licks his suddenly dry lips, and by how close they are, he notices Newt's eyes involuntarily track the movement. "'m trying to say I wouldn't mind waking up to your face," his gaze wavers just slightly, "or seeing you everyday for however long I'm here." He blinks back over to Newt, who seems to be contemplating his words. His grip on his knees are tight, and Newt had yet to remove his hand.

"Good that," comes Newt's soft voice, his dark eyes turning to Thomas with sudden warmth. His finger strokes Thomas' hand before touching along his wrist. Newt's words had calmed Thomas, slowed his otherwise erratic heartbeat. That was just the effect that the blond had on him. Thomas unfurls his legs just a bit and moves his hand to face upwards, his expression clearing when Newt readily places his hand directly back over, twining their fingers. It's a perfect fit, he thinks.

There are a few things that you just can't erase from your mind. Like the feral snarl that ripped from Ben's throat, the comfort of a friend's presence, or how right it feels when he presses his dry lips to the blond; feeling him breath into his mouth in surprise, their mouths slotting together like puzzle pieces, and his hands finding themselves in the older boy's hair. He felt a bit like everything just led up to this moment, with Newt.

But, no matter what happens, he didn't plan on forgetting this.