The healer [Maze runner Newt x OC]

Chapter one

Newt sat at the edge of the campfire, his hands clenched tightly around a tattered map spread across his lap. The firelight cast shadows over his face, making the lines of exhaustion and worry even more pronounced. Around him, the camp buzzed with quiet urgency—Harriet and Frypan whispered over a crate of stolen supplies, Thomas stood with Vince, pointing at a set of coordinates, and Minho sharpened his knife on a stone, his jaw tight with determination.

Newt wasn't paying attention to any of it. His eyes stared blankly at the map, but his mind was elsewhere. With her.

"Newt?" Frypan's voice cut through the noise, sharper than the knife in his hand. "You with us, or what?"

Newt blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts. "Yeah," he muttered. "Just thinking."

Frypan sat down across from him, narrowing his eyes. "You've been just thinking a lot lately."

"And you haven't?" Newt shot back, his tone sharper than he intended.

"Of course I have," Frypan said, his voice lowering. "But we're doing something about it now. Look, I want to get her back just as much as you do." He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you can't fall apart on us, man. Not now."

Newt's grip on the map tightened. "I'm not falling apart."

Frypan raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Then focus. We need everyone on the same page for this ambush. If we screw this up, we're done. And so is Grace."

The mention of her name was like a punch to the chest. Newt looked down at the map, swallowing hard.

"I know," he said quietly. "You don't have to remind me."

Thomas walked over, his expression grim but determined. "We've got the location," he said, holding up a scrap of paper with scribbled notes. "Vince confirmed it. WICKED's transport route passes through the northern canyon. If we time it right, we can intercept one of their trucks before they get to the facility."

"And what if she's not on that truck?" Newt asked, his voice raw.

Thomas hesitated. "Then we keep going. We'll find another way."

"That's not good enough." Newt stood abruptly, the map sliding off his lap. His sudden movement drew the attention of Frypan and Harriet, who exchanged worried glances.

"Newt—" Thomas started, but Newt cut him off.

"She's been gone for a month, Tommy. A bloody month. And every day they've got her, they're doing who-knows-what to her. Experiments, tests... worse." His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists. "I can't sit here and talk about 'what if.' I'm getting her back. No matter what."

The camp fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Thomas stepped closer, his voice steady. "We're all with you, Newt. But if we rush in without a plan, we're as good as dead. And so is she and Minho."

Newt turned away, running a hand through his hair. He knew Thomas was right, but the waiting—the endless planning—felt unbearable. Every moment Grace was in WICKED's hands felt like another moment he had failed her.

"She's strong," Brenda said after a long silence. Her voice was softer now, a rare thing for her. "If anyone can hold on, it's Grace. We'll get her back, but we have to do it smart. For her and Minho. For all of us."

Newt nodded, though his jaw remained tight. "Fine. We'll do it smart. But we move as soon as we're ready. No more delays."

Thomas placed a reassuring hand on Newt's shoulder. "Agreed."