"I'm right here, Love." TMR Newt x Reader

Chapter 7

A/N:  Sorry for all the time skips, and sorry it took so long to update!  I've been busy with school and other things and the updates will probably come a little slower.

It had been a week since Chuck got here.  He had settled in nicely, and was very close with Thomas, Gally at a close second.  The poor shank got stuck with being a Slopper.

Minho was all healed up and was starting to explore the Cliff.  Thomas tagged along with him, also curious.

And, most importantly, the entire Glade was on edge at the Box not going back down.  The runners stayed out until the last second of the day, exploring every inch they could.  They were only at the glade to sleep and eat. 

The cooks and the Slicers had a standing buff for the lack of food coming in.  Alby was trying to keep the peace, but two kids ended up in the slammer for throwing a few punches.  Fry was ticked at Winston for not giving him all the meat he needed.  Winston insisted that they should try to preserve the animals, and let them try and reproduce.  I couldn't help but to agree with the Slicers.

The day had been a long one, filled with patching up more cooks, and watching the two groups to make sure that they didn't try anything.  Newt and Zart were starting a new patch of gardens, to make up for the lost food.  Hopefully, we would get out of here before it became a serious issue.

I sat under the pavilion, eating the fried vegetables that Fry grumpily gave to all of us.  Newt, Zart, and Jeff sat with me at the table, all silently picking at the cold food on their plates.

I was about to break  the silence before Alby, Thomas, and Minho ran up to us.

Thomas and Minho were sweaty and out of breath, and their packs were still on their backs. Alby was a bit winded also. Although they looked stressed, there was a gleam of hope resting in their tired eyes.

"Newt, Y/N," Alby said, leaning on the table with both hands. His eyes darted around, as if he was worried someone would hear him. Every head was turned at him, though. Alby raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "Whaddya shanks looking at? Get back to eating your food." The gladers slowly turned back towards their plates, staring numbly at the table in front of them.

He lowered himself back towards us, his voice lowering. "We need you in the map room. Gotta discuss a few things."

Newt prompty stood up, hitting his ankle pretty hard on the table in the process, causing the boys to look back at us. "Bloody hell," I heard him mumble under his breath. "Sorry Zart and Jeff, gotta go."

Minho tapped his leg impatiently behind Alby. "Let's go Y/N. It's a little important."

I just made a face at him. Hurrying out of the pavilion behind them, I heard Newt swearing under his breath. It was then that I realized that he hit his bad leg. His limp was more apparent. With every step, his face contorted and the veins in his neck strained. I quickly hurried up to him and slipped an arm around his waist, and rested his arm over my shoulder. Some of his weight shifted to me, and his face relaxed a little.

"Thanks," he mumbled under his breath, hanging his head in defeat. I felt bad for him, because of his limp. And how he got it. I felt a hint of pride, though, because he indulged how he got with just me, and only me.

We neared what appeared to be the map room. I had never been here, because it was only for the runners, Alby, and Newt. Most of the boys didn't even know that there was a little hut back there.

I helped Newt inside, and he shuffled over to a stool and sat down. He massaged his leg, his other hand clenching in obvious pain.

Thomas slinked in behind us, closing and locking the door. He turned to face Alby, who was leaning over a giant table that I hadn't noticed it before.