Stealers (Newt x Reader)

Chapter 17: The Aftermath

A/n - Over 900 views woahh :))) thank you x 

(Y/n)'s POV

We stayed in the homestead until we saw the first few rays of sun peek through the now broken window. Maybe another day it would have made me smile and bathe in the warmth but today it only seemed to be a mocking false hope that relentlessly shone down on us. We had stayed huddled together in the last few hours of dark, not speaking but sharing the same pain and fear. I thought about how we should probably check the wounded and the stung, figure out how bad the damage on the glade was, figure out who was missing and how we could fix it but we didn't. We sat in our pity and wallowed, something that I didn't even have shame in doing at this point. I stared at Newt, he had somehow become a shrivelled figure in the corner of the room, legs pulled to his chest, head resting on his knees. I would have gone over, held him and tried to make him feel even the slightest bit better, but I knew he needed the rest of the night to himself. Eventually, the homestead began to stir slightly, gladers slowly appearing from the other rooms.  

"What do we do?" Minho looked at me, his voice hoarse and his face stained red with tears. I tried not to stare but in all the time I had known him I had only seen him cry once when we first arrived. I gave him a small smile that was forced but it was better than nothing. I slowly stretched my legs out, wincing at the aches across my body, the lack of movement I had in the last few hours not helping with the stiffness. 

"Well, I guess we check the damage. I don't know, I've never... this has never happened before," I was lost for words to say and things to think of. I had no clue how to fix this mess, if it was even fixable.

"We just need to do things that need to be done, but it's gonna be hard to get people to do anything," Thomas was playing with the cut on his arm, which seemed partially deep but not too big. 

"I say we check the wounded and see who's missing. I just hope Jeff and Clint are okay," my voice was quiet and small, as if any noise too big would bring back the grievers. I guess part of me thought that it would.

"I don't think we should try and rebuild anything because they might come back again. They might even come back again today so there's no point wasting resources and time," Minho pointed out. The thought that we might have to go through last night again sent a cold flash of fear through my body, building up the sickness that I had felt all night. 

"Let's just start with basics, see what food survived and... who survived," Thomas grimaced at the words that he said, regretting phrasing it like he did as Minho shot him a questioning look. I knew even now we were stalling, knowing for a fact the glade would look worse in the daylight, when there was no shadow to hide the mess that was made. The images I had created in my head, paired with what I seen last night were enough to make me not want to sleep again, or even close my eyes. It was too vivid. Too much to handle. 

"So.. what are we going to do about who's leading?" Minho asked. A chill swept through the room, seeming to come from the window where we last saw Alby. I stared at the broken glass and the small drops of torn skin and blood that were left behind from the fight, my nose burning as tears crept into my eyes. Newt brought me out of my thoughts, his voice cold and emotionless.

"I'll do it." Me and Minho looked at each other, I raised my eyebrows at him and he shrugged. No one said anything, as I turned my head to Newt, concerned for his own mental stability if he tried to take over Alby's role. But maybe he needed something to do so that he didn't lose himself in his own mind. I understood the feeling all too well.

"Newt are you sure? I can do it if you want," Minho offered but Newt shook his head.

"No. I have to do it," he grunted and got up off the floor, the rest of us following his movements. I gave him a smile as he walked out, a genuine one and he managed to return it, giving me a small sliver of hope. I let the others go down the stairs first, purposefully bringing up the rear, still trying to prolong seeing the glade. I couldn't stay in the homestead forever though so when I got to the door I didn't hesitate and simply followed straight after Thomas. The smell hit me first, smacking me in the face as I stepped onto the grass, stinging my eyes so much I had to close them for a second. The smell began to become bearable so I opened my eyes and in that moment, I wished to be blind. 

The glade had become something from a horror movie, something I could barely remember from life before the maze but I could remember it enough to know the scene in front of me fit nicely with every other in a movie like that. Any remnants of blood were now dry, the reflection of the sun in the crimson pools dull and cracked; the gardens were destroyed, any food flattened and covered in dirt; the bloodhouse remained stable but the majority of the animals had disappeared, whether the grievers took them or they'd got out themselves, I was unsure; and each person had the same lost look in their eyes, as they looked at the aftermath in disbelief. I felt the last bit of hope I had in me fall to the floor, evaporating away under the heat. 

"A lot of us are still here," Thomas said, trying to up the morale we clearly lacked, "Could count it as a win."

"This doesn't count as a win," Minho waved his hand in front of him, his voice hollow and distant, referencing the entire glade. Minho was right, seeing everything you had built and worked so hard on for years just for it to be torn away in a night pained me nearly as much as losing other gladers. I was so sick of having things suddenly ripped from my life, I wasn't sure if I could handle it but I knew life wasn't that fair. I saw Jeff come over to us, shaking his head when I asked if Clint was with him. 

"Everyone! Everyone listen up!" Newt's voice ripped through the sombre silence, making me jump slightly, scared it would stir up something nasty in the maze. "Alby is.. gone," his voice was bitter and you could almost feel the sheer level of hurt in him, "So I'm gonna be the leader. Anyone injured, go to Jeff, we're gonna get a small group of medjacks to speed it up. Baggers, you need to clean any big.. messes up.. I'm sorry for that. Fry, you see what food we have, people need to eat. Builders, you guys try and patch the homestead up in case something happens again. When it's done the food will be ready and you can rest." Somehow everyone obliged without much complaint, I guess living in the glade taught you that sometimes you have to do things to just survive. "And we need to find a way out of this maze as soon as possible." Newt only spoke to me, Thomas and Minho now, turning to face us. I placed my hand on his arm and gave him an encouraging smile. I expected him to shove it off but he held it instead and gave it a light squeeze before he let go. In all of this, my feelings were still as much of a mess as the glade. 

"Yeah that might be the only way now," Minho sighed rubbing his head, "I don't know how we're gonna do it but maybe something opened up. Me and Thomas can try and dig deeper." We turned to look at Thomas who seemed to be lost in thought. Something was on his mind. Something was troubling him.

"I found this," he pulled out something from behind him, holding it up to us. Me, Newt and Minho leant in to take a closer look, realising what it was. The object was fairly big and covered his hands, the sun glinting off the glass and metal which it was made from. It looked expensive and modern, something the glade wasn't used to.  

"Okay? You found a griever needle, just throw it down the box hole or something," Minho shrugged and went to walk away but I grabbed his arm to pull him back.

"No listen. I think I know how we can figure a way out but it's dangerous," all of us stared at Thomas, confused but also intrigued by his mystery. I wish he would just spit it out. "(Y/n) you said my memories would be valuable." All at once what Thomas was about to do hit me and I gasped, reaching out to snatch it from him but he was too quick, pulling his hand close to his chest before I could get it. I looked up at him, trying to give him a look that told him I wouldn't forgive him if he did it. 

"Thomas, don't. We already have mine," I said, moving slowly towards him.

"But we need more," and with that he lifted his hand into the air, swinging down and planting the long needle into his leg with a wet 'thunk'.