Chapter Sixteen

It didn't take long for Alby to notice. When he did, he was furious. He stormed across the Glade to the Gathering, leaving frightened Gladers in his wake. He threw the door open with a bang and even though most of the occupants of the room jumped at the intrusion nobody looked all that surprised.

"What the shucking hell is going on?" he growled, his dark gaze instantly seeking out the four Gladers standing before the rest of the Keepers.

"We called a Gathering. As Keepers elected by the Glade we've got the right to." Minho answered him, smooth and devoid of respect, just as he always was.

Alby bristled.

"You won't be Keepers once your shuck-asses are on the other side of the fucking Doors."

A rash of whispering skittered across the seated Keepers and Alby seemed to realise he had an audience. Thomas watched him glance around, looking faintly unsure for the first time Thomas might have ever seen.

"Take a seat," Minho responded, his voice level but his eyes intense, "You're gonna want to hear what's coming."

Thomas thought that he was going to refuse. Alby looked like he was barely holding his anger in check, his face twisted in a fierce scowl as he glared at them all. But Minho's face was stony and commanding and Thomas watched in faint awe as Alby acquiesced, sitting in an empty chair at the back with such force that Thomas thought he might be actively trying to break it.

The room was silent, everybody looking anxiously between Minho and their Glade Leader as the two older boys glared at each other. Newt had his head down, and even when Thomas tried to catch his eye the blonde remained fixated on the floor. Thomas was unsettled and angry that his friend was so despondent, so readily accepting of Alby's clear dismissal.

Thomas wanted to sit him down and quite firmly deny it. He wanted to remind Newt of who he was, of what he was to so many of the Gladers. He was their second in command, their other leader. He was the boy who shot them his easy grin when they were feeling like they'd never escape the Maze they'd been placed in. Newt was their hope, so seeing him looking so hopeless over his own fate was just plain wrong.

What Minho had said was true enough. Newt was the only one in the Glade that people might side with over Alby. He was the only one that stood a chance at gaining the loyalty of the Gladers in an out-right stance against their Leader. In the out-right stance they were in the process of making. He kept his eyes on Alby as Minho snorted in disgust, shifting beside him.

"Alright shanks, listen up. We're about to have a right nice session of story time. Newt and our Greenie here are gonna tell us just what the shuck went on behind those walls two nights ago. I'm not in the mood for being in here for hours, so you all shut your traps and listen. Keep your questions for after."

He held up a hand against the grumbling, Alby's voice loud and distinct but going unacknowledged. Minho looked over at Thomas.

"Thomas?"

The brunette swallowed, glancing at the silent blonde beside him as though for support, or permission. Newt finally looked up, his amber eyes meeting Thomas's and taking his breath away in that way he had a habit of doing.

"Go ahead, Tommy. Tell 'em."

Thomas turned to look at the gathered Keepers, looking them in the eye one by one. When he got to Alby he had to fight a sneer, throwing as much of his dislike for the boy into his gaze as possible.

"Well you all saw me run in." he started, wondering just how he was going to explain their night and trying to remember the order each thing happened in.

He swallowed again, hoping Newt was feeling up to taking over when Thomas's memory went fuzzy, when it went blank. He remembered enough to know that he'd been unconscious when the Doors had opened, that they'd had to carry him into the Homestead. And that meant Newt had to have been with him while he was out, during the waning hours of nighttime without killing him.

And that meant something. That meant everything. It was their leg to stand on against Alby's arguments, against his tyranny and against his intentions to banish Newt. Or the rest of them.

"Shuck stupid, if you ask me." someone grumbled, quickly backed up by another voice and a loud snort from Alby.

Minho stepped forward again, his face irritated more than angry, his voice cold and annoyed.

"Keep it down till he's finished. I don't want to hang around in here with you shuck-faces all day. You all smell worse than Gally's feet."

The grumbling was quiet, but it went away. Minho ignored Gally's denial and nodded to Thomas, staying where he was beside him and keeping his eyes on their audience, his thick arms crossed over his chest. Well, Thomas thought as he threw himself into his recollection just as he'd thrown himself through the Doors, here goes nothing.

He tried not to watch the expressions of the Keepers in front of him. He kept his eyes away from Alby and instead picked a spot on the wall behind the gathered Gladers. Still he could see the disbelief warring suspicion and fear as he described the Grievers, as he told them all how the vile creatures moved. He detailed Newt's changing, fighting the urge to shoot the boy an apologetic look.

He might not be able to see Newt from the angle his own head was tipped at, but he could feel him there, sense his presence just as surely as though the blonde were muttering under his breath beside Thomas in the gardens, or laughing over something at dinner. He knew his friend was there, just as he knew they could beat this, could win against the changes if they could get some time to master it.

He spent more time on the change than on anything else, sure to make them all aware that no matter how the feverish illness seemed to grip Newt the blonde could fight it to come back. He told them everything, from falling at Newt's feet as those stone doors closed behind him to waking up in the Homestead.

"Newt could tell you more about the dawn." he finally said, meeting the frightened and awed gazed pointed his way. "I don't remember anything much after the Grievers attacked us but we must have gotten away somehow." He gave in and allowed himself to glance at the boy in question and felt that familiar stomach lurching sensation as his heart gave an extra hard thump. "But he didn't kill me, clearly."

"Not yet." Alby interrupted, ruining any plan Thomas had of convincing Newt to leave the shell he had hidden himself in and tell his part. "But give it time."

The fierce protective anger rushed through Thomas and he forgot all plan of protocol as he fixed his eyes on the Glade Leader slouching in his chair like a petted child. Somehow when Newt did that same move to was oddly charming. Alby just looked menacing and angry.

"If he was going to he would've by now." he snapped back, ignoring the rash of murmuring as he took a step forwards. There was a hand on his arm but he ignored it. "I was unconscious when those Doors opened, Alby. We were waiting on the other side. That means that before dawn even broke Newt was himself again and making sure I didn't die. Does that sound like-"

"You have no shuck-ass clue what you're talking about!" Alby shouted, getting to his feet so fiercely that his chair toppled over. "You all saw it! Why are we sitting around even debating this? All of you here have seen this before! You've seen the way the sting changed them! He'll kill us all! He goes out when those Doors close and-"

"He's not going anywhere!"

Thomas had had enough and he was done playing nice with Alby. The boy was crazy and Thomas was done with it. Alby rounded on him, stalking right up to the front of the room. Thomas's hand curled at his sides, ready. There was a feeling almost like relief beginning to trickle into his veins. Finally. If Alby wanted a fight, Thomas would sure as shuck give him it.

"You have been nothing but trouble since you turned up here!" Alby roared, approaching Thomas menacingly.

Thomas braced himself as Alby drew near, ready to swing when the older boy did. He barely bit back his frustrated cry as Gally stepped in front of Thomas from the side, joined by Minho from the other. Thomas heard Alby growl, and found himself sneering back even though at that moment the Glade Leader couldn't see him.

"I always knew you couldn't be trusted, Minho, but come on Gally! You really believe he's found a way to fic this? You've had as much trouble with him as anybody! He's nothing but trouble!"

Gally was saying something back but Thomas was watching the Keepers who were getting up, muttering to each other and looking like they were about to bolt. He couldn't lose this opportunity. They had to get them on side, make them see what had happened wasn't a reason to thrown them all out at the Closing.

"Guys! Wait!"

He turned to Alby, desperate to get an answer for the older boy's rash behaviour. To save Newt. To work this whole thing out like he knew they could. If Alby would just stop being such a shuck-face about it all.

"Why won't you even let us try? He's already proven that he can control whatever it is that sting does to him! Why won't you trust him? He's your friend, Alby! He's your second-in-command! He's been there for you for three years and you're just going to throw that away when we know he's not going to go off and kill us like you said? And us! You really think the Gladers are going to support you throwing us all out because we have a different opinion? Why are you doing this?"

The gathered Keepers had had enough, everyone starting to yell over each other as they started picking sides. It didn't matter when Minho shouted for quiet, or when Gally shouted back at Alby for something he'd said that Thomas couldn't hear. Thomas thought he might have completely blown their chance now. The idea was frightening, to say the least.

"Because!" Alby roared, silencing them all. Every face turned to him in surprise. Thomas almost choked on the breath he'd been taking. "Newt wasn't the second Glader sent up."

The room was silent. Thomas was sure everybody had caught their breath just as he had as they all stared at the furious Glade Leader.

"What the bloody hell d'ya mean, I wasn't second?"

Newt had been quiet for so long that Thomas was oddly relieved to hear him speak. Alby looked right at Newt for the first time since he'd entered their Gathering. His face was twisted and Thomas was surprised to see fear there, under the fury and aggression. Newt was looking at him like he'd been betrayed and Thomas couldn't blame him. He felt his hand itching to take Newt's at the look in those brown eyes.

"Because you were fifth." Alby finally answered.