Rated T for language and mature themes pertaining to Newt. Spoilers for books one and three.

Name stolen from a song by Radical Face (my favorite band :D)

Image is drawn by me.

Sorry, it's yet another flashback fic. I swear the next one won't be XD

I was thinking about Alby not wanting to leave, and I figured there must be some strong reasoning behind that. It really seems like he cares about Newt as much as himself, so I figured his not wanting to leave would have to do with the fact that Newt gets the flare.

The pain of the griever sting ran through Alby's body like a lightning bolt. He convulsed against his will, limbs spasming uncontrollably as he fought to regain control. A scream ripped itself from his throat as the pain intensified, then came crashing halt as he passed out cold, body twitching a few times before he stilled.

A man in a lab coat stood over Alby. He poked at his nose and mouth, turning his head to each side as he examined the boy. He scribbled a few notes on the clipboard he held in the crook of his right arm.

"Albert, please proceed to room 58." The young boy nodded, exiting quickly without another word. Alby walked down the hall following the door numbers as best he could, 46...49, hanging a right then a left, 53...57... 58 before reaching a rusting metal door. The poor boy looked it with utter terror, for he was only nine and not exactly tall for his age, nor particularly brave. It towered high above him, hinges brittle and brown with age and strain. Paint was peeling off in flakes and it looked like with one single touch, the whole thing would fall and crush him. Much to his relief, he had to do no such thing, for at that moment, the door creaked open and a boy stepped out. He was around the same age as Alby though perhaps a bit younger. He was very skinny and just a bit taller than the other, though that wasn't saying much. Blonde hair came down just below his ears in thin, wavy wisps and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"Are you gonna come in? You've been standing there for a while." Alby nodded, taking a step forward. "They call me Newton, but I go by Newt, what about you?"

"Albert. But you can call me Alby." Newton wrinkled his nose.

"Not very good with names, are they?" Alby giggled.

"I guess not. But why Newt, couldn't you go by Toni or something?" The blonde shrugged in response.

"Newts are cool." They both laughed, but were interrupted by a loud thump sounding from behind the door. Both boys to jumped. "I'd better go. You should too, they're waiting in there." The blonde scurried off in the direction that Alby came from. Alby took another step forward slowly, swinging the door shut behind him.

Alby was not the most graceful of creatures. He had a knack for tripping over anything that got in his way, and often even things that didn't. Now was one of those times, him having a most unfortunate run-in with a door.

"Fuck!" He swore loudly, cradling his throbbing thumb. The scientist in front of him gave a look of surprise, not expecting that kind of response from someone who was only twelve years old. He poked at the boy's hand, earning another outburst.

"Hmm... Definitely broken. Better take you to the medical wing." The man walked Alby out the door (being much more careful not to bump into it than Alby himself) and down a long hallway. After making several turns that made Alby doubt he's be able to find his way back without detailed instruction, they arrived at a room that reeked of sterilization and cheap sponges, the kind you buy at seven eleven for ninety-nine cents (Alby struggled to remember the last time he'd been in a Seven Eleven that had a cashier that didn't try to kill him). He scowled. A doctor approached the scientist and after some brief conversation and many stares thrown at the uncomfortable boy, the doctor motioned Alby to follow him. The boy complied and was led into a room farther back with several beds.

"Sit down." He did. "So I hear you have a broken thumb."

"You heard right."

"Let's have a look." The doctor had just barely finished his sentence before a man rushed in. Alby recognized him as one of the nicer scientists. What was his name? Dr. Martin? He couldn't quite recall, but that sounded about right.

"Doctor Harris, I need your help right away!" His voice was laces with concern and his hands were trembling terribly. He carried a bundle in his arms that seemed familiar. He looked closer and watched as blue eyes fluttered open briefly before closing again. A mop of pale blonde hair trailed down, but it looked almost dull now. Alby would know this boy anywhere. This was definitely Newt.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the Doctor (Harris, was it?) before he rushed to the next room, motioning for Dr. Martin to follow him. Alby craned his neck, trying to get a look, but the door was abruptly slammed in his face.

He waited and hour.

Then two.

Then he fell asleep.

He awoke to the door creaking open, followed by a tired looking Harris carrying his friend. He lay Newt gently on the bed beside Alby then gave the boy an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, I'll take care of your thumb right away." Alby wasn't listening though. He was staring at the only person his age he'd ever talked to lying unconscious on a hospitable bed.

"Newt?"

"Oh, so you know him? Poor thing." He gently began to wrap Alby's thumb in bandage.

"Is he okay? What happened?!" The man only frowned, and didn't say anything more for the next few minutes. Once he finished tending to his wound, he walked out the door slowly, only turning to say,

"You can stay here tonight since it's past curfew, but you have to leave tomorrow." He paused, voice getting quieter. "Don't wake him. Please." Then he left.

He looked over at Newt, watching the boy's chest rise and fall quickly and unevenly. Though he was asleep, he still looked as he was in pain, for a sheen of sweat covered his brow and his eyes were scrunched up just a bit.

"Please be okay," he breathed. The boy stirred, eyes opening slowly to look at the other.

"Alby?" He whispered. His voice was as soft as he remembered, but this time it cracked with strain.

"Newt! What happened?!" Alby tried to keep his voice down, but he was scared, so it rose above a level that would have normally been acceptable to use in the hospital at night. Newt didn't seem to care though, for all he could do was look guiltily away and give a shrug.

"Had to get stitches."

"Wow, cool! For what?" Newt shrugged again, but this time he didn't elaborate. After a moment of silence, Alby showed the other boy his heavily bandaged hand.

"I'm here because I broke my thumb!"

"How?"

Alby blushed scarlet. "Slammed it in a door." Newt giggled, then Alby did, then soon they were both laughing until they couldn't even remember why. Suddenly, Newt stopped, signaling for Alby to be quiet.

"I hear footsteps, if he finds us talking, he'll kill us! We'd best hit the sack." Alby nodded, then rolled over and felt himself drift off to sleep.

He never saw the boy again for the next few years, in fact, he hardly saw anyone his age, and none of them dared to speak for fear of punishment. He even doubted that Newt had really been there. But every time he remembered how blue those eyes had been, and how his smile could manage to be so happy, but the corners could still turn down with sadness, he couldn't think of anyone more real.

They did meet again though. Alby waited for seven years, but they did meet again.

They met on the day it was all to begin. Alby recognized him immediately. He could spot those eyes from miles away. The thirty boys that were to begin in the glade were about to be wiped of their memories and then dumped into the maze that would serve as their first trial. Alby cut through the crowd quickly, making his way over to the blonde. Newt spotted him and gave a wave, grinning that sad-happy smile of his. Alby's heart swelled. He hadn't been forgotten.

"Hey Newt!"

"Hey Alby. Thought you'd forget about me." Alby laughed as his previous worry was reflected in the other.

"Never. You and I have had the only normal conversation that I can remember. Every other one was all tests and questions." It was Newt's turn to laugh.

"Tell me about it! Bloody idiots wouldn't stop pestering me." Another boy walked over near the two. He was shorter than both of them, but definitely better built, arms bulging out of the white short-sleeved shirt he was wearing. A smirk was plastered across his face.

"Hey guys." Newt waved to him. Alby scowled. "I'm Minho." The blonde grinned.

"I'm Newt. This is Alby." Minho opened his mouth to say something but it was forgotten as a man walked into the room. Newt's smile dropped. Janson, Alby hissed under his breath.

"Okay gentlemen," the man began in a painfully monotone voice, "Before you begin your first trial, I'm going to read off a list of medical conditions, followed by a list of those who are and are not immune." He paused for a moment, looking over the crowd before he began reading. Alby tuned him out after they got past his name with no comment. He did however notice when Minho was mentioned. "Minho, ADHD." The boy chuckled.

"Can't say that was unexpected." Janson raised a brow at him before continuing.

"Newton, chronic depression, anxiety." Alby looked at the boy in surprise. Newt just shrugged, giving him that sad smile. It lacked some of the happy tint it always carried. Janson kept reading, but Alby was couldn't focus. I'm not even gona be able to help him. I won't remember this happened until we get our memories back.

"And now the list of immunes. Albert: immune." Alby breathed a sigh of relief as Janson rattled on. After a minute he got to his friends "Minho: immune. Nick: not immune Newt: not immune."

Now he felt beyond sad, he felt numb. Newt wasn't immune. They had barely talked, but he already felt a connection to the boy. He had been the only one in all their years to show Alby kindness. And even if he did survive to see the second trial, he likely wouldn't live to see the cure. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about me, I'm sure they'll find the cure eventually. Even if I don't see it, I'm glad I can contribute." Newt smiled and Alby's heart sunk further. How could he think like that? He could not comprehend this boy's mind.

Alby shot upwards, pain lingering briefly, but not as intense as it was before. He looked around. He was in the medical building, and Newt was sleeping in a chair beside his bed. He eyed the thick scar that ran all the way up the other boy's forearm. So that's when he got it. It was more of a comfort not to know, really, it had been there since they had been dropped in The Maze, and even Newt himself didn't know why, so Alby figured it wasn't worth worrying about. How wrong he's been. Then it hit him,

Newt couldn't go out there.

He wasn't immune.

He would get infected.

He would go insane.

Maybe if Alby stayed, then Newt would too. He would much rather they died together at the hands of the grievers than watch Newt go through that. He couldn't take it. He couldn't go. He wouldn't. Alby had made his decision.

He would stay. Nothing could change his mind.

The blonde soon stirred and Alby came to realize just how little say he had when he was around him.

Newt always gave him hope. That maybe, no matter how bad things got, no matter how many died, how many gave up, that there was always a spark. Maybe they would make it out okay, maybe fate would chose to spare the two boys struggling to start a fire in a world that is determined to rain on them whenever it gets the chance.

Or maybe he was just naive.

Thanks for reading!

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