There are parts in this story that are quoted directly from the book 'The Death Cure'. All credit for those parts goes to James Dashner, as do the characters Thomas, Newt and Lawrence. Hope you enjoy.

Thomas felt something inside his chest shatter as he gazed out of the dirty window and took in the appearance of his friend.

Newt looked horrible. His hair had been torn out in patches, leaving bald spots that were nothing more than red welts. Scratches and bruises covered his face; his shirt was ripped, barely hanging on to his thin frame, and his pants were filthy with grime and blood. It was like he had finally given in to the Cranks, joined their ranks fully.

But he stared back at Thomas, as if he recognised that he had stumbled upon a friend. Some part of the boy that Thomas had grown to love was still inside this broken shell of a Crank; Thomas was sure of it.

Lawrence had been talking the whole time, but Thomas only now managed to process his words.

"We're okay. She's shot to hell, but hopefully she'll get us another couple of miles to the hanger."

Lawrence shifted into reverse and the van wobbled away from the cement wall, the crunch of broken plastic and metal and the squeal of tyres erupting in the complete silence that had fallen. Then he started to drive off, and it was like a switch clicked inside Thomas's head.

"Stop!" He yelled, eyes still fixed on the van window, searching for a glimpse of his friend outside. "Stop the van! Now!"

"What?" Lawrence replied, a clear sound of disbelief laced his voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Just stop the freaking van! Now!"

Lawrence slammed on the brakes as Thomas scrambled to his feet and went for the door. He started to open it when Lawrence grabbed his shirt from behind and yanked him backwards.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man yelled at him.

But there was no way that Thomas was going to let anything stop him now. Thomas had already let his friend down once, when he ignored the note that Newt had trusted him with; he wasn't about to leave him behind now without trying anything and everything he could think of to help his fellow Glader. He swiftly reached for the gun in his pants, pulled it out and pointed it at Lawrence. "Let go of me! Let go of me!"

Lawrence did, throwing his hands up in the air. "Whoa, kid. Calm down! What is wrong with you?"

Thomas backed away from him. "I saw my friend out there – I want to see if he's okay. If any trouble starts, I'll run back to van. Just be ready to get us out of here when I do."

"You think that thing out there is still your friend?" the pilot asked coldly. "Those Cranks are way past the Gone. Can't you see that? Your friend is nothing more than an animal now. Worse than an animal."

"Then it'll be a short goodbye, won't it," Thomas answered. He opened the door, then backed out onto the street. "Cover me if I need it. I have to do this."

"I'm gonna kick your butt before we get on that berg, I can promise you that," Lawrence growled. "Hurry. If those Cranks by the garbage heap head this way, we start firing. I don't care if your mummy and uncle Frank are out there."

"Good that." Thomas turned away from them, slipping the pistol back into his jeans. He walked slowly towards his friend, who stood alone, far away from the pack of Cranks still working on the pile of refuse. For the moment they seemed satisfied with that – they didn't seem interested in him.

Thomas walked half the distance to Newt, then stopped. The worst part about his friend was the wildness in his once beautiful eyes. Madness lurked behind them now, two festering pools of sickness. How had it happened so quickly?

"Hey. Newt. It's me, Thomas. You still remember me, right?"

A sudden clarity filled Newt's eyes then, almost making Thomas step back in surprise.

"I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can't go completely crazy in a few days."

Those words hurt Thomas's heart even more than the pitiful sight of his friend. "Then why are you here? Why are you with… Them?"

Newt looked at the Cranks, then back at Thomas. "It comes and goes, man. I can't explain it. Sometimes I can't control myself, barely know what I'm doing. But usually it's just like an itch in my brain, throwing everything off kilter just enough to bother me – make me angry."

"You seem fine right now."

"Yeah, well. The only reason I'm with these wackos from the Palace is because I don't know what else to do. They're fighting, but they're also a group. You find yourself alone, you don't have a bloody chance."

"Newt, come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safer, somewhere better to…"

Newt laughed, and when he did his head twitched strangely a couple of times. "Get out of here, Tommy. Get away."

"Just come with me, please." Thomas begged. "I'll tie you up if it makes you feel better. I'll do anything you want, just please come with me, right now."

Newt's face suddenly hardened into anger and his words shot out of his mouth in rage. "Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn't you read my note? I already told you what I want – what I need. You can't do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you! I always hated you!"

He doesn't mean it, Thomas told himself firmly, but he'd be lying if he said that the words hadn't crushed his heart even more. "Newt…"

"It was all your fault! You could've stopped them when the first Creators died. You could've figured out a way. But no! You had to keep it going, try to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the maze and never stopped. All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should've thrown you down the Box hole!"

Newt's face had coloured to a deep red, and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled. He started taking lumbering steps forward, his hands balled into fists.

"Newt, stop. Just listen to me. I know you're okay in there. Enough to hear me out." Thomas paused and took in a deep breath, as Newt continued toward him. "I… I love you, Newt. I'm pretty sure I've loved you since Day One in the Glade. I shucking love you!"

Newt froze immediately at Thomas's confession, his wild eyes widening, clearly shocked. After a few seconds spent in silence, the rage in Newt's expression increased, as he began to pace towards Thomas again.

"I hate you, Tommy!" He was only a few feet away and Thomas took a step backwards, his hurt over Newt turning to fear. "I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the klunk I went through in the bloody Maze, you can't even do the one and only thing I have ever asked you to do! And you have the audacity to say that you love me! I can't even look at your ugly shuck face!"

Thomas took two more steps back. "Newt, you need to stop. They're going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Please! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance! I can't lose you. I can't lose you!" He couldn't kill his friend – his love. He just couldn't.

Newt screamed and rushed forward. An arc of Launcher lightning shot from the van, skidding and crackling across the pavement, but it missed him. Thomas had frozen in place, and Newt tackled him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. He struggled to fill his lungs as his old friend climbed on top of him and pinned him down.

It's now or never, Thomas thought as he gazed up into the fiery, rage filled eyes of the boy on top of him. Newt could very well kill him right now, or Lawrence could end up taking the pair of them out and maybe that ending would be for the best. But if Thomas was going to die today, then there was one last thing he had to do.

Without putting too much thought into it, Thomas quickly reached his right hand around the back of Newt's neck and pulled the boy's face closer to his, before smashing their lips together. He felt the previously struggling male stiffen above him, as Thomas kept his mouth pressed tightly against Newt's chapped lips.

Thomas kept his eyes squeezed shut as he moved his lips slowly and carefully against his friend's. The world around him went silent and it felt as if his senses had been stripped away from him. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't smell anything. His mouth was dry and tasteless. The only sense that remained was what he felt and it was the most amazing thing Thomas had ever experienced.

Newt's lips were chapped and split open in places, but there was still an unbelievable softness to them and the combination of texture felt incredible against Thomas's rough lips. From the moment their mouths touched, Thomas's heart had begun to pound rapidly in his chest, as if trying to break free from his body and give itself to Newt completely. The feeling inside him was amazing and he never wanted this moment to end. He wanted to freeze this moment for ever and stay wrapped up in his own little world, forever kissing the boy he loved.

Thomas's lips parted and his tongue ventured out of his mouth and barely brushed against Newt's bottom lip, when the boy on top sprang into life from his frozen state and pulled away from the kiss.

"How dare you! I should rip your eyes out," Newt spat, spraying Thomas with saliva. "Teach you a lesson in stupidity. Why'd you come over here? You expected a bloody hug and a kiss? Huh? A nice sit-down to talk about our future together and the good times in the Glade?"

Thomas remained still and silent, staring up at his friend.

"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you what happened? No, I don't think I did. I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all… your… fault!"

Newt suddenly reached for the side of Thomas's jeans and before Thomas could even register what was happening, Newt yanked the pistol out and pressed it into Thomas's hand. Thomas gripped hold of the gun reflexively. Newt pulled the hand holding the gun towards him until the pistol was pressed against the side of his own head. "Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note for a reason! No one else. Now do it!

Thomas tried to pull his hand away but Newt was far too strong. "I can't, Newt. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

"Make amends! Repent for what you did." The words tore out of him, his whole body trembling. Then his voice dropped to an urgent, harsh whisper. "Kill me, you shuck coward. Put me out of my misery. Prove you can do the right thing. Prove that you love me."

These words horrified Thomas more than anything that had happened to them in the Maze or the Scorch Trials. "Newt…"

"Shut up! Just shut up, you piece of klunk! I trusted you. Now do it!"

"I can't."

"Do it!"

"I can't!" How could Newt ask him to do something like this? Even if he wasn't in love with him, how could he possibly kill one of his best friends?

"Kill me now, Slinthead or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!"

"Newt…"

"Do it before I truly become one of them!"

"I… I can't do it, Newt. I love you."

Newt's eyes cleared, as if he'd gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened. "I love you too, Tommy."

The world around them went silent once more, as Newt brought his mouth down to Thomas's. This kiss was so different from the first one they shared. Newt was a lot more responsive to Thomas's movements, for one. And this time, when Thomas darted his tongue out and into Newt's mouth, Newt welcomed it softly with his own, both boys moaning in unison at the contact.

Thomas's free hand tangled in Newt's hair as the kiss intensified and became almost desperate. The pair put everything they had left into showing the other how they felt.

A salty taste arrived in Thomas mouth, and it wasn't until this moment that he realised his eyes were closed. He lifted his lids slowly, still not breaking away from the passionate kiss, and gazed into his friend's tear filled orbs. The wildness in his stare was nearly completely gone and it was almost as if Newt was exactly the same as when they had first met in the Glade. It then became clear to Thomas that the salty taste he had registered was caused by the liquid spilling from Newt's eyes.

He then realised that Newt wasn't the only one crying. Tears were also escaping his own eyes and streaming down his cheeks, meeting Newt's at their lips and becoming a part of the kiss.

Far too soon for Thomas, Newt retracted his lips and tongue and sat back up some, his hand still gripping Thomas's wrist roughly, keeping the gun trained on his own head.

He pressed one more soft, sweet kiss to Thomas's lips before sitting up fully and speaking in the same tone he had used when he told Thomas that he loved him. "Kill me. If you really love me, Tommy then please, do it for me. Kill me."

Tears poured uncontrollably from both boys' eyes, as they stared longingly at each other, neither able to give the other what they truly wanted.

"Please, Tommy. Please."

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut tight and, with his heart falling into a black abyss, he pulled the trigger. He heard the impact of bullet on flesh and bone, felt Newt's body jerk, then fall onto the street. He had done it – killed the one person in the world who meant the most to him. He killed Newt.

I really didn't want Newt to die in the Death Cure but if he had to die, then this is how I would have liked it to happen. Please review if you enjoyed this or if you have any constructive criticism. :)