WICKED games (Newt x female reader) [COMPLETED]

24

Three days. That's how long it took Thomas to finally wake up. Three unlucky people, one claimed each night by the Grievers.

I'm getting lunch, taking a break from studying the maps and the code with Teresa and Newt, when Chuck runs over to me.

"(Y/N)," he pants, "Thomas is awake. He said to find you and call a Gathering."

"Ok Chuck, I'll do that now." I go straight back to the homestead, leaning against the door frame.

"Newt," I say, "change of plans. We're calling a gathering. Teresa," I add, turning to the girl, "I don't think you should come. It's not that I don't trust you," I hurry on, "it's that nobody else does, and things are weird enough already."

"Ok," She sighs, I can see that she understands.

"Tommy," Newt limps through the door, taking his seat, "you barely look sick." I follow, standing back a bit.

Thomas nods. "Yeah, I'm a bit queasy, but other than that I feel fine. Thought it'd be a lot worse." 

"What you did," I shake my head, "that was half brave and half bloody stupid. You seem to be pretty good at that." I don't know whether to be angry or awed, so I settle for a mixture of the two. "I know why you did it," I add after a short pause, "what memories came back? Anything that helps us?" I'm annoyed at my own memories, how they're gone now. I'm sure they would have been useful.

"We need to call a gathering- before I forget this stuff."

"Yeah," Newt nods, "(Y/N) already did it. But why? What did you figure out?"

"It's a test. The whole thing's a test."

"Like an experiment?" I move closer, but Thomas shakes his head.

"No, you don't get it." He's frustrated. "They're weeding the best of us out, throwing variables at us, trying to see which ones of us quit, testing our ability to cope. Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down, it was one last part. Now we have to do the final analysis, the last test. We have to escape."

"What do you mean?" Newt asks, just as I lean forward and say, "You mean you know the way out?"

Thomas puts a hand up to his head. "Just call a gathering." He says.

"Ok Greenie," I say, leaning back in my chair, "get to it."

Two chairs sit by themselves in the corner, a stark reminder of the people taken by the Grievers.

"It's a long story," he begins. "We don't have time to go through it all, but I'll tell you the gist of it. When I went through the Changing, I saw flashes of images—hundreds of them—like a slideshow in fast forward. A lot came back to me, but only some of it's clear enough to talk about. Other stuff has faded or is fading." He paused, gathering his thoughts one last time. "But I remember enough. The Creators are testing us. The Maze was never meant to be solved. It's all been a trial. They want the winners—or survivors—to do something important." He trails off, looking confused.

"What?" I ask and Thomas frowns.

"Let me start over," he says, rubbing his eyes. "Every single one of us was taken when we were really young. I don't remember how or why—just glimpses and feelings that things had changed in the world, that something really bad happened. I have no idea what. The Creators stole us, and I think they felt justified in doing it. Somehow, they figured out that we have above-average intelligence, and that's why they chose us. I don't know, most of this is sketchy and doesn't matter that much anyway.

"I can't remember anything about my family or what happened to them. But after we were taken, we spent the next few years learning in special schools, living somewhat normal lives until they were finally able to finance and build the Maze. All our names are just stupid nicknames they made up—like Alby for Albert Einstein, Newt for Isaac Newton, and me—Thomas. As in Edison."