Quiet is Violent {Newt | The Maze Runner}

5. Past or Present (Trigger Free Summary)

The first section is a trigger-free summary of the previous chapter followed by the ending of the chapter.

Tasha, upon leaving the group at Thomas’ bonfire, heads to the Deadheads, and finds herself pulled into a memory. It is a few days after her night in the maze and she is having a panic attack atop a tree. Newt comes to find her and when they talk, she says that she believes she is unneeded, which is why she wishes to end her own life with the gun they sent up in the box with her. Newt stops her by endangering his own life, showing her that he needs her to be there for him. Tasha breaks down and kisses Newt;

“It’s not the ‘maybe’ keeping me going.” She said quietly, a new quality to her voice, he went to ask what it was, but she stood on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. He made a noise of surprise, but he kissed back fiercely, bringing his hands to cup her cheek and pull her closer, Tasha wrapped her arms around his neck. It could have been seconds or it could have been hours, but everything in that moment just felt right.

Tasha, upon realising what she was doing, pulled back with a fierce gasp, confusion painted clearly on her face, trying to blink away tears that she didn’t know had begun to fall again. “Newt, oh, Newt I’m sorry.” She scrambled to get away, crouching by the base of the tree, tears dripping onto the foliage as she tried not to throw up. Newt, who, granted, was also confused, pressed his forehead against the tree, sucking in deep breaths of air.

“What the bloody shuck was that?” He huffed, bewildered rather than angry, panting slightly. Tasha gave a watery laugh, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning against the tree.

“I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, as if marvelling at her own poor thought. Newt frowned for a moment, leaning on against the tree with his shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologise - I didn’t not like it-” He was cut off by Tasha, who had always been poor at communication, standing abruptly. She swayed on the spot for a moment, whether it was from the blood rushing to her head or from being nose-to-nose with Newt.

“Here.” She swallowed, leaning down and out of the direct contact, passed him the gun from where it lay beside her. Newt’s hands were trembling, but he took it. “Take it back to Alby, tell him I took it, I deserve time in the slammer for all the trouble I caused.” She laughed, bitterly.

“For all the time you’ve spent in there, you might have learned to bring a book.” Newt smirked, though he still felt shaken up inside. His smile slipped as he tried with a softer angle this time. “Tasha,” he began hesitantly.

“Can we just… not talk about this?” She asked, finally looking up at him and into his eyes, her own now red rimmed, but with no tears in them. Newt let out a short huff of breath and tipped his head to the side.

“We’re going to have to talk about it some time.” He reasoned. Tasha looked at the ground again, losing the connection that was so very brief. Newt felt his heart fall.

“Just not tonight.” Tasha pleaded, taking his hand. Newt looked at where their fingers interlocked and swallowed hard, gun in one hand, Tasha in the other. He nodded, before giving a soft smile. They began to walk through the Deadheads, back to the homestead.

“You’ve never been good at communication.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder. Tasha smiled, albeit sadly, and nodded once. “At least this; what are we?” He asked, turning back to her, frown on his face, stopping. Tasha swallowed once, eyes cast to the ground, avoiding his gaze again, lips pressed into a thin line. She swallowed, before looking up into his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Was all she said, in a faint whisper --

“Tasha! Come back, get down from there!” The call sliced so cleanly through her memories that it was jarring, forcing her to slam into reality and almost fall from her perch. It was Chuck, far below, calling up to her. He must have been sent by one of the other Runners as it was no secret that everyone else, even sweet, little Chuck, avoided Tasha as best they could, because the novelty of a girl in the Glade wore off once she started running from them all except the other Runners. Tasha climbed slowly from her spot in the trees, joining Chuck on the ground with a faint, sad smile on her face. “You OK?” He asked. Tasha nodded and gestured for him to continue along, back to the bonfire. They made it to the clearing, to which Chuck called out, “See, she’s fine!” Tasha froze at the sudden attention and caught Newt’s gaze across the fire; he raised his eyebrows from where he was drinking with Thomas. Tasha went to say something, but sighed, shook her head and shrugged, before joining Minho and his usual quiet aura that she enjoyed. Newt frowned slightly, but shrugged himself, and turned back to Thomas.

“You OK, Tasha?” The Keeper of the Runners raised a single eyebrow at her, Tasha let out a long sigh and  knocked their knees together, giving a sad smile. Her voice was clear as she spoke and she hadn’t been crying, so it hadn’t been the worst night she had had.

“I will be.” It took her a moment, but she barked a short laugh, “I just have to sober up. You know how I get.” Minho nodded, despite that fact that she was avoiding looking at everyone, but gazing out to the maze with an almost distrusting glare. He simply bumped her shoulder with his and handed her a glass of water.