Chapter Text
There was always a joke, back in the glade, that they all shared one brain cell, it would bounce around and only one person was capable of making sense and good decisions at a time.
It started after Frypan’s failed attempt at a new recipe, a muttered comment he made as Gally and Newt grimaced at the lingering taste in their mouths.
“Someone took my brain today, maybe.” He’d said.
Newt had laughed. “Alby made a good decision earlier, maybe he’s got it.”
It’s a joke Gally held throughout it all. And luckily, on that day, the day they took on WCKD, Gally seemed to have the brain cell. While Thomas tried to make Newt stay back and wait for the serum, there was no dissuading him from saving Minho. And while Newt was off thinking about everyone but himself, Gally thought of him and had the common sense to carry one of those life saving serums with him rather than abandoning all of them with some random kid. Don’t get me wrong, the kid did a good job, but they were no use to Newt with the kid.
So when Thomas and Newt hadn’t returned with Minho yet, and Gally left to find them, he was ready. He was equipped. He had a plan, something he couldn’t say for the others.
Newt was fading, and fast. They’d tried to get him to the berg first thinking it would be safer but Newt, well Newt had other plans.
He had started twitching, violently pushing and pulling against where they were holding him.
But then he’d reached for a knife with his eyes fully glazed over and they couldn’t ignore the urgency anymore.
Thomas and Minho had to work together to hold him in place, ignoring the screams and the way he fought while Gally finally injected the serum he’d brought along, after which Newt had promptly passed out. And then Teresa's voice rang out, promising a cure, a future for Newt.
Thomas hadn’t hesitated, rising and practically ordering Gally and Minho to get to the berg with Newt before coming to find him, at which point he’d hopefully have Teresa and all the answers.
When they’d found him, it was rough. He was bleeding and crying, and there was Teresa who had once betrayed them holding him so securely
Once they were safely on the berg and Jorge had flown them out of the fire and wreckage, leaving WCKD and all it stood for behind, Thomas was taken to be seen to and Teresa pulled Gally back.
“Where is he?”
Gally stiffened at her touch. “Who?”
She smiled softly, a small smile filled with hope and promise, as she opened her hand to show the blue vial. “Newt.”
Gally took her back to where Newt was resting, they’d taken the WCKD jacket off and placed a small blanket over him. Gally watched intently, taking in every movement and analysing the intention behind them, as Teresa took Newt’s arm and administered the serum, the cure, the thing that would last and give Newt the future he deserved. A future Gally hoped he was a part of.
“He’ll probably still be out of it for a bit, no doubt needs his rest after all that, but when he wakes up he’ll be fine. Cured.” Teresa spoke softly but wouldn’t meet Gally’s eye, not that he was looking anywhere but at Newt anyway.
“Thank you.”
Teresa looked like she was going to say more but paused, deciding it was not the time or just not worth it anyway, she left as Gally sank down next to where Newt was resting and took his hand.
When they arrived at the safe haven things were already set up and in motion. People had already begun making this place a home. Newt and Thomas were immediately taken to the medical hut that had been set up – currently run by Clint and Harriet and two other people Gally didn’t know.
The others from group b came to greet them, despite only knowing them (Gally excluded) for a short time. They welcomed Minho back, introduced themselves to Gally, busied themselves with getting the rescued kids in and welcomed.
It was a hazy few days. There were so many people, ones Gally knew and ones he didn’t. ones that spoke to him and ones that didn’t. maybe he looked too moody, like he needed space, maybe they were too scared, maybe they’d heard the stories from the Glade.
He didn’t concern himself with it. People were working and he would too. Frypan was back in the kitchen, Clint was back in the med hut, Minho was begging for something to do, though he was still on ordered rest.
Everyone was adapting and fitting themselves into their new lives here, so Gally started to build. In the Glade he was the keeper of the builders, it's what he was best at. That is, until everything fell apart and he couldn’t touch something without destroying it.
Those first few days were a blur, he sawed and hammered and sawed and let his hands move from memory without a thought behind it. He ate with the others but barely spoke. He slept in his hammock. Then he sawed and hammered and sawed.
The fourth day after they'd arrived in the haven Newt woke up, properly at least. Not delirious moments of barely conscious words. He was up and walking and hugging and talking.
Gally watched from the side as Minho and Newt hugged and whispered and reunited. He’d started to turn away just as Newt pulled him in.
“We’re all here.” He’d whispered in Gally’s ear. “Tommy will wake up and we’ll all be here. We’re free now.”
Free.
Gally still felt haunted but he could try being free. He would try. For Newt.
Thomas woke up the day after and after that things finally fell into place.
They’d decided on a bonfire, like the old days, so they could relax and have fun, feel at home with everyone they’d saved and remember everyone they’d lost.
Vince had come up with an idea of a monument of sorts, a place to remember the lost ones. It reminded Gally of a maze wall and crossed out names, but he didn’t share that thought.
Slowly but surely it filled up as the bonfire roared. People were letting loose and enjoying themselves – likely in part due to Gally making his brew (a fact that caused Minho to cheer and Newt to roll his eyes) – as people came to terms with their losses and their wins.
Gally was stood by the monument, tracing his hands over names. Alby. Ben. He faltered when he reached Chuck. Just seeing the name brought to mind the moment that changed him.
“Who was he?” A voice from behind Gally asked. A small boy from group b, Aris, Gally thinks.
Gally’s voice feels hollow when he replies. “A kid from my maze. Died before he should have.”
“I think they all did.”
“He was 12. They all deserved better but Chuck, he was the best of us.” Gally’s voice faltered slightly, and whether the boy noticed or not he pretended not to.
“I’m Aris.”
“I know.”
Aris smiled slightly, the ghost of a laugh. “You'd had a rough day when we met, thought you might like the reminder.”
Gally looked at the boy, took him in. The long softly curling hair, almost like Newt’s but not quite, his gentle smile. The delicate hand cradling a glass of Gally’s brew.
When Gally didn’t actually respond Aris spoke up again. “They’re missing you over there.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
“Can they not be fine but also want you there?”
“What do you want, Aris?”
Gally’s brash tone did nothing to defer Aris, who smiled again. “It sucks feeling like an outsider. No need to be going through that when people want you around.”
It dawned on Gally then that Aris was the greenie of his maze, the only boy. He knew from his own treatment of Thomas - an apology was probably due for that now he thought about it - that that position came with a lot of mistrust.
“You were the newbie, right?”
Aris nodded. “First boy in the maze.”
Gally nodded. His hand was still tracing Chuck’s name.
“It’s not your fault, you know.”
“It was my hand, my gun.”
“It was their plan.” Aris’s voice did not hold the contempt it could have, he sounded resigned. He reaches out then to trace a name. Four letters
“Rachel died, because of her. And then she died, because of Harriet. It was always WCKD’s plan to do it like that. Beth was just a kid, like all of us. She can’t be blamed for what WCKD made her do. And neither can you.”
Gally hadn’t actually considered that before, that everything he’d done in the maze had all been part of a script WCKD wrote for him.
A script that’s over now. No more of his movements were pre-written.
“You were to them what Teresa was to us. Rachel was your Thomas, then?”
Aris nods. “I think everything that happened, it was all what they wanted. But they’re gone now. So we can do what we want.”
It sounds so simple like that, so easy.
He remembers the promise he made when Newt woke up, to try.
He follows Aris back to the group and settles into the circle next to Newt, the smile on his face genuine when Newt places a hand on his back. He could belong here.
He’s going to try.