The healer [Maze runner Newt x OC]

A week had passed since Grace last saw Newt. She hesitated outside the Medjack hut, unsure of what she would find when she finally worked up the courage to step inside. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, only to stop in her tracks. Panic surged in her chest.

The bed was empty.

The blanket was crumpled and tossed to one side, the glass of water she'd left by his bedside still untouched. A cold dread filled her as she frantically glanced around the room, her heart pounding. Where could he have gone?

She spun on her heel and rushed out into the Glade, scanning the bustling activity around her. Jeff, carrying a bundle of supplies, noticed her wild-eyed expression and hurried over.

"Grace, you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Where's Newt?!" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear.

"Relax," Jeff said quickly, raising his hands to calm her. "He's with Clint, working on the crutches."

"Crutches?" she echoed, her worry shifting into confusion.

Jeff gestured toward the Homestead, and Grace followed him. As they approached, she spotted Alby and Nick flanking Newt, each steadying him on one side as Clint stood in front, guiding him forward step by step.

Newt's face was drawn tight with concentration, his grip on the crutch white-knuckled as he shifted his weight onto it. His injured leg dangled awkwardly, visibly unstable. Grace's breath caught in her throat as she took in the scene.

"Good to see you out of bed," she said, forcing her voice to sound steady as she joined the group. Newt glanced up, his usual spark dim but present.

"'Bout time," he muttered, managing a small smirk before grimacing from the effort of another step.

Grace crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"He insisted," Clint chimed in, shooting Newt a look. "Even against doctor's orders."

"Stubborn shank," Grace muttered, stepping behind Newt as he took another shaky step forward. She crouched slightly, inspecting his leg with a sharp, critical eye. Every shift of his weight sent the joints twitching unnaturally, the muscles spasming with effort. She could see the tension in his shoulders, hear the faint grunts he was trying to stifle.

It took all of her composure to keep her face neutral. She was glad he couldn't see her expression from behind—her stomach churned at the sight of his injury.

Clint caught her eye and gave her a small, wry smile. "Might have to amputate after all."

"Clint, seriously?" Grace shot him a sharp look, while Jeff groaned, clearly exasperated.

Newt froze, twisting his head around to glare at Clint. "This, again?"

Jeff stepped in, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't listen to him. Clint always wants to amputate. Probably thinks it's quicker than doing actual work."

Newt huffed in irritation but allowed Alby and Nick to guide him into another step. Grace followed closely, ready to intervene if he faltered.

As they moved forward, she studied his determination, the hard set of his jaw despite the obvious pain. Her earlier anger and hurt softened. He was stubborn, yes—but he was trying, and she couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride.

"Just take it slow," she said gently. "You'll get there, one step at a time."

Newt's lips twitched, almost into a smile. "Don't get all sappy on me, Grace."