Chapter 25: Truths

"I can't believe you're a bloody girl," Newt breaks the silence after a while, shaking his head and taking a sip of Gally's moonshine. I look over to see that he's not looking at me. He's looking to his left, at the fire.

"You're not…mad or anything, are you?" I ask hesitantly, not really sure if I want to know the answer.

Newt looks at, pulling his legs closer to him and crossing them as he sits upright. "No," he shakes his head, "of course not." After a pause, he asks, "Can I ask you something?" I'm already scared of the question, even though I don't know what it is. I have ideas though. But I nod, knowing full well that whatever he asks, I'll have to tell the truth. "In the Maze, when we lost you, I heard you yell 'You know what I am. You know what I do'." I nod slowly, already knowing where this is going. "What did you mean by that?"

I don't say anything right away. I don't look at Newt. I don't even look at the fire. I just look down, at the grass in front of me, pressing my hands flat against its warm surface until I can feel the dirt underneath it.

Finally, I say slowly, "Just…that…they know me…they know who everyone here is…"

Newt shakes his head, "You're not like everyone else though."

"Just because I'm a girl," I say quickly.

"I don't think so. 'Cause Leo's different too. I think you two are the same."
"We're not," I say truthfully. Leo and I come from the same world, but we're not the same.

"We'll you're both not like the rest of us," Newt shakes his head. "In the Maze you sounded like…almost like you knew the Creators."

I take a deep breath, blinking away the wetness in my eyes and taking a deep breath as I look up and over at the Homestead. On the top floor, the light in Leo's room is on. He's still awake, and probably will be for hours longer. For being a human, he doesn't sleep very often. And it seems like when he does, he does so restlessly.

"We're ridiculously honest and impulsive people, my friend, don't lose that just because you're in the Glade now,"I can hear him saying now, up in the Homestead.

Ridiculously honest. We'll tell the most devout Catholic that they have Satan on their shoulder because they drank wine, not caring that it'll make them fear walking out the door in the morning. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's been done before….

"I take another deep breath, feeling Newt's gaze on me, and finally admit, "I was threatening WICKED, the people who made the Maze, so that they'd send the Grievers to attack me instead of you and Minho."

"You knew exactly what to do," Newt says quietly.

I nod slowly. "I've…fought before."

"Before? Before…before the Maze?" he asks hesitantly. I nod again, slowly, wordlessly. "But how…?"

"I remember before the Maze," I admit reluctantly.

"How?" he asks quietly, surprised.

"Because…" I look back down at the grass, pressing my hands harder against the ground. "Because I came voluntarily. Before John came, they were going to send him in the Box the month I came. But I broke into WICKED, and I jumped into the Box first."

"Why?" he asks, just as quietly as before.

"I can't…explain it in a way you'd understand."

"And Leo?"

"Also came here voluntarily, because he knew I'd be coming and he wanted to keep an eye on me."

"Then you two knew each other before the Maze?" he asks in a tone that I can't recognize.

I shake my head, "I knew of him, he's kinda famous. But we'd never met until I came here. And I didn't even realize it was him at first."

Newt take a deep breath and takes a long drink of Gally's moonshine. I honestly can't figure out how there's any left, the entire Glade's been drinking heavily most of the night. But now it's just me and Newt, unless you count Ben unconscious in the grass.

"How'd you learn how to fight Grievers?" Newt asks after a while.

"My friend was being attacked by one?" I say before explaining, "I've never fought a Griever before I caught up to you and Minho in the Maze."

"But you'd fought before."

I nod. "A lot." I shrug, looking down, "It's what we do."

"Who's we? You and Leo?"

"Leo…invents. I don't know if he fights. We is…is the other people in my world. Mostly girls. The fighters, I mean. We fight…constantly. Every day. Sometimes all day, if it's really bad."

After a pause, Newt asks, "And that's what it's like out there, beyond the Maze? Constant fighting?"

I shake my head, "Not for most people. Most people live relatively normal lives. Peaceful. We fight so that no one else has to."

"Like drawing the Grievers to you in the Maze," Newt says quietly. I nod. "Make yourself the target so no one else has to be."

I nod again, slowly, "It's what we do."

"Is it what you want to do?" Newt asks.

I look back up to the Homestead. Leo's light is still on. "I don't know," I admit. "I've been fighting for as long as I can remember. I don't know if I can stop anymore."

"Why do you keep insisting on being a Runner though? Why do you keep going into the Maze, if you know you'll fight the Grievers?"

"That's why. I can't resist," I shake my head.

It falls silent between us for a little while. And then Newt asks, "What's it look like out there?"

I don't answer right away. I stretch out on my back on the grass, and after a second, Newt does the same, stretching out beside me. "Where I've been, it's all desert. Hot and dry and sand and orange. Lots of orange."

"Oranges?" he looks at me oddly.

I almost smile, "The color orange. You know, like here it's green and brown? It's all orange there. Some yellow and red, but mostly orange. I like it here better. I like green and brown better. It's more alive here. In the desert, there are no trees to climb, and it's too hot and stuffy to have fires, and we're all too busy fighting to have fun usually. And there's no green or brown there. No life. It's all been sucked away."

"Is it like that everywhere?"

"Not here," I say quietly, even though I know that's not what he meant. But the truth is, I can't answer that question for him. Because I was born in a different world. I don't know what all of this world is like.

Newt and I both fall silent then, and stay that way until the Doors open, and then until he falls asleep. I look over at him, watching him sleep for a little while. I wish I could sleep. Sleep is peaceful. Oblivious. No fears, no fighting. Sleeping is where people dream. Maybe if I could sleep, I could dream about home.

But I suppose right now, here in the Glade, not being able to dream about home or go home isn't so bad anymore. At least here, there's green.

"I'm sorry I kept so many secrets," I whisper to Newt, even though he can't hear me. Because even if he can't, my words still have to be true and my promises still bind. "I promise I'll tell you the truth from now on, all of it."