A/N: Hello internet! This is my first fic, so please let me know if something went wrong and you can't read it. That being said, I'M SO EXCITED! If literally anyone clicks on this story, I'll probably start jumping up and down and screaming (in a good way).

Summary (because I can never read the whole thing in the story listings): The Glade's survival depends on hope. Hope depends on the Runners. When the Runners stop running, the careful order of the Glade swiftly breaks down. Soon it's hard to tell which is deadlier: the Maze, or the Glade.

I don't know what to do for the rating. There's violence and blood later on, but nothing overly romance-y (you know what I mean).

There are/will be elements of both the books and the movies. And, of course, a bunch of other stuff that I made up.

Final note: This is going to be multi-chaptered, but updates will be irregular. I have lots of homework, I'm a musician so I automatically have no free time, and I have a non-fanfic writing project I'm working on. I'll do my best to get this whole story out, though. Dead Poet's honor.

DISCLAIMER: The Maze Runner does not belong to me (sadly). If it did... well, I'd like to say that a certain character wouldn't have died, but I'm not actually sure that's true. Anyway, only this plot and some of the characters are my own. Credit to James Dashner for canon.

Ben's face was a mask of horror. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm so so so so sorry!" He covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in panic as they stared at the map of the maze—or at least, what was left of it.

Calvin shook him by the shoulders. "Ben. Slim it. We can fix it."

"I'm so—"

"If you finish that with sorry, I'll feed you to the grievers."

Ben gestured helplessly. "But I broke the map!"

Calvin looked behind him at the huge table that held the ruins of the model and the other Runners, who gaped in dismay at what had become of their creation. Newt picked up a dislodged section of the model wall, which broke in half in his hands. He set the other half down quickly, but not before Minho elbowed him.

Calvin bit back a laugh. "Well, yeah. You did."

"And it took us a year to make it!"

"It did."

"And I broke it! I tried to add the upper paths, but instead, I broke the map! I'm—" Ben bit his lip.

Calvin turned back to him, jaw set. "This is serious, Ben. Seriously serious. You know what you are?"

Ben shook his head, looking like he wished he could disappear.

"Ben, you are one lucky shank, because I have the Maze memorized. I just have to review it a bit, but give me three days and it'll be good as new. You're welcome." A grin broke across the Keeper's face as he turned back to the wrecked model. All the other Runners stood around the table. They had gathered to try and add to the model of the Maze. There were upper passages in parts of the Maze, which started and ended abruptly as if the Creators had forgotten to finish them. Calvin had hoped to add them to the model, but so far, it hadn't worked. "We may have to rethink mapping the upper levels," he mused aloud. "Memorize them instead." He reached across the table and tried to fit two pieces of a wall back together. To his satisfaction, they slid neatly together. "For now, let's just try to clear this klunk out."

The problem with this, however, was that there were eight Runners there, and less than a tenth of the Maze model was broken. As two of them, Zach and Ethan, tried to reach across the table to pitch in, Ethan bumped into Zach, who leaned on the table to steady himself at the same time as Ethan, and the fragile, Glader-made table broke beneath their combined weight, dumping the two onto the floor.

The other Runners jumped away, startled, as they picked themselves up. For a moment, the map room was silent. Then Ethan said, "I think I swallowed a tree."

Rolling his eyes, Newt helped the two of them up. "Why can't ya do that to the actual Maze?"

Zach cleared his throat awkwardly as they stared at the broken table like mourners at a funeral. "Do you think we can save any of it?"

"Maybe if you slintheads stop touching it," Calvin grumbled.

Zach froze. "I-I thought you weren't mad."

"I wasn't when we had a table and most of the model was still intact." Zach started to reach down to salvage a piece, but Calvin quickly pulled him away. "No, no, no. Do. Not. Touch. You go eat dinner while I try to clean this up."

"Okay, Dad," they said in a jumble, exiting in ragtag groups.

Ben lingered. "Cal? Do you need help?"

"Go break the shucking Homestead."

"...oh."

Calvin turned to the dejected Runner, trying to lighten up. "Really, Ben. It's fine. I'm not mad—and if I was, I'd be mad at Ethan and Zach. Or maybe Min."

"Minho? What's he done now?"

"I don't know, but there's always something." Ben laughed, for real. "Seriously, it's okay. We'll have to rearrange running groups tomorrow, to refresh our memory of the base Maze, so I'll have to call another meeting later-but this could take a while."

Ben nodded. "I'll tell the others."

"Wait." Ben turned around in the doorway, nervous again, but Calvin was as calm as ever. "Could you save me some dinner? Greenie sure knows his way around the kitchen," he added.

"Yeah. Newt and some of the others have started calling him Frypan."

Calvin chuckled. "Have they?"

Ben nodded, grimacing. "I don't think it'll stick."

"Willing to bet?"

"Not with you."

"Later, then."

Ben left quietly. Instantly, Calvin slouched, leaning against the wall, struggling to keep his hands at his sides instead of tugging at his messy red hair like he always did when the stress and fear took over. It had taken a whole year to get as much of the Maze mapped as he had. It had taken staying up all night, even knowing he'd have to run all day. It had taken too many close calls. He'd heard more nearby grievers than he cared to remember, seen more of his friends' bodies than he thought he could take.

And now he had to start over.

"Look on the bright side," he mumbled to himself as he started taking the wrecked model outside. "You're not back to square one. You're not alone, and you know some things about the Maze."

Yeah, but you'll never get out of here. Sure, there's a way; it's just impossible.

Nothing's impossible. Stop taking the fun out of everything, Cynical Me.

This isn't fun.

I know.

Slowly but surely, the wreckage was emptied out. At this point, there was no part of the model that wasn't broken beyond repair or repurposing. When it was finally cleared, Calvin stood in the center of the map room. It was almost as empty as the first day he had found it, except for the signs hung on the walls with records, patterns, rules. But if he closed his eyes, it still smelled like pine sap. He could still hear the Glade's distant clamor over the rustling of the trees. He could almost pick out Alby, screaming about the broken model—although that might've just been his imagination. He grinned anyway, albeit halfheartedly.

See? Nothing's changed.

That isn't a good thing though. Is it?

Calvin shook his head, as if that would help clear his thoughts. Maybe the being alone was getting to him. Maybe he should go back to the Glade—the main part, anyway. But it was a long time before he moved.

...

Even from across the clearing, Calvin could see Ben slump with relief as he appeared. He ran over, in case something was wrong—but Ben just held up a plate, looking defeated. "Greenie gave me the death stare for taking two plates," he explained, "even when I told him one was for you." He glanced over his shoulder at the makeshift kitchen, where Frypan had finally relented with a resigned eyeroll. Calvin laughed a little. The two Runners ate in silence.

At some point, Alby came over and sat down heavily in front of them. Calvin and Ben exchanged a glance. "What's up?"

"That's what I wanted to know," Alby said darkly. "The other Runners are all actin' funny. I was hopin' you could give it to me straight."

"I thought you'd have asked Newt," Calvin commented, frowning.

"I can't, not without asking the rest of them."

Calvin shrugged, trying to feign apathy-also known as the hardest emotion to feign. "It's fine. Nothing we can't handle—"

"I broke the model, I'm so sorry—"

"What?!"

"It's not your fault, Ben! Stop apologizing—"

"So he didn't break the model?"

"Everything okay?" Newt had come over, sitting between them. He looked at each of them expectantly: Ben, wringing his hands and staring at the ground; Alby, trying to decide whether to interrogate one of them or to go see for himself, and looking like some ridiculous bird as he turned back and forth to look at both Runners; and Calvin, facepalming for all he was worth and then some.

Alby rubbed his eyes. "Did someone break the model?"

"Um… maybe?" Newt glanced at Calvin, who shrugged resignedly. "Actually, Zach and Ethan broke the bloody table." The blond Runner was clearly biting back laughter.

Before Alby exploded, Calvin cut in. "We're changing shifts tomorrow to review what we've already covered so the new model will be accurate. Newt, do you think you can put up with me tomorrow?" The Runners used the buddy system whenever possible, and Calvin planned to cover a lot of ground. Newt was the only one who could keep up with him; Minho was close, but he'd twisted his ankle a week or two ago, and Calvin didn't want to push him that hard yet. Besides, Min had a habit of being intolerable.

Newt shrugged. "Don't see why not."

Calvin nodded. "Good that. I'll pair up the others later." The sun had set already. Long shadows stretched across the ground. It almost looked like the shadow forest was reaching for them, ready to snatch them up.

That's ridiculous, Calvin thought.

But he still didn't go into the woods again until morning.