Season One, Episode Six: The Other Me

Elizabeth was finished with gardening for the day. After telling Zart, she cleaned up her equipment and wandered away from the gardens. As much as she loved the smell of soil and the sight of budding green amidst the brown, it was enough for one day. She pulled down her sleeves and ran a hand through her hair.

She was just passing the Box when she noticed someone standing by the wall. Curious, she walked over to him. It was Newt. He was standing a few paces away from the Maze's entrance. He must have gotten back from Running fairly recently, seeing as his hair was damp with sweat and a bit darker than usual. He didn't turn around when she came up behind him, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she stood beside him and followed his gaze to the names on the stone. On it was a list of all the boys' names, including hers. She had stood by and watched as Hank chiseled her name in the middle of the second row.

Some names, names of those who had died, we crossed out: George, Billy, Kevin, Marco, Rob. Elizabeth couldn't say for sure, but for some reason she knew that Newt was looking at these names especially. After a moment of silence, Elizabeth glanced over at Newt. His dark eyes were still fastened to the wall, his eyebrows furrowed softly and his lips curled into a small frown. There were a couple of boyish freckles that randomly spotted down his neck from the edge of his ear. Elizabeth's heartbeat quickened and she averted her eyes.

Instead of looking merely purturbed or deep in thought, Newt looked...sad.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice came out lower than she had intended, and she almost thought he hadn't heard her, but something in his jaw clicked. He looked down at the ground and kicked at the grass.

"Nah," he said casually, jamming his hands into his pockets. Elizabeth's mouth formed a pensive line. As if sensing her sudden change of mood, Newt chuckled and turned towards her, away from the wall.

"Nothing really to talk about, anyhow," he mumbled. He was looking at her, now, but something in his smile was heartbreaking. Elizabeth fought the urge to grab for his hand. Instead she smiled back at him.

"Whatever comfort I can give you, please take it," she said. Newt blinked. Elizabeth looked back at the wall.

"If you could go back to what it was before, who do you think you would be?" she asked.

Newt thought about this. The question had taken him off guard; Elizabeth was usually so perky and had something funny to say. Despite that, Newt thought she had never sounded so much like...well, herself. It was a confusing paradox, and he wasn't sure how it worked, but it did. It made sense.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I would probably be a different person than I am now."

"And if you knew how you were different, if you could see who you were before this, do you think you would choose to erase this you and go back?" Elizabeth looked back at him. A strand of hair blew across her face in the wind, catching against her nose. Newt swallowed and fidgeted nervously. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer this one. Klunk, he wasn't even sure he knew how he wanted to answer it.

"It depends on the kind of person I was, I guess," he finally said. "But I think I would. I think I would choose to go back."

Elizabeth smiled. Newt wanted to brush that pesky strand away from her face. It bothered him. Having hair in your face was the most annoying feeling.

"I wouldn't go back." Elizabeth sighed and turned her face up to the sky, as if trying to see beyond the wall.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because if I went back, I wouldn't be who I am, now. And I'd much rather continue being someone I know than choose to be a stranger."

"You wouldn't be a stranger. Not if you could go back and see who you were then. You could choose accurately, then," Newt reasoned. Elizabeth looked back at him, still smiling. She shook her head and more hair joined the single strand at her nose. This time she brushed it away and he nearly sighed in relief.

"That me would still be a stranger to me, even if I saw her up close rather than at a distance. That person would still not be the me I am now, because she had different thoughts and loved different things, and lived a different life. I don't know her. Not her favorite color, not her favorite food, not who she liked to hang out with...she would be a stranger."

Newt ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then let's say you remembered everything. Let's say you saw the person you were before you were sent to the Maze and as soon as you saw her you remembered everything of that life? I would choose to go back then, because at least I'll know what happened and this won't all have been for nothing."

"It can't be for nothing," Elizabeth mused. She stretched out a hand and touched her name on the stone wall. Then, she turned around, leaned up against it, and slid down to the ground with crossed legs. She patted the spot next to her, and Newt complied, sitting on the ground beside her with his back against the wall. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he initially thought. The two of them looked out into the Glade.

"I don't think this is all for nothing. Whoever sent us here, even if it was just one person, they had thier reasons. They may be mad reasons, sure, but they are still reasons. At least to that one person all of this won't have been for nothing."

Newt felt something akin to a sense of calm wash over him. When she put it that way, when she talked like this, it made sense. He still didn't understand, but he felt better knowing someone out there did.

"I don't want to be someone I would hate now," Elizabeth continued.

"Don't you think you would be somewhat like the person you are, now?" Newt asked. "We're probably a lot more like ourselves than we think we are."

Elizabeth giggled, filling the air around them with the girlish sound, and Newt was filled with satisfaction. He liked hearing her laugh. It was so much different than anyone else's; so much lighter and sweet. He hadn't been aware just how much he'd missed the presence of the opposite sex in the world. Life was not meant to be lived entirely co-ed. Even if she wasn't supposed to come to the Maze, in this little way she had brightened the every-day life of the Gladers.

"I suppose you're right," Elizabeth said. "I just get the feeling I wasn't as happy as I'd like to imagine. We all suppose that outside of the Maze we were all better off and were this amazing, happy person who had an wonderful life and a loving family and everything. But waht if that's just not true?" She shifted her body, twisting it around to talk to him face-to-face.

"What if we had a terrible life, and right now, this is better than anything we've ever had? Who knows who I could have been, Newt? I could have been some homeless person off the streets with no money and no food and no family. I could have lost everything I ever loved. I could have been alone! I could have had nothing!" Her voice was raising, and Newt got the sense she'd done a lot of thinking about this, just as he had. Though his reasoning and worries were exactly the opposite of hers.

"Don't you see, Newt? I have to believe that I have a better life here, otherwise I'll keep wishing I wasn't here. I can't live my life wishing to be somewhere that is impossible for me to be. It will tear me apart, Newt. It will break me." She brought her hand up and clutched the fabric at the collar of her shirt. "Just like it will break you."

The air stilled. Even the breeze that was there before disappeared. Elizabeth watched Newt's reaction while at the same time fumbling to control her own. She hadn't told anyone these fears, and talking about them now was as if she was finally allowed to breathe. Before, she was suffocating under the weight of anxiety, most of which was still undiscovered, even to herself.

"They were killed by Grievers," Newt said. Elizabeth's nose wrinkled in confusion until she realized he was talking about the dead Gladers.

"We didn't realize how dangerous they were, and for some reason a couple found their way out of the Maze. That was before we had even started setting up the Homestead. Anyway, the Grievers came, and in the end we lost some friends. George, Marco and Rob. Billy and Kevin we lost later from the Griever sickness. Personally, I think the Griever sickness is the worser fate. That's why we were all so glad you brought that antidote with you, even though it was only one."

Newt stopped talking and looked down at the grass again. This time he ripped up a clump of it and let it drop in his hands. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his lips were pursed. Elizabeth watched the grass fall between his fingers and listened. Not just to his words, but to the way he felt. Not just to what he had told her about the dead Gladers, but the tone in his voice and the ache she knew he felt somewhere in his heart. She wished she could take her own worries and clump the mushes of their worries together and watch them fall like the grass.

"I don't understand," she said. "Not really, I mean. I wasn't there. Even if I was, I would have experienced it differently than you did."

For some reason, this made Newt smile. "Anyway, it was a long time ago," he said. Elizabeth smiled back at him and nudged him with her shoulder.

"It wasn't really," she said.

They were quiet again. Elizabeth looked up at the darkening sky. It was close to dinnertime, and her stomach growled in anticipation, despite the fact that it was yet again Dave's turn to cook the night's meal.

"Hungry?" Newt asked, turning to her and raising an eyebrow. Elizabeth grinned.

"Nah, I just have to klunk."

Newt burst out laughing, his face lighting up with the act. Elizabeth laughed along with him.

"I'm just kidding!" she cried while Newt grabbed his sides yelling, "That's jacked up!"

They laughed until they couldn't sit up anymore and fell to their sides, their ribs burning. Afterwards, when they could breath again, they rolled to their backs and looked at the cloudless sky. Elizabeth's stomach growled again, and after another short spout of crazed laughter, she forced herself to sit up.

"I really am hungry," she said. Newt brought his hands up to his face.

"Bloody hell, woman," he muttered through his fingers.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist! It was just a joke, though, I swear."

"Bloody hell, Elizabeth," he said again. Elizabeth swatted his arm before standing up. She crossed her arms and stared down at him.

"You gonna get up?" she asked, "Or would you like assitance?"

Newt got up to his knees and successfully stood up without Elizabeth's help. He ran a hand through his messy hair and looked towards camp.

"Let's go eat some poison, shall we?" He asked. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and began walking.

"Hey, why don't you cook for us if you hate our food so bad?" Newt asked, catching up with her. Elizabeth let out a little huff.

"What, you think I can cook because I'm a woman? No thank you, not interested."

"That's not what I-"

"I don't like to cook. And whatever I do...let's just say I have a feeling that it would be real poison."

Newt snorted: "And how do you know that? You haven't even tried? You and Gally could even whip up something together."

Elizabeth laughed again. "Trust me, that last thing Gally and I are going to "whip up" is a decent meal. Maybe he can cook, but I'm just not into that. I'd rather do the eating than preparing. That's why I say we ask the Box people to send up a chef."

"Again I ask, how do you know you don't like to cook? You haven't even tried!" Newt rolled up his sleeves as they got closer to the large table that the rest of the boys had already started gathering at. Elizabeth shrugged.

"I don't know, it's just a feeling."

"A feeling? Kinda like the one you had earlier?" Newt asked.

That earned him another swat in the arm.