"They should've been back hours ago."

Newt's thumbs dug into his square jaw, watching the Maze intently. They had a few more hours of leeway, sure, but the fact that the shouldn't be needing the extra time bothered him more. Minho was the Keeper of the Runners, he knew the Maze like the back of his hand, and Alby experienced the Glade longer than most. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. These past few days were pure torture. It was as if all the change they had hope for in all three years were crashing down, and it was too much for them to handle. They were drowning, deep.

Thomas squirmed in his seat, and finally waved an arm towards the West Door. "Can't we go after them?"

And there it was. The frail, thin expression of shock and dread that showed Newt was terrified of the Maze. Whatever happened to him in that Maze, ankle injury and all, surely scarred him for life. "Search parties are forbidden." he finally said, his face slowly returning from white to its gradual tan. "We can't afford to lose another Glader."

He was trying to be strong like Alby, but in a way, Alby was Newt's strength in more ways than none. It pained Thomas to watch him like this, it had only been a week, and he was already starting to feel compassion for the second-in-command.

They skipped dinner together.

"When Alby and Minho get back," Thomas tried to sound hopeful, for the sake of Newt's stability. "We're going to go get Theo and think up a plan."

Newt scoffed, and chuckled dryly. "She probably doesn't want to be within ten feet of me."

"Why say that?"

"I bugged out on her." his mind reeled back like a stop-motion, remembering the way she looked at her last night, scared and vulnerable. It made his heart ache. "She asked about my ankle, and what happened to me in the Maze, and I couldn't hold myself and lashed out. I partially blamed you, sorry mate." and he truly sounded apologetic.

"It's fine." Thomas replied casually, looking out in the distance. "There's nothing going on between us, at least nothing romantically."

"I know."

It was starting to get dark, the afternoon coming to a close. Chuck appeared behind them, his upper lip trembling. Gladers started to weave behind them, waiting expectantly for Alby and Minho.

"Why can't we break the rules this one time?" Thomas insisted an hour later, "It's stupid sitting here when there could be Grievers crawling to get them."

"Bloody he—" Newt pulled at his hair, devastatingly frustrated, "we just can't, okay? Don't say it again," his hope was dwindling, speeding faster into a downward spiral. "Please, especially with the buggin' Doors about to close."

"Why?" again, the dreaded why. "The Grievers will kill them—"

"Shut your hole, Greenie!" Newt barked, and he meant it. He meant Greenie, because Thomas knew nothing, absolutely nothing. Thomas was smart, but not smart enough for Newt. "Not a bloody week you've been here! You think I wouldn't risk my life in a second to save those lugs!"

Thomas watched Newt crumble, his face softening. And he got it, he knew Newt would go out and face his fear of the Maze for Alby and Minho. "I'm sorry."

"We have to think logically, we'd be throwin' more lives to the grave. Alby would've wanted us here." he hated to admit it, loathed it. "We all swore an oath. Never go out. No matter what. Never."

"Newt won't say it," Chuck piped up, "so I will. If they're not back, it means they're dead. Minho's too smart to get lost. Impossible. They're dead."

The former Runner was silent, as if he were the one dying. He felt all eyes on him, Gladers watching one of their mighty leaders, fallen once again. He remembered his ankle, and hated himself all over again. Wetness rimmed his eyes, glassy and weak. Succinct, he stated loud enough for everyone to hear, "Doors close in two minutes." it was with such finality, his shoulders given up in defeat. He turned his back to the Maze.

The painful crunching of the doors made the feeling all the more numb and lasting.

"Newt!" was it over already? He couldn't look, he couldn't. "They're coming!"

His whole body surged. Thomas had to be lying. But he let himself go and turned, and it was Minho and Alby! He felt a current of electricity shock him, and limped as fast as he could to the edge, feeling his chest instantaneously get all the lighter. They could make it. The Glade yelled, unified, with encouraging shouts to keep pushing forward. Minho was struggling, tugging Alby's body as hard as he could that the veins popped out of his arms, but he swayed from side to side, hindered.

"Alby's been stung!" someone announced.

No. They had over a hundred feet to go. His eyes darted to Thomas, whose feet were starting to rev, his hands shaking. Practically itching to move. "Don't do it Tommy!" he screamed, willing his legs to move faster. "Don't you bloody do it!"

All that talking before was useless, because Thomas bolted, his body disappearing into hell. The doors finally slammed together, mocking the Glade. It truly was over. A grim, eerie silence hung in the air, all their hope uselessly crushed by a two-ton brick.

"I knew it," It was Gally, his deep, booming voice finally broke the curse, his face hard. "Everything started changing when he came along! It's all Thomas' fault. And look now, we're out our best runner and our leader." his voice was like a brainwash, and the Gladers were too stricken to move.

"How could it be Thomas' fault?" a girl's voice argued just as strongly, Theo's. "Who could've anticipated this!"

"Slim it, girlie." Gally shot back, "First Ben, the half-dead girl, and now this. Tell me this isn't a coincidence." he looked around waiting for a reply. Silence.

"He's right." a builder uttered.

"What if it is his fault? What if he triggered everything?" another added.

"And you," Gally gestured grandly to Theo, "if you're on Thomas' side, you were better off following him in that shuckin' Maze."

"Shut up!"

All eyes were on Newt, who was completely and utterly sick of everything.

"You all have a choice," he seethed out, his eyes narrowing on the crowd. "either you all pick you asses up and do what you've been assigned to do in this shuck-hole, or argue uselessly like the slintheads you are. But let it be known, everything you do, you answer to me. Clear?" the newly-birthed leader of the Gladers declared, chin up. "I want my Runners up and early tomorrow at the West Gate, ready for the inevitable."

Dead. He thought to himself. They were all shucked.

"Newt, please open up." it was Theo. Of all people, why her? After the theatrics he gave her last night, she should be avoiding him like the plague. Her voice, which sounded too good and heavenly for him to answer to, kept repeating his name over and over. Each syllable was more pained than the next.

He tried to drown her out, his eyes focusing on the dancing flame of the single candle in the room.

"Newt," she tried again, her voice eerily placid. "if you don't open the door, I'm breaking it open."

Newt lifted his calloused fingers, waving it over the candle. Each time he waved it, he let his hand linger on the yellow spark a second longer. Pain waved in and out of his palm, the heat searing his skin and simmering his blood. He thought back to all the failed attempts, reminding him of how truly weak he was. Another second longer, and the lifeline of his palm glowed pink, it wasn't enough. He needed a bigger flame.

Or a taller wall, and a stronger vine.

Suddenly, a dull "bang" was heard from the hallway, and his door flung open.

It was Theo, her face flushed red and her breathing heavy. She held a bronze doorknob in her hand, his doorknob.

"You, you broke my door." he stared dumbly.

"I said I would." and she was about to accompany the statement with an eye roll before she noted how unbelievably close Newt was to the candle. "What are you doing?" she whispered in disbelief, her hands diving for the candle and setting it on the table. With her nails, she forced his palms open, revealing the puffy peach skin blistering his hands.

He snatched his hands away, and pointed to the exit. "Get out." he said rigidly.

The girl did move away, but only to close the door shut, locking them away from the outside. "We're going to talk." she said airily.

"Leave me alone."

"This isn't you." she said quietly.

His head snapped up, appalled. "Who are you to tell me what isn't me? Two of my closest friends just bloody died!" and Thomas, oh Thomas. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards him, and borderline jealousy. Unlike the cowardly Newt, Thomas defied the odds and went after his best mates. He could've done it too, he would've broken the rule for them. Then why didn't he?

And suddenly her face bared its burn, giving him the most disappointed look he had ever seen. It made his stomach ten times heavier although he hasn't eaten all day, and his heart all the more unbearable to hold.

"This isn't the Newt I've learned to know." she said again, and she came closer to sit with him on the bed. "I was afraid of you and all the Gladers when I first arrived. But Alby and Minho drilled it into my brain that you were the most trustworthy person in the Glade, and you'd do anything for anyone. They were right." she sighed, her face starting to heat up with all the talking. "But today, out there, you had no right to call yourself our new leader."

It was like a slap in the face.

"You're not a person who quits, Newt!" and she reached over to clutch his thigh, the left one with his limp. It wasn't for his sake, she really needed something to hold onto. "What right do you have to tell us we need to survive when you've given up altogether?" her eyes darted over to the candle in the room. "You've been through so much, so many deaths and hardships, what's making you stop now? Alby would be disappointed seeing you like this."

Like a soft rain, she broke down and her muffled sobs filled the quiet room, her shoulders shaking. Newt didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this. He didn't ask to be stripped away from his family and his memories. He didn't ask for his friends to be eaten by Grievers. He didn't ask for this beautiful girl to tell him all the things he already knew, to still have faith in him and offer to pick up the pieces that were long broken.

"And I'm sorry." she kept patting her face, as if it would stop the barrage of tears. "I shouldn't have asked you about your ankle last night. It was none of my business."

"No," his voice was crackly from misuse. "I'm sorry for being such a shuckface these past few days."

"I'm sorry for Thomas, and Alby, and Minho." she said Minho's name with so much sadness, it was too heavy for his eardrums to bear. She was particularly close with the Runner, everyone knew it, it may have hit her just as hard as it hit him. She stopped patting her face when she realized that she wasn't going to stop crying anytime soon and shifted on the bed, wrapping her arms around Newt.

He tensed, feeling her warm breath against his neck, his shoulder moistening with tears. "Thea,"

"I have faith in Thomas," she blurted out, and moved closer so her petite frame was resting on his lap.

"I do, too." he admitted, his thumbs tentatively rubbing slow, gentle circles across her arms.

"He's still alive, surviving. I can feel it." she said, another sob.

"Hey," he positioned his head so their foreheads touched, his hands reaching out to cup her cheeks. "I can't stand it when you cry, darling." he smiled shakily.

She hiccuped, "I love it when you smile."

He tried smiling again, for her. "We'll get out of here, for them. And until then I'll train you, you'll run faster than any other shuck Glader."

This, was the Newt she missed, facing his fears head on. "That's good."

"Good that."

And she got off of him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment when her warmth was absent. Instead, she parted the covers, slipping her small frame between them. Her brown eyes looked expectantly to his, waiting for him to join her. He didn't need to be asked twice, and relaxed himself under the sheets as well. It was almost automatic when Theo moved forward, resting her head on his pillow so their faces were inches apart.

"The girl," she whispered, "she's been talking in her sleep. Asking for Thomas."

"That's no coincidence." he replied just as soft.

"They put him here for a reason." her hand reached out to touch her companion's blond hair, running her fingers through the tousled locks. It soothed the both of them. "He knows me, too. He's almost sure of it, he recognizes the handwriting from the memo."

"Blasted Tommy," he sighed, "not even a couple days and he's already got all the girls."

Theo lightly tugged at his hair. "He doesn't have me."

"Good that."

"I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not." and Theo offered her hand, a strong smile on her lips.

Newt gladly took it, and squeezed her palm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

They stood in front of the West Gate, along with Chuck and all the other Gladers. Five more minutes. The longer they waited, the more Newt's grip wavered. She'd hold onto his tightly, bringing him back to reality. And finally, the sickening rumble and moan of the gates replied to the Gladers, opening slowly and reluctantly. Everyone squinted their eyes, moved their heads left and right to get a better view.

And Chuck screamed, "There! They made it!"

Minho and Thomas were falling over each other, supporting each other as their legs gave in and up. Despite the urgency of the situation, they slowed their pace, everything was just too painful to bear. They made it, they really made it.

Newt let go of Theo's hand, meeting the two halfway. "What happened?" he asked hotly, as if it were all just one big dream and they'd eventually wake up to a nightmare. "How in the bloody hell did you manage that?"

"We'll tell you later," Thomas breathed, "no time. We have to get Alby."

"He's alive?" and not wasting a second, Newt disappeared with Minho and Thomas into the Maze. Her muscles tensed, watching his body disappeared with all the grey. Her hand was still clammy where he held his.

Not even five minutes later, an exhausted Minho was half-dragging Thomas out the door. They stopped in front of Theo. Minho's voice came out in exhausted spurts, consisting of water, bandages, and rest. Newt did not return. "Your boyfriend's fine, Theo. He's going to get Alby down." he still managed to roll his eyes, "Just help us get back to the Homestead."

"Hate you, you guys scared me half to death." and she punched Minho's arm, dragging it with her. "But I had faith that you guys would come back."

"Of course we would." Minho said arrogantly.

Thomas finally butted in, "Is that why you ran—"

"Slim it, shuckface."

Thankfully, Minho was the first to crash, which made tending to his wounds and bearing his big mouth all the more bearable. Thomas fell in and out of consciousness, trying to fight sleep because he claimed that he knew too much to just sleep. He asked about the girl, and the Med-jacks replied with clipped, vague responses so he wouldn't try to jump out of bed and find her. Clint returned from Alby's room, rubbing his hands with a yellow cloth. "The Grief Serum worked," he said, "he's alive, barely. But breathing."

"Alright, I say we divy up the patients." Jeff suggested, "I'll watch the girl, Theo takes Minho and Thomas, and you take Alby. We rotate every hour."

Clint shook his head, "Can't. Newt just called a Gathering." he reluctantly handed Jeff his notes, "Keepers and Thomas."

"Why Thomas?"

"The whole shuckin' Gathering's about Thomas."

Theo looked aside to Thomas, who was finally asleep in his cot. One hand was over his chest, the other one limp at his side, his knuckles beaten and cut. His stomach rose up and down like a metronome, peaceful and patterned. He really needed the sleep.

"Thomas, Thomas, Thomas."

She wanted to roll her eyes at the mantra. Yes, we all know you want Thomas. The girl's eyelids would roll back and forth, as if she were endlessly dreaming. Theo wondered how long it would take for her to wake up, drinking soup and water all day wasn't enough to sustain her healthily. The way her fingers twitched every few minutes and her knees tensed and relaxed told her that she was trying, but something was stopping her from pulling through. The girl moved her arm, and caught the faint words tattooed on her bicep: WICKED is good.

"Aris, I—"

The comatose girl stopped herself, her eyebrows crinkling together. Whoever she was talking about, it was stressing her out. Theo reached over and pressed her thumb between her eyebrows, trying to erase the fine lines. Her expression went lax, and the wrinkles ironed out. She kept mumbling, though.

"Theo."

Said girl dropped her clipboard, resulting in an angry clack against the hardwood floor. Theo? She knew her? Her head was starting to hurt at the thought, as she concentrated on the Sleeping Beauty. Like Thomas, she couldn't recognize her, but for some psycho-analytic reason she knew her name. And if she knew Thomas, somehow they were all connected, scarily enough. Who are you? she wanted to ask, pushing the girl's dark locks out of her face.

"I swear, Theo's got a girl crush on her." Jeff said from the doorway to the other two guests. The Gathering must have ended since they've returned.

Newt and Thomas walked in, more like Newt hobbling in and dragging Thomas by the arm. The subtle eyeroll went noticed, even though he wasn't really up for kidding around. "And all along I thought Thomas was my competition." he firmly took the said boy by the shoulder, forcing him down in the chair closest to the girl. "Go on, then. I want you to stare at this girl until your eyes bleed. Until you remember. Now concentrate."

Theo soundlessly reached down to grab the clipboard, trying not to disrupt whatever those two were doing. Both looked like emotional wrecks, Newt as if he were the walking dead and Thomas trying to fight against a mind block. "I do know her." Thomas finally said, breaking the silence. Thomas and Newt both exchanged minute conversation, both eyeing each other back and forth about the girl.

"Theo," Thomas said, almost trance-like, "did you just talk?"

"No." she replied, eyes darting between Thomas and the girl.

"I… think her name's Teresa."

"There ya go, you're remembering her name." Newt's words of encouragement did nothing to calm Thomas down, in fact he looked even more confused.

"No, it's a voice, her voice." and he got up, not wanting to listen to whatever was going on in his head.

"Bloody hell Tommy, sit down."

More silence, but Thomas seemed more and more terrified as it dragged on. "Theo, the note." he said.

"What about it?" she gripped the clipboard tighter.

"I think, I think I know who wrote it." he looked to Theo, a pained expression on his face. He was covering his ears, trying to stop whatever he was hearing. But the way his expression was unwavering showed that it wasn't working. He backed up against the door, unable to take it as the two other people in the room watched him helplessly. "I, I need to go." and he ran off like his life depended on it, as if a million Grievers were chasing him all at once.

"Tommy!" Newt yelled, not caring if the girl was sleeping as he stuck his head out the doorway. "Dammit, Thomas!" and he pounded his fist against the wall.

"He'll come back. He'll need to come back to get more answers." Theo assured softly, her eyes darting between the girl—Teresa, and Newt. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly relaxed.

Resolute, he said, "Thea, listen to me." he took the hand off his shoulder and covered it with his own. "Things are going to get hectic these next couple of days. I'll do my best to protect you, but if anything happens and I'm not there, promise me." and he pulled his face closer to hers, and she could see nothing but the intensity of his deep brown eyes. However, her heart wasn't swayed and her face did not flush with jovial emotion. "that you will not go into the Maze without me. And if all hell breaks loose, I want you to run, abandon whatever you're doing. Lock yourself in the Slammer, it's the safest place in the bloody Glade."

She shook her head, disconcerted. "I want to stay with you and the others—"

"Promise me, Theo." he said firmly.

Feeling useless and betrayed, she pulled her hand away. "I can't promise you that."

Pain flashed across Newt's eyes, and he backed away altogether, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I can't argue with you right now. I'm going to go check on Alby."

She wasn't going to just stand in the infirmary and wait either. "I'm going to find Thomas."

"Whatever," she felt a stab in her chest, even though both their attitudes justified their brashness, "do what you want."

And she did, regretless. She was nowhere near as fast as Thomas, but she was fast enough to spot his lithe figure by the forest, his ears still covered by his hands. Breaking into a sprint, she ignored all the questionable stares as she went after Thomas. She nearly collapsed over the boy when she finally reached him, her knees digging into the dead leaves.

"Theo." he paused, not quite there. "I wrote it. I wrote that note to you."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Are you sure?"

"That's why it was so familiar, it's my handwriting." he held up his palms, given up on ignoring whatever he was trying to tune out. "Teresa was talking to me, I swear. I must have sent it to you or something, I tried to help you guys. But now we're here." he looked like a crazy person at this point, but Theo knew better, Thomas wasn't one to lie. "She said she triggered it, and it's our fault." he rubbed at his hands, as if they were ice cold and he were trying to calm himself down.

"Triggered what?" Theo whispered.

"The Ending." Thomas collapsed beside her, running a shaky hand through his brown cropped hair. "I saw Alby today, too." and from the way his voice dropped, the confrontation wasn't a happy one. "And he said he saw me doing this, all of this, to him." he opened his arms, absorbing the Glade like it was a venomous poison. "He, he mentioned maps."

It was as if the boy was talking to himself, or maybe to Teresa "What maps?"

"The maps to the Maze, he told Newt to protect them. And the Maze changes every night, so there's different maps for different days."

"What if," Theo shook her head.

"This isn't a time to hesitate, Theo." Thomas urged, "if you have a theory, spit it out."

"The variables, Thomas." she thought back to the note, "what if the Maze is a bunch of variables, or trials. Or, the Glade, what if everything is one big trial?"

"I, I think you're right. You've never been in the Maze, but there are words on the wall. World in catastrophe, killzone experiment department." it was hard for the both of them to swallow. "We need to get those maps." and the cogs started turning in his head, and he squinted his eyes shut. "I'm going to go with Minho tomorrow, in the Maze." the newly elected runner stated, "I'll try to get as much info as I can. By tomorrow, I think we can formulate something and get out of this hellhole."

"I hope so."

The rest of their time in the woods was spent in silence. Not once did they look at each other, their eyes fixated on the sunless sky.