Author's Note: Your wish is my command...sort of :)
I've decided to turn this into a collection of one-shots here and there that show different parts of the life of Newtisyn's (Like it? Don't? Suggest a shipping name!) and the challenges they face in the Glade. The rating and the pairing (obviously!) are still the same as the first one-shot! There aren't any real warnings for this installment, so enjoy it! Review responses at the bottom!
I want to thank all those that voted for and supported Hearts Run Free in the Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Awards! It may not have won (although another of my stories did, eek!) but I'm still honored it was even nominated to make it through voting! Cookies for all! :)
Feel free to follow, favorite, review, and what not! I love story feedback and suggestions, but please keep any flames or negativity to yourself! I covet constructive criticism, etc., but I do not accept bullying. Minho and the boys will show you to the Grievers!
Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Maze Runner Trilogy (novels/movies), its characters, places, or any of its plot line. That belongs to all the wonderful authors, writers, and producers. I also do NOT own any recognizable/copyrighted/trademarked material that might be mentioned in this story. I only own my OC('s), her(their) thoughts, and my personal plot bunnies!
-The Cage-
In the darkness, a girl gasped for breath.
Immediately upon gaining consciousness, she was swarmed with panic and adrenaline; the need to choose between fight or flight, and her body had chosen to flee. Without second thought she had scrambled backwards, painfully jostling a few crates with her elbow or hip, and knocking a bag or two down from their perch above where she huddled in on herself. She knew there was something to fear, that she had been desperately fleeing for her safety moments before, screams still echoed in her ears.
She just couldn't remember why.
There was a buzzing sound, shrill and reaching an ungodly loud decibel that made her shriek quietly before she clapped her hands over her ears, trying her best to muffle the noise. It was accompanied by a red light, flashing in time with the noise, before the sound of metal grinding against metal screeched in tandem with the -alarm?- and whatever she was sitting on lurched beneath her body. Her hand shot out from the side of her head, pressing against steel grates that served as walls, the gaps prompting the metal to bite into her skin as she gripped them for some sort of balance. She swallowed harshly, squeezing her eyes shut as the floor beneath her suddenly dropped away, her newfound cage lifting itself into the darkness of the unknown while she tried her best to calm her heaving breaths and racing heart.
One…Two…Three…
It was lifting her up, the cage she was in. The metal platform it had been resting on below faded into darkness, no longer visible in the blinking red light, even if she squinted.
Four…Five…Six…
The lurching had passed and the cage was picking up speed now, changing from an unhurried pull through the squeaking and grinding of gears to a more fluid motion, covering more distance.
Seven…Eight…Nine…
It was hot, so hot.
Sweltering really, the heated air brushed her skin and did little to soothe the warmth that began to radiate from there. She could feel the sweat slicking her body. Her palms grew slippery, unable to keep the fierce grip on the grate she had grabbed onto. A fine sheen of it coated her forehead, trailed lazily down her neck and into her cleavage, traced a shivering pattern down her spine.
Ten…
She sucked in a calming breath, taking notice that she no longer gasped as she breathed, and that she could no longer hear the frantic beat of her heart pounding in her ears. She glanced around herself again, taking in the many crates and bags around her, all of which looked to be filled with supplies. There was a grunting noise coming from the far left of the cage, its cause shrouded by darkness, and she decided to stick to her own side in lieu of discovering something she really had no interest in finding.
Eleven…Twelve…
Her mind was scrambled.
She knew everything and yet nothing, all at once.
Knowledge, facts, little tidbits and pieces of the world filtered through her racing thoughts, taking up space and storing themselves away for later use when the need arose. But when it came to actually remembering; how she had gotten in the strange metal cage, where she came from, who she came from, who she was…nothing. Only blurry images, people and bodies with smudges for faces and garbled words remained, giving her no clue or hint to the answers she sought.
Thirteen…Fourteen…
It was terrifying.
Fifteen…Sixteen…Seventeen…
Being left with nothing but what she had learned in the world, all personal aspects of her life and memories, simply gone.
Eighteen…Nineteen…
She felt like she couldn't breathe again.
Her chest constricted more than it expanded as she took in oxygen, and her head felt light on her neck and shoulders. Dimly, she realized she was having something called a panic attack, and multiple ways to aide or remedy the situation came to mind, but the extensive knowledge she held pushed her over the edge once more.
Twenty…Twenty-One…Twenty-Two…
She knew how to slow a panic attack, but she didn't even know her own name?!
Twenty-Three…Twenty-Four…
Her body slumped against the webbed wire cage at her back, weak from oxygen deprivation, and she pulled her legs up tightly toward her chest, curling in on herself. The new position left her partially hidden beneath a layered stack of crates and boxes, something she was grateful for as it gave her a sense of protection and safety that she didn't have sitting in the middle of the open cage. False sense of security or not, at least it was something.
Twenty-Five…Twenty-Six…
She needed to think.
To plan.
Twenty-Seven…Twenty-Eight…Twenty-Nine…
Logic told her that the cage she had been dumped in was delivering her somewhere.
While she didn't really have a clue where, it was made obvious by the abundance of supplies and provisions that were being carted up the darkened shaft with her. She didn't have a clue what waited for her at the other end of the tunnel, and the thought left her a bit jittery as she pulled in deep, soothing inhales of the stale air around her. She needed a defense, a weapon of some sort for protection, her mind whispered frantically. Attempting to fight hand-to-hand would be pointless, from what she could see. The only opening to the cage was on the top which left her with little to no advantage once the movement stopped.
Thirty…Thirty-One…Thirty-Two…
Her counting was almost being done unconsciously now, the numbers something solid and certain for her brain to grasp onto so that her panic could subside.
Thirty-Three…Thirty-Four…
She glanced down at herself, her eyebrows lifting in stunned curiosity.
Her legs were long and toned, the faint light of the tunnel allowing her to just see bare, faintly tanned skin that led to a pair of shorts. They were tight and almost indecently short, hugging each curve while leaving little to the imagination, something that made her feel almost vulnerable with the lack of knowledge she held regarding her surroundings. The material was smooth and stretchy, for training, her mind whispered while her fingers tugged and picked at the hem. She flicked her eyes to her shirt, furrowing her brows at the double layer. Beneath a sheer, racer back tank top that felt lightweight on her skin and was what might have been a royal blue color (she couldn't quite tell in such little light), a more form-fitting, almost glittery silver bandeau wrapped securely around her chest and upper ribs. Her feet were clad in shoes with a thick sole and heel that laced up to just an inch or two below her knee, tied off in small bows at the top.
Oh, boots…her mind supplied.
Thirty-Five…Thirty-Six…Thirty-Seven…
Something cool pressed to her skin, wedged securely between the leather of her right boot and the skin of her calf.
She reached her hand down hesitantly, still unsure, and her fingers slowly wrapped around something smooth. She pulled it carefully from its place, her eyes widening comically as the dim light glinted off the hard steel of a six inch long blade. She sucked in a harsh gasp as her mind suddenly overflowed while her eyes remained glued to the weapon clasped firmly in her hand. Images, techniques, methods…
Thirty-Eight…Thirty-Nine…Forty…
A knife.
She knew how to handle a knife; how to hold it, sharpen it, wield it, fight with it…kill with it.
Forty-One…Forty-Two…
The new information sent a chill through her body, all the way down to the very marrow of her bones. It was both reassuring, given her current situation, and disconcerting. She flipped the blade around in her hand, furrowing her eyebrows as she stared down at it, an unsettled feeling growing further in her stomach.
Why did she know how to handle a knife?
Forty-Three…Forty-Four…Forty-Five…
Her thoughts slammed to a halt as a resonating screech filled the small space she remained huddled in, echoing back down through the tunnel, and her metal cage gave another shuddering lurch. The motion sent her back into the grated wall again, and she grunted as her teeth sank into the tip of her tongue when her jaw clicked shut. The stale air around her picked up in a steady breeze and the small red lights that had been guiding her cage along began to zip by the see-through metal walls much faster than before.
Forty-Six…Forty-Seven…
She could feel the locks of her hair, heavy from the atmosphere and sweat, lift lazily with the wind.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage, beating her from the inside out.
She could hear an alarm again, buzzing dully in her ears at a much more tolerable decibel than when her journey through the long passage began.
Forty-Eight…
A scream tore through her throat unwillingly when her metal cage slammed to a stop with no warning, jarring her body roughly and sending her shoulder into the sharp corner of a wooden crate. She hissed through her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut against the stinging pain, and she knew without even looking that blood would be trickling from a small gash in the back of her shoulder. The buzzing alarm echoed ominously down through the open air beneath her, and somewhere above her as well. Her eyes darted from side to side, the dim glow of another red light illuminating her confines much more than it had previously, giving her a small glimpse of even more crates, boxes, and packages that filled the side opposite of her.
Then darkness.
She didn't scream, didn't cry out or shrink away in fear.
Instead, her grip tightened further on the knife in her hand, her fingers and wrist arranging themselves to achieve the best optimal use in combat.
A long sound rang out, a cross between a whine and a whirring sound, and she watched from a gap between the boxes as a thin strip of bright light spread across the ceiling that was a few inches above her cage. It grew in size, a grinding and groaning of metal and gears the only warning to a pair of double doors slowly lifting and then swinging open.
Forty-Nine…
There was light; so bright and all encompassing, it nearly blinded her.
There were voices; some deeper than the pit she had risen through and others the higher pitch of an age that was pre-puberty, but all still yet distinctly male.
There were shadows; bodies of varying heights crowding around the edge that led down into her metal prison.
There should have been fear…but there wasn't.
She shifted to the left, the movement so infinitesimal that it went unnoticed by the owners of the confused and bewildered boys above her. There was a clanging sound as a single boy jumped to the ledge, then a heavy thud as he dropped himself all the way down into her cage. She peeked out from around the boxes, tracking his every move as he began to search for something.
Her, she realized, he was searching for her.
She brushed back her long hair, lifted her chin, and twirled the blade almost playfully in her hand.
Fifty…
Game on.
-The Girl-
It was Box Day.
The delivery was always consistent; starting a few months after the first group of boys had been welcomed to the Glade, all the supplies that were needed and even a few of their requests, were sent up in the Box to them. Along with the crates and wooden boxes usually came another boy to add to their ranks, never below the age of nine and never above the age of seventeen. It was like clockwork, reliable; the third day of the third week of every month was Box Day.
So it wasn't much of a surprise when the drone of an alarm sounded out above the daily chatter.
The occupants of the Glade took off for the steel doors in the ground as a whole, the younger ones rushing in their excitement and the older ones loping along with little worry, given that a delivery from the Box meant nothing new aside from lugging heavy packages to each of the working stations and a new Greenie to initiate.
Newt was one of those who loped.
It was quiet as he walked along with Nick and Alby, each of them the oldest and seen as leaders around their forced home. Newt followed closely behind them in age, only a year younger, and was seen as third-in-command, the less busy (in Nick's case) and more approachable (in Alby's) of the group.
Maybe it's the accent…he thought, a small grin shaping his lips.
He glanced above him on a whim, the grin turning down into a small frown as he took note of the sun's placement in the sky. It had made its trip further across than it should have, the fiery ball lower in the sky than the norm on the Box's delivery, and a small trickle of unease flooded his senses.
Constant, reliable…yet not on time?
Newt nudged his elbow into Nick's side, pointing to the sky once the older boy turned to him questioningly. He watched as both he and Alby glanced at the sun's mark in the wide expanse of blueness, their eyebrows pulling down as stern expressions reshaped their features, each of them coming to the same conclusion that Newt already had.
The Box was late.
A sharp snap and then a grinding sound echoed through the open grasses, and they all stood back to watch on while the heavy steel doors lifted up and swung aside as they always did, giving way to the grated box within.
The three stepped forward before the rest of the boys converged around them, each peeking either curiously or eagerly over the side to get a clear look. Wooden boxes and heavy crates were stacked around the edges and through the middle to create a mini-maze, some carefully placed and others left tilting precariously after the jolting trip they had taken up to the Glade. Vinyl packages, bags and tarps littered the floor or were perched around and on them, some labeled or some not, and all stamped with the usual W.C.K.D logo.
His hazel eyes darted across the contents, taking stock unconsciously as they sought out their new addition, before they flew up to meet the worried and contemplative gazes of both Nick and Alby. The words left his lips quietly, just as a general clamor of confusion began to rise up among the boys clustered thickly around the edge.
"Where the bloody hell's the Greenie?"
The voices around them were growing steadily louder as Nick motioned him forward.
Newt dropped himself to the outer ledge first, still scanning for another living person that had maybe passed out during the trip, but he couldn't find a single indication that there had been one there in the first place. Gripping the ledge, he swung his body down into the box rather gracefully for his long, lean frame, and shook the hair from his eyes to glance around again.
Nothing.
The contents didn't look any more jarred than usual, certainly not like someone had been scrambling to escape, something most new Greenies did on their trip up.
No blood, no puke, and definitely no body or even a message explaining the lack of one.
He turned his back toward a pile of crates and looked above him, squinting into the sunlight as he opened his mouth to tell those above him that they were apparently fresh out of Greenies for the month, which was about the same time that something darted between the boxes to his left.
His head whipped to the side.
The dangerous glint of light on a sharp blade made him throw his hands up instantly.
But the vision before him is what took his breath away.
Long, windswept tresses the color of coffee and the caramel treats that were sometimes sent to them surrounded an oval-shaped face with fair skin that was dotted with a few freckles. The nose was small and upturned just a smidgen, the lips enticingly plump and full, but it was the eyes that got him. They burned into his own, he found himself nearly scorching in the heat from the fire that flickered within the glittering, emerald green depths. The pitch black kohl that lined and shadowed them only made the green irises stand out more, doing nothing at all to hide them.
Deep within his chest, something stirred.
They were almost…familiar somehow.
His eyes followed the creamy skin of her arms and chest, touching on the cleavage that was faintly visible under her second shirt, the slim waist and mouth-watering curve of her hips, all the way to the bare skin of her thighs and upper legs.
A girl…it was a girl.
He swallowed thickly, desperate to push down the emotion roaring through his insides.
Lust he was used to, they were a camp of boys after all, and even though they couldn't remember being around such a thing in their lives, they each knew exactly what a girl was. But it wasn't that which had him scrabbling for control of himself. It was the deep-seeded need to protect, the almost territorial aggressiveness to keep and claim that sparked to life the moment her eyes touched his.
It was instant, all-consuming.
And left him gaping at her stupidly.
"Back!" She nearly hissed, her voice full of the same fire her eyes held. "Back up!"
Newt did so without question, still caught in the emotion that whipped through him upon seeing her, not to mention there was the knife that she seemed to hold quite proficiently. He backed up from the small pathway of boxes she had ingeniously tucked herself away in, just barely coming into the view of the questioning Gladers once more while he hastily tried to hide the upward twitch of his lips with his smirk.
She was like an angry kitten.
"Easy there love," He soothed, keeping his voice low and calm. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I just want to help 'ya out of this here bloody box, yeah?"
Her body locked up for a moment the second he spoke, the same flash of familiarity he felt reflecting in her eyes before she shook her head and took a threatening step forward, though she didn't seem even half as vicious as before.
"What is this? Where am I?" She demanded, narrowing her eyes.
He found her questions both amusing and saddening at the same time.
While her ire laced her voice and made him want to grin, the fact that he had to explain to her all that she had lost and that she wouldn't be escaping her new home any time soon, left him uncomfortable.
That heartbroken expression wasn't one he wanted to see on her.
How he felt must have shown plainly on his face because he watched her deflate slightly, her arm lowering just a bit as she took a few free steps closer toward him. His shoulder length blonde strands crowded his face when he tilted his head down to look at her with every step further she came, making him notice the near twelve inch difference in their height. He shook them free from his eyes again, getting ready to speak, when Nick's voice rang out from above.
"Newt!" He called gruffly. "What the shuck is happening? Did you find something?"
He bit his lip, glancing first at her resigned expression and then over his shoulder, his vision connecting with his leader's dark blues.
"It's a girl."
His words sparked an instant chaos, the voices of the boys shouting above one another with questions and lewd comments that made his upper lip curl back in a snarl. Nick and Alby each stared at him, completely blindsided and unsure of what to do with such information. The mayhem above them meant that her whisper was so faint he almost didn't hear it, and when he snapped his head around to look at her, he found her shimmering green eyes already locked with his own.
"Addisyn...my name is Addisyn."
*Review Responses!*
Lily1994: I'm so glad that you did! I will be continuing some Addisyn and Newt stories, though I think it will be a collection of one-shots like I said above. This way I can jump between different events they experience! I hope you continue to read and enjoy them!
Sarah0406: Aw, yay! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! As you can see, I am continuing, though I'm reaching back in time. I'm not sure if I'll keep them in chronological order or not, it's all up to the whim and fancy of my muse! If you have a scene you'd like to see them in, feel free to suggest it in a review!
Guest #1: I know! I'm very excited about seeing what happens with it and where my ideas flow. Especially since it's kind of taboo, like the fact that they're already using the Gladers for an experiment, now there's this new possibility. You'll have to stand by and check it out!
Guest #2: Right?! It's this awesome topic to introduce into the Glade and something that W.I.C.K.E.D would totally do if it benefited them, in my opinion at least. I'll definitely consider that!
Guest #3: Aw yes, Minho! I just might do that ;)
Blackcat8559: I'm super happy and flattered you like it enough to beg! Will updates like this be interesting enough?
Tainted-Nymph: Oh my gosh, thank you so very much for the compliment! I always worry about my lemon scene and if they're yummy/enticing enough without getting my story kicked off the site. You begged, cherry included, so here you go! I'm really glad that you like the idea/plot so much, I was nervous about that too initially, but I think once I get to filling it out that it'll be really cool and extremely thrilling/captivating!