Whoever said island life was paradise was a liar.

Annie lay on the hard ground in the dark, eyes open as she tried—but failed—to lull herself to sleep.

The night was humid; even the cool breeze that wafted through the tent couldn't stop her ponytail from sticking to her sweat-drenched neck. It carried the visceral, almost acrid, smell of burnt driftwood, so different from the purified, pumped-in air she was used to only a few weeks ago.

From outside the tent came the muffled chatter of people meandering past their bedtimes, unwilling to let their night of fun end before dawn. They had quickly realized it was easier to be with others, to laugh, and act as if everything was normal. That everything was okay.

To, for once, be actual teenagers with normal problems, not ones who were robbed of their childhood and had the weight of the entire world rest upon their shoulders.

Besides, there couldn't be nightmares if you never went to sleep.

She stared up at the beige fabric undulating as another current blew around her.

Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…

It was no use. Annie wasn't sure what was louder—her thoughts or those outside the tent shouting merrily as they passed.

But despite her frustrations, one noise rose above it all, grounding her in a way nothing else could.

Newt, breathing gently on a cot nearby.

She readjusted her pillow again and turned over, pulling the scratchy wool blanket with her. She could barely make him out in the darkness, just a mess of blonde hair peeking out from under a blanket.

Her heart skipped a beat as it all came back to her.

They had made it to the island. Newt was going to be okay. After everything, they had made it home.

Home.

The word pricked her heart as soon as she thought it.

Because the fact was, it was Newt who had made it home, not her.

Her home was thousands of miles away, waiting for her on the top floor of a shining beacon of a building, biding its time for occupants who would never return. Some who were gone—for good.

No, don't think about that, she thought, rubbing her tired eyes. Anything but that.

The truth was, there was no going back. So, the question remained—could this be home for her, as it was for him?

The question nagged at the recesses of her mind, and without Newt's gentle reassurance, it grew new thorns by the hour. The anxiety that she would never fit in, that these strangers would never accept her.

No, not strangers.

She grimaced at the thought.

Whatever they were, they hadn't seemed to care about her so far. At least, not until their friend was back to normal and once again walking among them. Who had time to talk about anything else? She was an oddity, something washed in from the ocean, collateral from their deepest prayers being answered.

It was him they were interested in. It didn't matter how he had gotten there or by whom. It only mattered that he was there.

Thomas had refused to leave until she convinced him that Newt wouldn't wake again before morning. He had promised Annie that he would be back and made sure at least three times that she would relay this to Newt if he roused.

Overeager as always, he returned a little before midnight, smelling like bonfire smoke and strong drink. He must have thought Annie had been asleep because he hadn't disturbed her; instead, he went straight to Newt's side. He had gently rested his hand on his friend's shoulder, stared at him for a moment, then readjusted Newt's blanket before clearing his throat and leaving again.

But Annie hadn't been asleep. She'd seen it all, because Newt wasn't the only boy keeping her up at night.

The news of what Thomas had told her about her mother was still heart-achingly fresh within her.

With how much everyone seemed to love the boy, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that it was Jansen who had pulled the trigger, that there had been nothing Thomas could do to save her. But for him to be the last one to see her mother alive… it wasn't fair.

God, stop thinking about it and go to sleep!

She wiped away an errant tear and turned over again, focusing her attention instead on the waves outside and the soft breathing of the boy nearby.

In and out, in and out.

A few minutes later, her mind settled down, and she felt a warmth spread through her as her body finally relaxed. Her mouth parted slightly as one last thought floated through her mind before resting.

What was it people said about home not being a place?

XXXXX

"Hey."

Annie's eyes blinked open. What time was it? Had she fallen asleep?

"Any changes?" The voice whispered.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes to find Thomas kneeling beside her, nursing a tin cup full of burnt-smelling coffee between his hands.

She groaned. "Geez, no. Let me sleep."

She turned over, pulling her pillow to cover her head.

"It's after eight," he coaxed.

"Then that means I've gotten two hours of sleep," she said, voice muffled. "So, thanks."

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, rising to his feet.

"No."

"Because of him?" He asked, face anxious as he gestured to Newt sleeping on the cot.

"No," she repeated.

He hesitated before he spoke again. "Is it because of Ava?"

There it was, that ache again as it all came flooding back.

"Excuse me?" She asked as she turned over and glared at the boy.

He glanced away and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" His voice trailed off, and he held up another tin cup on a nearby table. "This is for you. You'll find me if he wakes up, right?"

"I told you I would."

"Okay."

He stalled for a moment, toeing the ground as he looked around the tent.

"Look, Antoinette, I just want to say again how—"

"Go away, Thomas."

"Okay," he said, resigned. "See you later."

Soft footsteps, and then the tent flap rustled, and she turned over, opening one eye to make sure he was really gone before she sat up and yawned, blinking as she took in the makeshift room.

She felt dizzy with exhaustion, but the promise of a new day and the smell of coffee got her off the floor. She stood, stretching her arms and aching back before going to the table.

It wasn't just coffee. Two plates sat nearby, loaded with toast, eggs, and sausage. Despite Annie's feelings toward Thomas, she had to admit that the boy did good. Her mouth watered as she picked up a plate and settled into a nearby chair.

She studied Newt as she ate like it was second nature; she noted the gentle rising and falling of his chest, the pale cheeks that had taken on a little more color since the night before. He laid still; no more of the sporadic twitching that had started around two a.m. and lasted several fearful minutes.

She popped the last bite of eggs into her mouth, then stood up, going over to his cot to run through some basic tests.

His pulse was still slow but within the normal range. Though his temperature was higher than Annie would like, he showed no typical signs of a fever. She placed the metal end of a stethoscope against his chest, listening.

All normal.

Good. Very good.

She removed the instrument from around her neck and stared down at him, mouth pursed.

He'll need some pain medicine when he wakes up, she thought. Something other than Nexophan. And a shower… Thomas can help him with that. If Thomas and I are even speaking by then… God, Thomas, stupid bastard…

If only…

Mom…

"Annie."

The stethoscope fell from her hand, as her stomach dropped.

"Did—" he coughed once, "did we make it?"

Newt groaned as he tried to adjust himself on the cot, his whole body aching. His eyelids fluttered, and he laid back again, squeezing them shut.

"Newt!"

Tears sprung to her eyes as she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the boy before she could stop herself. Immediately she froze and heard him chuckle against her ear while a feeble hand patted her back. She pulled away, cheeks tinged with pink.

"You're awake."

She watched him as he looked around the tent, eyes heavy with grogginess as he took everything in.

"Hardly. I feel like I could sleep forever." He met her gaze again. "Where are we?"

She sat beside him, taking his wrist to recheck his pulse.

"You don't remember?" She asked.

He shook his head, concern wrinkling his forehead.

"We're on the island," she explained. "With your friends. We've been here since yesterday."

"What?"

With this new information, he looked around himself again, taking it all in with fresh eyes. He realized he could now hear waves breaking against a beach and smell smoke in the distance.

"If you're having me on..." He warned slowly.

"I swear I'm not."

"But if we're on the island, then that means... Minho? Tommy?"

"They both have been in to see you. A few others, too."

He looked at her in amazement.

"We made it?" he asked, voice cracking.

She nodded, and his bottom lip trembled. The next thing she knew, his face was hidden behind his hands as the cot shook beneath him.

She gave a low oath, placing her hand on his trembling shoulder. "Shit, I'm sorry. That was a lot to process at once."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine," Newt muttered after a moment. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms and inhaled a shaky breath, flexing his fingers.

"I've never... bollocks, you must think I'm a slinthead. Sorry."

"I don't," she said gently. "Though I don't know what that means."

He looked at her, eyes red and swollen, and then barked a laugh, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

"You won't tell the others, will you?"

For half a second, Annie felt confused. For a moment, she had forgotten there even were others.

"Who would I even tell?" She asked, smiling good-naturedly. She squeezed his shoulder and then stood up.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, trying to spare Newt by changing the subject.

"Starvin', yeah," he said as he wiped his eyes again.

"Good. Thomas brought us some food. Well, I already ate mine, but—"

He sat up straighter, wincing at the movement.

"Tommy did? When?"

"It would be easier to tell you when he wasn't here," she said as she went to the table. "He's been in to check on you so many times, I'm beginning to think you don't even need me anymore."

"Slim it," he said. "That's not true."

"Well, either way." She shrugged, ignoring the sudden warmth blossoming in her chest. "Your friends love you. You're lucky."

He paused as if in meditation and took a sip of coffee from the cup Annie had handed him. He looked at her over its edge, steam dissipating as it rose before his face. A frown marred his features.

"You look terrible," he remarked. "Have you slept?"

"Thank you," she said, rolling her eyes. "Some. A couple hours at least."

He grinned behind his cup. "Bit worried about me too, were you?"

"Me? Hah! Never. You know I only ever think of myself."

His eyes sparkled as he took a bite of sausage, his feet kicking softly under his blanket.

She looked away and busied herself with her drink, suddenly feeling guilty.

She knew she should go get Thomas. But she couldn't resist the opportunity to have a few more minutes alone with her friend before the chaos and reality of their new lives consumed them. It would never be the same as when it was just the two of them on the run, traveling across the country to get where they were now. It had been difficult, yes, painful even, but... it also, she realized now, had been wonderful.

For a few more minutes, with Newt eating contentedly and her sitting nearby, it still could be.

For a few more minutes, she could pretend.

It didn't last long.

She grimaced as she heard the rustle of the tent flaps behind her and a familiar voice cry out—

"Newt!"

"Hey, Tommy," Newt answered, mouth full of food. "Thanks for the grub."

His eyes shone with unspoken sentiment, then his face broke out in a wide grin.

Thomas rushed over to the cot, his eyes tearing up as he ran a trembling hand over his face.

"You don't know how—" He stopped himself as his voice cracked, and he shook his head. "Newt, I—"

"It's good to see you too, mate," Newt said, putting down the plate and holding out an arm to embrace his friend.

Thomas reciprocated eagerly; one lone sob filled the tent, muffled by his friend's shoulder as he held him tight. Newt thumped him on the back, mumbled something to him, and Thomas pulled away, nodding, eyes red.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, stepping back and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

"Alright," Newt said. "Exhausted. My head feels like it's been squeezed by a Griever. Ten, even. But Annie thinks I'll be fine, don't you love?"

Thomas turned and glanced at the girl, forgetting she was in the room with them. He frowned.

"How long has he been awake?" He asked her.

"About thirty minutes."

"You said you'd come get me."

"I was going to."

"When?"

"Does it matter? You're here now."

"Of course it matters, I—"

He stopped, remembering his friend, who sat with his fork hovering in front of his mouth as he watched them go back and forth.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Nevermind. We can talk about it later."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Whatever."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the foot of Newt's cot, icing her out for the moment.

"Is there anything else I can get you, man? Frypan has a stash of canned peaches. I'm sure he'd give me some if he knew they were for you."

"All good, mate," Newt said cautiously as he finished his toast.

"Okay," Thomas said, keeping his back to Annie. "I'm going to go tell the others you're awake. You okay with some company later?"

"Of course," Newt said. "Send them by."

"Okay."

Thomas stepped away, taking in Newt one more time with his eyes before turning and stopping in front of Annie.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, and shook his head before exiting the tent. She rolled her eyes as she watched him go, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Alright, what was that about?" Newt asked once he was out of sight.

Her eyes widened, feigning innocence. "What?"

"Don't act daft. You and Thomas… you two having some sort of row or something?"

"It's nothing," Annie said, coming to his bedside and absentmindedly tucking in his blankets.

"Didn't seem like nothing." He studied her for a moment, then continued. "Look, Annie, Tommy is my best mate, and you're—"

She paused and looked up at him.

"You're… also my friend, and I don't want to see my friends fighting."

"We'll work it out."

"Does it have something to do with me?"

"No. Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." He eyed her for a moment and then grabbed her wrist, stopping her from her task. She looked up, surprised, and watched him lean forward on the cot, clutching his stomach.

"Newt?" She dropped the edge of his blanket. "What's the matter?"

He groaned, sweat beading on his face. "I don't know, I don't feel so—"

Before he could finish his sentence, he threw up everything he had just eaten.

"Shit," Annie muttered under her breath, hurrying to a chest of drawers to grab towels and then coming back to his side.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed as he laid back, body trembling.

"Shh, you're fine; you've just had too much excitement," she said, cleaning up the mess with trained efficiency. "Just a bit of wooziness."

She put a fresh blanket over him and then poured him a glass of water, stifling a yawn with her free hand as she handed it to him.

"You don't have to do that," he protested through chattering teeth.

"Yes, I do. You need water and rest."

"No, I mean, you don't have to do it all. You're bloody knackered; someone else can help out."

"I want to," she protested. "Besides, this is what I'm good at."

"But don't you want to, I don't know," he began, slinking beneath his blanket. "Go see something outside this tent? Meet people? Maybe not Thomas, but there are other—"

"I'm fine here. I like it here."

"You like cleaning up my vomit?"

"No," she said, scrunching up her face. "I just... I don't know anyone, and—"

"Annie, hey—," he interrupted, snapping his fingers so she'd pay attention. "We've talked about this. Nobody's going to give you any trouble. You know that, yeah?"

She looked down at her hands, folded gently on his blanket, and gave a faint nod. She did not know that, but hearing Newt's reassuring tone made her feel calmer.

"I reckon they'll still accept you even if you are… you know, her daughter," he continued. "We all have pasts we'd like to forget… don't let anyone judge you for yours. Besides, you left all that behind when you came with me. No one—not even your mum—can reach us now."

Annie nodded again, her eyes filling with tears, and she knew it was time to tell him what had happened.

"Newt," she began, clearing her throat as she placed her hand on his. "There's something you should know. Thomas—"

"Newt!"

She bit her lip and looked up, trying to will the tears away before she turned around.

"Minho," Newt said, grinning at his friend over her shoulder.

Annie looked between the two boys, and her shoulders sank, knowing the moment was gone. She stepped away from Newt and tightened her ponytail, giving a curt nod to the newcomer.

"I'll leave you two be," she mumbled, grabbing her jacket from the back of a chair.

"Hey, no, wait a second," Newt said, turning his attention back to the girl. "You were about to tell me something—"

"It can wait. I'll be back later, okay? Just take it easy."

He frowned but didn't press the issue. Minho stood impatiently nearby, eager to catch up with his friend.

"Okay," he said. "Remember what I said."

"Sure."

She gave his arm a quick squeeze, then headed briskly for the tent exit. Once outside, she took a ragged breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut.

It was a new day. Newt was fine. She was on a tropical island. The sun was shining. She could do whatever she wanted.

But it didn't matter when her mind was still stuck in the endless loop of what Thomas had told her.

Paige didn't make it. Ava didn't make it. My mom is dead.

"Hey, Greenie."

She ignored the greeting, automatically assuming it was meant for someone else. When it came again, she glanced around.

Her eyes fell on a boy around her age, tall and with a slightly crooked nose.

"You mean me?" She asked, pointing at herself.

"Yeah. You're the new green bean, right?"

"Uh…" She shook her head, trying to gain her bearings. "I mean, sure? Yeah."

"Cool. Can you come help me with something?"

"You want… my help?" She asked.

He cocked his head. "Man, someone told me you were smart. Guess you can't always trust what you hear."

"Sorry, I'm just… I didn't get much sleep. What do you need help with?" She asked, shifting her weight. "Is someone sick?"

"No, nothin' like that. I'm putting up the last wall for the meeting room. Vince was supposed to help me, but he's fixing a busted generator. You in?"

"Oh, I don't know... I've never done anything like that before."

The boy frowned at her, and she quickly realized she was failing her first attempt at making a friend outside of Newt, so she added, "But I can try."

"That's all I'm askin' for," he said.

When Annie came closer, he held out his hand to her.

"So, what's your name, Greenie?"

"Antoinette," she said. But it felt too formal on her tongue after weeks with Newt, and she corrected herself. "Uh, Annie."

"Name's Gally." He took her hand in his calloused one and gave it a shake. "So, you're the one who brought the shank back to us, huh?"

"I mean… yeah, I suppose…"

"Look, you can stop with the scared look right now. I'm not gonna ask you questions 'cause I sure as hell don't want you askin' me any. I just need an extra pair of hands for a job, and you're the lucky shank I saw first."

Annie wasn't sure whether she hated him or wanted to be his best friend. Either way, his desire for privacy was reassuring, and she felt herself relaxing as the boy gave her a shrewd smile.

"Where do we start?" She asked.

"This way."

He cocked his head, showing that she should follow, and began walking down the beach.

She had to double her pace to keep up with him, but soon they reached a small clearing within the woods. A structure stood in the middle, closed in on all sides but one. Various tools were strewn about, most of which she didn't recognize, and she wondered whether she'd made a mistake by agreeing to this.

"There's that scared look again," Gally chided. "Geez, can you relax? It's gonna be easy."

Annie sidled up beside him and gave a weak smile, hands on her hips.

"What do you need me to do?"

"We're going to push the wall up, and then I need you to hold it in place while I screw it in. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Okay."

Despite Annie's hesitation, the plan went as Gally had described, and the last wall was up within a few minutes, enclosing the structure.

"Good job, Greenie," he said, giving her a light punch on the shoulder. "You could be a Builder in no time."

Annie suddenly remembered her time in the park with Newt, discussing the different jobs around the Maze. She looked at Gally and grinned.

"Anything's better than a Slopper," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Right on."

"So," she said, pushing sweaty hair back off her forehead. "What are you going to use this building for?"

"We had a meeting room in the Maze," Gally said, pushing on the walls to ensure all was secure. "You know, for official business, taking votes, disciplining anyone who got out of line, that kind of stuff. Figured we'd better have something similar here."

Her brow furrowed. "You think there will be trouble?"

"No, of course not," he said, tone sarcastic. "I mean, what could go wrong with a couple hundred teenagers with no rules, with no one watching them?"

"You're a teenager, too," she pointed out.

"I had to grow up fast. Faster than some of these shanks," Gally said, voice lowering.

Annie felt the urge to ask him more, then remembered their earlier pact of privacy.

"Anyway," he said, putting the drill into his tool belt. "It was good to meet ya, Annie. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah… no problem. I'll see you around?"

"Sure thing."

Annie nodded and then turned around, ready to return to Newt. Gally's project had been a wonderful distraction, and she felt less on the edge of tears than she had in hours.

As she approached the tent, Minho came out with a giant smile and a spring in his step. He gave her a brief nod, then continued, heading in the direction she had just come from.

"Hey," she said as she went inside, relieved that Newt was alone again. "Your friend was, like, beaming on his way out. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Newt said, fighting a smile. "Well, something. But it's stupid, really."

"What?"

"He, uh, he wants to throw a party tomorrow night."

"Oh yeah?"

"For me," he added. "To celebrate."

"Oh. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Anything to get out of this bloody cot," he said, gripping the blanket. "Besides, Minho's not the kind of bloke you want to say no to."

"Well... you should be better by then. A few hours in the fresh air will be good for you."

"You'll come too, yeah?"

"Oh." She looked down. "I don't know… maybe it'd be better if I stayed here, you know, organize and clean up for when you get back."

"You can't tell me you don't love a party," he said. "You're the one who practically begged me to go to the dinner from hell."

"So you're saying this is payback?"

"Something like that."

He smiled at her, and Annie realized for the first time in a while she saw actual happiness among his features, actual life behind his eyes.

"I suppose I'll have to find something to wear," she conceded, motioning to herself. "I've been in these since we left the harbor. Is my bag still on the boat? Maybe I can find someone to take me out there…"

Newt froze suddenly, then looked away sheepishly.

"Uh, about that," he said.

Annie crossed her arms as he ran a hand through his hair. She knew he only did that when he was nervous, and she felt her heart beat against her chest as she waited.

"I, uh, didn't… have time, you know, to grab your stuff before we got on the boat…"

His voice trailed off, and her brow furrowed for a moment as she tried to understand, then her mouth gaped as it dawned on her.

"Are you saying all I have is… this?" She asked, gesturing to herself again.

"I'm sorry, Annie, really I am."

Her hands fell to her sides as she looked at him. Logically, she knew it was stupid—frivolous, really—to feel so much disappointment over something so shallow, especially after everything that had happened. But those items were still a tie to her past, something that could anchor her as she worked through this next chapter in her life.

Then she remembered. The photo of her and her mom. It had been in her pack.

She felt tears prick her eyes, and she looked up at the tent's ceiling, trying to will them to stop.

"Annie…" Newt said gently.

"It's fine," she said, blinking a few times before looking at him again. "They're not important. It was just… just clothes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"I really am sorry."

"I know."

She rubbed her nose, then came and sat down next to him on his cot.

"It'll be fine," she said, patting his knee. "So, a party, huh?"

Annie forced a smile onto her face and nodded along as Newt talked about seeing everyone together again, adding the appropriate interjections as needed. However, her mind was thousands of miles away. She felt a hole slowly forming in her heart; if possible, she would have crawled inside it and hoped it would have taken her right back to where she had started. Not the night she met Newt or even the months before that.

She was thinking of the picture, of the night it had been taken.

She had never seen her mom that happy before. All her wishes and hard work had come to fruition the day they named her Chancellor.

Annie was happy for her, of course. And for herself. It had meant a new apartment, a larger budget, and more security clearance within the building.

Everything had seemed so light that day. So hopeful. If anyone could get the cure, it would be Ava Paige. With her in charge, WICKED would be unstoppable.

Everything was happening so quickly—only that morning she had received the e-mail with the news; now Antoinette stood again in her mother's office, wearing a dress brought in special from the warehouse before the party that night. Another perk of being a Paige.

"Forget the Maze," Ava said, blonde hair pulled back in a tight chignon. "That's nothing. We'll be moving on to Phase Two soon enough."

"What about Thomas and the others?"

"Thomas will be fine. I will personally see to that. The others... well, we need all the data we can get to move toward a cure."

"They're just teenagers," she said.

"And so are you."

Antoinette closed her mouth, and he mom gave her a knowing look.

"Don't forget that the only thing that protects you from the same fate is your name, dear," she said. "It took a lot of work on my part to keep you out of the trials. I'd expect more gratitude."

"I am grateful..." Antoinette said. "It's just... some have already died. Some will wish for death before this is all over. Did you know one of them jumped recently?"

"You think it's worse in the Maze than it is out there?" Ava asked, pointing at a window. "You have no idea. Tell me, Antoinette, what is more important—the individual or the whole?"

"The whole," Antoinette answered automatically.

"So, I'm doing what I must to protect the whole," Ava said. "If I have to sacrifice a few kids, Anderson, whoever—I'm going to do it."

"Anderson?" Antoinette asked. "What does he have to do with this?"

Ava ignored her and continued. "Soon, Thomas and Rachel will be ready, and we'll have a new data set to review. I want to move you out of your station, have you work more closely with me, hmm? Does that sound good?"

Antoinette perked up. Her mother had always kept her at arm's length, never wanting her too involved in her business. Even if their relationship was professional, at least it would be a relationship.

"You go run along now. Go make sure Thomas has everything he needs."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Ava asked. "I'll be fine; I have everything I need. A Paige always comes out on top, you'll see. Nothing stands in the way of finding a cure now."