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His mind wraps in circles.
Weaving in and out and between and through and to and fro a labyrinthine tangle of shattered memories from the half-sane trek through the winding endless hallways of The Maze.
He wanders through memory and thought and concept and scene, shattered together like bubbling glass like melting chalk like crumbling metal like warped endless unknown hallways of curdling terror.
The twists and turns and crumbling walls pound behind his cloudy distant eyes and he doesn't know where he is.
The maze twists and turns and rolls and changes around him in dizzying fractals of swirling laughing gyroscopic halls.
He has no string and has no guide he and— Mary!
Where is Mary!! Where is Mary?? Lucid frantic turning bubbling boiling thoughts whispered yelled sobbed mumbled and Chris clutched his head — he had no tether no sense nothing only the dizzying fractals of ever-turning ever-branching ever-stretching ever-changing hallways dancing ever-forward ever-onward forever and ever and on.
The walls moved and grinded and laughed at his terror as he ran and ran and kept on running running running.
Turning left then right then right then up then down then left then left then left as he ended up somewhere near nowhere near somewhere near where he began. Clawing his nails bloody at the walls he just wanted out just needed out needed up needed out.
The choked air crawls into his chest and sinks deep inside him, curling it's dusty tunnel claws though him and dragging him further into the unfolding folds of the infinite curling twists of the never sane maze.
Mary.
The thought of her breaks to the surface of his spiraling ever-deep ponds of not-really-thoughts. The thought of her fear of her smile she is (was?) younger than him he is (was?) supposed to protect her but the walls they shift they scream and—
Where is Mary where is Mary where is Mary—
The walls crumble next to him as he sobs in terror in fear as he screams. (does he even make a sound?)
He doesn’t know where he is how he got here he turned around but the path behind him wasn't there it was just a wall and when he turned forward to face (his destiny) the path ahead and everything is different and Chris keeps on running—
(You can find the string! It's important to find the string! He needs to find the string-)
He didn't know he didn't know he didn't know didn't know didn't know didn't know know know know
The turning twisting walls laughed and crumbled and changed and Chris felt the dizzying fractals of the churning maze sink under his skin and where is Mary—
He found an exit he found an exit he climbs shaking stumbling up the stairs that are a ramp that are stairs and Mary isn't here where is she where is she?
It is hot as he wanders what doesn't seem like the maze (he’s out isn't he found an exit but is he sure the Maze’s deceit—) his hands shake too badly to shed his armor (Where is Mary-) and he is so terribly hot he is going to die—
Someone guiding him someone is with him taking him somewhere—
The walls changed and whispered and called and mumbled and when he blinked they changed flipping between slides between realities and wasn't he walking on wood on gravel on stone on dirt on sand on wood?
Where is he where is Mary—
He needed the string where is the string the string he needed to find the string—
A calm voice talking him down talking carefully. who is it? (wait) did he recognize it did he know it did he know her?
(It's not Mary-)
The fractals pulsed and the maze drew him deeper.
The world swirled on fractals of unending flashes of sense and maze, the unwinding reality of turning to nothing and rewinding as he blinked and something changed, he was in a car (maybe?) with a person (maybe?) and there are words and someone with too many eyes (maybe? Why is that familiar? Does he know him?) and everything slips sideways as he topples into the oblivion of the swirling patterns of the unending loops of tunnels feeding into themselves and into the confusing spirals of the distance stretched into moments as he scratches at sanity and gets nothing but ever twirling ever bending unknown paths.
(Nonetheless, it's not Mary. Where is she?)
Where was the string? Where is Mary where is she?
There was someone talking to him (maybe?) someone holding his hand (maybe?) and someone asking him questions (maybe?)
And Chris doesn't know doesn't know doesn't know know know.
He's (home? no not anymore.) at a familiar place (camp?) And familiar people (how does he know them again?) are talking (who are they?) and the maze of twisting labyrinthine thoughts grows thicker and stranger as sane rationality refuses to follow the never the same path through to his ever-changing reality.
(Who are these people why do I know them why do I know this place?)
WHERE IS MARY?
WHERE IS THE STRING?
He's scared
Where was he?
Where is he?
It's dark now its light? It's dark light maybe not maybe is?
He's alone no one is with him (Where is Mary?) it's not a maze (is it The Maze?) When will he blink when will it crumble when will the unreality of the twisting deceit set in and when will he need to run run run run
Someones talking (it's not Mary) (Mary is dead isn't she?) (Where is Mary?) He thinks he knows her but who is he?
(he heard Mary die) It's not-dark and not-cold but not-warm and (the walls changed and the monster chasing them) there is something soft wrapped around him (tore) calm almost-familiar voices talk (her) and some of the names some of the concepts are familiar (apart) and everything is familiar in a distant way he can't quite fathom.
Sanity fumbles in flashes of still-born lies but yet he clings to the comprehension that slides through his fingers like dry sand like thoughts whenever he's talking like blood dripping on stone like unknowing fractals like dry sand his thoughts slip and he clings to them because to know is to know and to know is to be.
Things move quickly then slow then fast then not and reality folds over itself and then-
-the reality comes spilling in as Mr. D pulls his hand away from his forehead and Chris crumbles, shaking.
Oh gods.
Chris is vaguely aware he's shaking is vaguely aware the only thing holding him up is Chiron's hands on his shoulders.
Oh gods.
"Did it work?" That's Clarisse that's Clarrise he knows her now. (memories fill in the cracks faster than the Maze’s deceit and whispers and ghosts can steal them away)
Chris manages a choked sound hardly a sob hardly a whimper.
"Of course it did!" Mr. D snaps and Chris feels faint.
His eyes focus on Clarrise's face as she steps into his view.
"Chris?" She asks, desperation tingeing her tone.
"Hi?" He manages beyond what feels like a layer of dust coating his tongue.
Then Clarisse smiles and it's sort of like seeing a sunrise (they were friends once, weren't they?) and Chris feels faint again.
"Hey," Clarrise says, stepping forward.
It's then Chris realizes he must be at camp.
It's then Chris realizes what that means.
He jerks away from Chiron. (in terror? In shame?) and feels his knees fall out from under him as he scrambles away, chest heaving.
He betrayed everyone—
"Chris!" Clarrise again and she looks worried and—
and Chris can't breathe right, for some reason.
And he's absolutely convinced they are about to kill him.
He's wheezing for breath and Clarrise is talking and the sound ebbs over him and-
There is so much-
Sound and light-
Oh gods he betrayed them all and they saved him and Chris can't think.
(Clarrise doesn't know what to do and Chiron just looks exhausted.
But Chiron settles into his wheelchair and starts trying to calm Chris down.)
Chris is just sobbing, now. Clarrise is sitting next to him.
He can't stop and she doesn't know what to do and they're going to interrogate him. They have to, he's a traitor.
He needs to ask he needs to know he needs—
He needs to stop sobbing and take a breath. Someone, probably Clarrise, informs him.
He tries to do that for so long he feels pathetic, but when he finally manages to get a handle on his breathing.
"Clarisse." He manages through his sobs (they had been friends once right? if they hadn't been why would she be here?)
"Yeah?"
"When- when are you going to interrogate me?" He manages entire body shaking quaking he's so tired he just—
(He wants to curl up on his bunk by the window and listen to Travis and Connor tell stories and plan and conspire against whoever they are going against this week what pranks they are planning and he wants to hug Cecil and he—)
"Chris." Clarrise sounds just tired. "Chris we'll ask questions later. Not now. You’re-" she makes a gesture at him like, look at yourself. "When you feel better."
(He wants Luke too. He wants things to be how they were. Luke being everyone's older brother, laughing, and Connor and Travis, he wants Luke to hug him. His older brother but Luke- he doesn't want to think about Luke.)
(Oh gods he misses Mary.)
"Oh. Okay." Is what he manages.
(What would they think of him? His brothers. Would they hate him? Would they yell at him? They're never going to let him back they're never going to love him again—)
"Chris you're practically falling asleep sitting here," Clarrise says. "You need rest."
Chris can't think.
"Where- where will I be sleeping? Do you all have- I don't know. A jail now?"
"What-" Clarrise looks baffled. "No. No?"
"The basement will serve him another night," Chiron says and Chris jolts. (How did Chiron always manage to be so quiet?) "We'll be asking questions tomorrow, I'm sure Lee will act to see if you're telling the truth or not. You may return to your cabin if you prove trustworthy."
"Oh." Chris manages, and doesn't quite manage to hold back a sob as he curls over his legs. "Okay."
(He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know what to do. He loves Luke he loves his family here and-
But Luke fed him to the maze. He needs to remember that. He sent him and Mary to- To her death and his hell. Luke must see him as expendable. That hurts. That hurts so much.
But why else would he do that?
And.. He really does miss Cecil's hugs and Connor and Travis's antics and—
And he might be bitter might be angry but—
But Luke fed him to the maze. Luke sent Mary to her death.
He doesn't want to go back there, not again.
He misses Cecil's hugs.)
They're hugging him. Chris thinks distantly as he curls into Cecil's arms. As Connor and Travis hold him so so tightly. As he sinks into their embraces and he's home he's home he's home.
They're talking they're asking him how he is they're telling him they're glad he's back that he's here that he's safe they were worried but they're glad he's back they're glad he changed his mind because he's home and safe and here and—
and Chris?
Chris is just crying as he clings to them, he's home. He doesn't have the frame of mind to answer their questions yet but he's here and he's just glad that he's finally home.