Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A knock at the door:

“Y/N?”

The cozy little room on the far end of WICKED headquarters was all I’d ever known. But, in all technicality, had two homes: my room, and the Laboratory.

I spent my afternoons in the Lab, observing the Mazes and writing potential scenarios for the test subjects to act out. I cleaned the monitors. I did coffee runs for the Coats…I did anything and everything my Aunt Ava let me do.

And in the off-hour, I studied in my room with a private tutor who taught me the basics of our feeble world, a world my Aunt was trying to fix. But all of that seemed irrelevant the day that knock came.

The visit that changed my life began on an afternoon I was—rarely—not in the lab. I was journaling, when Aunt Ava waltzed into my room in her white stilted heels—the pair that made the same click-clack noise, unchanging since the day my parents sent me to live here.

“Honey,” her usual smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We have an emergency down at the Observation Deck. Come quickly.”

Unceremoniously, and without checking if I was following; she ran out of the room as fast as her shoes could carry.

I did followed, staggering slightly to slip into my shoes. I didn’t notice how cold the facility was until I realized I’d left my sweater.

Shivering, I jogged to catch up with my Aunt. The door slammed shut behind me, echoing through the empty corridor.

Aunt Ava’s security badge gleamed an unnaturally bright blue as the doors slid open; I found the deck in absolute chaos.

The Coats—the scientists that worked here full time—running around in a blur of cheap linoleum and grandma shoes. As Ava started down the stairs towards her office, I peeked at the closest monitor to me: It was a shot from Maze A, of one of the boys. The Asian looking one. What was his name?

Whatever, it didn't matter.

I didn’t have time to think about it, because as soon as Ava cleared her throat, the room went dead silent—eerie, almost uncanny.

As long as I could remember, the lab was always LOUD.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” she said incredulously, scolding her workers for some reason I’d missed—maybe it was the emergency.

Everyone returned to their work in rushed yet controlled whispers.

———

Aunt Ava gestured for me to shut the office door behind me. I glanced behind me as the door shut.

“What’s happening?” I asked, biting a nail of my left hand absently.

“You’re going to want to sit down.” She told me, shuffling a stack of folders, sliding the top one in my direction.

I sat in the uncomfortable seat opposite of her. Taking the file, I leaned back as I read the name on the inside:

TERESA: 12884A, “The Variable”

“What’s wrong with The Variable?” I asked warily, flipping through the girl’s information.

Birthdate, brown-ish blood samples, pictures I hadn’t seen in years…the file was packed to the point of almost overflowing.

“We’ve had an issue. We can’t send her into the Maze.”

I dropped the file, papers scattering across the clean floor.

The blood samples—somehow—remained intact.

“Y/N, we have a crisis. Thomas is scheduled for Introduction in thirty-six hours. We don’t have any other ideas.” She took a breath. “Now, as an original creator of The Maze Code, we thought you’d have some… ideas. I have a list of candidates lined up—“ (

(Looking back, the idea that popped into my head was dumb—Extraordinarily dumb.)

“I’ll do it.” I told her, concerningly fast.

“You’ll- what?” Her face went white, the already stretched-out lines displaying horror.

“I’ll do it. Ava—you know I’ve already committed my life to this cause. I grew up besides Steven and—“

She smacked the table, effectively silencing me. I think her nail broke.

I’m not supposed to use those names anymore. Not to anyone, especially not her (Besides, the name ‘Thomas’ suited him much better, but that might be because I picked it out).

Then, her face changed. Consideration.

“It might work..” she said, blinking about a million times. “No…you can’t. We need you here. And—Besides, it will take years to rebuild all of The Variable codes.”

“But it’s not impossible. You said it yourself: there wasn’t a pair of unrelated teenagers as close genetically as Her and I! You called us an Anomaly—“

She sighed, and I trailed off.
I didn’t mean to make this worse; she was clearly stressed enough without my dumbass. But alas, a girl can dream about escaping her linoleum prison-home and actually seeing the world she was trying to fix…

“Come on!” I begged, scooting onto the edge of my seat. “Please?”

She sighed, then pressed a button.

Almost immediately, a Coat came running in—She was on the younger side, probably still an intern. She bent down at a painful angle to reach my aunt—Ava whispered quickly in her ear.

The girls’ eyes went wide with understanding.

She took the file from off the desk, and practically ran out of the room.

Finally, Ava turned to me. “Okay.”

“Wait, Seriously?” For once, I was at a loss for words.

“If you really want to.” She told me; beckoning a guard—who’d been standing in the shadows like a phantom—foreword. I nearly jumped.

“Take Y/N to room 086, we have a lot of work to do before Monday.”

———

When I exited her office, every Coat in the room broke into polite applause.

I smiled awkwardly, the guard at my side casting a mean warning glare to the crowd below.

I ducked my head, embarrassed for some reason. Ouch.

The guard flashed his security badge, and the doors slid open smoothly.

Though I’d grown up in the facility, I didn’t have the place memorized. The room the guard had led me to was familiar. But not in the way you’d think.

I’d only ever observed from being the one-way glass in the right wall of the room, not from the inside.

There was an older Coat waiting for me in the room as soon as the guard left me.

“Good morning, Y/N. We’re all so happy to see you taking sacrifices for everyone. It’s a big job.” He said me, flipping the top paper of a clipboard over. I nodded.

“it’s nothing, really.”

The Coat laughed. I messed with the fabric of my sleeves.

“well, I’ll wish you luck.”

He pointed to the platform in the middle of the room with his pen, and I sat down. I could feel the metal through my leggings.

I looked up at him in confusion as he tested the edge of a needle to his pointer finger.

“Hold still—“ He told me as he pressed the end of it to the side of my neck.

I winced, not at the needle, but at the wave of nausea to at flashed through me.

As the room faded in and out of focus, I thought I saw Aunt Ava standing over me, telling me in the same sickly-sweet voice she used to reward me with as a child.

“Start on the memory swipe.”

———

Chapter Text

I groaned.

Attempting to tune out the ringing in my ears, I turned over on my side.

My shoulder—still buzzing with something I didn’t remember—connected with a hard wall of pure steel. My breath hitched.

I tried to ignore it, using the wall as my support. Squinting, I sat up.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t see anything in the darkness—but I could faintly feel the rising of something below me, like an elevator, or…

The compartment’s speed increased, and the feeling of weightlessness multiplied faster and faster in my gut.

Smartly, I decided that the safest option was to stay on the ground; I didn’t want to be thrown back.

Where was I? Who was I?

In the back of my mind, a whisper of a thought grew louder:

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N—

Coming to the truly genius conclusion that my name was Y/N, I scooted to the edge of the compartment.

Bracing myself against the cold wall, I looked myself over, making sure I wasn’t missing anything—

The elevator lurched to a stop, throwing my head into the wall behind.

———

“It’s a girl…..”
“I think she’s dead…”

Slowly, my eyes opened.

The darkness was gone, and the roof had opened up to reveal blue sky.

Sunlight fell through the top, highlighting the dark forms crouched around me—not any faces, no, just outlines. Silhouettes.

From where I was slumped against the wall, I could make out the 20 or so people, all staring down.. I felt something rough poking into my palm. Whatever, it didn’t matter. I had bigger problems.

I lifted my head higher, opening my eyes all the way; the people above me rebounded

“She’s Alive!” a younger voice, followed by the chuckles of other distorted, deep voices.

I sat up. One of the people watching me, leapt down to my level and offered a slightly grimy hand.

He smelled like sweat and sun and smoke.

“‘Name’s Newt. Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.” He said carefully. The words seemed natural to him—and accented. I liked that—but unsure, as if he wasn’t used to giving the speech to someone like me.

I ignored him—mostly, the accent crept in and made me slightly bubbly—scanning the area, scrunching my eyebrows. At eye-level, in the compartment, it was boring steel walls and a few empty crates.

I took the hand carefully, clinging to ‘Newt’ as he pulled me out of the hole. He glanced down at the thing in my hand—there was something in my hand.

I followed his eyes, unfolding it to read the print.

Two ominous sentences written in taught, familiar handwriting:

“Pay Attention”

“She’s the last one. Ever”

Newt—with a serious expression—snatched the note from me, placing it somewhere in his pocket.

I didn’t rebound or take it back: I was too busy looking around me.

The hands of others in the crowd steadied me as I took in my surroundings.

Every face I saw belonged to a boy of various age and race. No girls or little kids or elderly people. Just teenage boys.

Shit.

———

Newt hoisted himself out of the hole.

He grabbed the arm of another guy, pulling him out of the crowd.

I turned around as he cleared his throat.

“This is Alby, he runs things around here.”

Alby nodded at me—grimly.
“What’s your name, Greenie?” His voice was deep.

My own was unsteady. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

A murmur passed through the crowd—my name—it sounded foreign on my ears. I made a face. Newt glanced over, silencing them with a raised hand.

“Shut it!” He shouted. “Listen up! While we’re working things out, everyone’s going to give Y/N the respect she deserves. Is that clear? Violators’ll be thrown into the Maze for a night.”

Everyone nodded solemnly. I winced.

Newt slung an arm around my shoulder. “Give it up for Y/N!”

Everyone cheered, and a small smile crept onto my face. I didn’t know why, bht it felt nice: the sun on my face, the noises around me—silencing the voices in my head.

“Let’s get you suited up.” Alby told me, as the group of boys dispersed to return to working.

Once the crowd moved, I took in everything else.

The area was nothing short of epic.

Medieval stone walls surrounded us, green ivy snaking down from each of the sides. A forested area was in one of the corners, and little structures popped up around the large field.

“Thomas!” He yelled. I jolted a bit. Newt gave me a confused look.

Thomas sounded familiar. I repeated the name through my head, clinging to the feeling of familiarity like a life vest.

A boy about my age with messy brown hair walked over to me and the others.

“Tommy, this is Y/N.” Newt announces proudly—I found that odd.

Thomas smiled. I waved awkwardly.

“Go run and get Chuck for me, will you?” Alby asked him.

Thomas nodded, and ran off.

“Now Tommy there,” Newt pointed to the boy’s retreating figure, “He got here yesterday. Now that’s strange, because you—“

“Shut it, Newt. Don’t overwhelm the girl.” Alby ordered, tugging him away from me. Newt’s hand remained on my shoulder, causing me to stumble.

I reached down to my arm, pulling up the long green sleeve to pinch myself. I felt it.

Alright…not a dream.

Newt awkwardly moved his hand behind him.

“Why don’t we give you the tour? Come on, follow me.” Newt grabbed my wrist and whisked me off in a new direction.

Alby protested, his voice fading as we dashed away.

Newt laughed, and I found myself following.

“This is the Glade. We live, work, and sleep here. Those doors,” he pointed to two of the square walls. “Open during the day and close at night. Only Runners are allowed to leave the Maze.”

“Maze?” I asked, peeking through the closest door. It was a long corridor on the other side.

“Whatever Shank decides to put us here keeps us in with the Maze. Runners ‘run’ it to find an exit, and make maps of the place so we can one day escape.”

I nodded along, interrupting him when he took a breath. “—Why aren’t there any girls?”

He shrugged.

“Once a month, The Box opens up and brings supplies along with a new Glader.” He pointed to the hole I’d come up out of, which was now a steel platform—and closed. Mildly terrifying…

“This month, that shank was Tommy. You were a completely new variable. Just when we thought we had something figured out, the Creators mess it up.” He sounded resentful.

“Creators ?” I asked. He didn’t answer.

“Follow me.” He started climbing up a ladder to a tall platform that overlooked the entire Glade. I followed, careful not to misstep or fall when we reached the top.

It was a strange kind of beautiful, the way the sun bounced off the walls and casted shadows below the ivy.

The boys looked like ants from this height. I smiled, arching my neck to peek over the border and into the maze.

Newt was laughing, looking out in his own distant direction. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

I laughed along. “Me too.”

A shorter shape came running up to the platform, followed by that Thomas boy on his heels.

“Chuck, Tommy!” Newt waved them up, the shorter one waved back.
I look at Newt. He just chucked.

“Chuck, this is Y/N.” He put a hand on my shoulder.

‘Chuck’ looked starstruck, as if he’d never seen a girl.

“Before I let these boys lead you off—and I have to ask every new Greenie this question.”

Completely serious, he turned to me.

“Be honest: do you remember anything?“

I took a second to think, to rack my brain for any little sliver of memory, or color or anything.

Nothing.

I was going to cry.

With certainty, I looked Newt the eye and told him:

“No.”

———

Chapter Text

I’d left the platform and followed Chuck and Thomas across the glade to a small hut.
“They’d already built a new hut, but Gally thought of you’d like your privacy.” Chuck told me.
He looked about 10 years old. By far the youngest Glader I had seen.
Thomas snorted. “Most considerate thing he’s ever done.” Chuck smacked him.
As the two turned to leave, Thomas stuck around in the doorway.
“There’s a bucket of water in the corner if you want to clean up a bit before mealtime. Either Newt or I’ll be around to get you.”
I nodded, and told him: “Thank you, Thomas.”
He was just about to leave for real, when he suddenly rebounded.
“Almost forgot.” He put a hand behind his neck. “You look about 16,(Y/H/C), (Y/E/C). You can figure out the rest yourself.” He grinned, and I smiled back at him. He left, bounding into the field towards Chuck.

I took the water and wiped my face and arms. I was wearing a pair of comfortable black pants, a short sleeved green shirt with a pair of black sneakers that fit my feet like a glove. My hair was in a ponytail. I took it out, watching the (Y/H/C) strands settle at their usual length.
Sighing, I braided it down my back with the same thick hair tie that had kept it up before.

I sat down on the hammock in the corner. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I passed out.

Somewhere between 30 minutes and an hour, Chuck came around to take me to dinner. I’d hoped it be Newt, I had so many more questions to ask, but Chuck was ok. He was fun, laughing and talking all the way to the center of the Glade, where a giant bonfire had been assembled.

Chuck directed me towards the food. I took my share and found an empty corner.
Silently eating, I observed as one of the taller boys took a seat next to me. He was holding a cup, and swishing it around as if to make a whirlpool.
“Hey.” He told me, trying to catch my attention.
“Hey..” I muttered, still looking down at my food.
“I’m Gally, keeper of the Builders.” He told me, as if I was suppose to know what that meant.
“Y/n.” I told him, then I remembered. “Hey wait! Did you-“
“GLADERS!” Newt yelled, interrupting my conversation. “Before we begin, I’d like to introduce the Greenie!”
He pointed to me from the other side of the bonfire. I flushed, but eventually stalked over to him. When I got within range, I playfully smacked him over the head.
I heard a couple wolf whistles and ‘Oohs’ from the boys. Ultimately, Newt just cracked up.
“Gentlemen and gentlemen,”(Laughter across the crowd) “Miss Y/n, the first Glader Girl!”
He grabbed my hand, and lifted it up.
I intertwined our fingers as Thomas tackled me, forcing me to release Newt’s hand. I giggled as the rowdy group flocked to one of the walls of the Glade, me at the center.
This is a community, a home.
Tossing a sharp stone, an Asian boy I haven’t seen yet pointed at me, smiled, and carved letters into the stone:
“Y / N”

———-

That night, Newt introduced me to the Keeper of the Runners, leader of the kids who ran the Maze. The Asian boy who’d carved my name next to everyone else’s was named Minho, and he was pretty cool. I saw Gally and Thomas. They looked a hair away from throwing hands, when Alby interrupted them to dismiss everyone.
My little hut was tucked into the corner of the Glade, close to the tree line, but not too far from the rest of the boys.
Chuck had walked me back to my place before he left to join the rest of them.
He even helped me out with the odd language that the boys used.
‘Shank/Shuck’ was a derogatory term used in substitution of..something.
‘The Creators’ were the people who put us here.
‘Grievers’ were the things keeping most of us in the Maze, and the reason the doors had to shut at night.

Though I tried to get him to spill about these things, he refused to talk about it.
Lying in my hammock, I gazed up at the ceiling. I racked my empty head for memories, information, things about me with no luck.

Eyelids fluttering, I gazed at the open door to my hut. Through the entrance, I could see the shining moon and clear sky.
I could also see the open doors.

Chapter Text

———

“Y/N!”
Newt’s panicked voice carried over the open field. Somewhere, someone screamed. There were lights and flames and more screams.
I shot up in bed, tripping over my own feet to get closer.
“We have to go. Now, preferably.” His accented voice was filled to the brim with panic.
“The doors are open.” I gasped out, watching as a dark shape crossed the field; it was backdropped against the flaming stone wall. The Ivy was on fire.

“Yes, Y/n. You’re a shanking genius. Now let’s go!”
I pulled on my shirt as he dashed out of the hut, limping all the way. I noticed his limp a few hours ago, at the bonfire. I wondered how that happened.
But now was not the time, because as I ran after him in the direction of the community hall-place, something whizzed past my ear. I glanced over my shoulder long enough to see a horrifying metal Scorpion-Spider creature stab its leg near my head. I screamed, increasing my pace until I was running right next to Newts limping figure.
“WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THAT.” I screamed as we got closer to the hut.
He didn’t reply, instead nodding frantically towards Thomas’s terrified face. He braces the door, cracking it wide enough to fit the two of us through.

I made the mistake of glancing behind me again.
Alby, face contorted, getting picked up by a Griever. Stepped through the chest by one of its spindly, metallic legs. I recognized air leaving my lungs, I felt my chest heaving. I remember a hand intertwined with mine. Newts. Thomas’s face hovering over mine. The air gave out beneath my knees as the door shut and bolted behind us.

Then everything was dark.

———

“Y/n….Y/n?…..”

The echo of a voice. The feeling of hands on mine. My temples ached and burned against my skin.
Flashes of a distant memory: the pages of a book, a clear blue syringe, dark hair and a long, white hallway.
Then it was gone. It felt alien. A million miles away yet so close.

“Holy shit.” A voice whispered; “what the hell just happened.”
“It all started with Her and Thomas. Everything that’s happening started with them.” A deep voice yelled angrily.
“HEY-“ It was Thomas.
“Gally, calm down. Nothing is her-Nothing is their fault.” I recognized that voice as Newts.

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the faint light of the room. Chuck’s short body hovered over mine, a shocked expression on his face.
“Shes awake,” he said. The shouting continued. “NEWT. Shes awake!”

And just like that, there were three faces hovering over mine. I squinted, trying to make out each of them.
“Oh thank god,” THAT one was Newt. I relaxed slightly, attempting to sit up. He supported my back, allowing me to take stock of the room.

It was modest, like the rest of the Glade. The benches that had once stood in perfect formation had been tossed aside or used to barricade the door.
“What…happened?” I questioned, groaning as I rubbed my temple.
“Lots of things…” Gally grumbled. Thomas sighed, sitting on the only upright chair.
I looked around. “Is Alby really..” I didn’t continue, but I’m reading the room, I found my answer.

I felt tears gather in my eyes, a defeated whimpering leaving my mouth.
“Hey, hey.” It was Gally, crouched down next to me. “Relax. You’ll attract the Grievers.”
My tears stopped as anger flashes through me. “OH YOU LITTLE-“ I stood, prepared to charge. Newt pulled me back.
“Gally turn your back.” Gally protested, holding up his hands.
“I was just trying to make a joke-“
“TURN YOUR BACK.” Newt ordered, pulling me into the opposite corner. Thomas glared, pulling Chuck away from him.

“It’s all my fault…” I cried into his shoulder. “He’s dead. They’re dead, because of me-“
Newt pulled me into a hug. “No it’s not. Do you hear me, Y/n? This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Don’t let Gally get in your head.”
The bastard in question yelled from across the room. “HEY!?”
Thomas threw something at him. The object landed on the floor with a loud clunk.
“WHAT THE HELL THOMAS!” He yelled. The two started arguing loudly; with Chuck trying and failing to stop them.

Newt tracked my eyes, following them to the two in the corner. He turned, blocking them with his tall figure.
“It’s going to be ok. Trust me.”

Chapter Text

When the sun was up, and we were sure the Grievers weren’t coming back, Newt removed the barricade from the door, and we all stepped into the sun.

I squinted at the sky, leftover tears resurfacing as I blinked. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I glanced around. My stomach churned at the fresh bloodstains on the grass. One of the animal pens had been destroyed in the carnage. Somewhere in the distance, I could make out the carcass of a cow.

I lurched, holding my stomach. Thomas ran up to me, holding my hair back as I unloaded the contents of my stomach on the grass.
“Damn…” I muttered once the liquid had left my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. This is probably getting annoying.”
It was no secret to anyone within 100 feet of the gathering hall that id been puking on-and-off for about an hour. I unloaded my guts pretty much every time I saw blood or pictures the Grievers….which was every time I closed my eyes.

It’d been a sleepless night, with the boys taking rounds to help me out. I told each of them 10-or-so times that I was fine, but they ignored me.
“First and only girl, Y/n. ‘Not letting you go that easy.” Newt had said as he wrapped a hand around my waist.
“You’re good. I can’t tell you all the times I cleaned up for the blood-fearing builders. I’m used to it.” Gally had grumbled.
“No problem, Y/n. I had about the same reaction. Ask poor Chuck.” Thomas said as I tried to laugh. It came out wrong.

The only person who listened to me when I shooed them back, was Chuck. He got a little green every time I retched, so I was happy to send him back to bed.

I swallowed, frowning at the bad taste in my mouth.
“Let’s get you something to eat.” Newt said, patting my back carefully. I coughed, spitting up green liquid.

About an hour later, after I’d eaten something—and kept it down, shockingly—the boys went off the stake out the maze. They went around to the huts and found a few stragglers. Two of them introduced themselves as Winston and Frypan.

I was helping Chuck sort through the rubble to see what was usable and unusable, when Thomas came bounding in from the woods.
“Y/N! CHUCK!” He shouted, “LOOK WHO I FOUND!” He sounded over the moon. I brightened up, purely from his voice.

And wandering out of that maze, was a very bloody person. I shut my eyes, hearing Chuck release a breathy “Oh shuck.”
So shutting my eyes was a mistake, because the second my eyelids came down, the disfigured body of Alby in his final moments appeared. I retched, desperately trying to keep my lunch down.
“NEWT!” Chuck shouted. “ITS HAPPENING AGAIN!” I heard something fall in the distance, frantic footsteps, and hard breathing.
“Oh shuck it is-“ GALLY said. I opened my eyes. “OH. Never mind, I guess?!” He shouted back. “Hey are you ok?” He asked me. I rolled my eyes as bile left my mouth.
“Shucking AMAZING, Gally. Just peachy.” I said.
Chuck laughed, returning to his sorting. I shooed Gally’s annoyed face away.
“Get back to work, idiot.” I said, smirking.
“Will do.” He saluted with two fingers, strutting away. I laughed, turning my attention back to the task at hand.
Things were looking up. It would take a while to put everything back in its place, and for things to go back to normal.
But maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

Chapter Text

I can’t believe we’re doing this.

A week ago, supplies stopped coming. The sun set four hours earlier. The stream on in the woods ran dry. The plants died faster and faster.

The maze was dying, and so would we if we stayed.
I noticed it four days ago, when Gally sent me out into the woods to get water for Minho, whom we found in the corner of the maze—alive, somehow. Though I was happy to see him, I couldn’t stand to look at him. It made my stomach ache with nausea to look at him and guilt when I couldn’t.

Newt assured me that they all—even Minho, after regaining consciousness three days ago—understood how I felt. One of the guys Gally found even told me the story of his first day in the Glade: how he puked his guts out the second he got out of the hole. I laughed at that. I think it was Winston who told me.

Back to getting water:
I came up upon the secluded stream. a little bit of rain had fallen the day before, so really the only reason we needed it was to clean Minho up. I clutched the bucket a little tighter when I heard someone scream from one of the huts.

When I saw the like of rock where the water once flowed to be empty, my stomach dropped.
“NEWT!” I yelled, turning around to run in his direction. I kept my eyes on his hut, nearly running smack-into Thomas. He rebounded quickly, eyes scrunched in panic.
“Hey are you ok?” He asked, steadying me.
“The stream…” I breathed out, “it’s dry.” His face fell as Gally came running up.
“Is everything OK?” He asked, sounding slightly annoyed. I shook my head.
“Stream. Dry. Panic.” I summarized, side-stepping him to walk towards Newts house. Gally grabbed my arm, grip so tight it practically hurt.
“What are you talking about, Y/N?”
“The stream in the woods is dry, Gally. Now where’s Newt?”

He pointed to the other side of the maze to where we kept Minho. I ran over, slightly tripping over my feet.

“Hey-“ I asked, covering my eyes with my hands as I entered the hut.
“You can uncover your eyes,” Minho said to my surprise. “Everything’s patched up.”
I did, exhaling in relief to find him sitting up straight on the floor with a clean wrap over his left arm.
“Are you alright?” Newt asked, scrunching his eyebrows. I relaxed.
“The streams dry.” I said as he tensed.
“…did you-“
“I circled it three times. Nothing.”
He released a sigh, standing up from ground. Minho rubbed the bridge of his nose, lying down on his cot.

Now, I stood in my own hut almost 96 hours later, a pair of clothes, a bottle of water, and food In a leather bag over my shoulder. Thomas was on his way over. We were leaving the Maze for good.

“Y/N.” He said, leaning in my doorway. I jumped.
“Dont do that, Thomas.” I complained sadly. He chuckled, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
“Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me—or, trust Newt. He’s the one leading us out of here.”
I tried to match his dumb smile, snaking an arm around his waist as we walked out of the hut.
I thought over what he said. The comforting words eased my thumping heart just enough to make it through another day.

I don’t know what comes next, but I sure as hell know that I’m not going to give up. Not in anyone in this Maze.

Chapter Text

I hugged my knees against the wall, letting out a few labored exhales. Everything is fine, I thought between breaths. Everything is fine.

But it isn’t, a traitorous voice in the back of my head snarled: look where you are. Look at the blood on your hands.

I lurched foreword, catching on the stone wall behind me. I dug my fingers into it until the nails bled. I heard the drops fall onto the stone.
The ear-splitting cry of metal on stone scraped through my head. I shot up onto my feet, seeing stars as I turned another corner, then another. My legs burnt. My lungs ached. My heart pounded so loud I could’ve sworn the Grievers heard it.
Between blinks, the hall changed from dim stone and ivy to sterile white and tile. I felt like passing out every step I took. “Keep going,” said one voice. “Give up,” said another.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, hands shaking as I turned around.

Dead End.

I pressed my back against the wall, trying to fuse my body to it. To blend in.
I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t watching close enough. They turned a corner and I didn’t follow. Stupid mistake, going to cost me my life.

I heard the scraping of the creature as its shadow darkened the corner, I clung to the ivy as it passed, growing closer and closer. I tried to silence my breathing.
I inhaled sharply. It was almost here. I felt it’s metal pinchers on my skin, digging into the flesh on my arms-

—————————

I woke with a start, head banging against the hard stone. Groaning, I peered into the darkness at Newts serene, peaceful face.
He was passed out, using his bag as a pillow. Gally sat sleeping against the wall—Even in his sleep he was frowning. Thomas and Chuck were on the other side, backs to each other. I smiled slightly. Thomas and Chuck were like siblings—it was good for Chuck to have an older brother figure. The others were in various corners on the outer side of the circle.
Minho, the one i didn’t know so well, was up. His shoulder was wrapped in gauze. I sat straight. He nodded his head, gesturing towards the space beside him. Ungracefully, I scooted over, sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Hi.” I said a little awkwardly.
“Hey.”

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the wind against the stone and the ruffling of ivy—I refused to acknowledge the groanings of distant Grievers, even though Minho assured me this part of the maze closed into a box when it changed nightly.
“It’s so quiet…” I commented. He hummed. “…Do you miss it?”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “What?”
“The Glade. The…other Gladers?”
He sighed, and I realized my mistake.
“Sorry…” I mumbled. He knocked his good shoulder into mine.
“S’ ok. It’s hard, but I-I’m trying. We all are, I guess.”
I swallowed. “I feel guilty.”

He grumbled something under his breath. “Don’t let Gally get in your head.”
“I don’t blame him,” I said softly, picking at the dirt under my nails. “I didn’t even know most of the boys and I’m..” I trailed off. He nodded.

“Do you ever think about if…if we had lives. Before this?” I asked hesitantly. He gave me a ‘duh’ look.
“Oh defiantly. Sometimes, I’ll be doing random things—like throwing something—and I’ll just get this feeling. Like…remembering the tune to a song but forgetting the lyrics.”
I laughed quietly. “That happened to me when I braided my hair this morning.” He smiled.

After a while, I asked: “Are you tired?”
He half-heartedly answered.“Yes.”
“Take a break. I’ll take watch.” I told him. He shook his head sharply, ending the conversation and plunging us back into silence.
“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked quietly. I held in a weak laugh.
“Go to bed, Minho!” I pushed his head down. He pretended to complain before sliding his hands under his head, leaning down slowly.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He mumbled after a few more minutes of silence.
“I…did.”
“About?” He questioned.
“Getting lost in here.” I replied honestly. Minho scoffed like it was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard.
“No chance.” He said. “Newt would burn this whole place down, then slaughter the rest of us.”
I laughed, glancing over to Newt. He was still sound asleep. “Yeah?”

Chapter Text

I am so out of shape.

My lungs burnt by the time we got to the Grievers Hole slash Cliff, or whatever the hell our apparent ‘way out’ is. Was? Anyways:
I was trying to keep us alive through most of their plotting and planning. In short, I didn’t know what was going on. Still, I obeyed orders and Crouched behind the wall as they went out to test the waters.

Gally and Thomas and Newt and Minho and two of the guys I didn’t know as well ran ahead. The rest of us stayed back, armed and ready if everything went to shit. I clutched the pocket knife Gally lent me with some uncertainty.

—————————

I remember waking up that morning—after Frypan had relieved me of lookout duty—and wondering why Thomas looked so green; after a while, I realized he was sick with fright.
We were packing up camp about an hour later, when Newt came over to me.
“Is Thomas ok?” I asked him. Newt nodded grimly.
“He’s alright. Just stressed.” He assured me. I relaxed, the muscles in my shoulders loosening so much I heard a bone cracked.
“So…What’s the plan?” I asked while zipping up my small bag—nearly empty, compared to everyone else’s. Newt put a hand on my shoulder and I froze.

“Look, Y/N, I know you haven’t been here long, and this is still confusing-“
“I’m ok.” I said, slightly exasperated that *this* of all things was what he was concerned with.
He frowned. “I-“

“-He doesn’t believe you.” Gally commented. I glared at him, confused. Gally shrugged.
“What? ‘Just stating the obvious. I wouldn’t either.”

Newt scoffed. “It’s not that I don’t believe you-“
“I can handle myself, Newt.”
Hell, I didn’t believe myself. My voice was horse, my legs shook, and my lungs still ached from the journey here. How was I going to survive whatever mad plan they had to get us out alive?

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. You don’t really know what we’re about to do—even I know that. I just…want to prepare you.”

I looked him over, confused. I sighed. “Continue, please.”
“There’s this… thing, out in the Maze. It’s called the Griever Hole—or the Cliff. That’s how they get in and gout of the Maze. We thought that only those buggers could go through. Turns out-“ he glanced between Minho and Thomas, who’d paused to listen in.
“-we were wrong. We think it might be our way out. Minho found this… this code. In the maps. We think there might be a door in there.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. What?
“A-a door? Are you sure? This is a big risk—there could be more Grievers in there. Or-
“It’s a risk we have to take.” Thomas said. I winced. He sounded unsteady.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked. Minho and Thomas glanced between each other. My stomach churned.

Gally cleared his throat.
“Put in the code.”

—————————

So here I am. Back against the wall, sweat pouring down my forehead, knife clutched, and waiting. Waiting on the signal.
I tried to block out the sounds: the screaming, the metal-on-stone scratching, the horrifying noise the Grievers let out when they died. I tried to block off all of it. I repeated the code in my head over and over again.

FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH. FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH.

I blink, and there’s a hand on my elbow. I look up. Thomas, blood running down his nose, is frantically pointing at the Cliff.
I don’t register his voice, but I understand his body language. I get up from my crouch, loosening my white-knuckle grip on the knife, and run for the hole. I try not to pay attention to my surroundings. My goal is getting in, punching in the code, and getting out.

I make it unscathed to the edge of the Cliff. I look over at Thomas, who was covering me. He says something. I don’t hear him.
“WHAT?”
“JUMP!” He yells. My eyes widen. I don’t think. I throw myself off the Cliff, preparing for the impact and the squish.

It never comes.

————————

It’s dark.
I stand up from the cold stone floor as soon as I get my bearings, circling the room. I see a blue light. A red dash in the air. I hear my breathing. I hear Thomas’s. I dash over to the light, hands reaching out for something. Anything. A keypad. A computer. Paper.

My hand meets something cold and metallic. I gasp, feeling around it. A screen. Keys. The lights flicker on, snd I squint to see them. I repeat the code to myself as I glance behind me. Thomas is pulling Chuck into the strange room. I don’t see it, but Newt comes in—cursing in his accent.

I nod, regaining my focus. My fingers dance over the keys as I type in:
FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH.

The last word won’t enter. I groan, punching it in again. Someone comes up beside me. I don’t hear his voice. Is there something wrong with my hearing.

When I do hear something, it sounds wrong. *Y/N. Look. There’s a button.*

I glance down. Chuck points to a button. It reads:

Kill the Maze.

I push it, and everything goes dark. My hearing comes back in time to hear screaming.

That’s it. We won. I should be happy.
But the final battle isn’t final, I can feel it in the air.

Chapter Text

Light flooded the small room. I stumbled backwards into Thomas, who caught my shaking arms in his filthy hands—dying the long sleeves of my shirt red. Don’t puke, I reminded myself.

“Hey! Hey-“ Newt shouts out of the hole. Out of the corner of my eye, three bodies crashed through.

Thomas shoved me behind him, approaching the open door with his knife drawn. I placed my hand on Chuck’s shoulder as he came up behind me. Gally cursed sharply under his breath, picking at a cut on his arm.

I glanced around, taking a head count (Minho, Newt, Thomas, Me, Chuck, Winston, Frypan, Gally) and locking eyes with Newt—who gave a solemn nod, wiping at the bleeding cut under his eye—before slowly walking forward. I blocked the unnatural, bluish-white light with the back of my hand, taking a careful step across the threshold into a polished hallway.

My grimy, worn-down-from-running boots made their first step forward, leaving a small dirt footprint on the tile.
“Watch out, Y/N.” Newt said from behind me, peeking his head into the hallway. The lights flickered once above us, as a red “Exit” sign came into view, starch against its plain surroundings.
“I’m fine.” I called back without turning, running a hand along the thick concrete wall, feeling the resistance and grating in my fingertips. I didn’t turn in fear that if I looked at the damage the battle did to my friends, I would be painting the tile walls with bile.

Real, I thought to myself with some wonder.
Real.
Real.
Real.
It was real—but certainly not the end.

“What the hell is this?” Gally mumbled under his breath.

——

“Running. That’s what we’re doing now?” I complained, dashing after Thomas down the hallway.

“I heard something, I swear.” He called back. “—I just don’t want to miss it.”

Minho—running at the front of our group—came to a halt at the door, glancing back warily and receiving a nod of approval from Newt, before pushing the door open.

Flickering light enveloped us as I peeked over Minho’s shoulder into the room.

“Oh my god.” Minho breathed, running forward and letting the door close behind him. I grabbed for the handle, trying to keep it open and follow myself, but Newt placed a hand on my shoulder. I frowned as he cut in front of me to follow Minho. I flattened myself against the wall so he could move—and examine both sides of the door.
Gally gave me a worried look as he followed on Newt’s tail. I nodded as he passed.
Chuck and the other two stragglers came up behind Thomas and I, as we slowly followed Minho and Newt and Gally through the doorway.

My breath hitched as I saw the body. Dressed in full tactical gear—vest, helmet, rifle in hand, everything—slumped against a wall with a line of crimson behind him.
Minho was bent over beside him, reaching under his helmet to look for a pulse everyone knew he wouldn’t find.

As we moved through the doorway—into some kind of lab, with shattered glass walls and loose multicolored wires and a circular table of control panels all frozen on different screens—Finding it abandoned, save a collection of corpses. Please don’t puke…

Newt and Minho checked each, as Thomas and I made rounds; trying to find out what happened here, and the others stuck together, trying to come to terms with all of this. I had zero idea where Gally went—somewhat worrying, but not my biggest problem.

I took my knife from my hip, holding it in front of me as I followed Thomas around, clicking random keys of broken keyboards, tapping screens with my fingernails.

I Yelped when a lightbulb burst above me. Vaguely, I thought I saw Gally’s head turn from across the lab.

The deeper I moved into the lab, the harder it was to shake the feeling that I’d been there before.
What was that called? Deja Vu?

Thomas—stolen gun in hand—kicked open the door of this isolated part of the lab with its main glass wall completely shattered. But it had this completely intact screen hanging from the ceiling.

Strange.

Chapter Text

Thomas and I shared a look, before he called for everyone to come in here and look.

We all huddle around the screen as a middle-aged woman with bleach blonde hair appeared on screen, her bony arms folded over a white desk. In the background, people in white lab coats and flat grandma shoes dashed around, poking at translucent blue and teal screens. This lab had clearly once been active, been clean. I squinted, trying to get a read on what the scientists where watching so feverishly.

As she began to speak, I couldn’t shake the feeling that her voice was familiar. “Doctor Ava Paige” (even her name sent a tingle through my brain, a surge of dopamine I struggled to contain) was very familiar. Every shift in tone, every assurance that there were more trials to come, every—

In the background, a scientist went down as soldiers in black tactical gear—like the corpses strung up around the lab—entered with guns blazing, taking down another line of lab coats and cracking the glass wall behind Dr. Paige. The sound of bullets tearing through flesh and plastic, shattering screens and spilling blood between the cracks in the tile—I was gonna be sick—burst through an invisible source, an unseen speaker.

“And remember,” she said, grasping a shotgun from off-screen and holding the cool, steel barrel up to her temple. I gasped, shielding my eyes as I predicted what was coming next. “WICKED is good.”

BANG!

I flinched, eyes trailing over to where her office might have been. A white-clad corpse—No, I locked my eyes on the other door parallel to the one we entered through.

“Well, what do we do know?” Chuck asked, glancing between Thomas and Newt with loosely-contained fear in his eyes. Newt began about back doors and calling for help—a sentiment immediately countered by Thomas, who brought up the point that the people who did all this, might be after us too. But I could hardly worry about that.

That woman—the Doctor on the screen—was so hauntingly familiar, so terrifyingly real. Seeing her face hearing her voice choked my throat; filled my brain in and endless echo reflective of my name when I first came out of the box.

I thought back to Alby—his bloody corpse and intestines strung out over the green lawn in the Glade—What would he say, if I’d told him I remembered something? Would I be banished, like the boy Thomas told me about? the one who was bit?

It doesn’t matter, I said to myself. He’s dead anyways.

But their conversation soon faded from my attention as the shadows in the other door shifted, creating the outline of a man—and their alarmingly approaching footsteps—I grasped for someone’s arm; silencing the argument that had developed after Chuck’s question.

“Ow—“ Gally complained as I smacked him in the arm. He raised an eyebrow, following my eyes before going still.

I peeled my eyes from the shadow, meeting Gally’s—wide with a kind of weathered, exhausted terror that told stories of many sleepless, terrified nights spent under the cruel fist of the Creators.

In the seconds that followed, we came to a silent revelation:

WICKED wasn’t finished with us, and this was only the beginning.