Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but if I did, I would make a spinoff book containing information about Newt and Minho's families, and if Alby really did have a sister, and what happened to everyone in Paradise because let's be real we all need this.

-✼-

"Get up."

My entire body ached as I laid on the mat, my chest heaving with ragged breaths and my heart pounding. I closed my eyes as fire trickled through my veins and fried up my insides. My cheek throbbed painfully from where I had just been hit.

A forceful kick was bestowed on my side, causing me to grunt at the stabbing pain that blossomed from the spot. My attacker crouched above me with his hands on his knees as he watched me under a heavy stare. "I said, get up!"

Weakly, with my arms shaking from exhaustion, I pushed myself up from the mat-covered floor and managed to get to my knees. I was moving too slowly for his liking- I had been training with him long enough for me to anticipate the punch that was headed my way. I turned, caught his fist, and twisted his arm without mercy. If he was going to play unkindly, then so was I.

A smile appeared on Brent's face. "Clever." Then, before we could resume fighting, something clicked in his brown eyes. His head swiveled to find my partner, who had been absent from our duel for too long.

A gasp fell from his lips as his chest jutted out and the air was briefly knocked from his lungs. I released his fist and dove to the side just as he fell forward where I had previously been standing. There, behind him, stood my partner, Sonya. Uneven breaths fell from her split lips as she glared at Brent with anger in her bright green eyes. Her long blonde hair was falling out of its hastily-done ponytail, and sweat pooled around the collar of her grey shirt like a necklace. She was tall and lean, basically everything I wasn't, and one of my acquaintances. She was supposed to be in the second group, Group B. Our interactions with those from opposite groups were supposed to be as limited as possible, but Ava wanted Sonya and I to endure training in order to "shape us up" for what was to come.

Unfortunately, that meant spending two hours every Tuesday and Wednesday with Brent Arson. We both hated him. He was mean and showed no mercy when fighting two fifteen-year-old girls. In the beginning, he had not started off easily when teaching us how to punch and had made us hit things until we sported ugly bruises on our knuckles. Now we sported them on our faces, arms, and anywhere else he managed to hurt us. Sonya often left with a black eye.

It was no question as to why Ava chose Brent. He was easily the most well-trained guard in the entire facility, despite how ruthless he tended to be. Brent was one of those guys who had huge biceps and a tiny waist, making for awkward proportions that made him appear like some cartoon character. His dark skin was covered with tattoos that I couldn't even make out. His hair was closely cropped to his head and there was a slight gap between his otherwise perfect teeth.

Brent took that moment of hesitation to swipe his legs under Sonya in order to knock her off of her feet, but she jumped over them and landed on directly his ankle, waving her arms around as she attempted to regain her balance. Brent gave a sharp cry of pain as a sickening crunch sounded throughout the room. Sonya, who had screwed up her face in anticipation as she landed, popped one eye open and quickly removed her foot from his ankle.

Brent sat up and clutched at his foot, gritting his teeth in pain as short pants came out of his nose. Sonya was internally freaking out. Her eyes were now the size of small planets as she watched him with her mouth agape. Neither of us knew what to do. Did we console him? Apologize profusely? Hope he didn't kill us?

I scrambled to my feet and joined Sonya's side. "Brent, just hang in tight, and we'll go find some help—"

"I'm okay, girl," Brent grunted as he stood, muscles tense as he leaned heavily on his uninjured foot. "Injured ankles have never stopped me, and they sure as hell aren't gonna stop me now."

Sonya and I shared a nervous glance. What did he mean by that? Was he going to still continue our session, even with a messed-up ankle?

"Brent—" Sonya tried to say in a wavering voice, but he cut her off.

"Go run along," he ordered, taking slow breaths as he hobbled toward the door. "You're done for today. I'm gonna go put some ice on this thing— it hurts like a mother."

Sonya and I watched silently as Brent limped to the door and pulled it open. The heavy material slammed shut after he left, and it was just the two of us alone in the training room.

Sonya buried her face in her hands, running them down her cheeks so the skin pulled and sagged until she let go. "Oh, crap. He is so going to give me hell when he recovers."

I smiled ruefully despite the situation. The display of emotion, though small, was enough for the throbbing in my cheek to return. My side still burst with sharp pain from Brent's kick. "Well, at least this means no Brent for a while, huh?"

"I dunno." She shrugged and pushed the mess of blonde flyaway strands away from her heart-shaped face. "All I want to think about right now is a nice hot shower and some shut-eye."

"You know they don't let us sleep until the designated time," I said with a frown. Nobody usually spoke about possibly getting - or even wanting - extra sleep; it was just how it worked. Everyone was on a strict schedule that controlled what we ate, when we slept, and about ten thousand other things based on our weight and jobs and whatnot. I didn't like to think about how little freedom I really had.

"I know, but it does sound nice, doesn't it?" Sonya looked at me with a small smile that carved shallow dimples into her cheeks, flushed from our workout. Her split lip started to bleed again from the small tear the smile caused. She didn't notice. "Sleeping in. Never feeling tired."

I shook my head. It didn't sound nice because I had never thought about it, or experienced 'sleeping in.' Maybe, before W.I.C.K.E.D, before Thomas became some sort of scientist and back when we still had a mother, I had slept in, but I could barely remember much from that far back. All I could picture was my mother's face, warm and kind, and then my father's--

An involuntary shudder from the memory caused me to snap out of it. "You know that wishful thinking can lead to bad things, Sonya," I teased as I walked toward the door, grabbing my water bottle as I passed it. "See you on Thursday."

The door slammed shut behind me.

-/-

I woke up at 4 o'clock in the morning and found I couldn't go back to sleep. My eyes shot open; I would have sat up in my bed if Newt's arm hadn't been draped around my middle. His chest was warm and moved in time to his even breaths. I was left unable to move, so I had nowhere to go.

Sonya. Her name shot into my memory, along with her blonde hair, petite face, and kind smile. We should have been in the same Group- not that we would have remembered that. She shouldn't even remember me. Why have us train together if we were just going to forget one another? And why only us?

I squeezed my eyes shut upon noticing that I was getting worked up by all of the questions popping into my head. I had to try to go back to sleep. Every Glader's digital watch had been set for an alarm that would go off at five, and I knew I'd need that extra hour of sleep. However, I found myself unable to close my eyes for more than a few seconds, and instead focused on the sound of Newt's breathing to calm me down.

The annoying beeping finally set off. Newt let out a tired groan and buried his face deeper into his pillow. I, however, pressed the button on his watch to stop the alarm since it was on the arm that was slung around me. With his appendage no longer fully weighed down by sleep, I was able to sit up a little bit. My back twisted so I could see him as he sleepily blinked his eyes open.

"Rise and shine," I greeted him. "We have a busy day today."

Some Gladers were already starting to gather their supplies, which had been left at the foot of each bed. I grabbed mine and Newt's from their positions on the floor. We had done the best we could with what little supplies we had. Plastic packaging for food became makeshift canteens, bedsheets were now sacks to carry food and clothing, and no one was feeling very bright about our journey- Minho included, and he had been appointed leader.

People rarely spoke in the duration of time it took to get everything ready. I stood in the bathroom during one of the rare moments that I didn't have anything else to do, and I found myself unable to look away from my reflection. My hands were shaking so badly that I had to place them on the counter in order for them to stop. An untouched hairbrush laid next to the sink. My stomach was filled with buzzing, nervous energy that could also be described as terror. No matter how much I swallowed, my throat always seemed dry.

Two weeks. A hundred miles, directly north. Get the cure. Easy, right?

A knock sounded at the door, causing me to jolt in surprise and move my hair out of my face. I reached over and twisted the lock. "Come in."

Newt entered, not to my surprise. He was already dressed in a cream-colored shirt and jeans, a tan jacket tossed over his arm just in case. His hair was disheveled as if he hadn't bothered brushing it yet.

"We're going to be in a desert," I pointed out as he shut the door once more. "Do you really want that jacket?"

Newt shrugged. "S'pose it'd be nice to have. I never had a jacket in the Glade— never needed one since the weather was always the same. Guess we know why now."

I looked away and focused my attention on the counter again. Out of the corner of my and through the mirror, I saw Newt heading closer to me. He gently pulled all of my hair behind my shoulders and picked up the hairbrush. "May I?"

I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Go ahead."

Newt started brushing through my hair as softly and quickly as he could. Then, once he finished, he put the brush down and began braiding the locks down my back. It never ceased to amaze - and amuse - me how effortlessly he performed the task. I wondered how many times I made him practice in order for him to get it like that.

Newt held out an expectant hand. I removed the hair tie from around my wrist and passed it to him; he quickly tied off the braid and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. "We gotta go now," he muttered close to my ear.

I nodded with a sigh, following him out of the bathroom and through mine and Teresa's old room. We grabbed our packs of supplies along the way before walking the short trip to the common area. Everyone else was waiting there, sitting on the ground. My watch told me it was three minutes before five.

"Finally, you two," Minho called out to us from across the room. "Now we have everyone. The shuck were you two doing?" He froze and shook his head. "Okay, never mind. I don't think I want to know. Just sit your little behinds down and wait with the rest of us."

I sat down where I stood, quickly joined by Newt. I couldn't see my brother over the others' heads. The only person I found was Theo, who was speaking to Harvey about something and using rapid hand motions as he talked. His forehead was creased with worry.

"We got three minutes," Minho said, effectively silencing the room. "Everybody sure they still wanna go?"

Everyone nodded, including Newt and I. He was starting to appear like he was regretting making Minho leader already.

"Anybody change their mind overnight?" Minho asked as his brown eyes shifted over the group. "Speak now or never. Once we go wherever we're going, if some shank decides he's a sissy pants and tries to turn back, I'll make sure he does it with a broken nose and smashed privates."

Newt had his head in his hands and was muttering incoherently to himself.

"Newt, you got a problem?" our leader questioned sternly, as if he were Rat Man. My jaw slightly dropped at his tone.

The blond boy racked his brain for an appropriate response, looking as shocked as I did. "Uh...no. Just admiring your bloody leadership skills."

Minho yanked the back of his collar down and leaned over to show everyone the tattoo. "What does that say, slinthead?"

Newt's face had gone red, but I couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. "We know you're the boss, Minho. Slim it."

"No, you slim it," Minho retorted, jabbing a finger at him. "We don't have time for that kind of klunk. So shut your hole."

My mouth turned down into a scowl. Who was Minho to harp on Newt in front of everyone, like he was a bad dictator or something? I was used to his sarcasm and occasional rudeness, but there was absolutely zero need for what he'd just done.

"You're the one who talked first, Minho," I pointed out as calmly as I could force myself to. His head snapped to see me once I spoke. "You're telling Newt to slim it, but you're the one who asked him the question in the first place, not him."

"You questioning my leadership skills?" Minho demanded with such a harshness in his tone that it would've made Greenie Dylan flinch. However, I stood my guard.

"Minho, you just threatened to smash someone's privates. Of course I'm questioning your 'bloody leadership skills.'"

Minho opened his mouth to fire back a comment, but Harvey shouted, "It's six!"

As if on cue, the invisible wall Rat Man had been sitting behind fogged up and then vanished. It was easy to notice the change in the wall- a large square of it had turned into a flat, shimmering surface of murky grey.

"Come on!" Minho yelled, pulling the strap of his bag — made from a strip of a curtain — over his shoulder. The water bag was clenched tightly in his hand. "Don't mess around— we only have five minutes to get through. I'll go first." He pointed to Thomas. "You go last- make sure everyone follows before you come."

I couldn't see Thomas's reaction.

My stomach started to churn even more until I felt nausea creeping up on me. The surface of my palms started to sweat; they felt clammy and slippery. I swallowed thickly, trying to force down the insane terror in my stomach as Minho stepped up to the Flat Trans. He turned back to face us, and even though I was mad at him for what he had said, I was still scared for him.

"See you shanks on the other side."

Minho faced the wall of grey, stepped through, and the murk swallowed him whole.

gif is sonya!!!

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im so so so sorry for the lack of updates! i really wanted to focus on my other stories and then school started and, well, here we are. i hope you can forgive me :/

by the way, i described brent as anthony mackie, just with tattoos added in. if you want to look him up to picture him better, go ahead!

questions:

-if newt remembered dylan, then do you think sonya will, too?

-why is minho being such a jerk?

-would you want to take a fighting class with dylan and sonya?

-are you ready for the scorch?

yay for slightly better questions!

-kristyn