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022.
CLINT.
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They lost a lot of boys, that night. Kennedy tried to keep herself together as she glanced at the wall. They would have to scratch off a lot of names — too many. The grievers had taken so many boys; a cruel amount of boys.

Her boys.

At least, they had been her boys. Now, they were just a bunch of names etched into the wall. The only thing to prove they had ever been there, in the first place. No actual boys, but their names. The only thing they had left behind. Ten boys was already too many in her eyes. But, when adding their leader to that list, Kennedy found it an unbearable amount. The list felt heavier, longer.

She stared at his name, lip quivering.

ALBY

His handwriting was terrible; as in, really terrible. Kennedy knew she had commented on it when she had etched her own name. His reaction had been shock, then a deep laughter. He found that funny.

Kennedy couldn't recall what she had said exactly, but it got him to laugh— it was unexpected. Alby was serious, deathly so, and he didn't seem the type to laugh. But Kennedy got through to him, he cracked. According to Newt, he hadn't laughed in months. She felt proud that she had gotten it out of the leader, and from then on, it had formed a good friendship between the two of them. Sure, they butt heads often, and she was always trying to stop him from being the one to make stupid decisions when his head was foggy, and the boy was always telling her to stop telling him what to do when it was him who was leader, but Alby and Kennedy had been good friends in spite of that. Really good friends. She loved Alby, adored him. He was her leader, her friend, her brother. He was Alby. Her Alby. She wanted him back, badly.

She suddenly wished they had left it on better terms. But, instead, the last real talk they'd had was an argument.

He had made decisions and she had bickered with him, and the next thing she knew, he was stung in the maze. Then, he was gone and he wasn't coming back. Why had Kennedy argued? She could have said something else, anything else — she didn't have to doubt his decisions.

But, Kennedy did.

All because of Thomas.

Really, he was the common denominator in all of this.

Gally was right. It wasn't his fault Alby had died, but everything that happened all seemed to stem back down to him. Kennedy still couldn't understand why, but it did.

She didn't regret standing up to Alby when Thomas was beaten by Ben, and she and him were chased by the runner with a sudden urge to kill. Kennedy was right in wanting to help Ben, but perhaps she wouldn't have had to argue if Thomas had never come up. He was clearly the reason Ben wanted to kill — he had seen him. Just like Alby had seen him, too. It wasn't his fault that Ben was banished to the maze, and it wasn't his fault that Alby was dead, but something was his fault. There had to be something. It all came back to him in some way, or another.

Perhaps if Thomas hadn't come up in the box, none of the bad things would have happened. Maybe they would still be living in a perfect harmony; they would have been stuck in that glade forever, but at least it would have kept them safe. They would be alive. His presence had disrupted everything, and maybe if he hadn't, then it wouldn't have to end so terribly. Alby would be alive, wouldn't he?

All of the boys would. They would be alive and Gally would still be on their side instead of trying to banish their two newbies. That wouldn't have even been in the question. They would be the large, non-biological family that they had created.

Family.

Kennedy yearned for it.

She would have done anything to have it back. Yet, she couldn't. They would never get back all that they once had. It was long gone.

Boys were dead, Alby was gone, battle lines had drawn divisions in their glade. Gally was trying to lead this place, now. It appeared that Kennedy's leadership had subsided, and her boys had chosen to listen to the voice that told them what they wanted to hear. The voice that promised them safety in the glade, not running into that maze and finding a griever hole that would hopefully find them an escape. Those boys wanted structure, safety, familiarity. They were scared, and Gally's promises eased that fear. Even if only slightly, it was better than siding with Thomas — the boy who Gally was sure has caused all of this. They were too scared to listen to Thomas in his theories. Even if had meant losing Kennedy, Newt and Minho; they had made it clear that their alliance favoured getting them all out of there, just like they had always promised they would.

And, in turn, that meant favouring Thomas.

Even if that meant favouring the boy who caused nothing short of chaos, and losing Gally while doing it. Kennedy intended to get them out, or die trying.

They couldn't live like this, any longer. They weren't supposed to live like this. This wasn't living. It was being caged in; it was hell. It wasn't natural. Kennedy didn't know what was on the outside, but it had to be better than this. There had to be more to life than this card they had been dealt. She loved the safety of those walls, but it wasn't safe anymore. Not after last night.

It wasn't safe for those boys.

It wasn't safe for Alby.

Kennedy stared at the wall and sighed, biting at her thumb. She knew Gally was planning on scratching off the names of those lost when Teresa and Thomas were banished before sundown, and she hadn't been able to stop staring at them since Frypan told her. The names deserved to stay, even if it went against tradition.

"Ken!"

She blinked, stepping back and wiping at her teary face.

"Kennedy! Ken!"

"Chuckie?" Kennedy turned, frowning as he waved his arms in a flailing fashion. He was a few metres away, "What? What is it?"

"It's Thomas!" Chuck yelled, cupping his hands around his lips to stretch his voice further. Kennedy's momentary panic for Chuck and his safety dwindled, and her eyes widened as she processed the words he was saying. "He's waking up!"

For a moment, she didn't move. Then, she was sprinting to their slammer as fast as she could. Her hips were hurting terribly, but he was far more important than the pain she felt. Kennedy ran so fast that Chuck nearly fell over when she passed him, had she not took his hand in hers and yanked him along with her. When they got to the slammer, she noticed Minho and Newt were in the same places she had left them — perched outside of the cell, staring in with the most eager expression she had even seen them sport. Kennedy and Chuck's arrival gained their attentions, however.

Minho smirked.

"Ah— here's ya saviour, Thomas!"

"Slim it," Newt said, but snickered. Kennedy ignored them and took a seat between the two, watching as Thomas' eyes fluttered in attempt to keep them open. Newt hummed, "Easy, mate."

Kennedy glanced at Teresa and gave her a smile, despite the fire that burned in her belly when she spotted Thomas' head placed in her lap. She ignored the feeling and edged closer to the gate, stares all on him as they watched him sit up and rub his head. He looked up at the gate, world hazy, but it all cleared when he saw Kennedy; her soft, smiling face already giving him her undivided attention as little as he deserved it. The world suddenly seemed less scary. Then, it was suddenly scarier.

   Kennedy.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he responded.

"Romantic," Minho snorted. They shot him a glare. "What?"

"Do ya know how to shut ya face?" Newt rolled his eyes, giving him a slap up the side of his head. He whined.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Chuck butt in as he tried to glare at Thomas, who was now shifting to sit against the wall. His attempts of anger were warranted. Thomas had been stupid — it was dumb to risk his life, knowing the sting could kill him. "You're so lucky Kennedy was there to save you! You nearly died, Thomas!"

"What?"

"Gally's taken control," Newt told Thomas. "He said we had a choice. Either join him, or get banished at sundown with you two. He thinks he's in charge."

"And the others agreed to that?" He asked.

"Gally has everyone convinced you're the reason all of this has happened," Teresa said. "Kennedy can't do anything, anymore. It looks like they won't even listen to Newt, or Minho. They listen to Gally, now."

"Maybe they're right to," Thomas sighed out, causing the group to frown. They didn't understand— what did he mean, by that? It didn't make sense. He played with his hands nervously, finding the ten fingers in his lap more interesting than their faces. Minho gave him a strange look and asked what he meant by that, voicing what they had were all thinking, and Thomas sighed. He looked back at them again, and Kennedy noticed how remorseful he seemed. His shoulders were slouched, "This place... it— it isn't what we thought it was. It's not a prison, it's a test." He explained, "And it all started when we were kids. They would give us these challenges; they were experimenting on us..." he pursed his lips. "And then people started disappearing. Every month, one after the other, all like clockwork."

    "They were sending them up into the maze," Newt realised.

    "Yeah— but not all of us."

    "What do you mean?" Kennedy asked.

    "Guys..." Thomas dragged his hands over his face, "I'm one of them. The people who put you here, I worked with them. I watched you guys for years. The entire time you've been here... I was on the other side of it." He looked at Teresa, "So were you. Teresa, we did this to them. All of them. We put them all up here."

    "No, that can't be—"

    "It is," he said. "I saw it."

    "Why would they send us up if we were with them?" Teresa was trembling, angry and confused.

    "It doesn't matter," Thomas sighed.

   Kennedy's stomach churned. They were the ones that sent them there? To this hell hole? Gally was right, all along. It was his fault, it was all Thomas's fault. And Teresa's. She was there because of him and Teresa. Kennedy had been sent to the glade by them, and she'd spent nearly three years suffering because of Thomas and Teresa. If Kennedy could have reached them, perhaps she would've smacked Thomas in the face.

She was mad. Of course she was mad. Thomas wasn't who she thought he was. All this time, Kennedy had been fighting from his corner — she had been sticking by Thomas since the moment the box came up and he was hauled out of it, a scared little greenie in a world he didn't know. But, he did know. Thomas didn't recall any of it, but he had known their world better than they did. Him and Teresa sent them up there and watched them... why? Why weren't they good enough to observe alongside Thomas and Teresa? What made them better than her? Than Newt? Minho and Alby? Better than Chuck? He was a child! A kid! And they had sent him up there and watched. That was a month ago. One single month.

What in that month had changed?

If Thomas and Teresa were one of them, then why had they been sent up to the maze? If this whole thing was a test that Thomas and Teresa had the privilege to watch from the outside, then how did it wind them up on the inside?

Why were they here?

It didn't make sense.

Not to Kennedy. She didn't know what to think. She had lost two years, almost three, in the glade. Years of her life she would never get back. Her time, her memories, her life. She'd had a life, before this!

    "He's right."

Kennedy looked at Newt, brows furrowed.

"It doesn't matter. Any of it," he shrugged. "Because the people we were before the maze? They don't even exist anymore. Creators took care of that," Newt rubbed at his jaw. It was times like these that Kennedy was certain Newt was a better leader than she could ever be. "But what does matter is who we are now, and what we do, right now. You went into the maze and you found a way out."

"Yeah," Thomas said, "But if I hadn't, Alby would still be alive."

"Maybe." Newt hummed, clicking his tongue to hide the grief he felt for his fallen friend. He glanced at Minho who was deep in thought, and Kennedy — her face was harder to read, and for one time in his life, Newt wasn't sure if she was on the same page. "But I know that if he were here, he would be telling you the exact same thing." He told Thomas, boosting morale within he and Teresa. It seemed effective. "To pick your arse up and finish what you started. Because if we do nothing... then that means Alby died for nothing, and we can't have that."

We.

Newt, Minho and Kennedy.

Her eyes flickered from Newt to Teresa, whom was finding tears harder to wipe away than she hoped.

She looked remorseful. Like she couldn't believe she was ever the person who had put them up there, and confused that she and that girl had ever been the same. Teresa's eyes were a wet, blue sea— it was tumultuous, unruly.

Kennedy then looked to Thomas, only to find the boy looking at her already, awaiting some sort of reaction. He was eyeing her up; trying to figure out what she would say, whether she would say any words at all. She rolled her lips between her teeth and scratched at her brow, trying to suss out the same thing. What was she meant to do? Forgive them?

Kennedy was a forgiving person. She really was.

But something about forgiving them for taking so much of their lives away from them... that was hard. It was a big deal. Perhaps it was selfish, but she found it difficult to not be. She had lost so much time and her's was less than other's. Alby had lost everything. His life.

Although, she knew Newt had a point.

Always did.

He had a point in saying that the people they used to be were not who they were, right now. They were different. The creators took a large part of them away when they were sent into the maze, and it included Thomas and Teresa. Kennedy was certain she hadn't been the person she was now, before all of this. She couldn't remember it; how could she have been the same? None of them were. Kennedy was who she was now, and so was Newt, and Minho, and Chuck. It was the same for Thomas and Teresa — they weren't the same. The boy had only ever wanted to find them a way out, and Teresa gave Kennedy no reason to distrust her; they didn't know anything. The truth had been unexpected, and painful, just as much for them as it was for their new friends.

   They had done nothing objectively wrong since being sent in the glade, only in the eyes of Gally. He aimed to banish them; kill them.

   Something about that didn't sit right. Maybe Kennedy felt selfish and wanted to blame the pair for her terrible life, but the thoughts of them dying... of Thomas dying... no, she couldn't think of that— Kennedy couldn't bare it. They had sent them there, though it was no reason for them to die. Newt was right. Those people didn't exist anymore, those people were already dead. They had perished thus leaving two new people in their place; two people wanting to get all of them out, two people willing to save them, two people who were their friends. Thomas and Teresa were their friends, now.

   Kennedy sighed.

    "On the contrary, I think Alby woulda kicked his shuck-ass."

   Minho snorted, then so did Chuck, and Newt and Teresa made an effort not to laugh, considering the timing was terrible, but both failed. Thomas cracked a smile.

    "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

The way he looked at her— god. It was like Kennedy had made his goddamn year. Like her words had melted him, and Thomas' possible last days would be spent with his insides liquified. And he would he fine with that; Thomas would he perfectly content with a puddle deep within him, because she had melted it.

Kennedy made him glow. He couldn't be sure why, but she did. It made his cheeks warm and pink, and the tips of his ears burn a raging fire, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. There was something about the way she looked down at him, the sun this perfect halo around her head, hair a reddish blaze. Thomas might have died if she was angry with him, with who he was, judging by the snippets of memories he had. He would have hated him, too. It was a wonder to him that she didn't. Or, at least, he didn't think so.

His brows lifted in the centre and his nostrils flared, eyes all wide and brown and puppy-like.

Thomas' lower lip jutted out and, for a moment, Kennedy had a feeling he might cry. And that melted the last layer of ice covering her heart. It was that look. Suddenly, all hostility was gone. She was unable to keep it up.

How could she be hostile towards the boy?

How?

    "But Newt's right," Kennedy agreed. "You're our friends, now. And maybe Gally thinks he can call the shots, but those are my boys out there. Alby left them in my care; they're my responsibility, and I sure as hell ain't gonna let him down." She watched them all nod, and she nodded back. "So, we're gonna need a plan."

————

"This is such a waste."

   Kennedy kept her face stony, unmoving as she watched Gally. It didn't take him long to get this banishment show on the road; they didn't hesitate, apparently. That's what she observed from all of it.

   It hadn't taken long for his plan to start.

   His cronies had gone to get Thomas and Teresa shortly after his royal highness had woken up and confirmed Gally's accusations. It was them who had sent Kennedy, Newt, Minho and Chuck to find Gally and tell him whether they wanted to stay with them and stay safe, or get banished with the traitors— the ones who had caused it all to go wrong. Much to his surprise, and to his pleasure, they had opted to stay. They didn't want to be banished. Gally had been the happiest they had seen him, in years. His friends wanted to stay? It was like his whole world had brightened. They were staying, staying with him, and they didn't want to go with Thomas and Teresa. For the first time since they arrived in the glade, it wasn't about them. As far as Gally could tell, it wasn't about Thomas — not anymore. Not Thomas— no one was backing Thomas, anymore. It would return to how it had been, before.

   They didn't have Alby, and they had lost a lot of boys because of them, but they could make it work. He was certain.

   Gally was in charge, now. He was going to fix this place, make it how it used to be, and his first port of call was banishing the ones that had ruined it, in the first place. To get rid of an infection, you killed the host.

   That's what Gally was doing.

   Killing the hosts.

   Then, the disease would stop spreading. That was it.

   If he wanted the glade to return to normal, then this was what he had to do. Gally just wanted peace. He wanted everyone to be safe, and peaceful — was that so bad? He wanted them to live the way Alby had shown them to. That way, they were content. Secure. Security brought order, and order brought peace. Why did gladers think he was so wrong to want peace?

   Peace was good. Without peace, people were scared. Gally was scared! He was so scared, and all Thomas did was provoke that. It was like he brought fear everywhere he went. As for Teresa... well, in a way, Gally felt bad for Teresa. She hadn't done much, but the pair clearly were in cahoots together. She was collateral damage; if he wanted to get rid of the infection completely, then she had to go too. He couldn't risk it. Thomas had ruined that, for her. Maybe it could have been different for Teresa. Perhaps Gally could have soon learned to trust her. Maybe not.

   Now, they would never know.

   Because of Thomas.

   Even his name made Gally want to throw up!

   He glanced at the names he had carved crosses through, then a wave of sadness hit him. It was only momentary, the solemness of it all, because it passed when Thomas and Teresa showed up. The former was being dragged, body slack and still unconscious, while the girl put up a fair fight against her restraints. She did have guts.

    "Gally..." Jeff spoke up, causing Kennedy to turn to him with a quirked brow. "It doesn't feel right, man."

   A small smile tugged at her lips, eyes soft. She always knew Jeff was a good'n. He had a heart of gold. If he knew this was wrong, then perhaps there were more of them that felt the same. Perhaps there was hope for them, yet.

   Her eyes absently travelled the crowd, landing upon Clint. She hoped he would speak up, too. The med-jacks were her boys, they were her friends, and she knew they were better than this. But, that discreet smile fell when she realised Clint had no intentions to say the same as Jeff. He was stood between two builders, watching the scene take place. Something was on his face, some sort of expression that looked sour.

    "What?" Gally frowned.

    "What if Thomas is right?" Winston pitched.

    "Yeah," Frypan said. "What if he can lead us home, man?"

   Kennedy glanced at Newt and Minho; the trio stood spread out across the crowd, heads low as they waited. It looked like the boys were contemplating their actions, and that Gally didn't have quite as much authority as he thought he did. They listened to Gally out of the fear they all felt, not because he was leader.

    "We are home."

    "Gally—"

    "No, Fry! This is our home, 'kay?" Gally stressed, offended they were reconsidering. "I don't wanna cross any more of our names."

    "You really think banishing us is gonna solve anything?" Teresa tested him, watching his face twist as she spoke. She gave him this hard stare, one that was commendable.

    "No," he said, honestly.

   Kennedy's head tilted, what?
 
    "But this isn't a banishing." Gally explained. "It's an offering."

    "What?"

   She felt panic rise in her chest as they pushed Teresa against the post, binding her wrists despite her struggle. Kennedy fought every urge to lash out and tell them to quit it, her eyes flickering towards Thomas' limp form. Kennedy had to wait, but waiting was difficult.

    "Wait!" Teresa cried, "Gally, what are you doing?"

"You really think I'm gonna let Thomas back into the maze?" It was tense around them, and Gally threw out his hands to make his point more sincere, "After what he's done? Look around you! Look at our glade!" The kids didn't want to look at the glade; it showed them all they had lost, and that was painful. Gally said, "This is the only way. And when the grievers get what they came here for..." he sighed, straightening his back and trying to conceal his frustrations with a brave face; "...everything goes back to the way it was."

"Are you listening to this?"

Teresa had some attitude, Ken noted.

"Why are you all just standing there?" She protested, looking at the crowd. "He's crazy!"

"Will you slim it?"

"If you stay here, the grievers are gonna come back! They're gonna come back again, and they're gonna keep coming back— 'til you're all d—"

"Slim it!" Gally yelled at her. He waved his arms over Thomas' figure, where he sprawled out across the floor. "Tie him up!" He demanded. When the builders didn't move, Gally grit his teeth in irritation. "Did you hear me?" He asked rhetorically, and both of the kids shuffled in discomfort. Gally groaned, "I said tie him up!"

"Okay!"

"Fine!"

Both of them leaned down and grabbed his arms.

They only managed to lift him so high, however, before his arm reeled back and his elbow smacked one in the gut. He stumbled on his feet, giving Thomas space to buck.

Thomas swung around and grabbed a spear from the other kid, using it to smack him in the face and throw him to the ground. He repeated the action when the first boy moved to restrain him. This action was a good enough signal to Kennedy and the others, and it took seconds for them to take down the gladers that tried to go for Thomas. Kennedy tripped a slicer with her foot, swiping his legs to send him to the dirt with a thump! Newt slammed another down by his back, giving her the room to push through the crowd of chaos, knife up above her head. She brought it down and sliced the ropes holding Teresa, thus freeing her and handing her the knife. Teresa nodded in thanks, moving to stand by Thomas' left with Newt and Chuck, while Kennedy swiped another knife from her boot to raise at Gally from his front as Minho did the same from behind.

"I'd like to take my boys back, now."

"Your boys?" Gally echoed.

"Yeah, my boys." Kennedy squinted, "Problem?"

"Geez..." he scoffed a laugh, glaring at Thomas. "You're full of surprises, aren't ya?"

"You don't have to come with us, but we are leaving." Thomas promised, spear raised high. He kept his eyes on Kennedy as she and Minho slowly backed away from Gally to join them, "Anyone else who wants to come, now is your last chance! We have to go!"

"Don't listen!"

"Gally—"

"He's tryna scare you!"

"No, I'm not tryna scare you! You're already scared." Thomas said, shaking his head. "I'm scared," he sighed. "But I'd rather risk my life out there, than spending the rest of it in here. We don't belong here. This place isn't our home; we were put here; trapped here. It isn't where we should be, okay? At least out there, we have a choice. We can make it out of here. I know that." Thomas looked at their builder and frowned, "It's your choice, alright?"

His words seemed to work for Winston and Frypan.

They were the first to leave Gally's side, and join the group that stood by the doors. Kennedy's heart lightened, and it fluttered like a butterfly when Jeff shifted on his feet.

He murmured an apology to his friend and drifted towards the girl, whom stood with her hand outstretched and ready. Jeff made his way to her and grabbed it, letting her squeeze — it comforted him, had him feel better about leaving Gally, and he squeezed her hand back just as tight.

Seeing her reassuring face, more of the boys were won over. He had a convincing speech, Thomas did, but Kennedy was Kennedy.

She was their leader, now.

Not Alby, not Gally. Their leader was the one who had cared for them all from the moment they entered the glade, the girl that could never lead them astray. The girl with the angel face, the warm grin that made everything better, that made them feel safe and loved. If they were going to listen to anyone, it would be Kennedy. She was their mother figure, their friend. Gally was their friend, but so was Kennedy — and Newt, and Minho, and Frypan and Chuck. Their friends wanted to leave, and while Gally didn't, they wanted to shift out of there, too. They trusted them. They would rather die trying to leave than not trying at all. They knew they had to try. Maybe it was worth it.

"I'm sorry, Gally." Thomas said, "It's over."

"Just come with us," Kennedy's voice cracked. It was only him and a couple others left, and she couldn't bare to leave them. Not Gally. He may have been a slinthead, but he had good in him. He was her friend. "Please, Gal— please..."

He pursed his lips.

"Good luck against the grievers."

She could have sworn she felt her heart break when some of the boys turned on their heels and headed to the homestead. Kennedy took in a breath and blinked her wet eyes, turning away from him.

"Clint?"

"Someones gotta stay here and bandage everyone up," the boy smiled, sadly. He was right. If the grievers came back, which they would, then they would need a med-jack. Kennedy's lip trembled; Clint shook his head and stepped forwards, placing a hand on her cheek. "Hey— nah, don't cry. Get 'em outta here, Ken." Clint said to her. Clint moved his hand to slap Jeff on the back, "See ya later, brother. Stay safe, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jeff gulped. "Love you, man."

"Love you too," Clint sniffled,

"I love you both," Kennedy told them. She wrinkled her nose in thought, "I'm never saying that, ever again. Soppy shanks."

They laughed sadly, bidding a final goodbye as Clint stepped to fall in line with Gally. Kennedy sent them one last pleading look, a hope that they would give in, but Gally tilted his head to look at the floor. She sighed and let Jeff give her a tug, the pair following after the others whom had started to file into the maze.

It was go-time.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

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