A/N: Sorry for the slow(er) updates recently... my life has been a whirlwind of studying and midterm projects, which will thankfully be over by the end of next week. Also, last update before I see The Death Cure tomorrow! Forever psyching myself up for the inevitable Newt scene, *sigh,* anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 10

229.05.27 / 8:48 p.m.

It's wasn't terribly difficult to avoid Newt, especially since everyone had started working extra hours, but even when you did he'd find ways to pull you aside at lunch and kiss you until you were weak at the knees, and the stupid thing was, you couldn't say a damn thing about it.

You'd make plans to talk to him, to finally tell him about your meeting with Paige, the armed guards and the manipulation, but then you'd look at him and your mind would go blank, and when he pulled you into him your body would turn to jelly.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the plummet your stomach would do when you saw him, a rush of adrenaline like you were leaping off a cliff. Hated how you couldn't bring yourself to suck it up and break it off. You were sick of being WICKED's little guinea pigs, and you knew Newt was too.

On one particular night, he caught up to you late after dinner, which you'd left early in the hopes you could make it back to your room unperturbed. He grabbed your arm lightly and tugged you down a separate hallway until you were out of sight. You couldn't help but imagine how there were probably cameras hidden all along the corridor with techs or psychs watching you in that exact moment, and fear prickled down your spine as Newt turned to you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, grinning.

"Hey, Newt," you said, glancing around.

"Bloody hell, (Y/N), it's been a week," he said. "I've missed you."

You tried to smile. "Me too."

But as he leaned down to kiss you, you took a breath and pulled away. He looked down at you, worry darkening his face.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping back. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, what? N-no, nothing's wrong," you sputtered. An image of Paige watching the scene unfold behind her computer screen hovered in the back of your mind, furiously scribbling down notes on that stupid list.

Newt didn't look convinced, and pulled you deeper down the hall, glancing back the way you had come. "(Y/N), if something's bloody well wrong, tell me, okay?" he whispered loudly. "You look scared out of your mind."

Breathe. "Something happened," you said slowly, leaning in closer. "With Paige, Doctor Paige. She called me to her office for a- a meeting."

"A meeting?"

You glanced down at the ground, nervously shifting your weight. "I wish there was somewhere more private we could talk," you mumbled to your feet.

Newt looked confused. "More private than a dark, empty hallway? It's not the bloody surface of the sun, but..."

"Newt, you don't understand," you sighed. "They're watching us. Our every move. Paige knows everything, everything we've been doing, everything we've been saying. To them, privacy is an empty word."

Newt stared at you, processing this information. "But if they've been watching us, why have they been letting us sneak out for months?" he asked, leaning back against the wall as if his legs wouldn't support him.

"It's just another test, Newt." -- Newt seemed to sense the guilt that surrounded his name as you said it -- "She told me, because of us, they're getting new patterns -- patterns they're really excited about. They're mapping our brains, our hormones, with those stupid metal chips in our heads, the possibilities are endless."

He grabbed your hand, tracing his fingers over your palm thoughtfully. "Well, so what? Let WICKED do whatever they buggin' please, and if we're helping them towards a cure, then it's all the better."

You glanced back up at him, saw his eyes soften again, felt your chest ache painfully. "But can you live with the knowledge that they're watching us, taking samples, all the time? We'll never be alone."

Newt's face fell, the corners of his mouth sagging and his eyebrows screwed up in anger. "They can't separate us," he said firmly. "They killed my parents and took my sister away and now they're trying to take you too. Over my bloody dead body."

The fire in his voice scared you, but at the same time, he sounded like a stubborn five-year-old denied dessert. You didn't know what to say so you squeezed his hand and looked around in the gloomy darkness as silence settled over the both of you.

You froze as footsteps echoed distantly at the end of the corridor, people walking down the main hallway. Guards, you suspected, after flashes of black and hushed voices carried from the group. Newt pulled you closer to him and you turned away, as if making yourself as small as possible would be any help if they caught you.

But they didn't. The sounds receded gradually until everything was quiet again, the only break a soft breath from Newt, which you could feel on the top of your head. He had tensed up too, and you slipped from his grasp once you were sure the guards were gone,

"We should go," you said when everything had quieted again. "If we stay out much later past curfew, we'll probably be caught. I wouldn't be surprised if Paige is watching us right now."

Newt sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing off the wall and brushing past you in two long strides. "You're probably right," he conceded, glancing out in the hallway to check for stragglers. "C'mon, it's clear."

You walked quietly, but he took your hand, and you let him, his warm, calloused palm a comfort, something you knew in a few months would be nothing more than a dull ache in your chest. Without talking, you made your way through the twists and turns of the compound, each white tiled floor identical to the next. You watched your feet as you went, for some reason unable to look Newt in the eye, but when you arrived at the break, where the boys' and girls' barracks ran in different directions, he lifted your head up to face him.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you tilted your head and planted one on his cheek instead, before backing away. "Give me some time to think, Newt, okay?" you said, careful to keep the quiver out of your voice, and to only speak the words you'd been rehearsing in your head. "We can't mess this up. And after that meeting with Paige, something is telling me we should maybe back off a little."

"They're doing this to you, don't you see?" Newt hissed. "They're manipulating us, toying with our brains. They're trying to make this harder than it needs to be. It's how they get their results."

"But, we can't be sure-"

"(Y/N), please think about this. We're already playing right into their bloody hands, whether we try to fight it or not."

"Or, they're going to study us until our relationship is built on nothing but test results and the lies they've been feeding us."

"Everything we've done so far-" he threw his hands up in desperation -- "Has been planned. They've thought out every step, everything they've expected us to do, like moves on a chess board. Why do you think Paige arranged that buggin' meeting? To warn you? That's highly bloody unlikely."

"Newt," you said firmly, and he stopped. Looked at you, utterly defeated. "Let me sort this out, please. Give me some time to think. I just need to be alone for a while."

"Yeah, yes, right. Sorry." With one last forlorn look, he backed away. You watched until his head disappeared around another white wall and you were left alone, staring at where he'd been standing seconds ago. You suspected there were cameras there too, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as if there were another presence in the room. Invisible pairs of eyes, watching from all directions. It was a feeling you hadn't been able to shake since your meeting with Dr. Paige, especially when you were around Newt. Almost always when you were around Newt.

It stayed with you all the way back to your room. It wasn't terribly late, and the end of a long, busy week, so plenty of the girls were still out, hanging with their friends in the rec rooms, or sharing banter over desert. You changed quickly into pajamas and slipped into bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, but the darkness was so thick it wouldn't have made much of a difference if your eyes were open or closed.

It's all for a cure. It's all for a cure.

A constant chant in your head, a justification for all the mistreatment you'd suffered over the years, the hostile glances and subtle threats. The pokes and prodding. The violations of privacy. It was all for a cure.

But what the hell did you have to show for it?

Your only friends were being dumped into a maze by your WICKED pals, and the guy who miraculously liked you (something you'd probably never find again in a Sun Flare ravaged world, unless Cranks suddenly started giving you a hard-on, for some reason) was one of the first to go.

You tossed and turned, these thoughts bouncing around in your head like a persistent swarm of gnats, until finally, a hard, dredging sleep took you, and your mind was silenced as it fell into darkness.

229.05.28 / 7:56 a.m.

You were approached at breakfast the next morning by a timid-looking boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, a WICKED ID badge hanging around his neck as he stared at the floor and fiddled with his thumbs.

When you raised an eyebrow quizzically at him, a breakfast sandwich halfway to your mouth, he cleared his throat and spoke meekly. "I, um, I've been sent by Dr. Paige to summon you to Meeting Room B, as soon as you're finished eating."

You ignored the pang of panic that shot through your chest at his words and snorted instead. "Summoned? Where are we, the eighteenth century? Does she want me to grace her with my presence in her chambers?"

But the boy did not laugh, instead offered a weak smile and a shrug. You sighed and waved him off, nodding reluctantly at his scared expression. "Right, okay, Meeting Room B, got it."

Looking like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, the boy grinned and scurried away. You tried not to think how much he resembled Rat Man, his long spindly legs gawking wildly out behind him as he went.

Ignoring the ebbing panic that rose as you finished your food, you stood calmly and walked to the elevators, reasoning, as you rode up to the second floor, that she hadn't sent any guards to escort you this time. It was probably just another generic meeting to check in on the maze... but then why hadn't it been written on the schedule they'd given to you at the beginning of the week?

You pushed open the opaque door that was labeled Meeting Room 2B and entered without knocking. At first, the room seemed to be empty, aside from a long, sleek table in the center, surrounded by plush swivel chairs, but upon further inspection, you found two to be occupied.

Paige sat in the first, facing the door, looking comically like a villain in an evil lair. All she needed to complete the scene was a douchey white cat to be stroking and a shiny black eyepatch.

"Doctor Paige?" you called to her end of the table, which was as far from the door as you could get. "Your message boy called for me."

She smiled softly and stood up, gliding over to you in one swift movement. She set a hand on the small of your back to guide you forward. Her eyes were clear and expressionless, but the rest of her face read raw excitement. She seemed ecstatic, really.

"Yes, (Y/N), I must say, I'm glad you decided to show up," she said as if it'd been proposed as a choice. "I have a little surprise for you that I think you're going to enjoy."

She turned your attention to the other occupied chair, which was tilted slightly away so you couldn't see the person's face, but they had long legs crossed over each other and hands set nervously on each of the chair's armrests.

"What is this?" you asked, shying away from her touch. Paige didn't seem to notice and backed up to face the person in the chair, grinning widely. It seemed an unnatural state for her face and stretched out the tight lines and wrinkles in an uncomfortably stiff way.

"(Y/N)," the mass in the chair spoke before you could open your mouth again. "Jesus, it's so good to see you. How many years has it been?

The voice, unmistakably, was your father.