Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was an annoying, whirring sound that jostled him awake. Of metal against metal. He took several deep breaths, when his green eyes finally opened. One breath in. Another out. Rinse and repeat. He could tell he's in some kind of elevator shaft. The way it goes up and up, to his Creators only knew where.

His smallish fingers run along. Feeling those metal chain iron bars.

He prides himself in keeping his cool, for as long he had. Most would probably freak out, at this point.

Thick red hair hangs on either side of his face, while the rest waves in front.

His little Hell Ride seemed to go for an eternity up. Before it reached its destination, point. That equally annoying red light goes off. Enclosing him in total darkness. "…Hello?" He called out. Not sure why it's bothered to do so.

The hairs on his neck stand on end, soon as he hears those metal doors open. Pulled apart by two forces. And light. A light so bright shines in. He's surprised his eyes don't burn at once.

Someone.

An Asian male, with buff arms and spiked up hair in the front jumped down after the other two boys opened it up. Out of instinct he presses against a box of supplies, with a label titled WICKD in black bold lettering.

"Day one, green-bean." A smirk graced his face. "Welcome to hell."

His mouth opened in protest, only for his shirt to be grabbed at the front. He lands with harsh contact against a grass covered ground. Snickers left and right are all around him.

"Looks like a wimp, to me. Wimpier than Winston."

"Hey, I resent that."

Too many. There's too much at once.

And his eyes.

When he opens his eyes, some gasped. Mostly out of pure shock. Some in disgust. "Holy shuck…" one breathed out. "What's up, with THAT?" A boy named Zart pointed out.

"What's up with what?" He dared to challenge. Despite a wave of nausea taking over.

"Your eyes, man. One's blue. The other's green."

"Wha-? No way."

A dark skinned boy named Alby rolled his eyes. Offering him a piece of glass, for a mirror. "Here, greenie. Take a nice long look and you'll see, we aren't making it up."

Begrudgingly, he takes the glass. And he's stunned. More than just a little stunned. A wave of emotion wafts over. He can't help to think Man…I really am a freak. Aren't I?

"Where am I?"

"This, is your new home. The Glade." Brilliant eyes travel upwards, to see the one named Zart's finger pointed at a large maze like structure surrounding this small farm like community. "And that right there, is the-." Looking down suddenly, he could see the new Greenie fainted. Eye rolls and snickers could be seen/heard, from some. "…Was it something I said?"

Panic had set in. Winston instructed Newt and Alby, to carry him inside his hut. "His heart's fine, pulse is faint but still there. I'll keep an eye on him, in the meantime food should be prepped for when our Greenie wakes up."

"Roger that, I'll let Frypan know." Newt declared. Jogging for the kitchen area in no time.

~xxxxx~

His head's aching by the time he woke up. A throbbing sensation. At first he fears, they tossed him right back in The Box again. Fingers feel to find it's not metal but a bed he's on. Hard and uncomfortable.

The food given is surprisingly good. He devoured his sausage/egg sandwich, within seconds.

Stepping out for needed fresh air, he took in his new surroundings. It really did look, almost idyllic. Peaceful. Serene. They even had a few goats around, to eat up grass and for food. Cell phones or any modern technology, do not exist.

You couldn't just slip an ipod in your ears and tune everyone out. Or even find a nice book to read.

It's as if he's pulled, into the past. Or dystopian future. A future where only young men seem in charge. A world he wasn't so sure, he liked.

"He's alive!"

Newt's voice causes him to lift up his head. A somewhat of a smile formed, followed by a wave. "Yeah. I guess so…hey. About that fainting thing-."

"Bah. Don't worry yourself over it, Greenie, we've all had bloody awful experiences our first time here. Now! We'll be havin' a Gathering soon, in that hut over there," he pointed towards one shack some ways away. "It's to figure out which Keeper will have you."

Before he could even ask what a Keeper was, Newt kindly explains it to him. "Keeper's are leaders. Take Gally for example. He's leader of The Builders, they, well, build things for us. Then you've got the Cooks, led by Frypan. Slicers, led by Winston. Med-Jacks, Clinton. Henry, the Sloppers. Minho, Runners. So on and so on."

"I can only guess which one, I'll be in." Elliot muttered, knowing full well they would in no way make him a Runner. They sounded far too elite for likes of him, a newbie.

Newt casts a kind smile of assurance, nodding in understanding. "Don't sell yourself so short, eh? We'll figure somethin' out, that I know you'll like."

He raised one curious eyebrow up. "You sound so sure of me..heh, alright. Lead the way Salamander."

The blond haired boy's shoulders slumped, close to rolling his eyes. "Great. Another one…"

Chapter Text

Early afternoon came and he stood staring in front of The Maze. His eyes glazed over with thought. Wondering. Just how such a structure, came to be. He had half a mind going towards it, but something nags his thoughts with a harsh 'NO'. That it was forbidden.

He was curious though. Without a doubt intrigued.

One step is taken towards the threshold. It's doors are opened. He could see a long, dark corridor of darkness. How strange. It's as if. As if he's been here before. A sense of strong familiarity crept in.

"Shuck you think you're doing?" He whirled around. A muscular tall boy, with short or thinned blond hair and sharp blue eyes walked towards him. And he doesn't look thrilled he's here. "Nobody except Runners, are allowed near The Maze, greenie."

His oddly colored eyes narrowed. Already making friends, nice… "I had no idea. Didn't realize it was a crime." He retorts. Arms folding across his chest.

Blondie snorted, rolling his eyes in the process. "Great. Carbon copy of Minho…" he muttered. "Look, just stay away from it and all will be fine and all that, klunk. Scary isn't it?"

"A bit. Of course, you oh wise one would no more than me."

A long silence followed. Before the guy broke out into a snicker. He followed not too long. "Name's Gally. I'm Keeper of the Builders."

"I'm…ah shoot. Sorry, my name's a little fuzzy for some reason."

"Happens to everyone here, Greenie. At first anyway. You'll remember it in days or a week or so. Hey, what'd I say about bein' too close?" Gally took hold of his wrist, when he saw him try to go further. "NO ONE's allowed in, or did you hit your fragile skull on your way up?"

"I was only curious. What's in there, that has you shaken up?"

"Grievers that's what."

He raised a curious brow. Head tilted to one side. "…Grievers." The word's repeated, more in thought as Gally nodded his head once.

"That's right. We haven't seen 'em, they only come out at night but-HEY! Hey, stop!"

He stepped forward again. Arms raised in disbelief. He couldn't help a grin to cross over, when he sees how panicked Gally is. "You said they only come out at night, right? Not like anyone's gonna know."

Until it happened. Hard and fast. His head's spinning when his face, makes harsh contact against the ground. Dew covered grass tickled the left of his face. Through startled thoughts, rough hands took hold of his hoodie. And his face meets Minho's. "Last I checked…You're not a Runner."

His eyebrows furrowed, not appreciating the man handling taking place. "It was only a look."

Several other boys jogged on over. His face flushed at the sudden attention, flinching when Minho lowers himself further so he couldn't wiggle free. "Yeah? You're done looking, Greenbean."

"Hey, Minho…" Newt piped up.

"No, Newt. This Shuck-face needs to know," their almost nose to nose now. "You wouldn't last one day in there, Shank. Got that? You wanna see a Griever? I'll personally introduce you, to one."

"….Try it. See what happens."

Minho actually looks like he's contemplating it. His dark eyes are narrowed. Glowering down at his frame. Before his lips curve into an out of character grin. "Got some guts for a Greenie. Guess I'll give that much." He released his strong hold, allowing him to breathe.

Newt gave him an apologetic look, while with Minho he glared and proceeded to scold him as they walked off.

~xxxxxx~

Their leader, a boy named Alby showed him around after that fiasco ended. At least he and Newt seemed decent enough. He apologized for Minho's behavior, in which he brushed it off. Alby led him to one part of The Maze. Where names of other boys, are carved into the granite stone wall. Some, he eerily noticed, are crossed out.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Minho and another Runner named Ben jog make for The Maze.

His eyes narrowed towards the Asian male, turning quick when he looks his way. "Hey, greenie."

Newt walked toward him. Another boy followed suit. He had black hair that framed either side, of his face. And green eyes. Normal eyes he thought, with a bitter smile. "Hi. Uh. Newt, right?"

"Right. Looks like, you're startin' off with me 'an Edgar today in the gardens. Just over there." He pointed with his thumb.

He nodded once. "Edgar. Nice to meet you."

The other boy gave a simple nod in return, sudden finding his shoes interesting. He took one more glance at the red head and went off, to work. Newt and he both stared at his retreating form.

"…Was it something, I said?"

"No. No Eddie's just…been through a lot, let's say." Newt sighed softly. Rubbing his neck. "Can't get more than one buggin' word out of the poor guy. Y'know?"

He shook his head. Couldn't say he did.

He didn't know why, but after seeing Edgar he could feel a wave of emotion over him. Questioning that, if he had something. A home, before he even arrived to The Glade, would anyone miss him? Were they thinking about him?

"Hey. You alright?"

Startled by Newt's sudden concerned tone, he wiped his eyes. Shocked to find a tear stain his hoodie's sleeve. "Fine. Just…Just fine. Sorry. Don't know, what's come over me."

A hand of sympathy is placed on his left shoulder. "It happens," Newt said softly. "Sometimes we don't know why, just out of the blue we'll start cryin'. We've all been through it. Hell, some of us have acted like 'bleedin' lunatics our first days."

He felt like such a girl, right now. If he remembered what they acted like that is. He just kept crying softly in the sleeve of his hoodie. Even with Newt's assurances, nothing felt it was going to be 'alright'.

"Aw, come on. It'll be alright."

He shook his head quickly. "No…No it's not. I don't even remember my name, Newt. My shuckin' name. I'm i-in a place, with nothing but boys, my age. I don't even know, if I have a family or not. My mom. What if she's freaking out? Or-Or my dad? Siblings…grandparents…"

"Greenie. Look at me. You're feelings are NORMAL, alright? We've all had our days, just bawlin' our eyes out or getting' ticked off at nothing."

He sniffled once. Exhaling slowly after.

Newt smiled light when he calmed down. At least some.

"Once a month, we get a new Greenie and supplies. Clothing, food, whatever we're in need of."

"So…You pretty much, run this place by yourselves?" He asked. Newt nodded. "And you know nothing, about The Box?"

"Hit the nail dead on the head. None of our dear Creators tell us anything, they expect us to figure it out I guess."

"That's a lovely thought." He muttered, rubbing the side of his head as he worked.

Gardening proved back-breaking work. More so of the fact, he has no green thumb what so ever. He pricked his finger just right, when he tried The Slicers next. Not to mention he was mortified, the way Winston carves a poor dead rabbit up.

"Two years I've been here….the few before us, are already dead. Those walls you see, they move at night."

"They MOVE?" His eyes widened at the thought. Wrapping his injured finger, in gauze. Jeff let him borrow some.

"Yeah. You see, Minho and Gally freaked out on you for a reason. Those Grievers in The Maze, are NOT things you wanna see. Ever."

It's safe to say, in the back of his mind, he did not want to become a Runner.

Chapter Text

Edgar worked with The Med Jacks. It turns out, the poor guy has what Jeff called selective mutism. He only really talked when Newt asked him something. Stuck to the guy like glue.

His head still throbbed, from that board that struck him. It was duly noted, to not look up, when doing construction rather to get out of the way. Clint, Jeff's buddy, suggested he take it easy for a while.

"Rough day, Greenie?"

His heart stopped for a moment. Sitting up in bed, he narrowed his eyes upon noticing Minho's figure leant against the opened doorway. His head still throbbed, from that board that struck him. It was duly noted, to not look up, when doing construction rather to get out of the way.

"You're living off of my pain. Aren't you?" He deadpanned. Not understanding how his day, could possibly go from bad to worse in seconds.

Minho simply snickered. Sitting himself on a chair beside the med-jack's bed. "Frypan's dirty water, knocked on the head by a wooden board, slipped in a pile of manure. Not the look I'd pick for you, greenie."

"My name's not greenie it's…it's um…."

"Um? Is that-whoa-!"

Minho ducked just in time, before a pillow was tossed in his face. His trademark, devil may care smirk continued to linger. "Nice reflexes, greenie."

"Too bad I missed," he huffed. Face flushed with a mild case of anger. And embarrassment, Minho discovered all that's happened today. "Stop calling me that."

"Greenie? What else am I supposed to say: Shuck-face, slinthead, moron?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but knew ultimately he could not win against Minho. "…Whatever. My head's killing me. You should probably leave now. Before I stab you, or something."

"Ooooh. Haven't been here more than two days and you're already, making threats." Minho snickered.

"Well, you deserve it."

Minho feigns a look of hurt. Holding a hand to his chest, as if he's been wounded. "You would seriously stab me? Me? Of all others, in The shuckin' Glade?"

He resists the urge to roll his eyes up towards his head. Lips set in a hard line.

"Don't tempt me, Mr. Keeper. I'm not in the best mood…"

"Whatever. Hey, greenie. Saw you running by the way, when those bees chased ya. Have to admit, saw something good."

He blinked once. His annoyance gradually beginning to diminish. "Are you implying, I could be a Runner?"

Minho gave a nod. Leaning back in his chair. "I don't lie, greenie."

"Sorry. But, after hearing about those things…Grievers. I don't think, I could hack that kind of task." He states it with honesty. Fiddling with the knife, Alby gave him. His eyes avoiding Minho's.

Ever since he looked at them. Really looked. He found it hard to do so.

Minho seemed to sense this. "Hey, there's gonna be a Bonfire for you tonight, by the way. Something we do for newcomers or just to have fun."

"Do I have to attend?"

"It is for you."

So many rules in this place. He raised his hands up, as a sign of giving in. Minho snickered at his behavior, giving him a mock pat on the shoulder.

"C'mon, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Honestly, Minho. I don't want to think about that, in this place."

Chapter Text

His bonfire started late that night. He watched in mild intrigue, as sticks of fire were aimed into a massive pile in the center. Everyone cheered, minus him and Edgar. Embracing their Glader lifestyle.

"Bottoms up." Looking up, he could see it was Newt. Holding a glass in his hand, filled with a strange yellow brew. "Ah, Eddie, quit lookin' at me like that. He'll be fine!"

Following Newt's grinning face, he found Edgar staring in disapproval at that liquid amber. With a deep breath, he gulped it down. It burns his throat instantly. He coughed and wheezed, with Edgar lightly patting his back.

"Oh God," he gagged out. "What the…" another cough. "What is THAT?"

"Ha, nobody knows mate," Newt grinned. Sitting beside Edgar on one side. Up against a log. "Gally's secret brew. He won't tell anyone, what's in it."

"Ugh…one thing I know. Tastes like horse piss."

"Language, young man."

A small smile crept up over his face, rubbing his neck. All around him everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The skies darkened and stars began to appear. For some reason, he held an inkling that they weren't as real as they look. Even the breeze around, felt fake.

Minho sat with The Runners like usual, according to Edgar. Alby eventually joined them later along, with a chubby boy named Chuck. Again. That odd sense of familiarity crept up, when he saw him.

Sudden cheers startled him. He looked over, after Gally pummeled a poor boy in his face. Stained with blood.

Sighs escaped Edgar's lips, looking Newt's way. "Don't worry, I've got greenie-boy covered. Do your thing."

"Shuck…Gally's really getting good." Chuck muttered. "Wish someone would pummel HIS face in."

"All this winning is making him, into a huge shank ass." Alby snorted, glancing his way. "Be-careful greenbean. Don't wanna go over there."

"So, no one's ever beaten him before?" He mused out loud.

They all shook their heads 'no'. Chuck's twelve for one thing. The poor kid wouldn't last a minute with him. Newt suffered a limp in his leg, from some accident months ago. An accident, he never talked to anyone besides two people about. Alby thought they were ridiculous and, knew whole heartedly it wouldn't take much for him to own Gally.

"He's a bloody moron." Newt spoke up.

This caught Gally's attention. He cursed under his breath, when he craned his neck over at the quartet. One hand cupped over his ear. "What's that? Who's a moron, Newt?" he called back.

His cronies cackled. Egging him on.

He had a wolfish grin across his face, when he caught sight of the greenie beside Alby. "Ah. Almost forgot you were there, greenie." He tries not to grimace, when Gally knelt to his level. "We haven't really seen what ya got yet….then again, not sure I wanna damage your handsome face."

Several 'oooohs' echoed. None from Alby, Chuck, Frypan or Newt.

His jaw stiffened when Gally ran a finger down it. A hand grabbed the front of his shirt. Before he could act, he's thrown into the ring.

Oh klunk. Looks like I've got no choice…klunk. I'm a dead man. I don't know how to fight!

Sick. That's the only word to possibly describe, just how he felt. His stomach makes odd twists inward. He couldn't run away. If he ran, Gally would make his life hell here. He brought his face close.

"….Stay away from me, shuck face."

Laughter echoed in his ears. Gally doubled over, holding his stomach at that pathetic attempt of an insult emitting from this newcomer's lips. "Did you hear that? Eyes hear called ME shuck-face!" He called to the crowd of roaring boys. His arms spread and the greenie's face heated with embarrassment, it gave enough courage to tackle Gally.

Tall as he was compared to Elliot, it did send Gally right on his back. He felt a surge of pride, hearing Newt, Alby and Chuck's cheering.

Gally coughed, actually holding his chest from the impact. Greenie dodged another punch, out of sheer clumsy ness most. He ducked again. "Stop. Ducking!" The Builder's leader hollered in between throws.

A feral grin formed on his face, as the greenie doubled over after receiving a blow to his stomach. Dots began to form in his vision. He could hear Newt hollering something.

But did Gally care?

His bright red hair is gripped in a vice like hold, after Gally motioned his friend to let him go. Their faces are so close. Too close.

Without much thought, he head-butts him. Gally cried out after the impact, releasing his hold on the greenie. His hands shook when he's released. Sharp pants escape. Oh shuck, I think I just made him angrier!

There's a lovely red spot on Gally's forehead. Right in the middle.

He fears for the worst.

But. To his sheer shock, Gally doesn't do anything. He stared him down for what feels to be, an eternity's time. "....Not bad, greenie. Not bad...at all." It's forced. That much he can tell. He's only relieved, as The Gladers erupt into cheers and clap him on the back, he wasn't put in the infirmary.

Chapter Text

The rest of his Bonfire went on without a hitch. He got to know some of the others gradually, as the night went on. Frypan is a funny, genius of a chef in accordance to others. Winston was a little of what some would call, a dimwit, at times but hard worker and all around good guy.

While he sleeps that night.

He dreams.

Of a scorched Earth. A lonely cabin in the woods. And a woman, with hair as red as fire.

~xxxxx~

He's up earlier than the rest of them. Pink streaks of dawn creep up over the horizon. With arms wrapped around, he gingerly makes his way out into chilly night air. Goosebumps dance along his bare arms, tickling his skin.

He closed his eyes once. Exhaling slowly, taking in that fresh air once more.

Further does he walk out into The Glade. Gazing up at The Maze's four walls. He noticed those woods to his right. An area, he seemed to recall some of the boys calling The Deadheads.

Ashen trees of white bark. There's a small, dirt path leading into them. His head tilted in curiosity, he walked forward. Bushes brush against his bare legs. He's sudden regretting not wearing his old shoes. At least they would have provided some protection.

He passed a stream. His reflection ripples, in the murky depths. And beyond the stream he could see a hut. Bigger than most around here. Equal to The Homestead's size. There's a single door, slightly ajar.

When he opens it, he poked his head. Looking this way and that. Nobody's around he figured. No guards. It couldn't be that important.

He studied the maps. Brilliant eyes shifting over, going through the notes.

"You are one nosey little greenie."

He holds a hand to his chest. Turning on his heel, he's annoyed and perhaps slight relieved its only Minho. "Don't sneak up on me, like that." He muttered.

Minho let out a breathy laugh, one hand on his hip. Dressed in his Runner gear. A smirk graces across his face. "Maybe you shouldn't be snooping. Ever think of that? You're lucky it's me, that caught you and not Harry. Guy's a real stickler, for not allowing non-runners in."

"Oh yes. Counting my lucky stars…have you guys really, taken all these notes?" He asked in wonder. Nodding towards the books on the shelves. Lined up in alphabetical order.

"Every last one. I know, one look at me and you think I'm not the 'bookworm' type. But, when you've got our job, it's a given. To map out every inch of that maze."

He nodded in some understanding. "I think I get it. One question…grievers. Have you ever, actually seen one?"

Minho shook his head. His tongue flicked out once, running along his bottom lip out of habit. "No. I can see it in your eyes, greenie. Your curious…about them."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Minho caught on too quick.

~xxxxxx~

When he approached The Maze with Minho, he heard that horrible cry. Followed by a strange mechanical whirring. God…What the shuck, do they have in there? It's cry alone is enough, to chill you to your bones since he's a hair short from the glass window, Minho cupped his hands together, motioning him to balance on them.

Hands cup around his eyes. Seeing nothing but an empty maze.

When it appeared so sudden, in front of the glass window covered in vines.

His heart hammered against his chest, motioning Minho to let him down. Four long metal legs. Reminding him strong of an insect. "Holy…Oh god. What was that?" He whispered.

"That is the 'That', inside The Maze. We call it Griever and why only us Runners, are allowed inside a decision made by Alby and myself." There was something in Minho's eyes that could be seen. As if something tragic had happened, to make such decision.

"Griever. I see…"

"Still think you want to be a Runner, Greenbean?"

"After seeing that thing, yeah. No…."

Minho's head shakes side to side. His eyes filled with relief. "Good to hear, thought I'd show you what we're up against. C'mon, we should be heading back before the sun comes up."

"Right. Don't want to face Alby's glare of doom."

Both snickered at that.

"It's why we stick to the rules. There has to be order, around here."

He didn't know what to say. Yes, they want to find a way out, but, why risk going in there?

"Get Stung by one of 'em nasties and that's it. No coming back from it. That graveyard in the woods, is there for a reason." Minho continued, almost solemn, he noticed. "Lost a lot of good boys."

He felt sick. A numbness took over. He couldn't shake that horrible creature from his thoughts, no matter what was tried.

Minho gave him a two finger salute, as they climbed in their hammocks. "Good luck out here, greenbean…"

"Yeah. Looks like I'll need it."

When he closes his eyes, the dreams return.

Chapter Text

Day seven. A whole week since his being here. Frypan became his first mentor in the culinary arts, teaching him the basic skills first. It's as if the guy was born, with the ability to cook. His shelves, built by Gally were filled to the brim of various spices and herbs. Some that which, he's never heard of.

"Man. Pretty generous, our Creators." He began. Helping Frypan get his ingredients out. He got a bowl of salt, another of pepper and an herb called basil.

Frypan nodded once. "Comes in handy though. We need so much 'round here."

During his time spent in the kitchen area, Frypan taught him how to cook over an open flame. A tedious task considering his slight fear. "It's weird, I don't remember being around fire before and yet, I'm afraid of it."

"That burn mark below your arm should be, enough proof greenie." Frypan pointed out, watching him like a hawk.

"Huh? I don't…" he began to retort. Until he looks down and sees a tear shaped burn underneath his left arm. He nearly dropped the pan out of his hands, had it not been for Frypan steadying him. "Whoa," he breathed out. "That's…a little freaky. Got any spirits around here?"

Frypan gave a grin. Shaking his head. "Ha, real funny bud. Sure you're alright to cook? Look a little freaked out."

"No, no I'm good."

As they carried on, it's as if lightning struck. His name. After so many forgetful days, the name came to him. Out of the blue. "Elliot." He whispered. Frypan looked wearily his way.

"Uh. Who's that?"

"My name…I remember. I-It's Elliot."

"Elliot…" Frypan repeated it, before nodding. Clapping him once on the shoulder, with a smile. "Hey nice. Glad ya remembered, finally. Started to worry about ya."

"Me to, Fry. Me to."

~xxxxxx~

"Lookin' good in that hair net, greenie." Newt's snickering tone went unnoticed, as he came up next in line.

Elliot shot him a warning look. His lips twitching in a small grin. "Watch it Newt, you know, there's a thing on chef's spitting in people's food…"

He slapped a thing of casserole on Newt's tray. Even Edgar managed a light grin, at Newt's appalled face when it splashed some against his left cheek. "And. I'll have it be known, I remembered my name…it's Elliot."

"Elliot." Newt spoke. Nodding once. "Nice, good that. Hey, wanna sit with Eddie and I today?" He pointed to the shy boy beside him.

"If that's alright." Elliot responded. Smiling some, when Edgar gave the okay signal.

The chefs were always last to go in. He didn't wish to have meat on his plate. Not after he helped The Slicers yesterday. Whenever he closed his eyes, it's as if he could still see that poor pig squirming around, with two boys having to hold it down.

"Not bad Eli," Minho complimented. Taking a mouthful of casserole. He and the Runners got first dibs, before anyone else. "This meat's awesome."

"Thank Frypan for that. I'm not a fan of it."

Newt raised a brow. His head tilted to one side, just now taking notice Elliot only ate his casserole dish. "Are you one of 'em…oh bloody hell. Can't think, of the word." His eyebrows furrowed in thought. As if trying to communicate with his brain.

Edgar quickly wrote something down. Sliding it towards him. "I think you mean vegetarian, what Elliot is. They don't care for anything that's meat or in a meat category."

"Shuck. How do you LIVE? Meat's kinda important y'know." Minho stated.

Elliot shrugged one shoulder. Unable to think, how robotic Edgar's writing had looked. "I just don't like it. It feels wrong…."

Minho and Newt looked at each-other. Then back at Elliot. "You are one strange, shank."

~xxxxxx~

He was at it with The Builders again, the next day. Gally needed an extra pair of hands, after some from his crew were in The Med-Jacks tent healing from multiple injuries. To make it worse, Gally still seemed upset over that whole Bonfire incident.

Beaten by an unknown. With a simple head-butt.

That had to have damaged his ego, to some extent one would think.

A mechanical whirring startled him. He could see a strange, black insect hovering above his head. And he promptly lets out a single gasp, when it gets inches away from his hair. "Get off, get off you stupid-oh crap." He cursed. It's on his neck. Actually on his neck, the back of it. He tries to smack at it, but it seems glued to his skin.

His hands flailed about, trying to grab it. Wincing upon that sensation, of cold…metal? Against him.

"For all that's…here, here. Dammit Greenie, stay put!" Gally bit out. He placed one hand on Elliot's shoulder firm and the other, shooing the insect off of him.

He's close to hyperventilating, even after the bug was gone. Nervous blue and green eyes, shift upward as it flies off in a perfect line towards The Maze. "…Shuck," he breathed out. "What was THAT?"

Gally snorted. Like it's a chore to explain it, to him. "Beetle Blades is what they are. We came up with a theory, that they use 'em for spying on us."

"Spying…lovely. Just what else, we need around this crazy place." Elliot sighed. Rubbing his neck.

"Yeah. Alright, get back to work. We don't have all day. It's gone now…." He could see Elliot was still trembling, the way he tried picking up that hammer again. For once Gally actually attempts, to feign sympathy. "Doin' alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Didn't get near my face at least."

There's no laughter from Gally. Their work continued in silence.

Chapter Text

Elliot's incident with that Beetle Blade caused a case of paranoia, throughout the day. It's uncomfortable to imagine someone, could be watching every move they made from behind a screen somewhere.

The other boys acted as if it's nothing new, which caused him to raise some brows. As if this is the only life they knew.

He helped The Builders out for at least three hours working on a new, plan for The Glade. An agreement made that more huts should be built for The Med Jacks and bathroom areas.

When he awakes the next morning, it's The Baggers. He had to work with two boys: Sven and Demetri. Quiet. Not Edgar kind of quiet but eerie kind. They freaked him out actually. A little too comfortable dealing with corpses.

Day Five

On the fifth day, he worked with Zart and his Track-Hoes. Gardening proved back breaking work shocking enough, but relaxing.

"You know; I think I actually like this." Elliot said with thought, planting some zuuchini's into the ground.

"It's still early for a decision, greenie. Ya might find one that's better suited than this." Zart said, sweat dripping down his face.

"Well, I do know one thing. Anything's better, than being a Bagger." He muttered under his breath.

Day Six

The Med Jacks were friendly enough. Jeff and Clint talked to him, whereas Edgar would only smile or nod or write something in a small journal. At first he thought he did something until he remembered what Newt told him. Eddie's…been through a lot, since being here. Place gets to ya, sometimes

Jeff had a kind voice and lots of patience. Clint introduced himself after taking care, of an injured boy named Demetri.

Elliot got an unwanted look, as Clint showed him. He looked so young and pale, lying in that bed. His stomach is wrapped up in a long thing of thick gauze. "What happened to him?" He dared to ask.

"Henry's…an old Runner," Clint began carefully. Leaning against the opened doorway. "You know about Grievers by now. Right?"

His mind flashed to the one, Minho showed him. He grimaced at once, putting two and two together. "…Yeah. I know what they are." He muttered softly. "How long does he…?"

"We're giving him more than one night. Edgar deducted it'll be tonight, rather."

No more talks were about Henry.

They showed him how cleaning a wound works first. How to apply rubbing alcohol and a band aid properly. That much is understood.

Gally had been brought in as a patient. He somehow cut his hand in the kitchen, while helping Frypan out for the day. Blood dripped from his wound. "Oh man, Gally what happened?" He sighed. Rubbing the back of his neck.

"Little accident is all. I told Matt it was fine, but you know how he is."

Even Jeff and Clint winced at the blood. Edgar seemed indifferent. "Well, least it's not a splinter wound. Alright, up ya go Gally." Jeff motioned him to sit on a bed.

Edgar looked his way, mouthing to distract him. Nodding once in understanding, he offered a pillow for him. "Here. Might need this for a while."

"Thanks." he muttered. With the one pillow tucked under his arm, his face flushed. As if it was the most embarrassing thing in the world, to be in here.

And at once Elliot gave a gentle smile.

Edgar returned with the stitches and gauze. Elliot could feel Gally stiffen at once, as rubbing alcohol is rubbed over his wound. "Okay count to ten with me. One...two..."

Edgar took the needle and thread. Slow and painful the process was. "One Mississippi…two Mississippi….three…" they count in unison. "Jeff…I can't…" Elliot blanches almost, when a stitch is offered.

He already has some of Gally's blood on him. The smell was getting to him now. Edgar let out a sigh, nodding that he'll take him out.

Elliot sat with his head in his hands. Even the smell of Frypan's meat was better, than the blood. Edgar rubbed his back in soothing motions. Only lifting his head, when Minho and Ben came back.

"Hey, Edgar," Ben breathed out. Sweat pouring down his face, dabbing at it with a cloth.

Edgar gave another simple nod. Motioning to Elliot. "Sick, huh? Yeah. That's typical. Seems to have a weak stomach." Minho said. "Better get over it fast, though. Or else Alby'll be on your ass."

"Thanks for the support." Elliot grumbled. Thanking Edgar for helping him to stand up.

~xxxxxx~

Twilight casts its shadow over The Glade. Bathing it in an almost eerie moonlight. Elliot worked with Frypan again in the kitchens that day, discovering he took quite a liking to it. Candles were lit aflame as well as torches. Even The Maze called it a day, as its Doors shut with a groan.

Stars decorate the night sky. The moon's out.

His hammock swayed in a light breeze. Hands behind his head. Chuck could be seen, with his bandaged hand carefully over his stomach. Snoring silently.

Elliot smiled at the sight, before he turns to look at Edgar next. He's beside Newt. In the same hammock. Newt's arm is propped up over his head. Edgar rests against his chest. They aren't a perfect fit, but not too big like Frypan or Clint would be.

"Make a cute couple, don't they?"

Minho's voice broke the silence. He could hear a hint of teasing, in the tone. Looking over, turning on his side Elliot can see him with one leg propped up. And an arm behind his head.

"I guess so…heh. Just never would've guessed." His voice is barely above a whisper, not wishing to disturb the others.

"I can hear your thoughts, greenie." He could see Minho turn on his side. Meeting Elliot's gaze. "What's up?"

"Do you ever think, Minho?"

"Uh. Yeah. Kinda important to do."

Elliot snorted. A little too loud, for someone grumbled 'shut up' . No doubt from Gally. "I mean, about our lives before. Like, before The Glade."

"Dunno. Sometimes, I wonder I guess. It's weird. I know what a radio is. I know that the sun, is our brightest star. Other than that, my mind's a total blank. Like all I know, is running." He lowered his gaze a bit.

"I think. Probably more than what's healthy to. About…my parents. Or, if I had any." Elliot began, looking up at the countless of stars. "Same for siblings. Friends. Neighbors. I feel…like we're starting over. You know?"

"Think I understand what you mean. Kind of in those movies, where a certain group are chosen for whatever reason to create new life. Life outside must be hell."

"Could be right on that…" Elliot murmured, feeling his eyes droop.

They stare at one another for the longest time. Pondering the exact same thought, neither dare to utter out loud. Did we know each-other. Before? "…Well, sweet dreams greenie," Minho rolled over on his back again. Ignoring Elliot's eye roll and 'I have a name' mutter. "Got a long road ahead of us."

"Hmph. Back at you…night."

When he closes his eyes, he does not dream this time. In fact, it's the best night's sleep he's had in ages.

Chapter Text

Elliot splashed his face with cool water, in the bathroom. He'd just wrapped up a shower that felt more than refreshing enough. As if he had not one in years.

He could hear chatter from the other boys outside, as they carried about their work. Only one day away. And I'll be with one, of The Keepers minus The Runners of course. He could truly fit in.

"Greenie!"

Minho jogged towards him, when he exits the bathroom. Elliot gave a simple wave of acknowledgement. "Glad to see you're doing well, with your nerves."

"Oh yes. Not on pins and needles at all here. Shouldn't you be, running?" Elliot replied, arms folded across his chest.

Minho smirked. "I'll be a minute. Got kicked out of The Gathering."

"Aren't you a Keeper?"

"I see you didn't try out for Runner."

"More like no one will let me."

"And we have our reasons. It's not something most of us, like or are good at."

Elliot arched a brow. That little bit of smug is heard clear as day, in Minho's voice. "Let me guess. You are?"

Minho scoffed, his chest puffing out just a bit. "Please, I'm shuckin' good at everything."

The Doors groan open within a few hours, echoing throughout The Glade.

"See ya, Elliot. Good luck!"

It's not long before Minho disappears down that corridor and into The Maze.

~xxxxxx~

Several boys gathered inside The Gathering place. Alby stood in its center, it occurred to Elliot that nice of a guy he could be he had an awful big head about being leader. He saw it in his eyes, Alby liked the way all eyes were on him.

Chuck, whose hand seemed to be healing up fairly well sat beside him. "Are ya nervous at all, Bro?"

"No…I mean, do I look it?" Elliot swallowed. Trying to mask the fact, he didn't really like all the attention he was receiving.

"You shouldn't be. It's normal yeah. I know I was, before they decided to put me in with The Sloppers. But, I've got a real good feeling about your choice."

"Hope you're right bud…"

"Hey. Do you mind, if I call ya Bro by the way?"

Elliot shook his head. Wondering himself where that nickname came, all of a sudden. "No. I don't mind at all, it's better than greenie."

They chuckled some, before the meeting started. Each Keeper shared their ups and downs about Elliot, starting with Gally. "He's a hard worker, little clumsy with the tools. Doesn't get that 'heads up' doesn't actually mean to look up…"

His face turned as red as his hair, when some of the guys started to snicker. "But, I admire his work ethic. He tries to get the job done as you tell him."

Simple and to the point.

Winston was next for The Slicers. "Like Gally, he'll do things he don't like to do. For someone who hates meat so much, knows how to cut up a pig pretty good."

Frypan shared similar statements. "I'd like to see 'im in my kitchen. Cooks up a mean slice of bacon."

"Can we please stop, with the meat remarks?" Elliot groaned, covering his face. The smallest grin crossed over hearing some bits of laughter echo.

Trackhoes.

Med-Jacks.

Baggers.

Sloppers.

When it came back around, he received his answer. "Alright greenie. You're….with Frypan." Alby announced.

"Alright! Welcome aboard man." Frypan pulled him in for a one armed hug, clapping him once on the back.

"Like wise." Elliot gave a relieved smile. Thankful he would not be placed, with the low man on the totem pole.

"No complaints?" Alby asked. "Alright, let's grab some food and back to work."

~xxxxx~

Edgar called it. Harry passed away in his sleep that night, at ten pm. He doesn't remember what a funeral is like. There aren't any memories, of being in one. But a somber feeling was felt throughout The Glade.

His best-friend, a sweet well-mannered boy named Collin couldn't comprehend at first. Until Edgar had to comfort the poor kid, moments later. Sobbing softly in his arms. Elliot wasn't a Bagger. But he did help with the service. Felt it was the right thing to do.

Puffs escape his parted lips. Leaning against his shovel, gazing down with thought at Harry's corpse.

"…Sorry. I wish more could have been done, for you."

He didn't know the kid, which was strange. To say something like that.

Continuing the task, Elliot wasn't aware Harry's eyes had sudden opened. Or that tugging on the hem of his shirt. Until he's yanked to the ground.

A startled, single cry escaped. Harry's eyes…oh God his eyes were bulging right out of his head. His lips part in a toothy grin. He could see his lips. Black stuff pushed past them. Elliot tries not to gag, as he feels Harry's rancid breath on his face. The stench of death and decay.

"You're all…going to die…."

"W-What…do you mean?" He stuttered. Whimpering. Actually whimpering, when Harry drew him in close.

Call him a sissy for doing so. He doesn't care in truth. Shuck is his grip strong, for a dead boy

"The Doors…won't close…..one night…." He slurred. His eyes rolling up to his head. "Grievers…will come…."

"Hell are you talking about?"

But before Harry could finish, he's dead once again. Minho and Gally tugged Elliot away finally, he didn't even know they were there. His chest rose and fell. Looking at both of them. "Did…Did you hear that?" He uttered. "What he said?"

Gally furrowed his brows. Shaking his head. "We didn't hear anything, greenie other than your yelling."

"Oh shuck that was freaky…" Minho breathed out.

One of The Bagger's spoke up after that frightening moment ended. Even he looked a sickly pale. "It happens sometimes. Your nervous system remains, only for about two seconds. People's eyes open. Sometimes a hand reflex can happen…"

"But he…he…."

Minho helped him to his feet, looking their way. A look of thought etched across his face. "You guys got this, right? Come on, let's get yourself in bed."

"But-."

"C'mon Eli. Don't make me, tell you twice."

Elliot swallowed. Goosebumps danced along his arms, as Minho led him away from their graveyard site. He didn't think sleep would be on his side this time. Or for a long while.

Chapter Text

None in The Glade handled Harry's death well. Especially The Runners. It'd only been a week since his death and yet, Elliot was still haunted.

Haunted by that 'incident'. That freak thing, of him speaking when he should have been dead. How black substance seeped past his lips. Jeff couldn't figure out. Or Clint. Or Edgar.

He'd thought of it while chopping vegetables for the lunch's stew. Making quick progress, thanks to Frypan's tips. His hair was held up in a hair net, as per custom though some of it fell in strands behind his ears.

Frypan was stirring something in the pot. When he heard it. His head at once lifted, looking Elliot's way. "Was that you, Eli?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

They waited again. For two seconds before a scream sounded throughout The Glade. "….That. Come on, come on." Frypan urged, turning off the stove this time with Elliot not far behind.

That scream. It chilled him to his very bones. Others heard it to, for they crowded around The Maze's opening. As the screams went on, he wasn't sure if he could take them much longer. Edgar and Newt shared looks of worry, hands laced together.

"Minho…" Newt whispered. His eyes wide.

"You don't think-?" Chuck swallowed.

No.

Not him.

Elliot could see Ben racing down a corridor, his face pale like a ghost. They all encouraged him forward. At once kneeling around, when he collapsed on his knees coughing and gasping. "Ben, Ben easy!" Alby pushed forward, placing a hand on his back. "Where's Minho? I thought he was with you!"

"Griever…saved me…he saved me…told to run…" he choked out. Shaking his head and pounding his fist, against the ground.

Shuckin' hell that idiot! Risking his life in there

And just like that. Elliot broke the third, most important rule. Edgar was the first to notice, his jaw slacked open tugging on Newt's shirt sleeve.

"GREENIE. Get your shank ass back here-!" But Alby's words fall on deaf ears. His feet pound against the cement. He runs without thinking into a structure, not at all familiar. All Elliot cared about at that time, was Minho's safety.

His chest feels like it's on fire by the time he turns a sharp left corner, near colliding into a wall. Blue and green eyes darting left and right. Something clicked suddenly to whistle.

Putting his thumb and index finger in his mouth, nothing but air came at first. Redder and redder his face becomes. When he got it after that fifth try. It echoes throughout The Maze, loud and sharp.

His entire body trembled with a non-existent cold.

When he heard a response back.

He ran towards the sound, whistling in between. A shadow loomed over him all that while. Something slimy and wet slaps into his hair, matting it against his forehead. "Oh gross. What the….?"

It's taller than he imagined it to be. Like a huge, ugly insect on four metal legs. He covered his mouth as it reared down on its hind legs. Eyes shimmering. The Griever seems to study him. Sniffing all over.

Elliot tries not to gag, when its tongue ran up his arm. Coating it in more saliva. Don't move…Stay still. M-Maybe it's senses are based on movement, like a Tyrannosaur

Nope.

The Griever struck. He could feel a cut on his shoulder, holding it instinctively as he bolted.

"Elliot?!"

He could see Minho just up ahead. His shirt is ripped open, fresh blood coats his fingers. The side of his head is bleeding as well, from The Griever's attack. "Minho! Are you…No stupid question, you're not alright." Elliot's frantic tone sounds, as he slips an arm around Minho's waist.

The Runner's leader shoots him a burning glare, limping along at a fast pace. "Dead. You are SO shuckin' dead, if we get outta here, greenie. Runnin' in here like…some kind of, wannabe hero?!"

"Oh, you're so welcome saving your life. Just keep up and don't drop on me…" He took his chance. And hollered for Alby. "ALBY!"

They were getting back to the main entrance. He didn't know how, but something told him they were going to make it.

Footfalls sounded up-ahead. His face was drenched in sweat and laced with anger. More so at Elliot of course. Alby took hold, of Minho's other arm. "I'm not Stung…just hurt…" Minho panted out.

They bolted into a sprint. Surprising enough, they managed fairly well all that's taken place. Minho gave the orders despite his condition.

That same Griever rolled towards them. Only when they're at The Maze's doors did it stop and make a retreat. Unleashing one more piercing cry throughout The Glade.

~xxxxx~

Minho's moved onto a stretcher Edgar rushed to retrieve. He doesn't make a single sound through the journey towards The Med Jacks hut. Gally was called upon for assistance, considering Jeff and Clint weren't strong enough.

He's so unresponsive. Just like Harry. At once, Elliot fears it's going to happen all over again. Minho's going to die, he'll wake up, talk about The Maze not closing. That they'll all die, before he actually dies.

"Eli…Eli!"

Someone, Alby shook him by the shoulders. "Don't just stand around, help us out." He bit out.

"Right…Right."

It's frantic in the hut. Edgar placed a piece of plastic over a gaping hole in Minho's chest. He sucks air through his teeth, bothered by just that pressure alone. Gally and Clint held him steady. Curses towards The Grievers followed throughout.

A piece of The Grievers metal claw had been lodged in. Jeff had to have Elliot pull the skin apart, something he's far from comfortable doing but knows it's for Minho. It doesn't matter what he felt.

"Here…here bite down on this, Minho." Clint handed him a cloth, watching with frightened eyes as he bit down.

Edgar flushed out the wound. Giving signals that there were no signs of a collapsed chest on either side. That piece of metal had been removed, but some shards of it still remained. "Just three more left Min…Only three." Jeff promised. The pain in his own voice evident.

~xxxxxx~

Night had since fallen. An ink black sky takes place. Elliot paced outside the hut, for the remainder of that evening. Unable to sleep without knowing Minho's condition. He couldn't shake that image from his thoughts. Something he fears, will forever linger in the back of his mind.

Minho's room was just down the hallway. It's dim lighted. He sat shirtless on a window sill, gazing out into the night. His chest bandaged all around in heavy gauze.

"…Minho? It's uh, it's me. Elliot." He began. "Might I come in?"

"I knew you'd show up…come in." Minho sighed. Motioning with his hand.

Elliot complied. He sat down on the bed, hands folded in his lap. "How's it feel?"

"It hurts…a lot." Minho muttered, his fingers graze against the bandages. Elliot doesn't flinch when he's given a stern look. Or tries not to. "So. Mind telling me, what the shuck that was all about?"

"Minho, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have run in there. But Ben-."

"Never mind about Ben! I can handle myself, Elliot, this ain't my first run. What if we BOTH got killed?"

"I know…"

"You should've listened to Alby, our LEADER."

"I know."

"I should kick you out of this shuckin' room, right now."

There's a long moment's pause. Elliot immediately feels guilty, again. His bangs shadow his eyes. Until he could hear Minho sigh softly. When the moon shines just right, he could see every muscle in his arms. Every crevice.

His face flushed, forcing his gaze away. His sexuality was never questioned until some days later, perhaps. When he saw Gally take his shirt off one afternoon. Elliot couldn't tear his gaze from him, until he sliced his thumb on accident.

The scar was faded but still seen on its tip.

"I was thinking about Harry. How he didn't deserve to die, the way he did. When I heard you screaming in so much pain….that did it for me. No one else, except Alby maybe or Newt would go in. But they'd take too long. I knew they would and by then…I feared…." He blurts it all out at once. Exhaling slowly.

Minho's eyes flickered when Harry's name is mentioned. "Still, that was pretty dumb going in like that without a plan. Geesh. You're such a girl, Eli."

Elliot gasped when his forehead's flicked. Huffing in disbelief. "Hey. Don't think 'cause your injured, I'm letting that slide."

Minho smirked at his little threat, snickering after. "Please. Just try it, greenbean."

When visiting hours were up, Elliot took his leave. Until Minho called after him.

"…Thanks. You've been alright."

Elliot gave a faint smile in return. "Back at ya." He gave Minho's two finger piece sign in return.

Chapter Text

Days 16-25

Minho was ordered to rest for at least a week's worth or two. It's shown on a daily basis, he's ready to be out and running again. Sometimes if they needed back up, Jeff, Clint and Edgar would have him in the Med-Jack's hut until more workers were gained. Between that and cooking with Frypan, Elliot ponders how he's still on the go.

A Beetle Blade studied him ever careful. He could feel it behind him, on a wall as he cooked eggs up.

I see you keeping an eye on me…You're waiting. To see, what I'll do next

After The Runners got their meal, Edgar approached. "Jesus, Edgar…Look at you," Elliot said softly. Putting a generous amount of eggs on his plate. "How do you guys sleep?"

His lips curve in a small, tired smile. He reached out with his hand, that which Elliot took.

He's alive though. Edgar's eyes read. He's alive.

It took Elliot that much to realize, just how close they'd come to losing Minho.

~xxxxxx~

The air around The Glade had felt different. Ever since that incident with Harry, he couldn't help but feel a change. They thought Minho was fine, at first. He seemed as he usually is. But his eyes. Newt confessed to Elliot, something just didn't feel right behind Minho's eyes of late.

Even as he approached The Map Room, to bring the Runners their dinner, something's off. They're all outside. Ben. Demetri. Lincoln. Hawkins.

"…Ben? What's up?" He asked softly. Trudging closer, with the tray of food.

He bit on his thumb pad, before looking up at Elliot. Lincoln and Hawkins immediately take their leave. Heads lowered. Demetri's the only one, willing to speak. "Minho's…Not himself right now, Eli." He whispered.

"How so?"

"…"

Demetri doesn't answer. Fear grips him at once. Ignoring their warnings to stay put, he rushed inside setting their food aside. He pushed open The Map Room door. "Minho-?!"

His posture's poor. Breathing heavy. Newt was right about his eyes, when they raise upwards. Red-rimmed around their edges. Those powerful arms of his tremble at his sides. "Minho…What's…up with you? Demetri said-."

What was it, Alby told him? Sting…no. No Stung. You could get Stung by a Griever. His mind flashed at once, to that metal they dug from his chest. His jaw slacked. He couldn't move at first…not even when Minho, advances towards him. With a sick, demented grin across his vein covered face.

"Greenie…Wanna play?" He eyed his body up and down. "I'd play with that. Please, don't scream. Does a number, on the ears…besides, wouldn't want your cute voice to disappear like Edgar's did."

Run.

Run.

Run. His mind screamed. But, it's funny sometimes. What pure fear can do to a person. Minho's hand feels so cold against his left cheek, running it with his knuckles up and down. "Yeah. You're gonna be REAL fun, playin' with, greenie….neck's so smooth….pretty eyes….so pretty…"

"Serum. Minho, I-I'm gonna get Alby and…and we'll help you…" he closed his eyes tight, feeling his tongue run across his neck. As if testing for that perfect spot.

At the mention of Alby, Minho became angry. He took hold of Elliot's arms, bruising tight. He's strong enough on his own. But, with the infection he's stronger it feels like.

To his own surprise, Elliot yanks one arm free. And slapped him.

Then he's running. With Minho hollering 'I'll kill you, you little bastard!' so loud everyone in The Glade hears it. Blood pounds in his ears. Elliot screamed for Alby, Jeff, anyone who had that Serum.

He took him down by his legs first. Elliot scrambles for anything, to latch onto but Minho's on him in seconds. Face pinned against the grass, just like when they first met. "Oh yeah. I'm gonna have FUN, with you, greenie! It'll hurt…actually," Minho paused. Before shrugging. "Nah. It's gonna be 'bloody painful', as Newtie would say!"

That laugh. He wouldn't forget that cold, callous laugh. Tears prickled behind Elliot's eyes, as he continued to fight against this…thing.

"No…The Minho I know, wouldn't want to hurt me." Maybe he could try reasoning with it.

"ELI."

He couldn't lift his head, to see Alby, Newt, Gally and Jeff on the scene. Edgar made sure everyone else was locked in The Homestead until then. "Holy shit…he's whacked out." Gally uttered. For once speechless.

"Ah, we've got some guests! C'mere…atta boy…" Minho cooed, hoisting Elliot up. He holds him against his chest. One hand around his waist, the other covering his mouth like a suction cup.

Newt had the Serum syringe in his back pocket. Hand gripping its end just enough, Minho wouldn't or shouldn't be able to notice.

"Let 'im go, Minho…."

"Let 'im go, Minho," Minho mocked Alby. His eyes ablaze. "Y'know what, Mr. Leader? I've had it up to here, with you, tellin' me what to do. You act like I'm sick."

"You ARE. Minho, a Griever Stung you. That's why you're like this."

"Shut up! One more word and he's dead!"

Elliot bit down on the bottom of his hand. Minho howled upon the sensation, giving him time to break free. "Y'alright?" Gally asked.

"Fine…" he deadpanned, looking Minho's way.

"At this point, I don't even think the Serum will help…" Alby muttered. Studying him carefully. Fiddling with his knife.

"We can't just kill 'im. It's. It's still Minho…in a way." Newt explained softly. "Eli. Can ya distract 'im for me?"

"Roger that….so this is what it's like. Sure isn't pretty…" Elliot breathed out, approaching their friend slow and steady. His arms raised to show, he means no harm.

Minho snarled like an animal. Rabid and dangerous still. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth, grotesquely licking it away. "The real Minho's in there. I can feel it. You're just a monster. A nasty clot inside, him. Well, not anymore…"

He laughed. A laugh unlike Minho's real one. "What're you gonna do? Kill me, shank? Huh? I'd like to see ya try."

"No. I don't believe in that. When you take another's life, you're only stealing your own as well. Please…Minho…."

His voice is so soothing. Minho's eyes twitched, when a hand is placed against his left cheek.

Their eyes meet.

Minho's face twitched. This time, in pain. Newt snuck behind him, diving the syringe straight into his left shoulder where Jeff instructed. He collapsed against Elliot, as the shorter boy held him close.

Chapter Text

No one could shake what happened to Minho. It was a continuous thought, that ran through their minds. Weeks have passed and yet, still it lingered on.

Each time he closed his eyes, all he could see was 'Minho's grotesque face. His veins across his eyes. A moment he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. Once again, it's that time to venture towards The Box for supplies.

Elliot walked over towards it, sometimes looking over his shoulder every so often. He's more alert than usual.

He hopes instead of more clothes, it's actual things they could rely on. Medicinal supplies for Jeff and his Med-Jacks. Cooking utensils and herbs, for him and Frypan.

"Hey, greenie, you alright?" Gally jogged over, walking beside him.

"Yeah. I'm fine…" he spoke perhaps a little too quick. He wants to ask how Minho's holding up. But he's almost afraid to.

Gally raised an eyebrow. He obviously doesn't believe him. Elliot handed him a vine, as Gally lowers himself into The Box, hauling it up to Elliot.

"What's up?"

"More shoes, some wood piles, only two syringes. Great haul in other words." He grunted, hoisting himself up without the vine's use. Elliot had a feeling he was doing that, to impress him. Show off his 'strength'.

"Again with the shoes and wood. Ah well, guess beggars can't be choosers."

They listened as The Box closed itself up again. Sliding back into darkness. Carrying the 'supply box' in his arms. Gally took notice to the way, he flinched upon seeing those syringes. He could tell he was staring, Elliot's way.

"…How's Minho?" Elliot finally asked.

"Jeff said he's asleep, resting up pretty good. Thinkin' about checking on him?"

"Kind of. Yeah. I-I would like to."

"So what's stopping you?"

A lot of things. Elliot froze, with the box cradled in his arms. His lips become that, of a frown of genuine worry. "What if he freaks out? I don't want to traumatize him…"

Gally sighed softly. Rubbing his neck. As if he knew, what Elliot's worries were. "Look, The Changing can mess a person up. But, this is Minho we're talking about. If anything, that dumb shank'll feel, like it's Christmas morning seeing you walk in."

"You think so?"

Gally nodded. Shrugging, acting like he really doesn't care at all. "'Course I know so. Now, get your scrawny butt on over. That's an order."

A faint grin crossed over on Elliot's face, giving him a mock salute. "Thanks…Captain Gally."

~xxxxxx~

The Med-Jacks were swamped with work today. After cooking up lunch, he went inside only to nearly gasp at the sight. Edgar was dashing back and forth, like a chicken with his head cut off for two strep-throat ridden Gladers. Clint's down and out with a flu, he's battling himself.

"Minho's room is just three doors down."

Jeff didn't even look, to know it's him.

Following his directions, Elliot looked to his right. He doesn't even bother with that room, Henry had been in. Another dark memory he wishes, he could forget. The poor lightning and creaky wooden floorboards, caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He licks sudden dried lips.

Quietly as possible, he opened Minho's door. It's slightly ajar, signaling Newt must have visited him. Or Alby most like.

He seemed responsive, for he turned his head the moment he recognized its Elliot. "Hey greenie," he slurred. Raising his hand up in a weak manner.

"Hey…" Elliot spoke softly back, taking Minho's hand in his. "Probably stupid to ask, how you are. Right?"

"No. If anything, I should be asking you that."

"Please. I'm fine. Shaken yeah…but not stirred."

Minho snorted, at that obvious pun. With Elliot's aid, he managed to sit up with his back against the wall. His forehead still felt warm, prompting Elliot to reach for a clean cloth and run it under cold water.

"Why are you so kind to me?"

Elliot raised a brow. Cocking his head, to one side. "Human decency? That's a funny thing to ask."

"Even after what I said/did?"

"That wasn't you…I mean, it was you but…look, let's not talk about that now okay Minho?"

"But-."

Elliot silenced him, with a flick to his forehead. A grin danced across. When the sun shines just right, Minho could see some freckles on his cheeks. "Come on, rest up for now. We'll talk about it, when the time comes."

Minho shocking enough doesn't argue. He lays back down, with a roll of his eyes. And as he's cared for by this greenie, he feels something against his chest.

Something familiar.

Chapter Text

Someone was having a nightmare. Elliot didn't have to turn over; he just knew based on the sudden feeling of unease. Edgar had the worst of them, it seemed like. Newt would console him but even that didn't seem to do much.

"Someone…shut him up." Gally grumbled.

Alby shot a glare over his shoulder. "Slim it Gally, what's it look like we're doing? Eddie…Eddie…"

He didn't cry out; it was his moaning or gasps that bothered them. "Almost like he's being tortured." Minho muttered with a grimace.

"Poor guy…and I thought my dreams were awful." Elliot sighed.

Edgar shot up like a jack-in-a box. His eyes are wide. Alert. Darting around the room, until he felt Newt's hand ever gentle upon his left shoulder. "Edgar. You're fine. You're safe with us…with me. Come on…easy does it…" Newt soothed. Gently pushing him back down. "Jeff. Got that valium?"

"Yeah…"

It's a small blue and white pill. Labeled WCKD in black letters, on one side. Edgar with trembling hands takes a glass of water. He swallowed it in one gulp. Feeling relaxed in seconds, as Newt stroked his hair.

Elliot and Minho glance at one another. Pondering, just what could have happened to a sweet guy like Edgar for such seeming to be violent nightmares. "I'm telling you, he deserves the Slammer."

"Nobody's bleedin' throwin' him, in The Slammer. He's not insane, Gally." Newt said in a tone that wasn't rude, but certainly harsh enough.

"Or, maybe he knows something." Winston chimed in a sleepy manner. "Like, what if he remembers things from before?"

"Could be a possibility. Hey, Elliot…" Alby turned his way, but he seemed to understand already.

"I'll talk with him tomorrow, about it." Elliot declared. Nodding once.

~xxxxx~

Edgar was a nervous wreck come morning. He's shaken up so bad by what happened last night, fearing what others thought he couldn't concentrate at all on his job. Winston almost suffered in getting knocked out, with an overdose of pain killers. Had it not been for Clint's quick reaction.

Elliot caught him with his head between his legs, underneath the cool shade of a tree. His expression's soft as he approached. Slowly and with some caution.

"Uh…Edgar. Right?"

His head lifted up. At first he's tense. Like a snake ready to strike, if Elliot came too close.

"Easy. I-I only want to talk, if that's alright." Edgar worried his lip. But he nodded once, scooting over so he had room to sit. Grass tickled his bare ankles when he sits. Letting one leg prop itself up. His back is against the tree. "So…these dreams of yours…" he began.

"…I remember some things."

His eyes almost widen.

When Edgar spoke he had a tone, that's clear and understandable. A little rough in spots perhaps. Hints of a German accent, possibly. "Things…from before."

"What kind of things? Are we in them?"

"Some of you are…Newt is. A lot actually. Some months back, before you came I-I went through it. The Changing. Kinda like Minho, what he went through weeks ago. Wasn't pretty…you see things, sometimes. Things you aren't supposed, to see but do." He plucked at some grass blades. Glancing at Elliot.

He blinked once in wonder, wanting to find out more. "If you're willing to share, I'm curious. Our homes. Our lives before."

"Like I said, I remember a lot of you. And none of you. Newt, Alby, Minho, you…there's a woman to. Short dark hair. Spiked a bit. Something tells me, she's my mom…because we almost, look alike. She's my trigger more often than not. And…a man, who I guess to be my dad. Didn't seem like a good guy.

That's about all I can say, really. I know half around here, think I'm nuts. But…I can't control them. Valium only calms me down so much at night."

Elliot nodded as he spoke. His eyes narrowed at once, when a Beetle Blade flies right by them coincidentally. He's tempted to flip it off. Deciding against that idea. "Edgar, you're not nuts. We're concerned is all. Newt especially…I don't even want to imagine, what your dreams are like."

Edgar gives a half smile. Simply nodding. He becomes silent again, as per usual. But before Elliot leaves, he motioned him to wait.

Shuffling through his right pocket, he takes out a necklace with a pretty round stone hanging off.

"For me?"

"I have another one…supposed to help. Against bad things."

He didn't really buy that in truth. The stone looked like, one of those calming ones you sometimes can find in any shop. Regardless, he took it as it's a gift. He could feel its warmth against his neck as he placed it, around.

"Thank you, Edgar. Hope those nightmares calm down."

Edgar shrugged once, growing quiet once more nodding his appreciation.

Chapter Text

Edgar's dreams continued for about another week. He's right about the valium, medicine can only do so much in all honest truth. It's a comfort if not anything else. Before your symptom flares up again or gets worse. (In Edgar's case, fortunately it does not become worse).

The next few weeks pass uneventful. It seemed more than just, a little humdrum for his liking. Almost maddening at times, repeating the same patterns. Minho and his runners would go into The Maze. Elliot would work with Frypan. Edgar would have nightmares, then proceed throughout the day like normal.

"I'm surprised none of you have gone, crazy yet…" Elliot commented one night. Finding warmth from their bonfire comforting.

Minho sat on the left side. One leg propped up, still munching on Frypan's left-over meat and vegetable kabob. Elliot's of course, is only veggies. "It gets to you, after a while, trust me. Nearly lost one of my guys not too long ago."

Yes.

The Maze took some of his best-friends. Or almost. It WAS maddening. Some of them were really good at hiding their madness. Others, like Newt broke easily. He explained to Elliot, that's why he has that limp when he walks. Tried killing himself one day, in The Maze.

"I see," Elliot began to mutter. "That explains why he and Edgar are so close."

"Pretty much. Edgar's been with him, from the start. When he was able to talk, around us, he gave Newt the biggest tongue lashing that day. Even freaked Gally out, all his yelling."

"Geesh. Heh, remind me never to get him angry. …Have you ever kissed anyone?"

He watched as Minho swallowed the last of his kabob, down a little too hard.

"Why the sudden thought?"

Elliot shrugged. Glancing towards the fire. "I dunno. Just…sorta came to mind."

Minho blinked in surprise. Certainly not expecting a thing like that. A grin slowly crossed over. "So much for you being 'Mr. Innocent' around here."

He laughed once. Rubbing the side of his neck, grinning back as Minho moved in closer. He returned the gesture. Liking the way, there's a hand on his knee.

"Wanna try it?"

"Only if you want to."

Minho leans close. To the point his chest is against Elliot's. Elliot placed his hands on his broad shoulders, tilting his head at an angle. Eyes closed. He had vague images in his mind, of kissing a boy. They're blurred but clearly present. Almost. Almost as if, it's natural.

His lips are warm, against Elliot's. It's a bit messy at first. Minho's forehead lightly bumped against his, resulting in them chuckling. The slowness is what makes it sweet and tender. As if, they've done this before. Yes. That's what it feels like.

My first kiss.

My first real kiss…is with Minho. Of all people.

Hearing Elliot chuckle, Minho pulled apart only brief. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just realized, that you're my first kiss." Elliot chuckled. Resting his forehead against Minho's.

A grin formed across his face, stroking the left of Elliot's cheek. "I take it that's not an awful thing."

"No…Not in the slightest."

Their lips touched again. Like they're the only two boys in The Glade.

Chapter Text

They didn't really talk much about The Kiss. It's not like Elliot and Minho forgot, it's more of that fact Alby couldn't find out. Turns out he has a strict rule on relationships. Alby's a stickler for order around here, he doesn't want to deal with sometimes nasty after effects that follow come having a romantic relationship, with somebody.

Heck. Is it…even romance? The Kiss was great. Gave me a weird feeling. Weird. But, good. And yet I'm still unsure

Those thoughts stuck with Elliot throughout. While he cooked. While he bathed. While he slept. So on and so on.

"What's with you and Minho?"

Frypan's voice caused him, to look up. He was preparing food for a bonfire that night, just for fun. Newt thought they all could use some D.T. (Down-time). He wiped grease from cooking off his hands. Elliot almost scolded him, for dirtying his jeans.

That sense of unease lifted.

"What do ya mean, Fry? We're alright." Elliot put a smile on, hoping he bought it.

"I dunno. Just…, you're not around him. Gally said you two 'broke up'."

"That shucking idiot," Elliot grumbled softly, watching the cook's worried brown eyes. "…What else did he spread?"

"….."

"Frypan."

"Oh klunk…fine, fine," Frypan groaned. Fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "He…Says, you and him are dating. That's why Minho's not speaking to you."

That did it.

It lit a match within. Elliot stopped what he was doing, stormed out of The Kitchen with his boss, tailing after him. Puffs escaping his lips, as his legs try to keep up with his longer strides. "I trusted that shank to!"

"Now Eli, wait! W-We don't…want to do…oh come on, can ya at least slim the fast walk?"

Nothing, not even Frypan could calm him down. He found Gally at work, with his crew. Fire in his eyes, he approached him. "GALLY!" Elliot hollered his name.

Gally's head turned at once, while fixing up the bottom half of the Watch Tower. A sneaky grin etched across his face. "Alright there, Eli? You look a little-." His head's turned to one side. Elliot stood with his chest heaving, clenching and un-clenching his hand.

Rage filled Gally's eyes. "What. The SHUCK. Was that, for?" He hissed.

"You know shuckin' well, what 'that' is for. Spreading that awful rumor!"

"Whoa, whoa easy Eli!"

Winston and Zart, whom were out conversing had overheard the chaotic scene take place. They each took hold of Elliot's arms, so he couldn't lash out at Gally further. "What the hell's going on?" Zart demanded.

"Nothing, Zart. Eli here's nuts, I tell you. Thinks me and 'im are dating." Gally said it with such blatant in-secureness. "Punched me for no reason."

"You lying son of a-!"

"Man, just slim it!" Winston hissed. Heaving a heavy sigh, glancing at Frypan who looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Fry, you're here. What really happened?"

He looked back and forth. Back and forth, between Gally and a pleading Elliot. Gally's ultimately more of a threat, than Elliot.

Elliot's heart could be heard breaking. He understood the boy's fear. But, at the same time he's disappointed. A decision was made, to hold him up in The Slammer until Alby and Minho were here together.

~xxxxxx~

It's cold and dark. Just what he imagined jail or prison to be.

Wooden bars greet him, as his eyes travel upward. Elliot sat in the corner, knees drawn up to his chin. His shoulders shake. Willing himself not to shed a single tear. Nobody'll believe him, is his thought. Alby, being The Leader and Gally being a Keeper, he'll believe him more than the green bean.

Footsteps approach his prison. He doesn't look up.

"Eli…."

Minho.

The door slid open. Minho jumped down. His eyes are laced, with genuine concern. "C'mere…c'mere…" he shushed gently, motioning Elliot to lay his head against his chest. So he could wrap his arms around him.

He could feel those strong arms. They did indeed prove comforting. Minho tucked his head, under his chin. Glancing up, as Elliot buried his face against his shirt, to Alby, Newt, Edgar and Frypan.

~xxxxx~

Never had they seen Minho in such a state of anger. He paced from one end of The Gathering place, to the other. Hands trembling at his sides. "He's crossed the line," he hissed out.

"Now, Min, we don't know what exactly-."

"I shuckin' hell, know what happened Newt! They LOCKED Eli up. For NO reason." Alby raised a brow, not at all surprised by his friend's actions and yet. And yet it's almost as if, he knows something.

"He did punch Gally first, though. We all want to do that, to the slinthead I'll give 'im that. But you know the second rule: Never harm another Glader." Newt declared, folding his arms.

Alby's eyes were trained on him, as he spoke next. "Fry. What happened? C'mon man, we're all Keepers here."

"He spread a rumor that, him and Elliot are going out. And…that they did some things. That, that was why, Minho hated him."

Edgar's eyes widened. Writing something down, while Newt read it. "That does not sound like something, Eli would do…guess you're right, Eddie," he sighed softly.

"Now, in draws another question. ARE you mad at 'im, Minho?" Frypan asked.

Minho raised a brow. His face slightly flushed. "No, of course I'm not."

"Something triggered Gally obviously. What''s-."

"We kissed, alright?"

It was sudden and blunt. No shame in his voice, despite the others reactions. Edgar's face flushed. Newt had a little impish grin. Frypan's jaw slacked perhaps a bit. Alby's remained vacant as ever. "He was curious what it felt like. So, I helped him out. Thought he could use a confidence boost."

"You know how I feel, about that Minho."

"Yeah, we all do Alby." Minho sighed. Rubbing the side of his neck. "That's why, we both agreed to…stay away from each-other. Until we sort things out."

"Do you love him?"

A silence fell around the room. Minho kept his gaze lowered, until Alby spoke up again. "….No. I don't."

He knew Alby was questioning. That look in his eyes said it all. Newt did. Edgar did. "…I'm goin' for a run."

Out. He needed to get out.

But as his luck would have…he ran into Elliot. Released from the Slammer, he looked at least a little better. "Minho…Hey. Hey, hang up a second-." He took hold of his wrist. "I think…we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. Get back to work, greenie." Elliot flinched. His tone like that of poison.

He stood his ground, of course. Flinching. His tone was that of poison. Minho was the type, who became quick to anger only to cool down after. "I know, what I did was…it was stupid. It ruined our reputation. Your reputation, mainly. I did it because…because I feel controlled. I guess. I wanted a moment, where I didn't feel like that. Like someone was hovering over me."

It wasn't stupid Minho wanted so much to say, but knew he couldn't well say it. His dark eyes narrow dangerous into Elliot's. "I'm a Runner. And a Keeper, we can't let emotions get in the way of our job. That almost got Newt killed. There's order around here, Elliot."

"I know….it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

And yet. As he and Ben ran into The Maze, again that day, he couldn't shake him off even if he knew he should. All he could think about. Was grabbing Elliot by his arms. Pinning him to some wall and kiss him. This time with more passion and raw emotion.

~xxxxx~

He'll be going in The Glade soon. Thomas could feel it, as he sat in front of that monitor. Still watching his friends go about their day to day lives. All around the researchers became ecstatic, the connections that have been made.

Ava Paige of course praised him. "Remarkable. A7 and A 22…" she breathed out. "Well, Teresa always claimed she saw that 'spark'. Only now, I hope it can be brought to fruition."

"Yeah. So do I." Thomas muttered.

"You feel guilty. I know, I do to more often than not. But, I have full confidence in her. That she knows what to do, if things escalate."

A soft cry caught their attention. Elliot never. Not once, since he first came into The Glade shed one tear. And look at him now. Sitting on his bed. Head in his pulled up legs. Letting everything, that he's been holding out.

"It hurts…so much." Four heartbreaking words.

And Thomas could do nothing, but watch.

Chapter Text

Chuck was his name. A sweet, chubby boy with curly dark hair and a round face. Elliot was the one whom jumped down into The Box, knowing full well Minho and the others would give him a rough time.

"How come your eyes are like that?" he asked at lunch one afternoon. Elliot swallowed a mouthful of vegetable stew. He never minded it so much, anymore the questions. You get used after a while.

"I have a condition called heterochromia. At least, that's what Jeff, Clint and Edgar called it." He could see his eyes part and let out a chuckle. Shaking his head. "It's not life threatening, ain't dead from it y'know."

"Whew, that's a relief," he chuckled sheepishly. As if embarrassed for even thinking it.

They talked here and there. Elliot always lowered his head, when Minho and his Runners came in. Newt and Edgar would share weary looks. Shaking their heads in disbelief. This was becoming ridiculous, in their honest opinions.

Walking with his limp, over towards the Runner after dinner, not caring how tired he was he spoke up finally. "Bleedin' hell is wrong with you?"

An uninterested look was given his way. Unstrapping his runner's harness. "I have no 'bloody idea' what you're talking about." Newt's lips set in a hard line. Unsure if he wanted to punch him, or scream 'You idiot'.

"Elliot's hurtin' that's what. A different kind 'o hurt…"

"Rules are rules. Thought you knew that, better than any of us Newton."

"Minho, I swear you're such a blindsided little git, majority of the time. He misses being around you. He misses when you two, would talk well into midnight hours. I can feel it from him."

"Tell 'im yourself then. I'm busy."

Newt's arms raise up in disbelief. Unsure if he wanted to grab Minho, shake the life out of him until he woke up. Or smack him a good one. "You're missing out, man. I know you see it. You just don't want to face reality, what's in front of your face. Don't know whether to pity or feel sorry, for you."

That was that.

~xxxxx~

Warm water ran down his back. A sigh of relief escaped Minho's lips, closing his eyes. He didn't know just how dirty he was until he could see, a mucky brown substance pool around its drain.

Fingers thread through his hair, digging the soap into his scalp. Washing it thoroughly. One of the few moments of peace he could receive, since being here. He enjoyed the company of Alby and the others with all his being. But, times to himself were also cherished.

He pressed his hand against the shower's front, allowing the water to roll down his shoulders and back. It feels as if he could stay here for all eternity. Until his thoughts drift, back to that conversation between Newt and himself.

His eyebrows furrowed.

Mind wracked. Trying to place, where exactly he was in all this. Elliot at least brought some light, to their dark place. He was a newbie at first. Fresh meat in the preying eyes of Gally and his gang. Someone they believed, could be pushed around. Only to be proven wrong on more than just one level.

He could see said boy underneath a tree, sleeping. The snoring must have gotten to him.

Minho allowed himself to walk over, with a faint grin plastered across his face. Some would find this creepy no doubt. Watching someone sleep. But, Elliot was different. He looked at peace. So tranquil and quiet.

"Min….wait…."

Heat rushes to his face instant. It's too cold this morning, to blame it on the sunlight. Stars could still be seen littering across ink black skies. "Dreaming….he's having a nightmare, by the look of it…" he mused softly. Shaking his head.

Every so often, Elliot shuddered. Squinting his eyes. His lips pursed tight.

He wants so bad to comfort him. But he's terrified. Yes, that's the word. Minho, the big, bad 'Keeper of The Runners' is terrified, of feeling anything for this other boy.

Minho left shortly before Elliot woke, just as The Maze doors creaked and groan open allowing himself and Ben through. Whilst deep within those cold walls, he couldn't shake those blue and green eyes out of his mind for one moment.

~xxxxx~

The unmistakable sound of an alarm blares throughout, The Glade. Elliot awoke to a start that morning, jostled from a hard sleep. "What the SHUCK is that?!" Chuck covered his ears, while Edgar looked excitedly his way.

Edgar's eyes said it all. Twinkling some, even.

Shielding his blue and green eyes, he could see his fellow Gladers surrounding The Box. An elevator that carried up a new 'Greenie' once every few months, along with a box of supplies to use at their disposal. He slid on his left shoe finally, having to hop on one leg.

"Lookit there, Chuck, looks like you're no longer our Greenbean." Winston said, almost carefully. Considering what happened a month ago, he looked away from Elliot.

"Yeah…Looks like. Winston, I'm not mad at you or Zart you know." He sighed, sensing the Slicer Keeper's uncomfortable-ness.

"Good…hey. We believe you, y'know." Winston muttered, nodding towards Gally.

Elliot gave a light smile. Nodding once. His attention shifts back towards the approaching Box. Edgar's necklace dangled a bit, as he leant closer.

The Box screeches to a halt and its metal doors are opened, by Gally and Zart. A boy wearing a light blue long sleeved shirt and dark pants could be seen. His right arm is raised up, hoping to block out the sun's powerful rays.

Gally jumped down into the crate, feeling it shake beneath his weight. A smirk etches across. "Day one, Greenie."

Elliot rolled his eyes, feeling sorry for the poor guy when he's hauled up and tossed unceremoniously onto the grass covered grounds. He reminds him, of a frightened animal.

"Look at 'im, he's about to piss himself like Chuck did." Winston snickered.

"Guys…whoa-!"

He ran. No questions. No thoughts about, the consequences of his actions, he just took off across The Glade. "WE'VE GOT A RUNNER!"

"Can it, Zart!" Elliot snapped, racing off after their deserter. Alby seemed oddly calm about it, to his shock. Newt thought it quite funny, for he had a little impish grin across his face. He didn't want him going into The Deadheads, he'll end up lost no doubt. Like poor Edgar had. A memory none wanted to see repeated. "Hey…Hey," he panted out, somewhat thankful the guy ends up tripping over his own legs. Right in the graveyard.

"Who are you? Where am I?!" The boy gasped out, his chest rising and falling with each intake of breath.

"My name's Elliot. And you're in, The Glade…our leader, Alby, he's right behind me," he points with his thumb over his left shoulder towards said boy jogging for them. "He'll explain everything better than I can, to you. But you have to keep calm. Alright buddy? Can you trust me?"

He seemed hesitant and with good reason. Elliot could remember feeling everything, this poor guy feels right now. That tight feeling in your chest. Like you're going to throw up, pass out, or piss yourself. It's not easy being, a new Glader. Elliot would sometimes joke; he could write a whole novel what it's really like.

"…I must be crazy, enough to believe you." Elliot smiled upon hearing this. Nodding once.

Offering his hand, the guy takes it just as Alby made his way over. "Let's go on a tour, Greenbean." He stated while giving Elliot a nod of thanks.

Elliot merely turned his head, walking off towards The Kitchen to cook up some breakfast. He found it difficult to look Alby in the eyes anymore. As if he's being judged. Some boys called him…rather crude things, to say the least when he stayed in The Slammer for a few days.

He felt sick just at the thought, of eating with anyone.

But that smile only returned, when Minho and Ben came from their Run. His heart fluttered every day come to think. Minho made him feel things. Things he knows, some could find 'not right' for a guy to feel towards another guy.

"This is making my head hurt..." Elliot grumbled. Finding his mind back to the new boy, hoping he will be the distraction he needed away from a certain Keeper.

Chapter Text

"So, who put us here?"

Elliot glanced from his cutting of vegetables. The Greenie seemed a little bit better, compared to his freak out earlier. Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged once. "None of us have a clue…we all just, woke up here. No memory. No identity for a few days. Some to a week." He explained.

A frown crossed his face. Watching as he worked. "I feel like we're prisoners. Sent here for a crime, I don't even remember…"

"Pretty much what that's like, at first. So. You gonna stand there, or help me out?"

Since being here, Elliot's come to find he's grown a bit of a backbone. Gally's little stunt, throwing him in The Slammer 'helped' in a sense of speaking. He got to know the greenie perhaps a little.

He seemed like a good guy. Not at all, like Gally.

They had a welcoming party for him later. The bonfire blazed bright, after sticks were launched into it. Embracing their Glader lifestyle. Elliot and Minho sat on either side of the same log. Minho made sure, Gally didn't try any stunts tonight. The Greenie sat between Newt and Edgar, on another side.

"Gally and 'em are at it again…"

Elliot's remark broke Minho's silence. His dark eyes shift from his plate, over towards the wrestling boneheads. He looked bored. Perhaps more than Elliot felt. He kept that strange picture, in his left pants pocket, not wanting the other guys to see it.

There's not a question of doubt Gally will give him a hard time.

"New greenie better watch himself, we don't want another 'you' happening." He said, taking another of Frypan's tomato soup.

"Please, I handled myself just fine thank you." Elliot retorted, his tanned colored skin seeming to mold with those bright embers, bringing Gally's Brew to his lips. It still tasted awful, like deer piss or something worse.

Minho gave a smug grin. "Whatever makes you happy…Greenie."

Elliot's right eye twitches, shoving another thing of soup into his mouth. "I'm pretending you didn't just call me that. I've been here how many months now?"

"Doesn't matter to me, you'll always be one in my eyes. Not in a bad way either." Minho stated with calm in his tone, going back towards Gally and his gang.

He's thankful it's so dark. That Minho couldn't see the blush, dancing across his face. His gaze lowered.

Someone was pushed right into him. Hard enough, his drink spilled over staining his shirt and pants. "Hey-!" Minho barked, only for Elliot to shoot him a warning look, helping the greenie up.

"You okay, Greenie?" He asked. A smirk across, showing he didn't mind one bit what happened.

Of course, this prompted Gally to holler out. He was Stung recently. Went through the Changing process, much as Newt had gone through. It messes you up inside and out, some have gone mad. Some just deal with it. It's different with certain Gladers. "Might wanna watch yourself mate. That's Minho's boy, ya ran into!" Several cackles surround them.

Minho's eyes darken immediately, but once again he's stopped. Held back by Elliot. The greenie surprising enough looks right back at Gally. His face crimson of embarrassment and anger. "YOU'RE the one, who shoved ME…"

A mock 'Ooooh' sounded from the Builder leader's lips, putting himself in his fight stance. "Hey, Gally, leave 'im alone…" Winston chimed in, being the peace keeper he is. Only for him to be shrugged off.

"Nah. I'd like to see, what our newbie here can do. C'mon 'mate'."

Newt was even egging him on. Edgar could only shield his eyes, mouthing 'Please not another Elliot'.

Gally swung first. A cheap shot move, that sent greenie on his side. Cheers erupt all around.

The greenie got back on his feet and actually charges him. Gally held a surprised look on his face, realizing besides Elliot, someone got him back. "I remember….I remember now." He said, catching their attention.

A grin spread across Elliot's face, sharing one with Minho and Alby.

"Thomas…My name's Thomas!"

There's silence at first, until Alby began shouting his name thus creating a domino effect. Gally clapped him once on the back, saying his congratulations. "Not bad, Thomas. Not bad at all."

"Yeah, did a hell of a lot better than Eli."

"Oh stuff it, Winston."

Laughs escaped. Even Thomas managed a smile.

The sudden call of a Griever interrupts their 'happy' moment. It echoed around, The Glade. Thomas was puzzled if not anything else, looking to anyone. "What was that?"

"…Nothing for you to worry about, Thomas." Elliot echoed their very words to him.

Alby clapped his hands once, motioning them all for bed.

Chapter Text

Dinner was quiet that afternoon. Not a soul spoken. Elliot dared to look over just once, to find Minho the most solemn of everyone in the room. His hand clenched tight around his fork. He looked away at once, when they were told to head outside. He'll never forget, how everyone looked. How everyone felt.

Minho had gone to retrieve the stung Ben, while Alby, Gally and Newt stood in a semi-circle with the others. Raised poles in one hand. Edgar did not wish to be there, none could blame him in truth. Elliot stood on Thomas's left. Arms folded across his chest.

"Please, Minho!" They could hear Ben's cries throughout the Glade.

"This isn't something you have to see, you know." Elliot said softly.

"I know. I have to see it." Thomas murmured. Their eyes turning towards poor Ben's dragged figure. Minho threw him forward, slicing the ropes that bound his hands. Tears cascaded down Ben's ashen face.

"Please…Please. Elliot…I didn't mean it…" Elliot looked away. Acting as if he did not hear him. Thomas placed an arm around his shoulder.

"Poles!" Alby raised his forward. The others followed, as The Doors open. An ominous wind rushed out. They moved in close, pushing and pushing towards The Maze. His cries on deaf ears. Deeper and deeper Ben is pushed, until The Doors closed again. Something wet runs down Elliot's face, it's not rain. It never did here. Beside him, Thomas has a lone tear run down his cheek.

Nobody feels great about it. Elliot felt sick to his stomach, finding Ben's face impossible to forget.

"He belongs to the maze now," Alby said. Catching the eyes of Elliot, as he walks past. Guilt ran strong in all of them. Elliot and Minho all but remain behind. He wishes so desperate to comfort him. Seeing the way Minho's hands, are balled so tight at his sides. That brief flicker of emotion behind, his dark brown orbs.

But he couldn't receive that chance. For the Runner had all, pushed him aside. Storming off towards the hut. He's to tear that place apart no doubt…best leave him be Elliot knew they were all to feel like this, for some time. Ben was a really good guy, when your stung however, you just are not 'you' anymore.

For that afternoon, he cooked. Cleaned the dishes. Did whatever possible, to block out Ben's poor face. His hands shook a little, every so often. Remembering the late Henry's 'warning'. "I wouldn't go to him now," one of his Runners, Demetri stated. Glancing his way, noting his tray of food.

"I can't let him go without eating something, Demetri. It's just Minho."

The other scoffed slight. "Whatever. Just don't come cryin' when he punches you…I know him. It's best to just leave him be, until he cools down."

Elliot of course went on ahead, towards the Runners hut. "Minho…?" he called softly. Tapping light against the door. Silence. Well at least he's not throwing things around He places it on the ground. Before he took his leave, the door opened. Minho stared, the anriest he'd seen.

"What?"

Elliot almost flinched, his tone was so cold. Like ice needles through his body. "I brought your dinner…I mean, I know you may not want to eat now, but…I'll just…leave it here." He doesn't even know how it happened. Or why, for that matter. Something in Minho had snapped. Causing him to pin Elliot to a tree. Their faces mere inches apart.

"You think I wanted to see that? To force my shuckin' best-friend out…like he's a heap, of trash?" He spoke with such raw venom. Like poison.

"I never thought that-."

"No, I can see it in your shuckin' eyes, Elliot," he's not even calling him greenie this time.

Elliot didn't flinch, glaring at him with an equally immense gaze. "We could have saved him…studied him, Minho. Figure out what the shuck's up, with the rest of our world."

"Ohhhh. So, you're not upset Ben's no longer here. Because he's our friend. YOU only wanted him, as a lab rat." Minho spat with heavy sarcasm.

"I didn't mean it like that. I cared about Ben, this 'banishment' as you guys called it…it's barbaric. Pointless. Doesn't contribute at all…"

He tried maneuvering around Minho, but the Runner blocked him. "Hey." Minho took hold of his wrist.

Elliot shrugged him off. "Don't touch me," he snapped. "Don't even look at me. You act like…like you don't even care….that this is normal. Well, guess what, Minho it ISN'T. It shouldn't…"

He watched as Minho lowered his head. Glowering at the ground. He approached Elliot until they're almost nose to nose. He doesn't flinch. "….Never. Say 'I don't care', ever again. I care more than you think. You, don't have a damn idea what I put up with."

"Then TALK, Minho. Talk instead of…actin like a big brute!" He was perfectly fine up until this. Tears threatened behind his blue and green eyes, yet he wills all he has not to shed one tear in front of Minho. It wouldn't be worth them.

Something approached that same night. He could feel a figure, standing beside him. Tall and lean. At first he thought it was Allan. An alright guy, don't get him wrong. Despite his creepy habit of watching others sleep if he couldn't.

He cracked his green eye open. And his heart stopped. Standing in above him, was Henry himself. Grinning a toothy grin. Elliot could feel his heart beat again, unsure if what he is seeing is real or if he's dreaming. It was him alright, though. Nose less. Blood shot eyes. Tattered clothing. Black mouth and purple tongue.

"Hey Eli….we've got places, to go."

No.

He's not real.

Elliot turnt on his side, snuggling up against the warmth of his pillow…until he nearly fell out of his hammock, when Henry's there again. "C'mon now. Don't make me tell ya twice."

His legs move, as if in a trance like state. Walking out into The Glade, with a ghost. An apparition? Or, what did Scrooge call it? An undigested bit of beef, in his system still. Whatever it was, he's almost willing following it. The Glade seemed eerier than ever at this ungodly hour of night.

There's a Beetle Blade hovering around his head, unnoticed this time. Chills crept up his spine. Tendrils of fog swirl around his ankles. As if pulling him towards The Maze.

"Henry…why are you bringing me here? It's so late."

"Because, you need to know, Elliot. The dangers that will come soon."

His voice seems to echo around. They're up at The Maze now, Henry places his hand against the granite walls. Where Grievers and possibly Ben still lurked.

"You keep saying that. What should I be, should WE, be worried about?"

"That boy…Thomas. He'll go into The Maze, come tomorrow afternoon. Minho and Alby will be trapped inside."

Elliot froze. Trapped. Minho. Alby. "Shit," he whispered. "Oh no…Henry wh-what can I do, to stop it? From happening to them?"

Henry leans closer. He could smell his rancid breath, stinking of the ground they buried him in. He suppressed a shudder when he spoke close, to his ear. "Be prepared to run with them. That's all I can tell you, I'm afraid."

"Henry…one more thing. Before I wake up, from this dream. We're all-."

He awoke at six am precise. Minho had already gone. And when he looks down, his knees and legs are covered in dirt.

~xxxxxx~

Apparently Minho found a dead Griever. They learned it at breakfast that morning, while Frypan and Elliot served them. Something didn't sit well with him. Come to think, a lot had not been sitting well. From this. To Henry. To Ben. Minho's incident, before Ben's. It's as if, it was all planned out.

They all waited and watched.

Waited and watched.

A hard rain fell over The Glade, something that proved to be rare.

"They're just taking their time I bet." Newt had tried with Edgar in agreement. "Checking things out."

"Yeah, it's Minho we're talkin' about. C'mon eat up, you need somethin' in your system. Starting to be all skin and bones." Frypan tried joking with Elliot, poking his face.

Elliot managed a small grin. Nodding once.

Light began to fade and still no signs of life. Something was wrong. Runners usually don't make it back on exact time, Elliot could vouch for that. This is unusual. Chuck shouted that the doors were closing. They could hear them grind and groan.

Elliot's heart raced upon seeing Minho, in the distance and Alby. Only something wasn't right with their leader. Everyone urged them forward.

"Eddie, no-!" Newt tried snagging onto Edgar's hand. He dodged Elliot's arm. Racing after Thomas.

The walls closed in, creating a tight squeeze for both. Edgar and Thomas collapse on their knees, panting hard hearing the walls creak to a close.

~xxxxx~

Minho fell forward on his legs. Sweat dripped off his forehead, after propping Alby up against a wall. "Good job…you just killed yourself. Same to you, Edgar."

He grimaced at the Runner Keeper's cold response. Shifting his gaze from a wide-eyed Thomas, back to an unconscious and unmoving Alby. "What happened to him?" Thomas asked.

There's blood leaking from a wound in his head. Ben immediately entered Elliot's thoughts, grimacing. "What's it look like? He got Stung….we're as good as dead, greenie. Yup. Nice and dead."

Edgar shot him a deadpanned stare of warning. "…I need to calm down. Don't I?" Minho muttered.

"Yeah, Edgar's right. Climb up the vines, maybe?" Thomas suggests.

"Tried that bud. Doesn't do a lick of good." Minho sighed. Wracking his mind for an idea. "We have to get out and fast…"

"But what about Ben and Gally? They've been stung before."

"Haven't you seen the graveyard? Nothing kills happy time more than being reminded of your slaughtered friends every day. And that's only the ones we found, there are more who didn't make it. Grievers probably ate the bodies or whatever."

"But what if-."

Minho had enough. He grabbed Thomas and pins him to the nearest wall, his dark eyes ablaze with frustration the likes Elliot had yet to see. "You don't understand, shuck-face! You don't know anything, and you're just making it worse by trying to have hope! We're dead, you hear me? Dead!"

Edgar had seen him at his worst before, but this was a vastly different scenario. It seemed unreal. Like, out of his whacked out dreams. "Let me go, come on, fighting never makes things better. Alby should be, our number one priority now." Thomas declared, in a powerful enough tone he could manage.

Chapter Text

"I cannot BELIVE that bugger just did that!" Newt threw up his arms, that trembled like leaves in a cold wind. His chocolate colored eyes are heavy with anger, fear and regret.

Elliot nor anyone else could believe it either in all honesty. Edgar was a med-jack, so he had knowledge with helping whatever happened to Alby. But at the same time, he was never bold. Not an Elliot or Minho type.

"Thomas to," Chuck said with worry, biting his lower lip. "Man…now what?"

"What about if we made a ladder or something?" Elliot suggested.

Gally snorted in disbelief, scratching his blond hair furiously. "Yeah. That'll take what: Three months to build. Look at The Maze's-." The call of a Griever shut them all up.

Chills danced along Elliot's spine, as he and Newt glance towards The Doors. For now, all they could do, was wait.

~xxxxxx~

Thomas came up with the idea to hoist Alby's body up. Using his strength, plus Minho and Edgar's, things had gone well…until they heard it. That awful whirring, mechanical sound. A whimper almost escaped his lips.

Why DID I come here…? Oh klunk…I-I only killed us all "Keep pulling. Minho, Edgar."

Metal legs clank along the ground. Edgar could feel Minho tremble beside him. His heart raced. He hopes to any God out there, that the Griever can't hear heartbeats. But something inside his head tells him, he has to stay.

That there was a way out.

"I'm sorry…Greenie."

"No, Minho-!"

To Edgar's horror, Minho took off. Leaving them behind. A gasp escapes Edgar's parted lips, shaking his head at Thomas. "No, no Eddie. Eddie, it's okay. W-We'll make it out. Okay? I don't…oh shit…hide." He urged the panicked boy.

Following Thomas's lead, Edgar hid himself underneath the vines. Sweat rolled down his face, as both boys are crouched in darkness. Watching as mechanical long, spider like legs creep past. Edgar held his breath for as long as he could.

When it passed, Thomas motioned him to follow out. Exhaling slowly.

A bright red light flashes. They knew, at least Edgar knew, it's a Beetle Blade watching them. WICKED. In big, bold lettering is etched on its back.

Edgar's head began to pound. He holds the side of it, gasping silently as images morphed into his mind. With a click and a clack, it disappeared over the wall.

"…What was that thing?" Thomas breathed out, making sure Alby's rope was secure.

"…Beetle Blade," he spoke. Finally spoke again, since his conversation with Elliot. "T-They use them to watch us."

Thomas nodded in some understanding.

Right.

Left.

Right. Right.

Then left again.

That pattern of The Maze returned. "C'mon, I-I think I can help get us-." Something wet and slimy splashed onto Thomas's shoulder. A shadow looms over. Daring to look up, Edgar blanched when he sees a Griever fall seemingly from the skies. It roared when it lands, racing after them.

Minho returned moments later. Snagging onto Thomas's left arm. "You're both crazy sons of bitches!" He hissed.

"We can talk later, Minho. Bit of a bug problem."

"Eddie. You talked-."

They danced out of the way, just in time before the Griever could slam into them. Edgar smacked at it with a pole, fending it off. He didn't even know where the thing came from, or how they obtained one.

He cried out when a long swipe to his face is made. It didn't get enough to sting him, only enough for a deep gash in his face. Blood splattered onto the floor, as Minho and Thomas dragged him away.

"Minho. Take Edgar."

Minho gave a perplexed look, as Thomas stayed at one side of the maze. "Greenie! Get your ass back here, NOW!"

Edgar's head begins to pound again. Instead of Thomas, he's hearing the voice of a girl. His knees buckle. His vision becomes dark. Out within seconds.

Chapter Text

Neither Elliot nor Newt could sleep. They laid about on the ground, watching. Waiting. A few others like Zart, Frypan, Winston and Jeff camped out with them, including Chuck. He slept beside Elliot, curled in a small ball.

The Maze doors immediately opened upon first rays of sunlight, prompting Chuck to call out. "Come on guys. Wake up!" He urged.

All they saw was a lonely, empty path.

"Told you Chuck. They're not going to make it," Newt whispered, his face crestfallen.

But not Elliot. He boldly stepped forward. Shielding his eyes from that bright sunlight. "Come on…" he muttered.

"No way," Zart's voice shared his thoughts.

Four figures held onto one another, limping towards the entrance. Cheers erupted all around The Glade. Edgar's face is a bloody mess but he's alive. Really alive. Alby was laid out carefully on a stretcher, after Jeff called for one, not before pulling his fellow med-jack in a tight hug. "Wow, what happened? You guys alright?" one Glader asked.

"So did you see a Griever?" Chuck followed.

"Yeah, we did," Thomas said but Minho interrupted.

"He didn't just see one. He killed it."

~*******~

Newt gently dabs at Edgar's scarred face, with a clean wash cloth. That Griever got him good, alright. He would have that linger for many years. "What were you, bloody thinking? Goin' in there half-cocked. Damn, Edgar."

The other boy remained silent as ever. Newt's eyebrows furrowed.

"….I was told to."

His voice is soft. So soft, Newt has to ask him to speak up. Which he had. "Told to? Don't tell me, you're-."

"I-I'm not mental, James. I could hear someone. I-In my head…which sounds b-bad, I know…." He's stuttering again.

Newt could sense his nerves acting up. His eyes at once soften. "Hey. Hey, no. No I don't think, you're mad," he sighed. Laying Edgar's head against his chest. Feeling him bury his face, into his shirt. "I am concerned though…and James. Eddie, you know that's not my name."

Edgar sniffed a little, nodding against his chest. Still unable to look up at him.

"You believe it's mine. Don't you?"

No sound came forth from Edgar. As Newt held him all that while, questions began to surface. What does he know?

~xxxxx~

Elliot woke up with a jolt. His heart pounded against his ribcage. He had the strangest dream, of someone looking down at him. Holding his eyelids apart, pointing a sharp object like what doctors used towards his right eye. Red hair is matted against his forehead, seated in an upright position.

Bright sunlight streaked in, through the cracks of the walls.

"Bad dreams?"

Looking over, he could see Minho, sliding a shirt over his head. He caught just a brief glimpse, of that toned stomach, enough to avert his eyes quickly. "Yeah. Could say that…" he muttered. Now feeling self-conscious as he changed.

"Thomas and I are taking some others, to check on that Dead Griever. Care to join us?"

"I'm up for that…anything to get away, from Gally and his goons."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed at hearing this. "Don't tell me, they're still going at you."

"It's not as much, but yeah. I've gotten used to it."

"Elliot-."

"Minho, it's okay, really. I'm fine. People talk, it's what they do. I don't care in all honesty, what's said about me." It's you that matters most he slipped on his shoes, nodding towards the door. "Now, let's head and see your Griever."

Minho still didn't look convinced, that he was fine. They say you can always read a person, by their eyes. But ever since he first arrived. Elliot had been a mystery.

~xxxxx~

The Maze felt equally eerie today. Winston, Frypan, Jeff and Edgar were among them whom joined, their rag-tag group. Minho of course led the way. After about an hour of running, they could see it lodged in a crack in a wall. Elliot peered closer after they pulled at its leg, to see a red light.

"Whoa-!" A shriek sounded from what was supposed, to be the dead Griever. It almost snagged Elliot's shirt, had it not been for Minho's quick reflex. "I thought you said, it was dead!" Frypan snapped.

More mush and what he guessed, to be guts came flowing down. Elliot found it a wonder he doesn't gag.

Something metal rolled at Thomas's feet. Covered in slime. Minho pulled it up, from its sticky trappings. Rubbing it away with his thumb, his eyebrows raised. "Well? What is it?" Elliot asked.

"I think we should head back. I don't want to meet more of this guy's friends," Frypan suggested.

"He's right. We should head back," Minho stated, placing the object in his pack.

Chapter Text

Come that afternoon, all The Keepers (minus Alby) and Edgar sat staring at Thomas. Elliot was with Chuck and Clint on one side. Newt stood front and center. "In place of our leader, sick in bed, I declare this Gathering begun. As you all know, the last few days have been bloody crazy, and quite a bit seems centred around our Greenbean, Tommy, seated before us."

Gally shook his head. "Who broke a clear, violation of our rules." He said.

Whispers sounded around the room, Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not in charge, here." He muttered. But Gally heard him, glaring his way.

"And neither are you shuck-face."

Minho tossed him a warning sneer. Newt gave them both a look. "Gally, try and keep some bugging order, here," Newt said. "If you're gonna blabber your shuck mouth every time I say something, you can go ahead and bloody leave, because I'm not in a very cheerful mood."

"For three years, we've coexisted with these things and now, you've killed one of them. What does that mean for us?" Gally argued regardless. "And 'Eddie' boy here? Far as I'm concerned, he's working with THEM."

Newt's expression turned deadly, at this rash deduction. Elliot had never seen him in such a look. "Gally, not another word about that. Yes, it's strange he seems…to know a lot about us. But that doesn't mean-."

"Klunk it doesn't! I say, him and Thomas deserve to be punished."

"How 'about we throw YOU in The Slammer? You won't last, a shuckin' day in there." Elliot retorted, causing several cheers on his side, mostly Chuck and Clint.

"Eli, slim it down!" Frypan scolded. "C'mon let Newt go on with this."

"Thank YOU, Fry," Newt sighed. Feeling a migraine coming on again. Poor Edgar looked as if, he was about to be thrown into the Grievers.

"You were there with him, Minho. What do you think?" Gally challenged. Newt threw his hands up in disbelief, while Edgar gave a weak thumbs up his way.

Minho still looked exhausted, from last night. He casts a glance Elliot's way, whom nodded with encouragement. "Of all the time we've been here, no one has ever seen a Griever. When I turned tail and ran, this dumb shank and Edgar, stayed back and protected Alby.

Well, I don't know whether he was brave. Or stupid. But I say we need more of it. I say we make him a Runner."

Several shouts followed. Elliot grinned at Gally's look of appalment, while Edgar closed his eyes. Oddly calm.

"I was with him," he spoke up as the situation called for it. A stunned silence followed, as he looks Newt's way. "He tied Alby up. Calm and collected…while Minho and I-sorry Minho-cowered, like frightened mice." Edgar looked Gally's way. "That enough, for you? Thomas deserves this."

"I'm dead serious. How can we trust this shank after less than a week? Quit voting me down before you even think about what I'm saying."

"It's sure easy for you shanks to sit here and talk about something you're stupid on. Me and Ben, are the only Runners in this group, and the only other one here who's even been out in the Maze is Newt."

Gally interrupted. "Not if you count the time I-"

"I don't! And believe me, you or nobody else has the slightest clue what it's like to be out there. The only reason you were stung is because you broke the same rule you're blaming Thomas for. That's called hypocrisy, you shuck-faced piece of-"

"Enough," Newt said. "Defend your proposal and be done with it."

"Anyway, listen to me. Like Edgar said, I've never seen anything like it. He didn't panic. He didn't whine and cry, never seemed scared. Dude, he'd been here for just a few days. Think about what we were all like in the beginning. Huddling in corners, disoriented, crying every hour, not trusting anybody, refusing to do anything, punching walls. We were all like that, for weeks or months, till we had no choice but to shuck it and live.

Just a few days after this guy shows up, he steps out in the Maze to save three shanks he hardly knows. All this klunk about him breaking a rule is beyond stupid. He didn't get the rules yet. But plenty of people had told him what it's like in the Maze, especially at night. And he still stepped out there, just as the Door was closing, only caring that three people needed help

Just like, what Elliot did…ran in without thinking.

But that was just the beginning. After that, he saw me give up on Alby, leave him for dead. And I was the veteran – the one with all the experience and knowledge. So when Thomas saw me give up, he shouldn't have questioned it. But he did. Think about the willpower and strength it took him to push Alby up that wall, inch by inch without any help. It's psycho. It's freaking crazy.

"But that wasn't it. Then came the Grievers. I told Thomas we had to split up and I started the practiced evasive maneuvers, running in the patterns. Thomas, when he should've been wettin' his pants, took control, defied all laws of physics and gravity to get Aly up onto that wall, diverted the Grievers away from him, beat one off, Edgar even braved it…he knocked a Griever, right in its-."

The sound of the alarm began to blare.

Everyone looks at somebody. Before rushing out into, The Glade. "The Box shouldn't be coming up…not this soon." Elliot uttered. Sharing a look with Minho.

They surround The Box as it comes up inch by inch. A Griever? An infected person? So many thoughts each one of them held, seemed to merge as one.

Gally and Minho took hold of the hooks, yanking on them. The doors opened.

Newt looked over. His eyebrows furrowed. "Holy…" he whispered.

Elliot makes a bold step forward. Preparing for the worst. When his eyes widened. "No way…" he gasped.

"This…" Minho could only utter.

"Why don't you just tell us what the shuck is down there?!" Gally hollered.

"Pipe down. Newt tell-."

"It's a girl."

"A girl?"

"I got dibs!"

"She's not a shuckin' object." Edgar mouthed. Lips set in a hard line. Elliot agreed whole heartedly.

"Poor thing's only been here one minute and you all, are tossing her like she's a rag doll." He muttered out loud.

"That's not bloody half of it," Newt continued as he pointed inside the Box. "I think she's dead."

~xxxxx~

She was the perfect imagine for many boys here, when Minho gently lays her out onto the grass. Silky black hair flowing past her shoulders. Couldn't have been no older than sixteen.

They stepped back as Edgar knelt down to feel for a pulse, on her wrist. Elliot kept the guys away. For some still eyed her like prey. She's so light in appearance. Like no more than a feather. "You know this girl, shank?" Jeff asked Thomas.

"Know her? Of course I don't know her. I don't know anyone. Expect for you guys."

"That's not-."

"Does she hold a familiarity?" Elliot questioned. Looking his way in thought. "As a sister maybe? Or…anything other." Newt looked as if he was going to lose it any second now. He took over instead, for Thomas's sake.

The poor confused boy shook his head 'no'. "No. Nothing." He said, looking down at the lifeless girl.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Shuck it. Can't be a coincidence. Two days, two Greenies, one alive, one dead."

"You don't think I…"

"Slim it Greenie," Newt said. "We're not sayin' you bloody killed the girl."

"Guys, how about lay off on him for a moment?" Elliot began. Ignoring Minho's raised eyebrow look. "I believe him. If he knew her, he'd admit it."

The girl sucked in a breath. Her chest rose and fell. Bright baby blue eyes shot open. "T-Thomas…" she gasped out his name.

"Everything…is going to change…"

She's out within seconds.

Chapter Text

When they returned, Alby was up. He sat with folded arms. The girl, Teresa is beside him. Her blue eyes remind Elliot of a doll's, they're so bright. "Hey, man. You alright? We might have found a way out of the Maze," Newt says softly to him.

Alby shook his head. "We can't…"

"What do you mean?" Elliot gaped.

"We're trapped here."

"How so?"

"I remember."

Edgar stiffened beside Newt. He wasn't the only one then. Alby sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, glaring at Thomas. And Elliot. "You were always their favorite, Thomas, Elliot. How could you let them, do this to us?"

The two boys look at each-other. And then at Teresa. But before she can reply, commotion from outside caught their attention.

Something's wrong. Elliot could feel it in the air, shortly after the girl woke up. The Doors always closed at night, from the moment The Runners came back. Wide open are they, as everyone could only stare in horror.

"Oh no…." he whispered, licking his lips. "No…I say, we turn out the lights." He suggested. Thomas nodded in agreement, bending to Chuck's level.

"Take others with you, go hide in The Council Hall."

Chuck nodded, glancing Elliot's way. "I'll meet up in a bit, okay? Minho, let's round up some weapons."

"Right…right."

Minho took him by the arm, dragging each-other towards the weapons shack. They're hands shook and trembled. Finding anything they could use. Until they could hear The Griever's, just outside. Elliot's face, even in darkness became chalk white. Minho slowly, cautiously closed their door. "Shuck…" he whispered.

Talking is non-existent. Elliot didn't care how awkward it may look. He clung to Minho's arm, as those awful creatures crept closer and closer.

The Griever outside had since moved on. Towards its first victim, a boy whom ran out of The Homestead in terror.

He squeezed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Minho tight. With hopes to block out those horrible screams.

Newt pushed open their door moments later, his eyes serious. "Come on love-birds, bloody help us!"

Edgar was with Jeff and Clint carrying Alby. Jeff called out Clint's name, when a Griever snatched him up. Elliot saved another boy by firing arrows at a couple of Grievers. Minho launched a spear at another.

Chuck's still inside the Council Hall, lantern in hand. He urged them inside, but just as they had their roof collapsed. "Stay away from the walls!" Thomas hollered.

A Griever took two more boys, holding them in its tight grip slamming its tail against a wall. During this attack, Chuck had been grabbed. They all pulled onto each-other, with Thomas pulling on his hand and arm. Alby, whom had been standing behind them suddenly charged. Striking at the Griever, slicing its tail off.

"You okay?" He asked breathlessly, when Chuck's released.

The boy nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah."

As Alby turned around, the Griever thrust its tail back in and snatched Alby in its claws. "Alby!"

"Thomas, get them out of here,"

"No-!"

"It's too late! He's gone!"

Minho snagged Elliot by his arm, dragging him out with the others.

~xxxxx~

It's all gone. Their crops. The Homestead. All that hard work. All those pain staking years, of building and re-building but destroyed in a single night. And their leader, is dead.

"It's all his fault. He was sent to destroy us, and now he has. Look around Thomas. Look around!" Gally hollered, held back by Winston and Frypan.

"Gally cool it, it's not his fault!" Elliot snapped back into reality, pushing his hands on Gally's chest as the others tried to keep him from attacking Thomas.

Thomas took a syringe he had in his pocket, admiring it. Teresa's big eyes look his way. They widen slight. "Thomas…?" she uttered.

Nobody saw as he wanted Teresa to stab him in the stomach. He collapsed onto his knees. The syringe lodged deep but just enough. He looked so peaceful, as they crowd around him. Edgar quickly checks for his pulse. Nodding his head, 'yes' in a shaky manner. "Throw him in the Slammer!" Gally hollered.

Two of his cronies make for Thomas, only to be stopped by Minho and Elliot. One with a spear pointed at Gally. And arrows pointed at the other two. "Not one step forward, shank." Minho bit out.

"If it isn't our newest 'power couple'." Gally sneered, spitting on the ground. "You want to protect this shank after all that he has done?"

"If you want Thomas, then you'll have to go through all of us." Elliot boldly declared, as Frypan and the others formed a circle.

"Look at them. Defending the ones who caused us our home!" Several other Gladers shouted in agreement, with Gally.

"Come on! We're all Gladers here. Now is not the time to fight among each other!" Newt hollered. "It wasn't them who did it. Who made the Grievers? It was those shanks who threw us in here. Thomas is just a kid? You think he can do this sort of thing to us?"

Gally snorted, taking a step closer. "Didn't you read that note that came up with that girl? She's the last one EVER! And now look around us! They caused all of this to happen. If Thomas hadn't run into the Maze and killed that Griever, maybe none of this would have happened. And as for you, you little bitch," he sneered Teresa's way. "You'll be joining your, boyfriend in a Banishment!"

"Gally, that's enough. What good will Banishing them do?" Elliot retorted, his voice drowned by the cries of agreement.

"And YOU. Oh, YOU are really not helping. You know what I think? I think, you were put here to corrupt Minho's way of thinking. He hasn't shuckin' been the same, since you got here."

Elliot's blood boiled. His lips drew back, in a cynical sneer. "Say that again, Gally…." He's cut off. Blood dripped from his nose, as he stumbled. It stained the front of his shirt.

Minho got between him and Gally, before he could throw another punch at Elliot. "That's enough! Gally, you had no right to hit him!"

"Throw those two into the Slammer," he nodded to Thomas and Teresa. "As for the rest…I'm watching. Make note of that."

Chapter Text

The Grievers didn't stop. More boys were lost to them, in the dead of night. Someone thought it was safe, only to be horribly wrong. Elliot, Minho, Newt, Edgar, Frypan and the others could only look at each-other. Order had all but jumped, right out the window.

Alby's dead. Gally's a piss poor leader.

Thomas and Teresa were still in their prison.

He jumped when Minho slammed The Homestead door open. His dark eyes ablaze, causing Elliot to shift from his book of notes. "There's no exit. Never was, never SHUCKIN' will be."

"Whoa-!" Elliot gasped, when a chair flew just above his head. "Minho…Minho, calm. Down. You're acting ridiculous." He spat, taking the other by his shoulders. Giving him a firm shake.

Minho shrugged him off. "Don't tell me how to feel. We're DEAD, Elliot! Don't you get that? Alby's dead. Gally's in charge…. we don't-."

His head's turned to one side. There's a red mark on his cheek. Elliot's hand shook as he lowered it to his side, frowning. "I'm sorry…. you're freaking me out." He murmured.

"Didn't realize you had a good left hook." Minho sighed, rubbing his punched cheek. "Sorry, Eli. I'm frustrated. It isn't the same, without Alby in charge."

"I get that. But, you don't seem to understand, we have hope. Still. Something's been telling me we're not done yet, Minho. You've got to have faith."

A snort escaped from the other, as Elliot took hold of his hand. It gave off a funny feeling for both, when they made any contact. Ever since that 'experiment' kiss. "You really think that?"

Elliot nodded. Grinning soft. "I'm looking at the guy, who gave me it. Now, c'mon. We've got someone to bust out."

~xxxxxx~

They left. Elliot's actually surprised how many boys went with them. Talking is non-existent. Everybody's on edge, each with his own thought. Edgar and Teresa walked side by side. Watchful under Newt's gaze. "Hey, they kinda look alike…don't they?" Chuck pointed out, one hour at lunch.

Minho looked over at them. "Huh. Guess so…same black hair. Eyes are kinda, that same shape."

"Wonder if I had a sibling."

Elliot shrugged, picking at his mashed potatoes. He wondered that exact same thing, in secret. If any of those boys that were killed, were in relation to him in some way.

Newt had trouble with his limp, rests were needed every so often. Adrenaline is what keeps him going, despite Thomas assuring him he could rest. "If I rest here, we'll never get out of this bleedin' prison, Tommy. I can make it."

Edgar wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "…We'll help you." He said softly, as Teresa nodded.

"That's right. If you need it, we'll come."

It amazed him how many Gladers had the guts to jump in The Maze and slide down a Hole. Breaks were needed every so often. Frypan had suggested they all bring perishable foods along.

"So, who do you think I'm named after." Chuck asked, eating a mouthful of potatoes.

Elliot had wondered the same thing. Why were they named after a famous individual? His stomach growled with hunger, not caring at this point if he ate anything with meat in it. "No clue, Chucky. Darwin maybe?"

"Charles Darwin?" Thomas inquired. "You mean the guy, who came up with evolution?"

"The very one."

"I bet no one's called him 'dude' before," Chuck said. Taking another bite. "You know, I'm not scared or anything. I mean, we're not just sitting around waiting for a Griever like we were. We're trying something."

"That's an attitude to have," Minho gave him a pat on the back. "We all have your exact mind set. Better to have some hope than none at all."

Elliot couldn't resist snorting with laughter. Ignoring Minho's annoyed glance. "Sorry. That's just…real funny, comin' from the guy, who was all 'we're gonna die' a few days ago."

"Hey! That was a VERY stressful moment!" Minho retorted, pointing his fork at Elliot. His face flushed when they all start laughing.

And then it's time to go. Even though fear still had its cold grip onto him, Elliot did feel like they could pull it off. He took hold of his back pack and headed for The West Door. Minho and Teresa went over their plan on one side. Thomas, Elliot and Newt on the other.

"You shanks ready?" Minho asked. "Thomas, this is all your idea. So, if it doesn't work, I'll kill you before a Griever does."

"Thanks," Thomas deadpanned. Going over to Teresa. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said with a smile. "Just anxious in getting this over with."

"Aren't we all." Frypan chimed.

Newt handed them each a long pole with barbed wire wrapped around it and a set, of gloves. "Wait. What about a pep talk?"

"Shoot, mate."

Minho nodded, looking towards everyone. "Be-careful and don't die."

"That's so encouraging." Elliot rolled his eyes, smiling soft at the other. "I don't have any intentions of dying…"

"And I won't allow that."

Childish oohs sound from Winston, snickering at the pairs glare of doom. "Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt shook his head. Taking Edgar's hand in his own. "You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice in a cage, tonight we're taking a stand. Tonight, we're fighting back against our Creators. No matter what we have to get through. Tonight, The Grievers better be scared."

Elliot let out the first cheer. And then Winston followed suit. Soon, the whole Glade is in a chorus of battle cries.

He clutched his weapon tight. Determination clear in his eyes. If it's a war they wanted, the Creators got one.

He turned and ran into the Maze, his limp barely noticeable. Edgar motioned them all to follow, the widest of grins etched across his freckled face. Thomas and Teresa were at the back as they were the ones who needed to survive as they needed to enter the code.

Then The Grievers came.

The battle had yet to start, but Elliot knew he would see blood shed soon. "There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen," Minho said. "They're just waiting for us!"

"Well, we knew we'd have to fight," Newt said, his voice shaking a bit.

"I didn't expect THAT many." Elliot remarked. Masking his own fear.

The Grievers were everywhere. They were behind and in front of them.

Everyone formed a close knit group. Weaving down The Corridor that led into The Cliff area. Thomas saw a pack of Grievers between them and the Cliff, their spikes extended and their skin pulsing.

Minho kept a close eye on Elliot and Elliot with him. Waiting with baited breath.

"They're…just standing there." A boy named William uttered.

"Someone should do something."

"I'll go!"

"No, come back!"

A boy ran in full sprint towards the waiting Grievers. Elliot and the others pleaded with him to stop, as he leapt into the air right on top of one Griever. The minute his pole dug into its back, they came to life. Shrieks echoed around and none from the boy.

The smell of blood lingered in the air. Elliot could no longer look at the scene, "I can't believe it," Newt whispered. "I can't believe he just did that."

Edgar placed a hand on his shoulder. Shaking his head with sorrowful eyes.

"We can't waste what he did," Minho said. "We'll fight 'em off if we have to, and make a path to the Cliff for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing – we'll keep them off until you scream for us to follow. Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while. We should only need a minute or so to punch in the code."

"Min, don't you think that's a little heartless?" Elliot muttered.

"What should we do then, Eli? Dress for his funeral?"

"Stop it!" Teresa shouted. Her hands clenched firm at her sides. "He sacrificed himself, so we can keep moving. I don't know him…but, I do know he wouldn't want us quarreling like children after all he's done. We'd be heartless if we wasted it."

Newt closed his eyes. He was second in command now, after Alby's death at The Glade. He had to bring order. "Listen up! Number one priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the Cliff and the Hole so-"

The sound of approaching Grievers caught on. Elliot blanched at the sight, his heart aches knowing that poor lads sacrifice, was all for naught. "Somehow I have to get through that!" He could hear Thomas call out.

Minho, Newt and Elliot all look at one another. "They're coming!" Teresa yelled. "We have to do something!"

"You lead," Newt's voice is just a whisper towards Minho. "Make a bloody path for Tommy and the girl. Do it."

The latter nodded with determination clear and true in his eyes, focusing on the others. "We head straight for the Cliff! Fight through the middle, push the shucking things towards the walls. What matters most is getting Thomas and Teresa towards the Griever Hole!"

Closer and closer do they get. Elliot gripped his pole, standing close to Minho. His weapon at the ready.

"Keep 'em steady…" he ordered. In one hand he holds a long silver knife.

"NOW."

The Keeper ran forward. Elliot followed suit. Then Newt. And Edgar. Frypan and the others formed a tight pack together, poles raised. With all the strength he had, Elliot swung his pole like a baseball bat, striking one Griever in its chest. There was no chance he's going to let this thing live. He repeatedly hits it, until it stays down. Allowing all his anger and frustrations to escape.

Something swiped at his face, creating a cut on his left cheek. Eyes burning with anger it's no surprise to see it's a Griever.

"Bloody asshole!" He hollered.

"Eli, help!"

Edgar's in danger. At once he leapt into action, swinging his weapon at The Griever. A pleased smirk crossed his face when it strikes, the creatures face. "Oh klunk…" he gaped, when it rears back. Ready to slam its claws onto him and Chuck, whom he pushes back behind him.

"I don't think so!"

Minho's holler caught The Grievers attention just like he wanted. Rather than run, Elliot and Edgar distract it, giving The Keeper time to strike at its right eye blinding it. It bellowed in pain, unsure whom to go after now.

The confused Griever struck him in the arm this time, ripping his shirt sleeve. Elliot snarled, joining Minho and Edgar in whacking it to death. Only just now occurring that the other boy…actually spoke.

"Eddie….You spoke. You called out, Eli's name." Minho gasped.

The latter's face flushed, suddenly finding his shoes interesting. "No, no. He didn't mean in a bad way just…we're just…"

"Now!" Thomas called out.

"Thomas! Keep going!" Newt hollered.

"Thomas! Forget me! Go!" Minho shouted, stabbing something.

Elliot saw a Griever barreling right towards Chuck. He leapt into action at once, not wanting any harm to come to this boy. He's like a deer in headlights. Too afraid to move despite Elliot's hollers, to get out of the way.

Fortunately, Teresa grabbed his arm and pulled him out of harm's way.

More Gladers came in to help. Winston had Alby's old weapon and struck an oncoming Griever. Edgar took a knife and stabbed at another. One Griever took hold of someone, dragging them off. Another's crushed against a wall.

Thomas skidded to a halt at The Hole, when Teresa and Chuck bumped into him.

Newt took hold of Elliot's arm, shouting they needed to get in after Thomas and Teresa. One by one do the survivors take a leap inside.

Elliot's the last to follow.

Chapter Text

Winston tumbled out first. Then Frypan. Newt. Edgar. Teresa. Jack. Thomas. Chuck. Minho. And Elliot, falling onto Minho's back. It would have been a funny scene, had any of them felt like laughing. "We made it," Minho breathed out. Helping Elliot up. "You alright?" He placed a hand on his head, watching Elliot grimace from a cut he received across his forehead.

"Just peachy, Minho." Elliot sighed.

Thomas looked down that long, dimly lighted hallway. "I feel like we're in a sci-fi movie." He muttered. "Guys, Teresa, stay close."

"Ditto." Chuck gasped. Clinging onto Elliot's hand, whom did not mind it one bit.

Teresa's face shifted away from bodies lining the walls. Some looked almost fresh. With all that blood from earlier, Elliot did not think he'd be able to look at ketchup the same way. "Careful, of the glass," he whispered. As they gingerly trekked along. Mindful of shards littering the metal floors.

On his right, Elliot could see bodies covered with a white sheet. He looked away as his head, began to pound.

That Déjà vu sense creeped on up again.

A door to another room slid open. And they're mortified to see, monitors and computers. Each showing different view points, from The Glade. "They were watching us." Newt almost hissed out.

Elliot's blood boiled, as he took a lone wrench from underneath a machine. "Not anymore…" he threw it with vigor. Ducking from sparks emitting off, from the impact. One of the screens came to life, revealing a woman in a white lab coat.

"Hello. My name is Doctor Ava Paige. I am the Director of Operations for the World in Catastrophe Killzone Department. If you're watching this, you have succeeded the Maze trials. I'm sure you are confused, scared even. You may not remember, but the sun has scorched our world,"

She shows scenes. Images of their real world, burnt in flames. A scorched world.

"Billions of lives lost to the Sun flares. But what came after was worse," Elliot and Minho looked at one another. Then back at the screen. "We call it the Flare. A deadly virus that attacks the brain. It is deadly. Incurable," an image of a man came next. Black veins crawled all over his body. Alby instantly came to everyone's mind.

"Or so we thought. In time a new generation emerged that could survive the virus. Suddenly there was hope for a cure. But the young would have to be tested. Even sacrificed. You may not understand now, but you're very important, unfortunatley things have changed. Time is running out and the need for a cure is even greater. I wish I can be here to congratulate you but unfortunately it's too late for me. But not for you," she said as men started to enter the building and shooting everyone in it. "The world outside awaits you. And remember,"

She pulled a gun to her head.

"WICKED is good…"

Blood and brain matter gushed from her left temple. Edgar closed his eyes tight, gripping onto Newt's hand. Chuck buried his face in Elliot's arm.

Footsteps sounded from behind.

Turning around, they could see it to be Gally. "Gally…" Thomas spoke in confusion.

He had a gun in his shaking hand. Minho gripped his spear tight. "He's finally shucked in the head." He whispered.

Teresa stopped Thomas from approaching him. She sensed something wasn't right. "Don't. He's been Stung."

"I belong in the Maze. We all do."

His finger touched the trigger.

Minho threw his spear, hitting Gally straight through his chest. Gasps echoed from his parted lips. It is not Gally what makes them repeat a gasp of their own, however. "Thomas…" Chuck's shirt is drenched with blood.

Elliot's eyes shimmered. Watching Thomas catch him, in his arms. "No. No. Chuck. Don't. We've made it out. We can go home."

Chuck gave a smile. A smile so bright despite his weakened state. His head turned towards Thomas. "Find…my mom." He whispered.

His legs almost gave way. Frypan held him up, everything around him blurred. He doesn't even see the men with armor barging in through doors and windows. "Eli, let's GO!" Minho tugged him by his arm, knowing he wouldn't respond to any authority figure.

They board a helicopter just outside. As it lifts off, they're shocked upon making a discovery that their Glade was only one small fraction of the massive Maze. "Relax kid. Everything is going to change," a man up front stated.

"We escaped….we really…." Teresa stuttered. Her hands covered her mouth. Tears prickling behind her eyes.

Elliot pulled his legs up to his chest, head buried in between. Minho placed his right arm around his shoulders. Still gazing out into the bright glow of the sunset.