+++

"SAMSON. Hey, it's me. Thomas. You probably don't remember me. We were partners...we worked for WICKED together. We were--friends. When we learned the truth about the Maze Trials, what they were doing to our friends, we started working on a plan to help them escape. And...now that you've been sent down there, you're the key. With a little help from me, you're going to get them out, Sam."

Samson. Sam. The raven-haired boy in his dreams, Thomas, he had called himself, had returned his identity to him. Although nothing else Thomas had said made sense, one thing was clear now. His name was Samson.

He sat up from his cot with wide eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead. For some reason he was expecting Thomas to be standing above him, waiting to shake his hand or pat him on the back. But he wasn't. It was just a dream. Nevertheless, a smile washed over his face. He knew his name.

Samson couldn't help but wonder about the boy that had appeared in his dreams. Thomas. He recalled Thomas's nervous demeanour, the way he spoke in a hushed tone, anxiously glancing around the white room he was located in. But he couldn't even begin to understand anything he had told him. Thomas had crammed too many topics into one short dream. But according to him, they used to be friends. If he was real, if he wasn't some trick done by the people who had put Samson in the maze, Thomas was a figure from his past. And other than his name, the only thing that he had left of his life before.

But it was his last words that sent a cold chill down Samson's spine. You're going to get them out. This being only a dream, he knew it couldn't be true. It would be the Runners who were going to find the way out of the Maze, not him.

Forgetting about Thomas for the time being, he pulled his blanket off of his body and slipped into his shoes. He forced himself up, grinning from ear to ear. The first person he wanted to find was Nick, but the Glade seemed deserted. Samson trudged through the morning dew of the grass, making his way towards the Cookhouse.  The chatter of the Gladers could be heard from inside the shack as he drew closer. He swung the door open and slid on the floor and into the Cookhouse. He searched the room for Nick and found him sitting at one of the back tables with Alby and another boy whose name he couldn't recall. Samson couldn't stop the growing smile on his face as he made his way toward them.

"What're you all smiley for, Greenbean?" Alby asked, raising a brow.

Letting out a laugh, Samson bit his lip and muttered, "That's Samson to you,"

Nick and the other Glader both lifted their heads and smiled. Alby laughed lightly, patting Samson on the back. Nick took a swig of water, holding his hand up. When he swallowed, he stood up and climbed onto the table, coughing like his water had gone down the wrong hole. The chatter in the Cookhouse winded down, and all eyes landed on their leader, who had his glass in his hand and a wide grin on his face.

"Everyone, I wanna toast to our Greenie, who ain't so Greenie anymore. Here's to Samson!"

Nearly every Glader hopped out of their seats and cheered. Some of them began to chant his name and Samson turned his head away from them out of embarrassment. Nick shoved a plate of scrambled eggs into his hands and Samson flashed him another smile out of gratitude. In his whole three days of being in the Glade, he didn't think he'd smiled nearly as much as he had that morning.

Samson took his seat next to Alby. While they ate, he listened to Nick and Alby as they went over their agenda for the day. But his mind continued to wander back to Thomas. He contemplated whether or not to tell Nick and Alby about the dream, and what Thomas had told him in said dream. But the more he thought about it, he wondered if maybe the Gladers had all gone through the same thing. Perhaps Thomas was simply a Creator, whose job was to give the Gladers their names. So, he let that go. But there was one thing that he couldn't seem to shake. You're going to get them out, Sam.

"Well, Sam," Alby smiled, snapping him out of his daze. "Today we're gonna start you off with the Slicers. You saw the Bloodhouse yesterday, right?"

Samson nodded, smiling up at Alby. The Bloodhouse was definitely going to be interesting.

"I'll take you to Winston and leave you to it. For the next few days you'll be trying out jobs around the Glade, and we'll narrow it down to the ones you're good at. Sound good?"

"Yeah, I guess," he replied with a shrug. Nick and Alby chuckled in unison at his response.

"Alright then," Alby suddenly stood up. "Let's go now." he bid Nick goodbye and mirrored Alby's actions, standing up with his plate in hand. He spent a moment glancing back and forth at Nick and the Kitchen before Nick finally extended a hand and took the plate.

Alby and Samson walked over to the Bloodhouse in silence. Winston was waiting at the door of the Bloodhouse, waving the two of them over. He was holding onto a brown bag and as Samson was close enough, Winston dropped the bag into his hands. He had caught him off guard and the bag was heavier than Samson had expected. It slipped through his fingers, pig feed flying everywhere in the grass around them.

Samson frowned. "Sorry, I didn't--"

Winston knelt down and picked the bag up, resting it against the door. "Don't worry about the mess. I'll get someone else to clean it up. Come on, we've got other things to do." Winston stood up and went inside.

Samson nodded, his body tensing up out of embarrassment. Winston seemed to take his job very seriously, and Samson made note of that. He looked back at Alby for guidance, but all he did was motion for him to follow Winston. The dark inside of the Bloodhouse made Samson shiver with fear. Winston stood by a table that was stained with blood. That and the squealing of the pigs coming from all directions of the shack was enough to make all of the colour drain from Samson's face. He knew it was going to be a long day.

+++

And that it was. Samson did not enjoy being a Slicer one bit. After watching Winston slaughter a chicken in cold blood, he nearly broke down crying. He wanted nothing more than to leave the smell and the sounds of the Bloodhouse, so he took his lunch early. Something he instantly regretted. He knew he would never be able to eat after what he had just witnessed.

Samson stumbled into the Cookhouse, sighing loudly. A couple of other Gladers were gathered around one of the tables in the far back corner, but he ignored them, going straight to Frypan in the Kitchen.

"Hey, Newbie." Frypan greeted him. He seemed to be already fixing Samson a plate. He gave the cook the best smile he could manage and rested his elbows on the table. Frypan pushed the plate towards him. A cheese sandwich and raw vegetables. He glanced up at him and let out a sigh of relief.

"Knew you were working in the Bloodhouse today, figured you didn't want chicken noodle soup," Frypan chuckled and Samson thanked him with a laugh before heading back to the dining area. There were several tables open, but he found himself looking over at the group of boys sitting together in the corner. He wondered what would be more awkward; Samson sitting alone, or Samson attempting to join in on the Gladers lunch break.

Without meaning to, he locked eyes with Gally, who sent him a warm smile. "Hey, Greenie," he called, motioning for Samson to come over to their table. He loosened up and headed over to Gally and his friends. Gally was a nice guy. He was one of the only guys who had made him feel a little less helpless and afraid on his first day.

"I got my name back, ya know," Samson said with a nervous smile.

Gally nodded. "I know. Gladers tend to call the Greenie "Greenie" until the end of the month when they're not the Greenie anymore," he replied. Samson rolled his eyes playfully at this. "Anyways," he continued. "Pull up a chair. Don't sit by yourself, Sam."

Samson grabbed a chair from behind him and sat next to Gally, holding his plate awkwardly in his lap. Gally took a deep breath and turned to him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Samson shot him a look of discomfort and he loosened his grip.

"Okay, Samson. Meet Adam, Hank, and Jack." he gave each of them a smile and nod, which they returned as well. "We're all Builders. I'm the Keeper," Gally told him with a smug smile. "You'll be able to come and try your hand at being a Builder in a few days."

This earned a few chuckles from the other boys around the table. Samson averted his eyes, instead staring down at his sandwich. He could only assume they were making fun of his scrawny figure, something he hadn't actually given any thought to until then. From the corner of his eye, he could see Gally telling his friends off with an intimidating look.

The taller, brown-haired boy, Adam, stood up. "I'm going back out there," he said. All of the other boys went after him, standing up and leaving out the door of the Cookhouse in a line until it was only Gally and Samson left.

Samson finally picked his sandwich up off of his plate and took a bite, smiling out of satisfaction. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

"I'll uh-wait for you to finish and take you back to the Bloodhouse if you want?" Gally suggested, raising a brow.

Samson shrugged, taking another bite. "Sure,"

Gally rested his arms on the table in front of them. "I know it's only your third day, but a lot of the Gladers have been saying you're quiet, keep to yourself. Which is fine by me. I'm not forcing you to open yourself up to any of us shanks," Gally shook his head with a smile. "I usually keep to myself, too. Most Gladers don't like me so much anymore, so I don't bother with them either,"

Samson lifted his head at this, setting the remainder of his sandwich down. "Why not?"

"Hm?" Gally's face had turned a crimson colour.

"Why don't they like you anymore? What happened?" he asked.

Gally pursed his lips and looked as if he was pondering how to reply. After a moment, he swallowed hard and said, "I'm not supposed to talk about it really. For one, the Creators don't like it. They try and...stop me. And, I don't wanna scare ya,"

Samson frowned back at Gally. Much to his surprise, he persisted. "Gally, what happened?" he asked again, this time with a little more demand in his tone.

Gally's eyes shifted around the empty Cookhouse, and eventually, his gaze landed back on Samson. His hands shook and Gally took them off the table and rested them on his knees.

"Well, few months back, I was stung. By a Griever, obviously. I got some of my memories back, just bits and pieces. Most of them have already faded, but there are some....there's some I won't ever forget."

Samson was lost. He hadn't understood anything Gally had just told him. For starters, he had no idea what a Griever was. He couldn't recall Newt mentioning anything about getting stung or that there was any kind of danger like that in the Glade. He wanted to ask Gally to explain but decided against it when he saw his dishevelled expression.

But Gally continued. "Anyway, everyone says that since I've gone through the Changing, I'm different now. A lot moodier and nastier. Which, I can see. But truth is, I'm just afraid. I don't want anyone else to break the rules like I did and go through what I went through. What we've built up here is safe and peaceful. But now that I have those memories back, there's just always something that's not right. And if everyone else had their memories back too, the Glade wouldn't be what it is now. You get me?"

Samson nodded quickly, even though he really had no idea what Gally was talking about. At all. Gally sighed, running a hand through his short hair. Samson blinked back at him, trying to think of something to say. He pushed his plate onto the table and eventually found the right words.

"I'm sorry. I think you're a good person, Gally."

Gally's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Really." he repeated. And he meant it.

"Thanks, Greenie. I think you and I will get along real nicely, then."

Samson smiled back at Gally, choosing to ignore the fact that he had called him Greenie for the time being. Gally reached forward and patted Samson on the shoulder again and the two of them stood up in unison and started for the door. Back to reality.

+++

author's note!

newt is not in this chapter or the next lmao, BUT samson needs to have some development on his own, he's not just newt's boyfri-i mean...newt's BUDDY...

also! gally and sam's friendship is a very important brotp. i've always liked gally and understood his side of the story in some way, so i'm excited that he's one of sam's friends and not just a certified dick like most people make him out to be in their fics :))

love always,
chloe