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     SAMSON WASN'T INVITED TO THE GATHERING. And that would've made sense, considering he wasn't a Keeper. But, as he watched Thomas run into the Homestead behind the rest of the Keepers, he couldn't help but wonder if Newt was keeping him in the dark on purpose. He was their leader now, and he made the rules. Samson scoffed at this. He believed Newt's decision to keep him away was childish of him. Samson wanted to get out of the Maze just as much as the next person. And besides Thomas, he was the only one who understood the codes.

     Deep down, Samson wished he could talk to him, try and apologize, but Newt was making it hard. Since that morning in the Deadheads, he'd kept his distance. Samson knew it was his fault, he understood now that Newt was only trying to protect him. He had also begun to realize that he had serious anger management problems, so serious that it seemed not even Newt could get through to him anymore. He had ruined everything between them, and had no idea how to fix things.

     Thomas found Samson right after the Gathering had finished and explained the premise of the meeting to him and Teresa. The plan was that they were all going into the Maze as soon as possible. They'd fight their way down into the Griever Hole, and it'd be Thomas and Samson's job to punch in the codes. The Keepers decided that for the next hour, everyone would pack up what they needed and by midnight, they'd be gone.

     Samson couldn't really believe it was all real and happening. They were finally leaving the Glade. He'd only been in the Glade for four months, but because he had no memory of his life before the Maze, those four months had dragged on for what felt like years. For this reason, he could only imagine how excited the rest of the boys, especially those who had been there since the start, were. His mind wandered back to Newt. His eyes followed him as he came out of the Homestead, wearing a solemn expression, and his heart sank.

     The Maze doors were still not closed, which meant that the Grievers would return that night. Thomas explained that they would slip away just as the Grievers arrived in the Glade to attack. There were a fair amount of boys, including Leo, who wanted to stay behind. They all sat in the grass by the Deadheads, looking defeated.

     When Thomas left to go help the others pack things up, his watch read 11:30. Samson decided that he wanted to try and talk to Leo. It couldn't hurt to try and get through to him one more time. Besides, Samson didn't have much to pack. Other than the clothes on his back, he had nothing to his name.

     Before he went after his friend, Samson snuck into the woods behind the Glade and headed for the Map Room, praying that all of the Runners were long gone. He slipped inside the stone walls and carefully shut the iron door behind him so that it didn't make a sound. He quickly pulled a backpack from off the hooks on the wall and shoved a water canister inside of it. He opened up the wooden trunk where all of the other running supplies were kept, and found that there were still dozens of digital watches and shoes stored away inside. Samson nabbed one of the watches and shut the trunk. He figured it didn't matter anymore that he wasn't officially a Runner; the Glade had fallen apart, which meant that the watches were up for grabs. He strapped it to his wrist and turned it on. The screen read 11:50. There was no time to find Leo and Clark. It was time to go. Samson pulled his backpack up onto his shoulders and left the Map Room without looking back.

     Samson was more than ready to leave the Glade. He was ready to begin a new life, a better life, for himself and for all of his friends. He wondered if they'd be able to get their memories back somehow. As he made his way over to the Maze doors, Samson wasn't sure if that was what he wanted. From what he remembered, his past life hadn't been great. For years, he'd been brainwashed by the Creators, by WICKED. He'd helped them throw his friends into the Maze, until the day he realized what was really happening and ended up in there with them. Samson was afraid that he would return to his old ways if his memories were restored. He pondered on the topic and realized that he didn't want his memories back. He'd spent three months trying to find himself again, but now, it just didn't seem right. He had made a life for himself with the Gladers, and there was nothing holding him to his past life. No family or friends he'd left behind. The Gladers were all he had now, and when he thought of his future, his new life, his better life, he saw it with them.

     Thomas and the others stood by the Doors, some of them pacing back and forth anxiously. Samson started in a light jog towards the Gladers. Leo stood next to Newt and Frypan with his hands in his pockets. He shook Frypan's hand and then the Cook pulled him into a hug. Samson joined them, standing awkwardly next to Leo and across from Newt.

     A darkness engulfed the Glade. From inside the Maze, Samson was sure he saw the familiar silhouette of a Griever. It was prowling nearby, waiting for the right moment to pounce on the Gladers. Samson's eyes widened and he lifted his head to point towards the Maze, but before he could warn anyone, the creature leapt forward into the Glade with a bellowing roar. Everyone spun around to face it, and the few boys who were closest to it grabbed their spears, ready to charge the Griever.

     Samson had nothing to defend himself with. His eyes darted around the field, searching for something to use so that he could help. Every single Glader, even the ones who weren't planning on escaping, picked up their weapons and ran for the monster. They cornered it in the field and tried to push it back towards the doors, and the Griever stiffened up. It stood still in the grass. Too still.

     "Sam! Leo!" Clark's scream rang through the Glade and when Samson turned back around to face Clark, the Griever suddenly roared back to life and plowed through the Gladers towards his friend.

     Time seemed to slow down around Samson. Where his brain told him to run to Clark, to get him out of harm's way, his legs failed him. He stood and watched as Clark cried out for his friends one last time before the Griever grabbed him from behind and pierced him from his back, through his heart. Clark's body slumped down against the Griever's tight grip and the monster crushed him in between his claws and then pitched him into the wreckage of the Homestead.

     Samson wanted to scream, but when he tried no sound came out. He forced himself to move forward, reaching down for a spear that had been thrown on the ground amidst all of the chaos. He gripped it so tightly in his hand he felt his bones crack under the pressure. Samson scowled back at the creature. All of that pent-up rage that had consumed him since the day he'd arrived in the Glade was finally going to be put to good use. Hands pulled Samson back toward the Maze walls and he tried to shake them off, telling him he needed to do this. He needed to kill that Griever, even if it was the last thing he'd do. He screamed and kicked and cried as they pulled him away. Samson's knees gave out and he fell to the ground, a wretched sob tearing through his throat.

     "Sam!" someone cried next to him, panting heavily in his ear.

     Minho grabbed Samson up by his armpits and pulled him back onto his feet. Samson kept his head down and away from the Glade out of shame. He'd promised Clark that he would be okay. He'd failed Clark.

     "Sam, we need to go. Clark saved us. He saved us."

     Samson shook his head violently. "He has to come with us," he whispered. "We have to help him."

     Minho's eyes were glossy with tears. "We can't. I'm sorry, Sam. We have to go while the Griever's still here. While we still can."

     "I can't leave him," Samson shuddered, pushing Minho away from him. He tried to fall back to his knees but Minho only hoisted him back up, grunting in his ear. Samson didn't want Minho to comfort him. He didn't understand. Samson needed to talk to someone who did.

     Leo sat in the grass next to Winston with his head in his hands. Samson writhed out of the grip that Minho had on his shoulders and made his way towards his friend. The only friend he had left. He wouldn't leave Leo behind. Not now. He couldn't.

     Thomas jumped in front of him before he could get to Leo, nearly knocking Samson off of his feet. He glowered at Thomas, threatening him with a clenched fist.

     "Samson, we need to go!" Thomas panted.

     "Just...just wait!" he slipped past Thomas and fell down next to Leo, resting his hands on his shoulders. Leo lifted his head. His eyes were swollen red and he frowned at the scene in front of him. Thomas knelt down beside Leo wearing a concerned expression, his eyes shifting between his and Samson's.

     "Leo," Samson began, his voice so quiet he wasn't even sure if he'd spoken aloud. "You've gotta come with me. Please, Leo. I can't--I can't leave knowing you're here. You're not safe. Leo, please. I--"

     Leo shook his head furiously. "No, no, no! I can't. The Grievers--"

     Samson cut him off. "Leo--" he shut his eyes tightly. "If you don't go, I won't. You're my best friend. Please. I can't leave you."

     "No, Samson. You have to come with us," Thomas interrupted. Samson ignored him and returned his gaze to Leo. He was staring out into the Glade, where some of the boys were still trying to fight off the Griever that had killed Clark. Samson wanted to be out there. He wanted to kill the thing so badly after what it had done. But more than anything, he wanted to go after the Creators. They'll pay for what they've done, Samson promised himself. They would finally see what he was capable of.

     "Hey, Leo?" Thomas continued, snapping Samson back to reality. Thomas rested his hand on Leo's knee and his eyes turned sincere and soft. "I know you and I barely know each other but I can tell you that we do need you. You're a hard worker. You're strong, and smart, and you're a good friend. Samson won't be able to go on without you...none of us will. Please, you gotta come with us."

     Leo looked like he was trying to keep a straight face, but his eyes said something else. He gaped at Thomas, his eyes full of admiration for him. The tears that he'd been holding in fell from his eyes and onto his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away and stiffened up, shaking his head. He finally turned to face Samson, and he knew that was it. There wasn't anything else he could say or do to convince him. Leo wanted to stay and die in the Glade. And as much as Samson wanted to leave the Glade, he wouldn't leave Leo behind.

     "Okay," Leo sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, okay. I'll go," he said.

     Samson's eyes widened with sheer shock. Leo hadn't put up as much of a fight as Samson had expected. Thomas stood up abruptly and held out a hand for Samson, but before he could react Leo took it, letting Thomas pull him up to his feet. He gave Thomas what seemed to be a smile of sorts and he patted his back sympathetically. Samson stood up himself and dusted his knees off, sighing deeply.

     The Glade was in ruins. Another fire had started around the remains of the Homestead, and Clark was no longer the only Glader on the ground, lying motionless. Still, they kept on fighting. One of the Gladers had managed to get on top of the creature and hacked away at its back with an axe, while another swung at its metal legs. Samson watched, feeling guilty for leaving them behind. He turned his attention back to the entrance of the Maze.

     "Alright!" Thomas shouted, and the chatter amongst the Gladers came to an abrupt halt. He stepped towards Newt, who had his arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. For the first time ever, Samson couldn't tell what he was feeling just by looking at him. Samson forced himself to look away before Newt caught him staring. He really had lost him.

     Newt cleared his throat. "There's forty-one of us." He pulled the backpack he was holding onto his shoulders and hoisted a thick wooden pole with barbwire wrapped around it. "Make sure you've got your weapons. Other than that, isn't a whole lot to buggin' say--you've all been told the plan. We're gonna fight our way through to the Griever Hole, and Thomas and Samson will punch in the code and we're gonna get payback on the Creators, simple as that."

     Hearing his name on Newt's tongue only felt like a knife to the heart now. More than ever, Samson wanted Newt to look at him, to tell him everything was going to be alright, just like he always had. If Samson hadn't messed things up the way he had, Newt would have been standing by his side. He missed him.

     Minho raised his hand and stepped through the crowd. "Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?"

     "Go ahead," Newt replied.

     Minho nodded and faced the crowd. "Be careful," he said dryly. "Don't die."

     Samson lowered his head to hold back a smile. It felt so wrong to him at the time, but as he scanned the crowd of Gladers, he realized they were all wearing proud smiles.

     "Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt answered, then pointed over his shoulder, toward the Maze. "After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there."

     Someone cheered, and then someone else. And then everyone had broken out into their own battle cries. Samson could feel Newt's eyes on him for a brief moment and he let himself glance up at him, just for a moment. He nodded to Newt sharply, swallowing the lump in his throat. But Newt turned away from him before he could even attempt a smile, before he could show him that he wanted to fix things.

     Newt threw his weapon into the air and yelled, "Hear that, Creators? We're coming!"

     And with that, he turned and ran into the Maze, his limp noticeable. Samson thought of their last conversation in the woods and what he'd told him about his leg. He would never forgive himself for the way he'd acted towards Newt after what he'd told him.

     The others picked up their weapons and followed after Newt, shouting at the top of their lungs. Samson took in one last deep breath. Leo ran past him, brushing against his shoulder. Without looking back, Samson dashed into the Maze.

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author's note!

i am the captain of the thomas and leo ship first, human second

also rip clark. thank you for your sacrifice and sorry buddy :(

love always,
chloe