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     SAMSON SHUT HIMSELF DOWN FOR THE REST OF THE TREDGE BACK TO THE GLADE. His head hung low as he walked with his feet dragging along the gravel, his mind reeling with all of the memories he'd just been given back during the Changing. He was so disappointed in himself. He'd gone through so much trouble to get the codes and it had all been for nothing.

     Thomas and Minho pulled him along, but nobody spoke. Samson could feel their eyes on him every once in a while, but he wouldn't dare meet their gaze. When they finally turned the corner back into the Glade, Chuck and Zart were standing by the entrance in disbelief.

     "Yeah!" Chuck cheered, running towards them. The rest of the Gladers all made their way over to the walls and joined in on the applause, their questions flooding out as the Runners came closer. Samson tried to stand on his own, pulling his hands up to his ears to try and block out the chatter from the others as it rang in his ears.

     Alby pushed past everyone else and called for the Med-jacks. Newt wasn't far behind. His eyes were sunken in and dark. It was obvious he'd barely slept. Samson scanned the crowd of boys and realized they all looked terrible. A wave of guilt washed over him again. Some of the reason the boys had gotten no sleep was because of him.

     "I knew sending you into the Maze wasn't gonna be a good call," Alby sighed.

     Jeff and Clark came through the crowd and took Samson from Thomas and Minho. Samson tried to send Clark the best smile he could manage. He'd missed him.

     "I'm glad you're alive," Clark whispered.

     Samson nodded in response, shutting his eyes. "Get me out of here," he said, so quietly he was sure nobody had heard him. He couldn't be around anyone right now, too afraid he'd hurt someone without thinking. Samson knew the Changing was still affecting him, he could feel it coursing through his veins. He didn't want to end up doing something he'd regret like Ben had.

     When he opened his eyes again, Samson was being pushed onto the bed in the Med-jack hut. He let Clark and Jeff rip his already-torn shirt right off of his body and watched them remove the haphazard bandage Minho had wrapped him up with back in the Maze. Without realizing it, he began muttering the three codes to himself, not caring if the Med-jacks thought he was crazy. He felt crazy. He figured that as long as he had those first three codes, there had to be some way the Gladers could figure out the last ones. It couldn't have been that hard.

     But then again, they had been in the Maze for two years with zero luck.

     Once he was all bandaged up and Jeff had given him a dose of painkillers, Clark sat back in one of the chairs and sighed. He leaned forward and took Samson's hand, but Samson reluctantly pulled back.

     "Sorry," he croaked out. "I just...I don't know what the Changing is gonna make me do. I don't wanna risk..."

     "No, it's okay, Sam," Clark smiled lightly. "I get it."

     Samson laid back against the bed, repeating the codes to himself over and over in his head. FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED. He couldn't help but wonder what they meant, and what they had to do with their escape.

     "Clark, I'm sorry. I failed you all," he cried.

     Samson's lip quivered. His whole body ached, so badly he wanted to scream. "But I failed. I don't have all of the codes. I'm sorry."

     Clark shook his head. "We're all just glad you're okay," he replied. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon to check on you."

     He stood up to leave, shutting the door behind him. Samson was finally alone.

     But despite wanting nothing more than to sleep, Samson's thoughts raced through his mind a million miles per second and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to shut them off. He tossed and turned in the bed, even plugging his ears to block out the white noise of the Glade, but it was no use. Groaning to himself, Samson sat up. He decided to wait for Clark to return and give him something to help him fall asleep.

     There was a knock on the door and Samson quickly flipped himself back onto his side. Unless it was Clark, there was no one else he wanted to talk to. Not until he felt better. He shut his eyes tightly and threw the blanket over his torso, trying to steady his breathing.

     Whoever it was, they came inside and sighed loudly. He couldn't recognize them right away, but they took small steps towards the bed and laid another blanket on top of him, tucking it into his legs. Then they sat down in the chair next to the bed.

     It was quiet for a while, and Samson wanted nothing more than for whoever it was to go away. And then,

     "Why'd you do it?" Newt whispered.

     Samson squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make it seem like he was still asleep, but he couldn't help but wonder if Newt could see that he was only pretending. Nevertheless, he really didn't have the energy to talk to Newt, especially if he was just going to get upset with him.

     "I-I'm not angry with you," Newt continued. "Well, not anymore. I was yesterday. But now I'm just angry with Alby. He shouldn't have let you go out there. After everything everyone's told you, after everything I've told you, I thought you'd use your head and listen. You knew how dangerous it was and...now look at you."

     Newt stood up abruptly, the chair dragging against the floor. "Alby's not fit to lead us. If Nick were still here, he would never have let you go out there. He actually gave a damn about us,"

     He stayed quiet for a while, and Samson couldn't tell for sure but it sounded like Newt was crying. Samson felt himself tense up. His hands balled up into fists under the blankets. A part of him wanted to be angry with Newt, he really wanted to be. For coming in unwarranted and making him feel guilty for trying to do the right thing. A part of him wanted to get up and scream at Newt, tell him that he was sick of all of the pain and suffering that he and the Gladers had gone through. Tell him that was why he'd gone into the Maze. That was why he'd gotten stung and gone through the Changing. So that they could get out of the Glade, so that their suffering could end. I did it for you, he thought.

     Instead, Samson stayed rolled over on the bed, his eyes shut so tightly he felt as if they'd burst out of their sockets. Because it was Newt. Samson knew better than anyone that Newt was the last person who deserved it. Besides, all of it was gone. He had failed. They were back to square one.

     Samson forced himself to calm down. He listened to the softness of Newt's voice, hoping maybe it would will him to sleep.

     "No, no. I'm wrong. I'm sorry. Alby cares about us, he does. I just--"

     "Newt?" Someone else had come into the room. Samson couldn't recognize the voice by just one word. To him, most of the boys sounded the same.

     "Are you okay?" It was Thomas.

     "Yeah, just tired is all." Newt sniffled.

     "Go and rest. I'll keep an eye on him,"

     "Okay," Newt sighed. "But...listen to me. The Changing makes people do crazy things. You know. You've seen it. With Ben."

     "Yeah, I know."

     "So...if Sammy...if Sammy does anything..."

     "I know, Newt."

     Newt didn't respond, but Samson did hear the door shut a few moments later. Samson's eyes shot open and he rolled back around to face Thomas, who had sat down in the chair across from him. He glanced at the door for a moment, feeling guilty for ignoring Newt. He promised himself that he would talk to him as soon as he felt better.

     Thomas sat up. "Samson, hey. How are you? Do you need--"

     Samson shook his head. "Thomas, do you remember me?"

     Thomas gulped. "No. Do you remember me?" When Samson nodded, Thomas laughed halfheartedly. "Seems like everyone does."

     He smiled up at him weakly. He looked tired too. Samson didn't know what had gone down in the Maze while he was passed out, but he knew he and Minho must've stayed up all night, trying to survive. He had to admit, he was a little surprised the two of them had managed to last the night, especially considering they'd had to take care of him.

     "Hey, guess what?" Thomas spoke up after a while. "A girl came up in the Box."

     Samson sat up in the bed, but Thomas quickly pushed him back down, telling him to take it easy. Samson's eyes widened at Thomas's words. It had to be Teresa.

     "I need to see her," he said. His voice was still raspy and trying to sit up hadn't been a good idea. His wound began to throb. He slid his hand down to his bandage, pressing down on the wound in an attempt to ease the pain but it only made things worse.

     "Good luck with that," Thomas replied. "She's not very friendly."

     Samson cried out in pain when he pressed down on his bandages again. He bit his lip, his eyes screwing to tears.

     "Thomas," Samson whispered. "Can you go and get Clark?"

     Thomas nodded quickly and without a word, ran out of the room to find the Med-jack. Not even a minute later, he was back inside with Clark not far behind him.

     "Sam? What's wrong?" Clark stood at the edge of the bed while Thomas stood by the door.

     "It just hurts," he whimpered. Clark spun around, ordering Thomas to grab him the painkillers from the cupboard. Clark came around to the side of the bed and felt his forehead, which was covered in sweat.

"You're fevered," he sighed. Samson shut his eyes. He was so tired.

Clark handed him a couple of pills and a glass of water to take it with, and Samson threw them down his throat with one swig of water. He laid back against the cot, panting. His bare chest was damp with sweat too and Samson grimaced, feeling sticky and disgusting, but most of all, exhausted.

"Thomas, you should go," Clark said. "They're holding a Gathering soon anyways, and they want you there. Thanks for staying with him,"

Thomas nodded sharply. Samson could feel his eyes on him but he didn't have the energy to thank him. Thomas left, and Clark stood over Samson with a wet cloth. He set it down on Samson's forehead. It was cold and refreshing. Samson shut his eyes and sighed, trying to clear his mind completely. He just wanted to sleep, even if just for a little while.

     "Sam..." Clark began. " I love my job, you know I do. But I hate seeing you like this,"

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author's note!

this was kind of a filler chapter not gonna lie, but i am kind of liking writing sam as he's recovering from the changing, it's been interesting especially since samson already has some underlying anger management issues.

anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

love always,
chloe