I do not own The Maze Runner or any of its characters

Lauren: Before I do anything, I ask myself, "Would an idiot do that?" And if the answer is yes, I do not do that thing.
Peter: *mouth full* Yes, you do.
Gally: *slowly nods*

Lauren
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud thud filled the air. It sounded like someone had dropped a metal bottle of shampoo in the shower, multiplied by ten.

"Holy finch, what is that?" I turned to Jonathan with a pained expression.

"Shuck, I forgot the Box came up today." Jonathan left.

I was waved over by Gally to come help unload.

"They actually sent us some!" I looked at a corner that had already chopped, and sanded wood stood stacked.

"Yeah, they must've been watchin' us." Gally wasn't as happy.

"Oh. How so?" I hadn't noticed any cameras around.

"They've got these bugs that watch us at all times. We call 'em Beetle Blades." He jumped in and started handing people things.

Grabbing a couple of pieces, I stacked it where we had been stockpiling the stuff. After making my announcement that we would ask for the wood, I was extremely embarrassed to find out that we chopped it ourselves.

I really needed to be more informed about stuff like this.

"Hey, Lauren!" I looked over to where a Glader was waving me down.

"Yeah?" I walked back over to the Box, after pointing to where the nails went.

"I believe this is yours. Since it has your name on it." The guy handed me a box with my name written on it in loopy handwriting.

"Thanks, uh," I didn't know the guy's name.

"Kennedy. But people just call me Kenny."

"Kenny. What are you?" I had seen him around but couldn't place down where.

"I'm a Track-Hoe. Zeus has been pretty quiet, just to let you know. I've been watching, and he hasn't said a word since you, how shall we say it, humbled him." Kenny informed me.

I laughed at his choice of words. "Thank you. And thanks for this!" I walked back to my room to see what it was.

The box had a note inside it.

Lauren-

I am very sorry, but we can't send you any books. We have very few, and can't take that chance with you. We also don't have better hairbrushes.

Being a lady myself, I did send you some 'lady stuff.' I hope this works better; instructions included. I also hope these hair ties last longer than your other ones.

I found this while cleaning your bunk out; I hope it will suffice your music hunger. You were always singing while training at the groaning of your trainers. But I always thought you had a beautiful voice.

Sincerely,
WICKED
[World in Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment Department]

The note had the same loopy handwriting, and I noticed a particular smell coming from the paper. I inhaled deeply and saw red hair in my mind's eye.

Weird.

"I didn't know that paper from the Creators smelled better than the Glade. I said we needed to make deodorant mandatory."

"Peter, do you know anything about WICKED?" The ending of the note threw me.

"Yeah, it's the people who put us here. We just call them Creators."

"Oh." I threw the stuff in my dresser, pausing when I saw a blue flash. I pulled it out and saw a battered little device with earbuds wrapped around it. Looking at it, I saw various memories flash through my mind.

Holding a hairbrush with a man, singing along to one of the songs.

Standing in front of a fire, singing into the flames.

"Hide, Zara!" Hiding in a cabinet, clutching the earbuds into my ears, crying in fear as I prayed they wouldn't find me.

"That's an MP3 player." Peter had more knowledge than me.

"A what?" Where did the name Zara come from?

"It plays music. Don't ask me how I know."

"Oh well." I threw the thing into a drawer and slammed it shut. I didn't have time to unpack that all right now.

"Anyway, we need you back there. Gally's in a fit."

"I'm not his Keeper." We were just friends. I wasn't in charge of the guy.

"Yeah, but you're the only one he won't hurt." Peter seemed to think that was going to be always correct. Gally had a temper, to put it mildly.

I sighed. Swearing, I put on my big girl face and shoved the memories and the questions down—it was time to be a person who was responsible.

They didn't know that I was just as bad as Gally when it came to my temper and dealing with stupidity.

I was just somewhat better at keeping it hidden—the perks of having your mind bully you.

"What happened now?"

"Well, it was either Carl messed up, or I think a Bricknick questioned his authority." Peter started listing off reasons.

"He's gotta cut Carl some slack. And he's got like, no authority over Bricknicks. That's Jonathan's people, and even I have very little authority and it only lasts during this project. My being in charge only works if the guys listen." I rubbed my forehead. Being responsible sucked sometimes.

|~^_^~|

"Hey Carl, be careful up there," I yelled to the tiny kid. He had begged and pleaded with me to be the one who demoed the first wall on the second floor. I had to cave eventually.

He just gave me a thumbs-up through the window and swung his hammer. The wall cracked, and a couple of boards split in two.

I had to smile. The kid had strength.

After clearing a hole, I sent some other Builders up to assist him. If Carl was going to remove that room all by himself, we would be here for a while. I wanted to up our work to three rooms per day. It came with some groaning, but my legs itched to be back out in the Maze. I wanted to get this done soon.

My mind drifted back to the blue music player, still sitting in my drawer. I hadn't touched it since it came up five days ago. Why? I had no idea. My gut said that I should listen to it, but I was somewhat scared to get any more memories. The last one I saw by just looking at the thing terrified me.

Who would make their kid hide in a cabinet?

I turned to talk to Jonathan about what was supposed to happen today when I heard the crack.

"It's coming down!" A Builder yelled.

Oh no. They didn't hit the wrong board, did they?

My blood chilled when I remembered who was up there.

"No, no, no, no, no," I started running to the Homestead.

"Lauren, it's all coming down, you can't be close!" Gally grabbed my arm.

"But," I looked helplessly to the creaking building. The guys would get him out. I clung to that thought and prayed. A weird thought came to my head.

Was I religious before this?

"Back up, stuff's gonna go everywhere." Gally pulled me back.

"I can't just stand here." I pleaded.

"You can, and you will."

It seemed like the building was taking forever to come down. I didn't think that I had seen many collapsing buildings, but I knew they took faster than this. Every second was torture. But I stood through it, clinging to the thought that this meant more time for people to get out.

I couldn't help but think that I had sent those people to their deaths. That I was the one to kill Carl and the three other Builders that I barely knew the names of. Was one of them Alec? My mind was fuzzy.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away. No one needed to see me like this.

When the corner finally came crashing down with a big whoosh of dust and debris, I waited for half a second to make sure it was done, then immediately sent people to start picking through the rubble.

Then I ran over to the door of the Homestead.

One, two, three, where was number four?

"Where's Carl?" I asked with a snake in my stomach, where it was gradually squeezing till there would be nothing left.

One Builder coughed. "He got pinned. We had to leave, or we would be killed too."

"That thing took forever to fall, you guys had plenty of time!" I yelled.

"Hey, it's not our fault that the kid was stupid enough to not check where he was swinging. We were too busy trying to keep up with this impossible timeline you put us on." He responded.

"And here I thought I put actually good Builders on the job." Yelling at them was more manageable than admitting I was wrong.

"Shuck this, we don't have to apologize to you." A second Builder spat as he walked past me.

More tears threatened to flow. I pushed them back and walked inside, heading to my room. When I opened the door, I was met with sunlight. Lots of sunlight.

The corner had fallen into my room.

|~^_^~|

I don't know why I offered to dig the grave by myself. Because I felt responsible, maybe because I was trying to scrub my conscience clean of this guilt that was carrying. Because the rhythmic movements my body was going through seemed to be more comfortable than being in my chaos of a brain, or because I don't think I could go back into the Glade after the scene I had.

Step, dig, toss.

"No!"

Step, dig, toss.

"Oh shuck."

Step, dig, toss.

"He's breathing, right?"

Step, dig, toss.

Clint slowly shaking his head.

Step, dig, toss.

Bawling over Carl in front of the entire Glade.

Step, dig, toss.

Alby carrying Carl's broken body to a Bagger.

Step, dig, toss.

Carl getting zipped up in a black bag.

Step, dig, toss.

Crying in the broken rubble of what used to be my room.

Step, dig, thunk.

I had hit a root. I finally looked around me and realized I had dug the hole much deeper than it needed to be. Climbing out, I saw dirty brown boots on the forest floor.

"I was going to ask how you were doin', but I realized that you would just lie to me."

"Gally, I don't want to talk." I threw the shovel down and grabbed my water bottle.

"And I wasn't here to. The Baggers said to just let them know when the hole's done."

I just looked at him.

"Okay. I brought another bottle." He placed a new water bottle beside my almost empty one.

"These tombstones are awful. I'm going to redo them." I told the ground.

Gally knew better than to ask why.

"They shouldn't just be just two sticks slapped together with scrawled letters on them. Even if it's just a rock with their name on it, at least it was done with care." I didn't know what possessed me to do it. Maybe it was because I was in charge of burials in the Glen. Perhaps because the side of me that was motherly and caring was screaming at this injustice.

"What do you need?"

I finally looked up at Gally. "Time, and quiet."

He nodded and walked out of the little clearing.

I sat down on the floor and thought about what I needed to redo the tombstones. There were only a few, which made my job easier.

After pondering whether I should use stones or wood, I finally decided on wood. Just made a little better. I remembered seeing a jar of something that looked like paint in the storage closet where I got the broom and dustpan, so I made my way back into the Glade. After a few minutes of talking myself back together.

When I walked out of the Glade, it seemed like every head turned towards me. I shouldered the looks and moved on. I had gotten very good at that.

I knew exactly what the whispers were about.

I had cried. I had let down this strong facade that I had been carrying since I had come up three weeks ago. I had cried and not cared about anything other than I had sent a poor kid to his death. My hands were covered in his blood. I don't know exactly what had happened in the minutes after that. All I remembered was ending up somehow with a shovel in my hand, digging a grave that was next in line with others before it.

I didn't like the new situation. I didn't enjoy knowing that others knew that I had other feelings. I had a different role, and I was very comfortable with that one.

The only people who got to see me show my true feelings were the people I had permitted to.

And I sure as finch didn't give it to the entirety of the Glade.

I didn't want them to see me like that and think less of me. And believe that I didn't belong here, in their testosterone-filled place where they were all these macho men who didn't show their feelings.

Maybe that fueled me to remodel the beast that they called the Homestead.

As I walked up the dusty stairs to find the storage closet, I ran into someone that was the furthest person on my mind.

"Well, if it isn't the girl who put me in a coma."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah! Death! Tears! Drama! Cliffhangers! Writing!

I feel bad because I feel like I wrote Carl like Dobby in the Harry Potter movies. Have him show up, wait a bit, then kill him off.

But I don't know what else to do! Lauren did interact with him while she was with the Builders, but we weren't able to see it... So sorry Carl. You were a significant part of Lauren's time in the Glade.

⛼
r.i.p
Carl

Questions!

-Who do you think is Lauren's closest friend?

-How do you like the story thus far?

-Questions, comments, requests, CC?

*hugs*