Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but I have been waiting for this moment for so long solely so I could say "twenny-wun" wow I am a sad human being

EDIT: why did i write that

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I am running. Running. I don't know where. It's kind of foggy; I can barely see what's in front of me. But I can feel air in my lungs and my arms and legs pumping as adrenaline pulses through my veins. The sounds my feet make on the ground are a click-clack, like I'm running on tile.

Footsteps pound on the floor behind me and I try to speed up but fail. A loud squeal escapes my lips as arms wrap tightly around my waist and I am being lifted off the ground, spinning in the air to prevent the momentum from taking both me and the person down.

"Help!" I shout in the seemingly empty corridor, but to no avail. I know that wherever we are, we're alone. I'm not scared. Calling for help is only an act in the game. "I, the Commander, am being attacked!"

"Mission succeeded," a familiar voice says in a fake deep tone as they set me on the floor. "Weapons stand down. We mean no harm."

I laugh and move my hair out of my face, turning around to meet my attacker. It's Newt. Somehow I'm not surprised in the slightest and a huge smile instantly lights up my face as well as his.

The features are a bit hazy, mixed and watery-looking like I'm staring at an oil painting, but I can still make out the details. He looks younger, face completely free of stress lines. His blond hair is shorter. He doesn't have a limp and his warm, brown eyes are so much more full of life. However, it's still the same Newt as in the Glade. But why am I seeing him?

"Troops surrender," I order, trying not to break my now serious expression. A smile is trying to force its way through the intimidating facade. "Soldiers surrender to the opposing forces of Team Newt—"

"Team Newt? Seriously?" Newt laughs, dropping the act. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well I'm sorry." I fold my arms across my chest and break free from his grip. "I guess someone is getting the silent treatment—"

"No!" Newt instantly panics and I know he's now at my mercy. "Okay, I'm sorry. Team Newt is great. Perfect. Genius. Now pleeaassee talk to me?"

His voice sounds so desperate and childish that I can't help but break into a grin. "Hmm." I tap my finger on my chin and pretend to ponder his words. "Fine. Rejoin forces with Team Newt."

And then I get an idea. A devilish smile makes its way onto my lips and I'm glad Newt can't see it.

"Actually...on second thought..forces retreat!"

And then I take off farther down the hallway, his surprise giving me a few seconds head start. He is chasing after me, calling my name in mock anger.

Suddenly I feel hands on my hips and I am yanked backwards. I almost fall onto my backside but am expertly spun around while still moving, and then his lips are on mine. And I'm not even shocked about that either.

I stand there for a few moments, enjoying his familiar touch as he embraces me. But then when I open my eyes, I'm sitting in a small bedroom. My small fingers are wrapped around the arm of a stuffed brown bear. I can hear two women talking somewhere in another room, hushed voices muffled.

I turn to see a boy sitting next to me, and he is looking sadly at the teddy bear in my hands. His dark hair is neatly combed and worried brown eyes watch me carefully. A word pops into actual-me's mind and I grasp onto it, not letting it fade away.

"Will you be okay?" the boy asks me, almost choking on the words. "When I'm gone, I mean."

"No," I admit after a little bit, my voice small. "I'll never be okay until I have you by my side again. We are partners in crime."

He nods. Then he moves closer to me, taking his tiny hand in mine. He gives it a comforting squeeze but I pull away, disgusted.

"Your hands are sweaty," I tell him. He laughs and wipes them on his jeans.

"You're going too, you know," he informs me solemnly. "They're sep-ar-a-ting us." He says the word like it took a lot of thought to pronounce it right.

"Why?" I ask, feeling a lump grow in my throat and tears build up in my eyes. "I don't want to leave you, or Mommy. I already lost Daddy. I can't lose you, too!"

I cover my face with my hands and drop the bear. The boy wraps his chubby arms around me and leans his head on my shoulder. Then he bends down and I feel the soft fluffiness of the stuffed bear against my arm. Peaking through my fingers, I see the boy has picked it up off the floor and is settling it on my lap in a sitting position with its back resting against my stomach.

"You won't lose us," he says. "You'll never lose us. We will always be with you. Right" - he taps the place where my heart is - "here."

"Always?" I ask, wiping my eyes and nose with my wrist.

"Partners in crime, remember?" he smiles and I get a good look at his face. The mud-brown hair. The dark eyes. The pale skin. There's no doubting who it is, even though he's so much younger. There's even the scar on his small hand to prove it.

Thomas.

Everything morphs in front of my eyes. The plain bedroom turns into one made of wood. Thomas suddenly ages about nine years and the bear disappears from my lap. I look down, noticing my body is almost completely transparent. When I put my hand up to my face, I can see the floor through it.

I look around. I seem to be in one of the rooms of the Homestead. Thomas is sitting beside me, but he's facing the other way, his back to me. I notice Minho by the door, leaning against the wall with his hand over his mouth like he's thinking deeply. Chuck's standing off to the side, looking nervous. Clint is kneeling in front of the bed. I try to sit further into it but hit a pair of legs.

The person lying in the bed, under about three blankets but also with a damp cloth over their forehead, is me. It's the first time I've ever seen myself. My heart-shaped face is sickly pale. My skin is white and papery thin, my veins blue and green and purple underneath. My mouth is slightly open. I do not make a sound. The only sign I am alive is the unsteady rise and fall of my chest and the occasional shudder or twitch of my limbs.

Is this me, right now? Is this what all people see in the Changing? Themselves?

Someone bursts through the door and I turn to see Newt, looking stressed and tired. His hair is everywhere and I notice dark circles beneath his eyes.

"What's the plan?" Minho asks, voice cracking a bit. He clears his throat and tries to play it off strongly.

When Newt responds, he sounds like he hasn't drunk water in days, his voice hoarse and sore. "Calling a Gathering when she wakes up. That's when we'll run the trial against Thomas and Dylan's case."

"Case?" Minho repeats incredulously, eyebrows raising. "That's what you're calling going out into the Maze, risking their lives, saving Alby, and killing four Grievers? Sounds about right."

Newt sighs tiredly. "Those weren't my words. They're Gally's."

"Why the shuck are you listening to that klunk-for-brains when you are in charge?" Minho demands angrily. "Yeah. You. In charge. You run this place until Alby gets better. In case you forgot."

Newt rubs his eyes and I can see how exhausted he is. "I am so stressed out and I am not in the mood for your sass right now. Just explain."

"Join the club," Minho mutters. "I'm the president."

"Just tell the story, shank," Clint demands, sounding just as strained as Newt as he rubs his face with his calloused hand.

"Right," Minho begins, and everyone turns their attention to him as he straightens up against the wall. "Once upon a time, there were three Gladers trapped in the Maze. After successfully being very brave and luring four Grievers off the Cliff, they were feeling very triumphant as they walked back to save their leader Alby-"

"Just get on with it," the Med-jack urges, rolling his eyes. "We don't have all day."

"I was going to get to the point, right after I got past the part where I mention the most brave of the trio- Minho the Great."

"You're going to be Minho the Dead if you don't hurry it up," Newt threatens, glaring daggers at the Keeper of the Runners.

"Alright, sheesh." Minho holds his hands up in defense. "Me and Thomas were walking with Dylan and it literally came out of nowhere. Like it just..appeared. None of us heard it, and it's pretty hard to sneak up on me, especially if you're a shucking Griever. We would've heard the click-clack and the groans from miles away. Those things aren't the quietest. Thomas, take over please."

Thomas sighs, staring at his hands as if he doesn't know where he should start. "It was weird. Like the Griever's sole purpose was to sting Dylan and then just leave. After it happened, I couldn't find a trace of it anywhere. Those things are fast, but not that fast. And definitely not that soundless."

"Maybe it was a Beetle Blade."

All heads whip around to Chuck, who hasn't spoken until now. I forgot he's even here.

"What?" Newt asks.

"A beetle blade," Chuck repeats more quietly this time, uneasy with all the eyes on him. "Could've been that."

Minho's eyebrows are pinched together in confusion. "Okay, I'm sorry Chuck, but I am ninety percent sure a shucking Beetle Blade didn't sting Dylan. Have you seen those suckers? Nowhere for a needle to even fit."

Chuck looks down at his feet sadly. "You're right. It was a stupid suggestion."

I smile softly, and even though I know they can't possibly hear me, I say gently, "I appreciate your input, Chuck."

A whimper escapes my unconscious self's lips and now everyone is looking at me. Well, the me that is actually visible to them.

"How's she been?" Newt asks softly, the despondent, ashen look returning to his face.

"Fine, so far," Clint replies, standing up. "Only screams once in a while—"

As if on cue, a piercing wail cuts him off and everyone in the room jumps, including the ghost-like me. I am confused. Why am I screaming? I feel no pain. I'm not scared. There is no reason for this to be happening.

"I got her," Newt says over my screams. "Everyone go on and get their work done. Clint, check on Alby. I'll stay here."

"Newt, you haven't slept in days," Clint comments, putting a hand on his shoulder. Newt shrugs it off, muttering an "I'm fine" that I can barely catch due to my constant yelling.

The people slowly leave the room. Thomas, who is the last to clear out, closes the door behind him. Newt takes his spot on the edge of my bed, placing a hand on top of mine.

I stand up and walk in front of him so he is not turned away from myself. Watching as he strokes my hand with his thumb, I smile slightly. My screams turn into more whimpers and Newt leans down to press a kiss on my cheek.

"Don't worry," he mumbles. "We'll figure this all out."

At first I think he means the Maze, but then I realize he's talking about the whole Griever-stinging-me-and-disappearing thing. And then I am about to reach out and touch him when everything fades and I'm just staring at nothing but pure, inky black. I can't hear anything except ringing silence. It's so dark I can't see my hand in front of my face.

And then voices break through the silence. They are completely unfamiliar and confuse me with their words.

"She is not responding correctly to the sting."

A sigh. "I knew it. It's just as we suspected. Something about her brain rejects all things we've tried on her. She's immune to anything we inject her with."

"Is that why the Swipe started to fade? I thought we developed the other version for her after the incident."

"Yes. But since she was sent up incorrectly, there were gaps that broke through and lead to more memories. Eventually, if we're not careful, it will fade completely. Make sure we have some Blades watch her at all times. We're going to keep an eye on this girl."

"I can't get a lock on her memories!" A frantic voice exclaims.

"Dr. Holt, what do you mean?" The other, of whom I guess is in charge, demands, a worried tone hidden beneath their words.

"I can't access her brain — something's wrong — I can't see what she's remembering!"

"Shut it down." The important person orders harshly, sounding immensely afraid. "Shut it down!"

"I can't!"

"She could be seeing anything right now! We can't feed all the information to her at once, she'll die—"

It suddenly feels like I'm being submerged in frigid cold water that freezes my nerves. I can't breathe. My skin is like ice. When I open my eyes, I can't see anything but blurry grayness.

Finally, after I feel myself begin to lose consciousness, my chest constricting and about to inhale the lungful of water that will cause me to die, I gasp awake.

gif is minho leaving the room and newt staying idk how to explain this

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this chapter was so fun to write you have nO idea. OMG I JUST REMEMBERED YOU GUYS WILL LOVE ME FOR THE NEXT ONE TOO

a lot of people correctly guessed the foreshadowing. you go guys.

make sure to comment what you thought! i love reading your feedback (:

~kristyn