Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner. If I did, I would have made Thominho canon.

-✼-

"Dylan. Dylan, c'mon. I think we found something."

Gentle hands shook me out of my stupor. My vision cleared and I snapped out of whatever daze I had been in, my eyes drifting upward to see Thomas. He had worry in his dark eyes and stress lines marked his pale face like scratches on glass. He pulled me up from the ground. His arm hooked through mine as my knees buckled beneath me, refusing to support my weight.

"You okay?" Thomas asked, deep looks of concern on the surface of his face. I shrugged vaguely.

"We can talk about it another time," I told him in a blank tone, my gaze locked on the grass.

"Newt!" Minho's voice called out from close behind us. I turned my head to see him facing the burned Map Room, where Newt was still tending to Alby and trying to get answers.

"Yeah?" The boy folded the rag he was using, trying to find a clean spot. All of it was drenched in the crimson color of Alby's blood.

Minho pointed down at our injured leader. "Let the Med-jacks take care of him. We need to talk."

Newt's eyes filled with curiosity as he handed the cloth to the closest Glader. "Go find Clint- tell him we got worse problems than guys with buggin' splinters." After the boy ran off to follow the orders, Newt stood and stepped away from Alby. "Talk about what?"

Minho nodded at Thomas, signaling for him to take over and explain.

"Just come with me," My brother ordered, pulling me alongside him and really giving me no choice in the matter. Our elbows were locked tightly around each other as he dragged me off toward the Slammer.

When we got there, Thomas slid his arm out of the circle ours had created and waited for Minho and Newt to catch up. "Let her out." He folded his arms across his chest sternly. "Let her out, and then we'll talk. Trust me— you wanna hear it."

Newt put a hand to the bandage on his head and pushed his messy hair out of his face. His cheeks shone with soot and sweat, a permanent frown carved into his face. "Tommy, this is—"

"Please," Thomas begged. "Just open it— let her out. Please."

Minho stood in front of the door with his hands on his hips. "How can we trust her? Soon as she woke up, the whole place fell to pieces. She even admitted she triggered something."

"He's got a point," Newt agreed, pointing a finger at the Keeper of the Runners.

"Well, you didn't expect to stay here forever, did you?" I questioned a bit more harshly than I intended to. All three of the boys' gazes directed to me. "Everything had to fall into place at some point. Plus, it wasn't Teresa who caused all this- it was the Creators. She was just a pawn in another one of their sick games."

Minho scoffed and adjusted his hands on his waist. "Yeah, more like the Queen. She's a pretty major pawn."

Thomas jabbed a thumb at me with a pleased look; his eyebrows were raised so high they disappeared into his raven hair. "She's got a better point."

Newt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. A crease formed between his eyebrows. There was a long pause as he thought about it. When he finished, he exchanged an uneasy look with Minho.

"Come on," Thomas whined a bit childishly. "What's she gonna do, run around and stab every Glader to death? Come on."

"No, but I might if we keep arguing over petty things like this," I muttered darkly, my eyes shifting over to the Slammer. I could see the faint outline of Teresa's face in the barred window, her skin a sharp contrast to the blackness behind her that cast shadows around her features.

Minho finally sighed. "Fine. Just let the stupid girl out."

"I'm not stupid!" Teresa shouted, now gone from the window. "And I can hear every word you morons are saying!"

Newt's eyes widened at the sharp words. "Real sweet girl you picked up, Tommy."

I laughed bitterly. "You guys would act the same if you were in our positions."

Thomas looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face. Somehow I could tell that he sensed the palpable tension between Newt and I. It didn't take a genius to know that a flood of questions would head my way soon.

"Just hurry," he said, now staring Newt down. "I'm sure we have a lot to do before the Grievers come back tonight- if they don't come during the day."

Newt grunted and took the jingling keys out of his pocket. The door clinked loudly before swinging open. "Come on."

Teresa stepped out of the Slammer, her face darkening at Newt as she passed. She gave the same look to Minho before stopping right between Thomas and I.

"All right, talk," Minho commanded cooly, though there was an undertone of annoyance in his voice. "What's so important?"

Thomas and Teresa shared a glance.

"What?" she asked. "You talk- they think I'm a serial killer."

I resisted the urge to laugh, choosing to cover my mouth with my hand instead. Minho and Newt looked mildly surprised at how forward she was.

"Yeah, you look so dangerous," Thomas muttered sarcastically, then turned to the rest of us. "Okay, when Teresa was first coming out of her deep sleep, she had memories flashing through her mind. She, um, she told me later that she remembers that the Maze is a code. That maybe instead of solving it to find a way out, it's trying to send us a message."

I absorbed all the information like a sponge, soaking it in and imprinting it firmly into my mind. I wanted to remember every single detail Thomas was revealing to us.

"A code?" Minho repeated, a confused look donning his features. "How is it a code?"

Thomas shook his head. "I don't know for sure- you're way more familiar with the Maps than I am. But I have a theory. That's why I was hoping you guys could remember some of them."

Minho turned to Newt with a questioning look, to which the latter nodded. Minho rubbed his eyes with both hands. "We hid the Maps."

I blinked in surprise as the words sunk in. "What?"

Minho pointed at the Homestead. "We hid the freaking Maps in the weapons room, put dummies in their place. Because of Alby's warning. And because of the so-called Ending your girlfriend triggered, Thomas."

I noticed with a smirk that Thomas didn't deny the 'girlfriend' part. He only seemed too excited at the fact that the Maps still existed to notice the word.

"They're all safe and sound," Minho continued. "Every last one of those suckers. So if you have a theory, get talking."

"Take me to them," Thomas commanded. I could practically feel the eagerness emitting from him like the sun set off light and heat.

"Okay, let's go."

-/-

"The Runners have always compared these day to day, looking to see if there was a pattern that would somehow help figure out a way to an exit," Thomas began, spreading a stack of Maps out on the table in front of him. The shadows clung to him, the murky light illuminating him in a menacing orange glow. "You even said you didn't really know what you were looking for, but you kept studying them anyway. Right?"

Minho nodded, arms crossed over his chest as usual. His eyes looked black in the dim lighting and seemed to hold anxiety and excitement in them.

"Well," Thomas continued, "what if all the wall movements had nothing to do with a map or a maze or anything like that? What if instead the pattern spelled words? Some kind of clue that'll help us escape."

I raised my eyebrows. The theories coming out of my brother's mouth seemed, well...irrational. The Maze spelling out words? "Okay, but if they did spell words, how would that help us at all? Whoop-de-doo, we found words. Now back to the fact that we know nothing."

Thomas sent me an unamused glance, which I returned with a look that said, "sorry-not-sorry."

He sighed, choosing to ignore my statement. "Maybe you weren't supposed to compare one day to the next, but look at it one day at a time?"

Newt laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the corners like little bolts of lightning imprinted in his skin. "Tommy, I might not be the sharpest guy in the Glade, but it sounds like you're talking straight out your butt to me."

I pointed my thumb in Newt's direction as a signal that I agreed. Out of all of Thomas's wild surmises, this had to be the most far-fetched.

Thomas's face held a constant look of pure concentration. Gears clicked and whirred as his mind went into overdrive, trying to explain what was zipping around in there.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly. "You've always had one Runner assigned to one section, right?"

"Right," Minho confirmed.

"And that Runner makes a Map every day, and then compares it to Maps from previous days, for that section. What if, instead, you were supposed to compare the eight sections to each other, every day? Each day being a separate clue or code? Did you ever compare sections to other sections?"

I shifted my gaze from Thomas to Minho, hoping to God he said yes. If not, I was going to be very disappointed in him as a Keeper.

Minho rubbed his chin in thought before nodding. "Yeah, kind of. We tried to see if they made something when put together— of course we did that. We've tried everything."

Thomas stared at the Maps in front of him for a few minutes, biting his lip in concentration. His eyes scanned over every page before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. He was struck with a sudden realization that caused his head to snap up. "Wax paper."

"Wax paper?" I questioned, wondering where the seemingly random phrase had come from.

"Wax paper," Thomas repeated in the same dead tone, though a little urgency was hidden in there somewhere. "I need it. And scissors. Wax paper and scissors. And every black marker and pencil you can find."

While Minho went over to the kitchen to get the paper from Frypan, Newt and I were assigned to finding the markers and pencils. We sifted through every drawer in the Homestead (with the Gladers' permission, of course) and found about seven. Most had been destroyed in the fire.

The tension between the two of us was palpable. I hated it. I wanted things to go back to how they used to be- where I'd get stupid butterflies when I saw him or blush when he so much as looked at me. I missed how my mood would instantly brighten whenever he was around. It was all gone, replaced with the gloomy, awkward feeling that made me squirm. I wondered why it was so hard to just ask what was going on with him. Something was holding me back, and I didn't know what.

"There are no scissors," Teresa reported once we were all back in the room.

"Okay, we'll have to improvise," Thomas sighed, then took an extremely sharp knife out of his back pocket like it was no big deal. My eyes went wide when I saw the point of the blade and how the light glinted off the edge.

"This better be good," Minho warned, not seeming to be bothered by the fact that my brother had just casually pulled a lethal weapon from his pocket.

'Oh, yeah, let me just pull my machete from my backpack,' I thought. 'I have it in here somewhere.'

Newt leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Get on with it, Greenie."

"Okay." Thomas handed the knife to Minho. "Start cutting rectangles, about the size of the Maps. Dylan, Newt, and Teresa, you can help me grab the first ten or so Maps from each section box."

"What is this, kiddie craft time?" Minho asked, holding up the knife by the handle with a look of disgust prominent on his face. "Why don't you just tell us what the klunk we're doing this for?"

"I'm done explaining," Thomas replied gruffly. He stood and turned toward the storage closet. "It'll be easier to show you. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and we can go back to running around the Maze like mice."

Minho sighed irritably and mumbled something under his breath. I was glad I hadn't heard it; it probably wasn't very nice.

Thomas paused for a full thirty seconds, which was weird. Then he said carefully, "Teresa, can you help me a second?" He nodded toward the closet.

"What are Newt and I supposed to do?" I asked. "You said—"

"Work your shucking problems out," Thomas ordered concisely, his voice sharp. I was stumped into silence, embarrassment washing over me and removing any words from my mouth.

But before either of us could even utter a word to each other, Thomas and Teresa already had enough Maps laid out. I eased carefully into a chair and purposely didn't let my gaze land on Newt.

Thomas picked up a marker. "All right, everybody trace the last ten or so days onto a piece of this stuff. Make sure you write the info on top so we can keep track of what's what. When we're done, I think we might see something."

"What—?" Minho began.

"Just bloody keep cutting," Newt ordered. He had a slight spark of interest in his eyes. "I think I know where he's going with this."

That made one of us.

About half an hour later of vigorous cutting and drawing, Newt announced that he was done. "I've had enough. My fingers are bloody burning like a mother. See if it's working."

Thomas set his marker down and flexed his fingers. "Okay, give me the last few days of each section — make piles along the table, in order from Section One to Section Eight. One here" — he pointed to the edge of the table — "to Eight here." He pointed at the edge on the other side.

We did as we were told without question. Quickly I gathered up all the Maps I had traced and laid them out in order per Thomas's instructions. The flutter of pages and shuffling of feet were the only sounds in the room as we worked. When we finished, eight low stacks of paper lined the table.

Thomas picked up one page from each pile, making sure they were from the same day and in order. He laid them one on top of the other so that each drawing of the Maze matched the same day above and below it. Soon we were looking at eight sections of the Maze at once. A picture appeared into focus slowly. Teresa gasped.

Lines like a grid crisscrossed over one another, creating faint patterns that made my head spin. But there were lines in the middle that appeared more often, making the image seem slightly darker than the rest.

There was an F sitting right in the center of the page.

gif is dylan when thomas says to work out the problems

________

hello i am back finally!!! and sorta a long chapter to make up for the semi long wait

i promise that the problems in newlyn world will be solved soon. just you wait!! it's gonna be good.

dedicated to TheLittleRavenclaw because their comment was so nice (:

-kristyn