Florence couldn't take her mind off Ben the next day. He was her friend, and the Gladers had thrown him into the maze with barely a second thought.

How could they have done it so easily?

Shivering involuntary, Florence attempted to shake the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to remind herself of the fact Newt, Minho, Alby, or even Gally could send him to his death so easily.

She willed herself to think of anything else, the girl perhaps. She had still not woken from her coma, and Florence was beginning to worry. The girl barely ate, despite how much Clint and Jeff were trying, and she was thinning terribly.

She wanted the girl to live, selfishly so that she wouldn't be so lonely. Florence could only imagine how it would help to have the company of another girl, no matter when.

Considering her outburst yesterday, she knew she was not expected to go into the Maze; any thoughts of seeing parts of Ben the Grievers had left behind prevented her from even setting a toe over the threshold, and no one dared to tell her to get to work as a Med-jack today.

Florence found it funny, almost. The boys were too afraid to fully enforce the Glade's rules on the girl, after all, she was slacking right now. She didn't mind this however, the power she held over them was way too tempting to resist.

It was about mid afternoon, and Florence was just rising from her bed. She knew Minho had left early in the morning, and although she knew he would go, she couldn't help but wish that today would've been different.

She had his sweatpants on, the ones he had given her on that second day, but she chose to change her shirt before leaving to get some food from Frypan's kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, the hard exterior she had planned to keep up for all of the boys had immediately vanished. She couldn't stay mad at Newt when he looked like this. He was sat alone, his eyes bloodshot and his forehead creased with wrinkles.

Grabbing food from the counter, she approached the boy carefully, sitting down beside him. His eyes briefly fluttered over her, taking a double take when he realised it was her.

"Hello." He muttered quietly, before going back to staring off, beginning to bite his fingernails.

"Newt, what's wrong love?"

She imitated the boy's accent in an attempt to get him to crack a smile, but it failed miserably. Thomas and Chuck were sat close by, Florence quickly looking to them, before turning back to the troubled boy.

She chose to not speak, wanting the boy to talk to her first, if he did want to tell her anything. But he said nothing either, and Florence began to eat her food, still sending careful glances his way.

"What's wrong with him?" She heard Chuck ask Thomas, and she knew that the boys didn't know that they were both in earshot of their conversation.

"I don't know. Why don't you go and ask him?" Thomas replied, and she knew that neither would have the guts for that.

Newt may be the nicest guy in the Glade, but he was clearly distraught, and so no one knew how to act. Except Florence. She knew that Thomas would want to help, if his love-sick expressions towards the boy were anything to go by, but he had no idea what to do.

"I can hear every bloody word you guys are saying." Newt called to the pair, causing them both to jump, and Florence to let out a laugh. "No wonder people hate sleeping next to you shanks."

Florence could see the guilty expressions on both the boys faces, and almost felt sorry for them. They weren't meaning to be insensitive.

"What is wrong with you Newt?" Florence asked him gently, grabbing his hand and squeezing it softly.

"Every lovin' thing in the universe." She could relate to that. The three watched Newt with a cautious expression as he stopped speaking, staring back off into the distance for a long moment.

"The girl from the Box. Keeps groaning and saying all kinds of weird stuff, but won't wake up. Med-jacks are doing their best to feed her, but she's eating less each time. I'm telling ya, something's very bad about that whole bloody thing."

Florence shared his concern. The girl was like no other Greenie that had come up before, and despite only seeing Chuck and Thomas arrive in the Box, Florence knew that the girl was different.

Letting out a sigh, Newt spoke again. "Shuck it. But that's not what really has me bugging." Now Florence was confused.

"Then what does?" She asked the boy, nerves beginning to creep up on her. Newt's eyes turned to one of the entrances of the Maze.

"Alby and Minho." Her heart dropped. She hadn't seen the boys yet, and almost forgot completely that they had gone to find the dead Griever. 

Of course Minho had gone out today.

"They should've come back hours ago." Florence's entire body tensed, fear coursing through her veins. Newt's eyes suddenly turned to her, realising she must be as worried as him in that moment.

"Maybe they're exploring, or having fun." Chuck offered up. The identical glare Florence and Newt pressed into the young boy was so harsh that the boy looked as though he was about to explode.

"Why don't you send a search party for them?" Thomas asked seriously, and at any other time, Florence would've laughed at the suggestion. But thinking about it, she wanted her friends safe.

Newt's face changed to horror, and Thomas immediately wanted to take back his words. It wasn't as simple as that, it was too late for anyone to be able to make it back in time. 

Both Chuck and Thomas chose to return to work, leaving Newt and Florence alone to share their worries.

"Maybe I should go in there." Florence told the boy, scraping her hair back into a ponytail with an elastic band she had kept on her wrist after finding it a few weeks back.

"Absolutely not." Newt's voice was sterner than she had ever heard before. She almost jumped with fright, but the boy didn't go to reassure her.

"If you go out there to look, you might not leave enough time to get back. And then we've lost three of you." He finished, and although she wanted to protest, she knew her going would trouble him further.

The boy didn't leave her side for the rest of the day, partly for the reason he was terrified she would attempt to run in there in search of the boys - and she knew he would stop her despite his injury - and partly for the reason that he couldn't leave himself alone again. He was too anxious to be left to his own thoughts.

Florence didn't go to dinner that night. She refused the plate Newt had brought out for her, the boy himself eating by the door, ready for the moment the lost two would return to the Glade safe.

The moment never came.

The rest of the Runners returned, Florence greeting them and sending them on to the Map room, briefly telling them why her and the second-in-command were waiting.

Newt forced the rest of the Gladers on to dinner, Florence noticing the anxious Thomas watching her as she remained by the doors from a picnic table at the south side of the Homestead. It wasn't long now till the doors would close. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but there wasn't much hope left.

What if yesterday was the last time I would ever see Minho?

She was mad at the boy, so so mad. But now she wished nothing more than to be in his arms, in his company. She even missed his stupid jokes and comments.

"Where are they Newt? I- I don't understand what's gone wrong." Florence found herself speaking to the boy nervously pacing in front of the doors. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide with fright, and he wanted nothing more to be able to reassure the girl. He couldn't.

"I don't know." They were interrupted in their helpless conversation as Thomas and Chuck approached. The girl could sense Thomas wanted to help.

The boy's eagerness liked to her own on her first day of work, when she helped in fixing Minho's ankle. Her and Thomas were so similar, the thought popped up in Florence's mind, distracting her momentarily.

"Why don't we send out a search party?" She winced at the naïve words he spoke. Turning away from the scene, she closely watched the Maze, her heart jolting at any shadows being cast in the maze, getting her hopes up over and over.

"Bloody he-" Florence could sense Newt trying to stop himself from reacting with anger. The boy was so calm, always. Right now, he was trying. But he was slipping.

"We can't. Okay? Don't say it again. One hundred percent against the rules. Especially with the bugging doors about to close."

"But why? Won't the Grievers get them if they stay out there?" Florence felt her eyes begin to prick with tears. Thomas was reminding her of her biggest fear in that moment.

"Shouldn't we do something?" His words were making her want to burst out crying, but they were affecting Newt in a different way.

"Shut your hole Greenie!" He yelled. Florence whirled around, allowing Newt's outburst to let her tear her eyes from the maze. "Not a bloody week you've been here! You think I wouldn't risk my life in a second to save those lugs?"

Thomas' eyes flashed with upset. He'd never want to hurt Newt or make him react in that way. Newt had turned on the boy, but Florence lunged forwards, grabbing his arms and pulling him away, reminding him of what he was doing. And to Thomas.

She squeezed the boy's arm, not wanting him to apologise for his anger, but to stop him from snapping again.

"No... I... Sorry. I didn't mean..." Thomas didn't know what to say. Florence looked away from the boy, as much as he had said wrong, he really just wanted to help.

"You don't get it yet, Tommy. Going out there at night is begging for death. We'd just be throwing more lives away. If those shanks don't make it back.."

Florence couldn't hold it back this time, a sob escaped her mouth. Flooding with embarrassment, she turned back to the Maze, looking out helplessly as the boys continued to talk.

Thomas looked to Chuck, the young boy appearing as pale as Newt. Everyone was looking sick with worry.

"Newt won't say it, so I will. If they're not back, it means they're dead. Minho's too smart to get lost. Impossible. They're dead." 

Minho is too smart to get lost.

"Stop. Just stop!" The girl had reached boiling point. She spun around once again, her eyes full to the brim with tears and her voice trembling. "Minho isn't stupid, we know that Chuck! But for right now, who gives a shuck? All we can do is hope that he'll use his big brain to either get his butt out here right now or keep himself alive if he does get himself stuck in there. Good that?" 

She spoke in a low growl to the boy, her eyes gleaming maniacally and her face close to his intimidatingly. He just nodded in fear as she released an angry breath.

Backing off, she moved to the entrance of the maze once again, choosing to root herself to the spot and block out everything happening in the Glade behind her.

"The shank's right. That's why we can't go out. We can't afford to make things bloody worse than they already are." Florence didn't see Newt's eyes glisten with tears, or Thomas deciding internally that he had never seen anyone look sadder than the pair stood before him.

Newt joined Florence's left side, and then after a moment, Thomas moved beside him. Not that Florence even noticed, but the Gladers had all grouped around the entrance, hoping deep down that the boys would make it out at the last second.

"It's not going to happen. They're not going to make it back." A small voice came from somewhere in the crowd, the person not wanting it to be true, but speaking what everyone was thinking.

Newt turned to the source of the noise, exhaling through his nose. "It's not likely, no. And we know no one has made a night in the Maze before," He made a noise, as if he were going to say something positive, but nothing came to mind.

Then Florence saw it. Movement coming from the end of the corridor. For a moment, she thought it may be a Griever, but then it came clearer into view.

Minho and Alby.

"Newt. Oh my god, Newt!" Florence's voice shook with surprise as she smacked the boy beside her, drawing his attention away from the crowd and back to the Maze.

Minho was holding Alby the way Ben was holding Minho the day he sprained his ankle - only this time Alby was completely helpless. His arm was draped across Minho's shoulders, and Minho was dragging the boy along behind him.

His eyes connected with the girl, and unknown to Florence, he felt his heart stop at the sight of her. She looked entirely miserable, her eyes wide with fear and her face pale, Minho not noticing the sweatpants she was wearing.

"They got him!" Florence heard the boy shout, his voice weak and starved, exhausted. He slowed with every step, looking as though he could collapse any moment.

Then the walls begun to boom into action. They were sliding together to meet, the fate of Minho and Alby having already been decided. They were simply too far away, Minho still struggling with the other boy.

He had been stung.

Alby had slipped from Minho's clutches and fell, the boy immediately trying desperately to stand him back up. Giving up, he grabbed the boy's arms and begun to haul him along the stone floor.

They were never going to make it.

But Florence could still change her fate at that moment.

The walls were only a foot and a half from closing up completely, and Florence had decided what her fate was going to be.

She lunged forward intent for the Maze, her heart pumping adrenaline, but a pair of arms had wrapped around her middle and tugged her back to their chest. The person pulled her tighter towards them, and she struggled to escape, her eyes locking with Minho. She could see his were filled with fear and exhaustion.

"Minho!" She yelled, her voice cracking. She wanted nothing more to be able to comfort him right now.

The boy stumbled himself now, and Florence felt her heart break as tears streamed down her cheeks. He struggled up from the ground, Alby laying unconscious on the floor, but Minho too stubborn and loyal to leave him. Kicking and screaming for her captor to let her go, she watched in fear and helplessness as Thomas went to do the same thing she just tried to pull. 

But he succeeded.

Arms reached for Thomas, but he squeezed himself through the gap of the wall, with it just large enough to see the boy stumbling over himself on the other side. And then they had closed up completely.

"Thomas." Newt mumbled softly, and his heart broke. He had known the boy only a few days, but his heart still shattered.

Newt's grip on Florence loosened and she was able to fight herself from his arms. Approaching the wall, she began to bang her fists against them, an intense fury inside of her.

"Thomas!" The anger grew in her as she hit her hands against the concrete in helpless efforts. "I'm going to shucking kill you you shank!" Her voice was threatening and every boy in the Glade felt her pain in the words she spoke.

But he's probably going to die already.

Her hands were bruised now, but she couldn't feel the throbbing pain as she whirled back to the crowd. She knew that Newt had held her back, the boy looking at the floor in sorrow. The girl still had anger, immediately turning on him without a thought.

"You shucking idiot." She shoved him in the chest, catching him off guard. He stumbled back, his injury clearly not aiding him. But Florence was blinded by rage, and she couldn't stop herself to think about the poor boy she was attacking.

He was saving her, and here she was attacking him for it.

"I know the Maze Newt! I would've been more help than the Greenie! If you weren't busy smothering me he wouldn't be in there." She growled, and in that moment, Newt was terrified by her.

"He's dead. They're all dead. This is your fault." She went to push the boy again, but a different pair of arms grabbed her, this time lifting her from the ground and tearing her backwards towards the wall.

"That's enough don't ya think feisty?" A scratchy voice muttered to her, Florence caught by surprise at discovery Gally had dragged her away.

"Everyone to bed, right now." Newt's voice ordered the Gladers, who immediately obliged. Florence had also scared them and they were more than happy to get away from the scene caused.

Newt hesitated, not wanting to leave the distraught girl at this time. He wanted to stay by the walls himself, not knowing how he would be able to sleep at the thought of Thomas inside the Maze without a clue. But Florence didn't want to speak to him, or anyone it seemed.

Gally's hands had released her as soon as he was sure she wouldn't go at Newt again. She stood her ground, breathing heavily as she glared at Newt.

The boy caved, letting his head drop as he turned and returned himself to the Homestead. He was defeated.

The minute she was left with Gally, she let it all out. Her legs gave out on her, allowing herself to drop to the ground, as she cried until she couldn't breathe.

Gally was cold hearted. 

But even he couldn't watch this girl suffer. The talk they shared after he woke from the Changing had made the boy care for her, even if only the tiniest bit.

Almost robotically, the boy crouched down besides the girl and sighed. "Come here." He outstretched his arms the slightest bit, her looking up from her crying and seeing the small effort. She was bewildered by this, embarrassing Gally, who outstretched his arms further, tempting the girl into his arms.

She relented, and let him wrap his arms around her as her body continued to shake from her sobs. The rage she was feeling only moments ago had vanished, and she knew that whatever she was holding against the boys before - about Ben, about Newt holding her back, about Thomas going in the Maze - it was gone.

Surprisingly, Gally was comforting. He held the girl's shaking form in his arms, one hand resting on her back and the other stroking her hair lightly.

"It's okay."

"It's not." She murmured back, hiccupping. She pulled herself away from the boy, studying his eyes. "If I was in there, I could help them."

Florence hated her helplessness, wanting nothing more than the chance to be in the Maze to help, oblivious to the fact she would be burdening both Thomas and Minho with the responsibility of another life, and especially one of someone they both care for.

"You're not there Florence, so there's nothing you can do. You need to stop beating yourself up. None of what happened, or what will happen, is your fault." Gally spoke softly, and Florence looked at the boy more intensely.

If possible, he had just become even more confusing. Tough, people-hating Gally had a soft side?

"Since when were you such a nice guy Gally?" The boy chuckled, and she let him hold her for another few moments in silence.

"We both know I'm not a nice guy." 

Another few moments of silence.

"I need to be alone." She muttered, and she was grateful it was him she was saying it to. Gally wouldn't take it personally, and he would oblige.

Getting up from where they were on the ground, he squeezed her shoulder before wandering away back to the Homestead presumably.

Minho squeezed my shoulder when he brought me back to the Glade that first day. He would hate seeing Gally comfort me like this. He would probably punch the shank.

No, he'd definitely punch the shank.

Florence's thoughts moved from scenarios she was making up in her head to the possible situations the boys stuck in the maze currently could be in.

I bet they're running right now. A griever right on their heels, catching them up and just close enough to sting-

Florence drew her knees to her chest, hugging her legs as she struggled to let breaths into her lungs. She struggled to catch her breath at the rate of her pounding heart, the sound of a Griever screeching not helped her panic.

Settling against the wall of the Maze, situated next to the doors, it took everything in her being to stop herself from shouting out in attempts to get a reply from the boys on the other side of the wall.

There was absolutely nothing she could do to help. They were probably dead.

And all she could think of was the fact she hadn't kissed Minho when she had the chance.