˚ ༘✶₊˚.                         ⊹ ˚ .  SECOND ACT
❪         TWENTY      ♥︎    ₊˚༢࿐
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THE STEEL METAL DOOR PULL OPEN to reveal a thin man with short-chopped hair. His face — which was tugged up in a controlled smirk — had a distinct mole on rat-like face. His presnece made every Glader in the room scramble to their feet. Mae could still hear the faint whirling of the helicopter in her ears, reaching up to rub at her bloodshot eyes.

What felt like only moments ago ( —though a few hours had passed.) Mae had been dragged out of an aircraft by two soliders, shouting at them to move. The adrenaline of fear still hadn't settled since Mae ran across the sandy terrine into a building, and she could still feel the sand in her shoes as she stood beside Thomas.

"You kids doing all right?" The man asked, his eyes sweeping over their faces. Mae could've sworn that his eyes stopped on her a few seconds longer, but it was the least of her worries, "Sorry about all the fuss. We had ourselves a bit of a swarm."

"Who are you?" Thomas cuts in.

He smiled, one that made Mae feel uneasy. "I'm the reason you're all still alive, and it's my intention to keep you that way."

"That's not what he asked," Mae pips, her eyes narrowing softly.

He simply chuckled at her words, "Come with me. We'll get you kids squared away." He then walks backwards out of the room, and with a quick glace between them they followed, "You can call me Mr. Janson," He begins again. "I run this place. For us it is a sanctuary. Safe from the horrors of the world. You all should think of it as a way station. Kind of a home between homes."

Thomas jogs forward, "Does that mean you're taking us home?" He asked him. Janson looked back at him and Mae frowned at his hesitation.

"A home of sorts," He settles on. "Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of where ever you came from, but we do have a place for you. A refuge outside the Scorch, where WICKED will never find you again." He turns to face the group, "How does that sound?"

Mae shared a glance with Teresa, who was closest to her. They both looked unconvinced, many even uncomfortable at the man's promise. If it seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

Minho speaks up, "Why are you helping us?"

"Let's just say the world out there is a rather precarious situation. We're all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that you kids can survive the Flare virus makes you the best chance of humanities continued survival." He explained.

Mae's brows furrowed at the sight of the large steel door Janson was leading them toward, and her rapid steps slowed in a panic. A soft hand tugs tightly on her shirt, and Mae finds herself locking eyes with Newt's worried ones.

"Unfortunately, it also makes you a target. There's no doubt by now that you've noticed," He pulls out a card and swipes it against the machine, "Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives."

The door pulls up to reveal a long white hallway, one that felt familiar to Mae and she didn't know why. It was a distinct memory, one that she couldn't pin-point or hold onto — but it was there.

"Now," Janson smirked. "Let's do something about that smell."

Within twenty minutes, Mae could be found sitting with her legs pulled up into her chest, her chin resting tiredly on her knees as she watched the warm water wash away the dirt and blood on her skin. Her hands were stained a faint red, a reminder of Gally and Chuck.

     She felt her eyes burn, and without warning more tears began to flow down her face.

Followed by a choked sob, Mae covered her hand over her mouth, hoping not to raise concern from the boys in the stalls beside her. She couldn't stop thinking about him, his face, his last words, the tears in his eyes.

'I came out here, looking for you,' He tells her, 'I didn't want you to be alone—'

Mae's heart squeezed and she couldn't take it anymore. Everything they had done to escape the Maze and she wasn't even happy, she wasn't relieved. . .just utterly broken. She just wanted to prove to them that she could do it, and now that she had? All the people she was trying to prove weren't even here to see it.

Nick, Alby, Gally, Clint and Jeff, countless of others — Chuck. He was the youngest of them, the one they were supposed to protect but he was dead too. All for what felt like nothing at all.

She blamed herself for Gally's death. Why wouldn't she? He said it himself, he only went out there for her. Mae felt as though she should've done more. She should have saved him, just like he had unknowingly saved her.

Why couldn't she do anything right?

Why couldn't she say anyone?

"Mae?" Newt reached around her to turned off the shower, quickly plucking the towel hanging on the wall. She doesn't respond, her body shaking. "It's okay, you're okay, I got you." Newt sighs and kneels down to wrap it around her shoulders, "All right, come on." He muttered, tugging her up.

His hair was still wet, and flat on his forehead. His clothes, which were fresh and provided for him, fit tightly on his lanky body. There was a cut under his eyes that looked uncomfortable, but Newt's main concern had been solemnly on Mae.

He said nothing as he moved her to a secluded bench, grabbing the spare clothes left for her on the counter and handing them to her. Without a word, Mae forced herself to tug the plain white long-sleeve over her head, and shove on the sweats with a wince of her ankle.

Still, Newt waited patiently until she was done, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her movements with a set frown. It was clear that he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to approach Mae when she seemed so fragile. So, the girl decided to break the silence with a huff.

"Please say something," She whispered brokenly, running a shaky hand through her wet hair, "I can handle all of this, I swear—"

"I never think you can't," He replied firmly, shifting more comfortably on the wall. "You know that I don't think less of you, never have." He pauses for a moment, gathering himself, "But, if you ever feel like it gets too much, especially with Gally gone—"

Mae closed her eyes, gathering herself, "You heard what Janson said. We have targets on our backs, people want us dead. Whatever is going on with WICKED, it's far from over. . .so I don't have much of a choice."

"Don't do that." Newt's eyes narrow, "All right? Don't shut yourself off, not with me, you understand? It's okay to bloody grieve for them, for all of those shanks, I know I do—"

Mae gets to her feet, and gives a soft smile that didn't reach far. "I will, Newt," She insists, "I will grieve them, just not now. There's no time for grief." She looked around the seemingly empty bathroom, "There's something about this place. . .something that I don't like."

Newt frowned. "I'm suspicious, too. Trust me, I am. But it's not wise to go running a muck, especially when we don't know what's going on." He reminded.

"How do you think they knew where we were?" She gives him a look, "How did they know when we'd escape?"

To that, he couldn't answer. So, Newt shakes his head and holds out his hand to her, "Come on. They've got to run some tests, I think I saw Minho be escorted out."

✿ ❀ ✿

MAE SAT IN DISCOMFORT AS A WOMAN rounded the small table of supplies and grabbed a pen, clicking it open her thumb and furrowing her brow at the words on her sheet. The teen's eyes shifted around the room, making sure her friends were accounted for.

Thomas was being taken care of by another doctor, they make eye-contact for barely a second before the man closes the curtain between them.

"I'm just going to ask you a few questions," The Doctor began, her eyes peering at Mae over the clipboard. "At least the ones I hope you remember." The blonde nodded for her to continue, "What's your full name?"

She frowned, "Mae."

"Full name."

"It's just Mae." The girl emphasized.

The woman hummed, and wrote something don't before saying, "Your age? just so I know how much dosage to give you."

"I'm seventeen, I think," Mae added. "I don't remember."

"Is there anything you do remember?" The Doctor insists, her eyes burning into Mae's with uncertainty, "Anything that could be useful to us?"

To that, Mae frowned. Her eyes narrowing into slits as she redirected the question, "Is there something you think I should remember?"

The Doctor simply smiled in reply, putting down the clipboard and grabbing a needle from the metal tray. Mae shifted in discomfort at the sight, and was ready to get to her feet when the woman flicked the needle and turned toward her.

Noticing this, the Doctor said, "Don't worry. It's just a little boost for you. Calcium, folate, vitamins A through Z, these are things you've been deprived of out there."

     Mae tilts her head, "How would you know what we've been deprived of exactly?" She asked the woman.

     Again, the woman said nothing, holding out her other hand, "May I?" She asked, but before Mae could even agree, she grabbed the teenager's hand and rolled up the sleeve.

     The Doctor froze at Mae's self-harm marks, glancing up at her once before injecting the needle into her skin. Mae winced slightly, and the woman cleared her throat, grabbing another needle with an estranged tub at the end.

     "And that?" Mae asked her.

     "Blood samples, it's standard procedure." She informs, "To check for any underlying diseases in the blood, check for any matching DNA's in our systems, check blood type for cases of emergency and you'd need a blood fusion, everything like that."

     None of those words seemed to stick out besides, "Matching DNA?" She repeats, "Like if I have family here—"

     "It's unlikely," The Doctor backtracks, "WICKED usually takes children with no family ties, so they wouldn't have loose ends. May I?"

     This time, Mae held out her arm, watching as the Doctor took at least four little vials of blood. She frowned, watching the woman put one sample into a machine, making the vial whirl around. She watched as the Doctor leaned over her computer, clicking things and shifting them on the screen where Mae couldn't see.

     "B positive," The Doctor announced.

     "I try to be, yes." Mae responds.

     "No, your blood type is B positive." She informs, a small smile on her face.

     Mae reddens in embarrassment, "Oh."

     A soft chime on the computer causes the Doctor's attention to shift. Her small smile completely dropped, her hands reaching for the mouse and clicking a few things.

     Mae leaned forward in anticipation, she saw a flash of a two photos, clearly a man and woman but the Doctor was purposefully blocking her view.

     "Doctor Crawford?" She announced, and another female Doctor pops her head up from a curtain, her features tugging down into a frown as she waited for Mae's Doctor to speak, "Can you phone Janson? I think he'd better start his questioning with Mae first instead."

     Dr. Crawford nods, and scurries away. Mae moves to stand in panic, wondering why the woman in front of her seemed less welcoming than she did moments ago. Her eyes shifted around the room toward the only pair of eyes that could be found — Minho.

     "Minho!" She shouts, turning medical heads at her sudden interruption.

     The Korean boy instantly looked up at his name, pulling the wires from his wrist and stepping off the treadmill. His Doctor told him to come back, but Minho was quick to side step him and speed-walk toward Mae, stepping between her and her Doctor.

     "Problem?" He asked the Doctor, who stepped back at his towering presence. Mae let out a relieved breath, feeling much more comfortable with the distance between them.

     "Janson is supposed to interview each of you, just to get a clear picture of what happened out there." The Doctor said calmly, "I just volunteered Mae to be first, that's all."

     "No need," Minho said firmly, "Got out a Maze, killed some Grievers and now we're here, see? All caught up." He tells her, gripping Mae's shoulder, "Come on, Mae."

     Mae quickly goes to follow Minho back to his section, but the Doctor was quick to intervene with a firm hand, "This is the same procedure that all new groups go through. We just want to make sure everyone is safe."

     Minho clenched his jaw, "You really think any of us are gonna let you Shanks in a room by yourselves with Mae, without any of us there?" He asked rhetorically, "Gladers stay together. So you either interview all of us or none of us."

     "I understand you have a close bond," voiced Janson from behind them. Minho still didn't seem to ease up with the presence of two guards behind Janson, eyeing the Runner who simply eyed them back. Janson smiled, "We're all on the same side here, okay?" Sensing that Minho wasn't going to budge he adds, "You can stand outside the door, if that's more comfortable."

     Minho glanced back at Mae for an answer, and with a small hesitation the blonde nods. The Runner's shoulder sagged in defeat, "Fine." He responds, and steps away from Mae.

     The girl looked back one last time at Minho, before being dragged away by the two emotionless guards down multiple halls and into another room.

     There, she was placed down in a cold metal chair, the room only consisting off a plain table and four walls — with a mirror in the corner that didn't seem like a normal mirror at all.

     She felt like she was waiting for hours until Janson showed up, opening the door just wide enough for Mae to see Minho and Frypan standing there before the door closed again.

     The man gave her a greeting nod and sat across from her, a vanilla envelope in his hands.

     "Hello, Mae." He says, "Or, as our files know you as, Maeve." Janson chuckled, "It seems you only remembered a nickname, I have to admit the full thing suits you better."

Maeve. The blonde scrunched her face at the information, "I don't agree." She found herself saying, "Is that all your file says? Do I have a last name?"

Janson seemed to ignore the question, "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable with the suggestion of meeting in private, away from the others. I don't plan to take up too much of your time, especially with the merry band outside the door," His joke seemed to fly right over her head, "I really only have one question for you."

Mae leans forward at his words, a small shiver running up her spine at the way his face searched hers knowingly. He knew her. Mae didn't know why that piece of information slipped from her brain but it echoed clear as day. He knew her.

"What did that woman see?" Mae asked him, "On that monitor when she took my blood, there was a photo, she saw something. What did she see?"

Janson's eyes flashed in amusement, "You're more self aware then I thought," Then I remember. She knew those were the words he wanted to say, "A very curious girl, do you know that?"

Her face scrunched. She wasn't always. Mae had liked the idea of staying oblivious until it costed her the loss of so many friends. Now, she couldn't seem to stop asking questions, "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Try to answer mine first," He replied, "I want to know what you remember about WICKED." Mae leaned back at his bluntness, "You're not in trouble. I'm just trying to understand."

"Understand what?" She pressed.

"Understand you." He tells her, "And whose side you're on." He hands the vanilla folder to her, and watches eagerly as she opened it.

Mae frowned at what was inside. Almost everything person was redacted, drawn off with a black marker. It only had the basic information, like her height and her features and her name. Mae learned that she was 5'9" and weight at 130. But that wasn't the stuff the caught her attention.

It was the stamp over her fifteen year old face that said: PROPERTY OF WICKED. With the occupation under it that said: Supplier. Thomas was right, she did work in the Box, she had pull the supplies away, she had helped them send it up every week. It ate at her, knowing she helped them.

"I don't remember much," She admits instantly, "Just little flashes, and what Thomas tells me."

     "Thomas?" Janson leans in.

     "He was stung by a Griever, but we used the Serum to save him and when he woke up he remembered things, things about WICKED." She informs, before instantly backtracking when she felt like it was too much. "I know I worked here but I don't remember it, and I know that I knew Thomas and Teresa from before but I don't remember how. I remember this woman—"

     "A woman?" Jason cuts in, "What did she look like?"

     "Her face was blurred, and it was only a second so I don't know for sure." She tells, "But I remember the feeling she gave me, the feeling of comfort. . .maybe even motherly—"

     "If WICKED walked through those doors right now, and offered you a chance to get your memories back, to go with them. . .would you?" He asked her suddenly, his eyes burning into hers for an answer.

     Mae hesitates, covering her shaky hand with the other as she thought over his question. "No," She says finally, her voice firm, "I want nothing to do with them. Nothing. They've done enough damage as it is and remembering more would. ." would send me over the edge.

     As much as Mae wanted to know, she knew that she couldn't handle the truth. She knew that her life before the Maze would break her spirits. Whoever she was then. . .it didn't matter, it couldn't matter. All she cared about what avenging her fallen family and finally finding somewhere safe. Whatever she had to do to get there was out of the question.

     "I think that's enough for today," Janson gets to his feet, grabbing the vanilla folder from the table with a nod. "You must be hungry."

     Mae grimaced, feeling the rumble in her stomach. When she got to her feet to follow after Janson, the man quickly turned around, his chest bumping into her own as he peered down at her with a cautious smile. It made her feel uneasy just looking at it.

     "Hopefully by tomorrow, we can help you get your memories back," He tells her lowly, "I'm sure there's a lot more in that brain of yours that could be useful to us. .you understand."

     Mae swallows the lump in her throat with a light nod, "Of course."

[ authors note: yuh, get into it ]

NOV / 21 / 2021