IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- LOSS OF A SUN -

The white fabric of her coat doesn't have a speck of ash on it. Her hair is pulled tight, expression unreadable as she surveys the line of prisoners - us - like we're items on a list to be checked off. "Is this all of them?" Dr Paige asks, cool as glass. Her voice carries above the wind.

"Most of them," Janson replies beside her, his stance stiff, too proud for someone who just tore apart a camp full of innocent people. His shirt is now unbuttoned at the throat, as if war tires him. My fists clench, stuck at my side. That man is nothing. He may have given me half my DNA, but he's no dad. He gave that role up the moment he chose this side - the side that straps children to tables and calls it research. "It'll be enough," Janson adds, like we're cattle. Like this is a harvest.

Paige nods once, then raises her voice. "Start loading them in." I should have seen her words coming, yet they still make my mind whirl.

No.

"Okay, you heard her!" Janson bellows. "Let's go!" The guards start moving, shoving kids out of the lines. Shouting erupts again - names being called, people screaming for friends, siblings, strangers they've clung to in fear.

Thomas straightens beside me, jaw clenched. Newt shifts, like he's preparing to move - but he can't. Not with weight of guns on us. And then the doctor turns her gaze to our line.

To me.

Her eyes lock with mine, unreadable, unblinking. Then they flick to Thomas, her head tilting ever so slightly like she's analyzing his posture, his breathing, his weight. "(Y/n). Thomas." Guards grab us instantly, jerking us upward. My knees scrape against gravel. I stagger, nearly falling as they haul me to my feet.

"No-!" My mother's voice cries from somewhere behind us. It's choked and wet - muffled. I twist in time to see her - gagged now, hands bound, eyes wild with protest. She thrashes in the grip of two guards. My stomach turns. I need to yell at them to let her go, but I know what happens if I do. So I just bite down on the inside of my cheek and force myself not to sob.

Walking up behind Ava Paige is someone I hoped I wouldn't see. Teresa. Standing tall. Composed. A guard flanks her but doesn't hold her. She chose to be here. Her eyes flick to me. I want to scream. Scream until my throat tears. Ava Paige turns to her, calm and cold. "I'm glad you're safe, Teresa."

Safe. She says it like it matters more than the rest of us bleeding on the ground.

I hear Minho scoff as they yank him up, too. Newt stumbles beside him, blood drying along his temple, hands twitching like he still wants to fight even now. "You're with them," Minho spits, teeth bared. Teresa flinches - but just barely.

Janson joins the group now, lips curling like a wolf in sheep's clothing. "Yes," he says, almost fondly. "Teresa has always had an evolved appreciation of the greater good." He looks at her, then at me. "One might mistake her as my daughter." The rage that coils in my chest is cold and sharp. My wrists strain to hit something, someone, but the bullet on my head wouldn't be worth it. I hear my mother cry out - muffled by the gag - and I cringe.

"Once we restored her memories," Dr. Paige says with a faint nod, "it was only a matter of time."

Newt's lip curls. "So you remembered all the torture and thought; yeah, let's go back to that?" He speaks to her. Teresa doesn't answer.

We all just stare. Me, Newt, Thomas, Minho. Frypan from the dirt. All of us looking at the girl we recently fought beside. Slept beside. Cried beside. "I'm sorry," she says. But there's something about the way she says it - off-key. Rehearsed. Like it's a line she practiced in her head, knowing we'd one day ask for it. "I had no choice," she adds. No choice. That's the thing they all say before they do something unforgivable. "This is the only way," Teresa continues, louder now. "We have to find a cure." She says it like it's gospel. Like it's truth carved in stone.