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

- TAKEN -

She pauses. Meets my eyes for the first time. And there's something there - regret, maybe. Or shame. Or both. Then the lab falls quiet.

Just the sound of the machines. The gentle click of glass. I can hear distant sirens wailing, the groan of metal, the city outside decaying in real time.

Then Janson speaks.

"You're wondering how she got it to them," he says, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His voice is calm, almost condescending. "She convinced me that if I let you save Newt, you'd cooperate. It's also how I scored Thomas."

I don't look at him right away. Minho already explained that much. I look at Teresa instead - at the way she's frozen, just slightly, as if she's holding her breath. "She was right," I say finally.

Janson hums, pacing toward the observation window again. His shadow stretches long under the bright clinical light, distorted by the blinking monitors and dim glass. "You two are a lifeboat," he says, as if it's a revelation. "And the whole world is sinking." He turns, his gaze sharp. "But believe me when I say - we will not go down with it." Something tightens in my chest. It's the way he says we. Like I'm still part of his side. Like I ever was.

And then I notice it.

I'm out of the guard uniform. My arms are bare, the sleeves of my shirt cut away. I'm strapped down. Thick restraints pin me across the chest, wrists, and ankles. My abdomen is swathed in a thin bandage - the bullet graze. It's clean. Sterile. Professional. Teresa's handiwork, maybe. My stomach drops. "Why am I constrained?" I ask, voice steady despite the heat building in my throat.

I turn my head. Thomas, too, is shackled - his wrists locked into metal cuffs bolted to the arms of the chair he's sitting in. His face is pale. Angry. "In case you feel the desire to lash out again," Janson says, not missing a beat. "So I don't have to kill either of you." His voice is casual. Like we're discussing traffic. "Sure, you came here willingly," he adds, now circling the table like a predator, "but after the relentless draining that's going to happen, I doubt you'll stay willingly."

Thomas scoffs. He shifts in his restraints and laughs bitterly. "And to think, this guy raised you?"

I can't even answer. I'm too busy focusing on my heartbeat, which is thudding far too loud in my ears. Teresa is still drawing blood, vial after vial. Her eyes are distant - somewhere between guilt and obligation. There's no joy in what she's doing anymore. No vindication. "Ultimately, we're just two people," I say to Janson, trying to reach him, trying to stall. "We can't save everyone. You said it yourself."

"That's why we need to pick and choose who to save," Janson says, calmly. But I know he means he. He walks over to the lab bench and picks up a tray. One of the needles is filled with blue liquid. Thick. Viscous. It shimmers unnaturally in the light. "The Flare virus will burn itself out with time," he says, almost gently now. "But the real question is... who will be the ones left standing?"

And then I see it.

He rolls up the sleeve of his left arm.

And it's there.

Like it was on Newt.

Veins blackened, crawling up the underside of his arm like they're trying to claw their way to his heart. Skin waxy and gray at the edges. Small tremors in his fingers. His pupils are too wide.

The Flare.

He's infected.

My breath catches.

It's barbaric. The lies. The manipulation. The experiments. And all of it? Just to stay alive. He's doing this to us - using us - because he's scared to die. "A future of our own making," Janson says with a slow, sick smile. Thomas' eyes are locked on the needle. He's deathly still. "Cheers!" He raises the syringe like a toast. "To your kids' health-"

Teresa moves faster than I've ever seen her. In a blur, she grabs a bottle off the shelf and slams it over Janson's head.

Glass explodes. The tray crashes to the floor. The syringe clatters away. Janson makes a short, shocked noise and collapses.

Out cold.

Silence rushes back in. Thomas lets out a stunned breath, eyebrows raised. "I was wondering when that part of the plan was coming," he mutters.

I blink at her. Then I huff out a breathless, nervous laugh. My whole body trembles from adrenaline. Teresa's already fumbling with my restraints. "Let's get her out first," she says, turning to Thomas. "Then we'll deal with the rest." I meet Teresa's eyes. She's not smiling -
but she's helping us - truly. And that's more than I expected.

~