[the maze runner]
i've been lost. but as i find him again, it feels like
such a relief. a fresh breath of air. peace, at last.
[newt x male!oc]
cover art by the beautifully talented @obviousoph
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"I REALLY HOPE YOU'RE RECEIVING THIS. I'll check your brain waves afterwards. Anyway, hey Samson. I know you're probably really confused right now. Thrown into a maze full of a bunch of kids you don't know, with no memory of who you are or where you came from. I can only imagine how scared you are. But I hope you're doing okay."
It was Thomas again, visiting him in his dreams. It all felt so real to Samson, like he could reach out and touch him. He was sitting exactly where he had been in his last dream. Samson registered the surroundings. Thomas seemed to be in some sort of lab. He was wearing a white shirt, but other than that not much had changed.
"The Chancellor says they sent you up to set an example for the rest of us. And as scared as you are right now, there was a time before you lost all of your memories when you and I saw this as an advantage. Like I told you, I'm going to help you escape the Maze. I can't keep watching them all suffer, all of our friends. You and I were working on an escape plan for months when you were up here with me. And now that you're in the Glade, we can finally move forward with it. It all starts with you. Right here, right now. You're the key, Samson."
Thomas disappeared and Samson was pulled back into the darkness. He screamed, his voice echoing into the void. He called out for Thomas and he appeared, dressed in all white again. The darkness shifted into the lab he'd just seen Thomas in but this dream was different, more disoriented, like a memory.
"It's all falling into place. We've only got a few more weeks until you're sent up."
"Thomas, we've gotta stop meeting up like this. This is why Ms. Paige is getting suspicious. We can't have her or Anderson on our tails. Not now,"
Samson was dressed in all white too, his hands behind his back and his hair slicked back with an unnecessary amount of gel.Thomas took another step toward Samson and his breath hitched. He reached behind him, pressing a button on the screen. Samson spun around to face it. Thomas had opened one of the beetle blade cameras into the Glade. Samson sighed, peering into the camera next to Thomas. It zoomed in on the dark field of the Glade, where all of the Gladers were sleeping somewhat peacefully.
That was all he wanted. Peace.
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After his training day in the Gardens, Samson stuck by Leo and Newt. Nearly every meal he'd eat with at least one of them. Other days he spent alongside Leo and Zart or Newt, Alby and Nick. Samson had finally found some good friends within the Glade and he was proud of himself.
He tried his hand at being a Builder the day after trying out the Track-hoe job, in which he spent most of the day right by Gally's side. He was very kind and patient with Samson, which for some reason surprised him. He wasn't very good at the Builder job, though, despite his stocky form.
Samson couldn't understand why most of the Gladers resented Gally. To Samson, he was a nice guy despite what others said or thought of him. He knew Newt didn't like him very much because of the way he went quiet when Gally was nearby. The Gladers weren't necessarily mean to him, just kept their distance. He still didn't know much about the Grievers or the sting or the Changing, but he understood Gally's reasoning behind why he was afraid of the Maze. He just wanted to keep everyone safe and everything in order.
On his tenth day in the Glade, Samson was set to try out his final job; cooking. Samson hadn't been very good at any of the other jobs and although he'd get a second chance at each job the following week, he was nervous that he wouldn't fit in anywhere and he'd have to become what the boys liked to call a "Slopper". It was Leo who had told him about them. They were the Gladers who weren't good at any job and spent their days cleaning up the kitchen, the showers, and the Bloodhouse. Being a Slopper was something Samson definitely did not want to spend the rest of his days in the Glade doing.
He got up that morning and headed straight to the Cookhouse. Alby was already there, sitting at one of the tables with Frypan. He'd never seen Frypan come out from the Kitchen, besides the night the Gladers had thrown the bonfire.
"Morning, Newbie!" Frypan greeted him with a grin.
Alby leaned forward and turned to Samson. "This is your last job of the week. Tomorrow, you'll have a day off and then you'll be trying out the jobs all over again like we've talked about." he stood up, patting Samson on the shoulder. "Good luck," he and Frypan watched Alby leave.
Once the door was closed, Frypan clasped his hands together and smiled again. "Alright, let's go!"
Frypan led him back to the Kitchen. Two boys were working away already, one cutting up apples and one frying eggs. Samson found himself smiling, taking in the delicious smell.
"Brandon, let Sam cut those up, you go start the bacon." Frypan motioned to the boy who was cutting the apples. Brandon nodded, setting the knife down. Samson took a deep breath. Cutting apples seemed like the easiest job he'd been given yet.
There was a window right above the counter where he worked and every once in a while Samson would steal glances out of it, taking in the fresh air and watching the hustle and bustle of the Glade in the morning.
Frypan brought more fruit to cut up later on, and he worked with no problems. As he worked, Samson's mind wandered back to his dream from the night before, what Thomas had told him. Everything he'd said no longer seemed like just a dream. He was still uncertain about whether or not to tell his friends about the dreams, considering he barely understood what Thomas had told him. The one thing that stuck out to him was why he was sent up. Thomas had said he was sent up as an example, which to Samson sounded like he was being punished. But for what? What had he done to deserve this?
Samson finished cutting up and washing all of the fruit and threw it into bowls. Frypan asked him to set it out on the tables and he happily obliged. Some of the Gladers started to make their way into the Cookhouse, lining up outside of the Kitchen.
"Sam!" Frypan called just as he was setting the last bowl down on a table. "Will you serve these shanks?" he asked.
Samson nodded, quickly slipping back into the Kitchen. Zart was the first one in line and he handed him a plate with eggs and bacon, smiling. He could get used to this.
The line-up of Gladers disappeared quickly until it was only Nick and Newt left in line. He handed them both their plates, sighing deeply.
"Think you finally found a job you're alright at, eh?" Newt grinned.
