A few weeks had passed since Nick's death. And to sum it up, Clara had simply just felt numb. She hadn't cried since finding his clothes in the Maze, because she was too busy to cry.
Her days consisted of eating, running the Maze, mapping her route, eating again and then sleeping. She avoided talking to anyone as much as she possibly could, even going as far as to cutting her meals short so she wouldn't have to be around people for long. When she found herself stuck in a situation where she had to talk to people, she was as polite as possible.
But it was obvious she was distant. She hadn't been completely present since Nick died, and her friends were beginning to think she never would be. They had no idea how to talk to her, how to really reach her, how to stage an intervention and get her to calm down a little.
To say she had been overworking herself would be an understatement.
Even Minho took days off from running the Maze, but Clara didn't. It got to the point where the only time she was seen in the Glade was when she left in the morning and returned at night.
Newt, particularly, was concerned.
Somehow, he had managed to catch the girl before she left for the Maze one day. He had to wake up extra early and hang outside the Maze doors, but he was determined to talk to her.
He could see her sighing as she approached, already tired of whatever he was going to lecture her about. The doors hadn't opened yet, so instead of jetting off past him, she was forced to stand with Newt and listen.
"Look, we just think you need to take a break. You're overworking yourself-"
"-Are you calling me weak?"
She wouldn't have been so defensive if she could see herself from another perspective. Looking at her own actions, she only saw a girl trying her best to escape the prison they were stuck in. To her friends, she was shutting everyone out and harming herself the most in the process.
"No." Newt replied firmly, choosing to not take her accusing words personally. "You're definitely not weak, Clara, I know that. But you have to be kind to yourself, okay? Your health is important-"
She interrupted him with an abrupt laugh, making him trail off from his sentence. She wasn't okay, Newt knew this. If she was, she wouldn't be treating him so awfully.
"I can handle myself Newt."
They were left in a daring silence: the girl glaring at Newt as though she was challenging him to say otherwise. He simply just watched her with the same worry he had for her since Nick died. He only wished that she would let him try and help her, because it was blatantly obvious she was in pain.
It was then that the Maze doors opened. Clara broke her stare from the boy, giving him a tight-lipped smile before turning away to jog into the Maze. Newt was left to stare after her, sighing heavily at the failed intervention.
But it may not have been entirely failed.
Because as the girl ran the corridors of the Maze - which she had learnt like the back of her hand - she thought about what Newt said to her. She was working herself too much, but how could she stop now?
Taking a break to eat, Clara wandered slowly down a corridor she was yet to follow, and noticed something peculiar. Finishing off her chicken sandwich, she reached the turning point of the corridor and looked out at where the corridor opened up to an entire new section of the Maze.
It was an open area: the ground less rubble and more red dusty, making the floor of a clearing with Maze corridors branching off either side. In the distance, she could see a stone wall brandished with writing. With it standing taller than the surrounding walls, Clara could make out the letters WCKD painted on the side in white.
She could feel her heart leap out of her chest; none of the other Runners had found this before, she was sure of it.
Stopping completely in the corridor for a moment, she glanced down to her watch to see that she still had about six hours until the doors were shutting. This meant that she had enough time to check out the new section and make it back with plenty of time to spare.
Jumping into action again, she jogged off towards the prospect of escape.
This was something different. Something that would bring a sense of hope to the Glade. And, if they were lucky, it was an escape route.
But then, before she could reach it, a shriek sounded from only a few feet behind her. Whirling around, she couldn't move in time to avoid the Griever slamming into her figure and chucking her against the stone wall. She crumpled onto the ground, rubble scratching and digging into her skin and ripping her clothes.
As every bone in her body was bruised from the hard impact, a groan fell from her lips. Her head was swirling too much to allow her to get up from the ground, but she just had enough will power to gain her bearings and flip herself over to catch a sight of the Griever.
This was the first time in her few weeks of running that she had seen a Griever.
The creature was a formless blob of green, attached to a number of metal spider legs. Attached to the end were a number of different weapons, including the infamous Stinger.
The Griever was still snarling at her, making jerky movements that seemed too calculated to be a natural occurrence. And then, as if it was struggling against itself, it turned away and scuttled down the new section of the Maze that Clara desperately wanted to reach.
Why didn't it sting me?
All she felt before things turned black was the agonising pain shooting up through her left arm. Touching the back of her head with her other hand, the liquid that coated her fingers told her that it was bleeding. And in that moment, she was sure that was it for her.
She was going to die.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Clara's eyes shot open. She rocketed up into a sitting position, a shooting pain stretching up her spine towards her neck. She thought she was going to find herself in the Maze, but instead, she was inside the Homestead.
In fact, she was in her bed.
"What the-"
"-Hey, hey! Hold your horses."
Clint scolded her gently, but the small smile on his lips told her that he was glad to see she was awake. He glanced wistfully to the door for a second, as if he wanted to go get someone, but then he turned back.
"What the shuck happened to me?" She demanded.
She let out a groan then, a throbbing pain becoming clearer in her arm as she woke up more. Looking down, she caught sight of a white cast on her left arm, restricting her from moving it erratically.
"Look, I'll get Alby, okay?"
Clint went to leave the room then, but before he could get to the door, she had called out to him. It was easy to capture his attention; her struggle instead coming from her desire to move despite the aching of her body.
"Wait! How long have I been out?"
"About a week. You've been drugged up, so you've faded in and out, but I doubt you can remember any of it."
The boy left to let her process that.
What has everyone been doing since I've been gone?
Clint returned only after a few minutes, with both Alby and Newt in tow. Their faces were flooded with relief, and Newt couldn't stop himself from leaning over and giving her an enthusiastic hug. She returned it eagerly, her guilt from how she last spoke to Newt seeping through.
"What's been going on?" She asked as soon as Newt pulled away.
Alby had settled into the seat beside her, while Newt just perched on the end of her bed. Clint was hanging back in the room, busying himself about some Med-jack supplies, although it was clear he was interested in the coming conversation. And despite the fact he wouldn't have told anyone about what they spoke about, Alby quickly dismissed him from the room.
"I stepped into your position." Alby informed her, to which she nodded approvingly. "And I made Newt my second."
She furrowed her eyebrows at the last part, wondering why Alby would need a second for only a short amount of time whilst she was recovering. But then she guessed that they didn't know how long she would be absent for.
"How bad are my injuries?"
Newt shrugged, patting her leg gently before answering, "Your wrist's sprained. It'll take about a week to get back to normal but it'll be a little fragile for a while; maybe a month or two. You were concussed when Minho found you, but that should be fine now."
"Yeah, it only knocked me out for a week." She said sarcastically, causing Newt to chuckle lightly.
"You can't really go back to running." Alby said softly, and her head snapped in his direction to fix him with a questioning expression.
"Why not? It's only my wrist."
"Yeah, but you still need to slash down the ivy, and note down your path, and if you run into a Griever-"
"-Yeah, yeah, okay I can't run." She grumbled in agreement, shuffling into a more comfortable position.
Sitting still for a moment, she thought over it. If she couldn't go back to running - for a long time - she could go back to manning the Glade. She could become more sociable again, help look out for everyone, salvage the relationships that had begun to fade every day since she started running the Maze.
"I'll just go back to looking after the Glade then." She said simply, thinking the boys would agree instantly.
Instead, they shared a knowing expression, and looked quite nervous when they turned back to the girl. She could feel her stomach churning with anxiety as a feeling that there was something they weren't telling her began to creep up.
"What?" She asked, as they watched her sheepishly.
"We think you need a break from being first-in-command." Newt advised, scrambling to keep talking as her eyes grew wide with shock. "You need time to rest! We want you to come back after you've looked after yourself a bit."
Taken aback, Clara looked between the pair in disbelief. When they only watched her expectantly, she realised they were utterly serious. Scoffing, she could feel frustrated tears rising in her eyes.
She still wasn't seeing it from their point of view. She nearly died out in the Maze - it still puzzled her as to why the Griever didn't Sting her - and all her friends wanted her to do was rest. And all she was doing was getting angry at them for caring.
"I can't believe you're-"
"-Hey shorty!"
The beginning of her rant was interrupted by Minho's cheery voice from the door. He barely even used the nickname for her, meaning it was actually a perfect way to get her to shut up, as she tried to figure out why he even said it.
"Lanky." She acknowledged him with the nickname she also rarely used, but came up with in retaliation to his for her.
"Can I have a moment?" He asked Alby, gesturing to the girl.
The leader seemed a bit taken aback, but ultimately deciding it was better for her to be alone to think over what they said, he agreed. Both Alby and Newt shot uncertain looks to her when they left, looking guilty as she glared at them.
Minho watched them leave in amusement, strolling across the room and settling down in the chair beside her. It took him a second to get comfy: which for some reason, had to include him propping his feet up on her bed.
"How are you feeling?" He asked her, as he tucked his hands behind his head.
"I'm okay." She answered honestly. She was a little angry at Newt and Alby, but she could momentarily push that out of her mind. And then she realised, "A little confused though."
"How come?"
"The Griever that attacked me. It chucked me against this wall - that's how I hurt my wrist and got concussed - and it could've Stung me. But then it just- it just left. Why didn't it Sting me?"
She knew this wasn't normal for the Grievers. Something was different with this one. Its movements were odd, almost like it had a conscience telling it that it was wrong to kill her.
"Shuck, Clara. I'd just be grateful." Minho replied with a laugh, obviously not thinking about it as deeply as she was.
"I am, don't get me wrong. Just confused."
As Clara thought about it again, a quiet moment passed between them. And then, Minho had the chance to say what he came to say.
"Seeing you like this reminds me of when Newt was like this."
The confession he made to her made a gut-wrenching pain cut through her chest, as though her insides were being ripped out. She could remember the way her stomach dropped when she saw Newt was injured, and she had no idea that her accident was affecting them in the same way as they were affected by Newt.
"Minho-"
"Look, I know you were here for different reasons, but they're right. Alby and Newt, I mean." For that reason, Clara could begin to see herself from their perspectives. "You need to take some time to yourself. You are overworking yourself."
Running the Maze is taking over my life. It doesn't take over Minho's. It's not healthy, is it?
"You shouldn't go back into the Maze after such a bad injury. Especially not when you're pressuring yourself to find a way out for Nick's memory. If anyone needs a break, it's you, and Nick would understand that."
Who knew Minho could make so much sense?
"You're still gonna be just as present in making decisions, we need that from you. You just won't be bearing the same responsibilities. Just for now."
Minho knew his words were resonating with her, from the way her teeth were pulling on her bottom lip as she stared at her hands. And then that person came to his mind again.
"Imagine what Nick would say if he was here." Minho muttered quietly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from his face as he watched her thoughtfully.
Nick's smiling figure appeared in Clara's mind then, and although seeing him felt like a good thing, a painful reminder was what struck her the most.
"But he's not, Minho. That's the thing."
And that's when the lump in Clara's throat turned to tears in her eyes.
She agreed to Alby and Newt's plan. They were trying to protect her, to look after her. And if anything, deep down inside, she knew she didn't want to be their leader anymore. So, instead of taking temporary leave, she told them she was done leading for good.
It was draining her. Every day, it took her last remaining energy and strained it, making it reduce and reduce until eventually it would come to nothing. Basically, it was too much for her to handle.
Suddenly, her mind went back to what she was doing right before she got attacked by the Griever. Before Minho could leave her to get some sleep, she had to know.
"Did you check out where you found me in the Maze? The new section, with the big wall and the open area?"
Her stomach was bubbling with excitement, sure that whatever the new section was would lead them out. However, Minho only looked confused, and Clara's excitement came to a standstill when he said,
"Clara, I found you next to a dead-end of the Maze."