⁰⁰ ▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 ... ❜
━━ ❛ the 𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕. ❜ ‧˖˚. ☄︎ ͎۪۫ ◞⁺.
❪ part 02. location: the glade.
©kiiizones, all rights reserved ❫.
"𝑰 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑹 𝑻𝑶 God." Ed was drumming his fingers on the wide-wood kitchen top with fervent impatience. "If they're up there━reproducing or whatever the heck it is you guys do━I swear I'm kissing a Griever the next time I see one."
Chuck was at the sink, drying plates, Minho was leaning against the surface with his arms folded, and Frypan was chopping vegetables. Ingredients were strewn everywhere; onions, small bunches of herbs tied up with string, piles of dried lentils and spices, a hunk of meat that was sitting in some kind of marinade. There was a huge pot on the roaring hob filled with bubbling water, steam was rising from it in curling tendrils. The air smelled like smoke and ripeness and grass and sunset. Frypan made a noise of disbelief. "That's disgusting."
"I know." Ed shot Emis a glare. "Making babies at a time like this. Who do you think you are?"
"Shut up, Ed." Frypan grumbled. He tossed the sliced potatoes into the pot with flourish. "I meant the kissing-a-Griever part."
Ed shook his head with absolute solemnity. "No, man. You didn't see them━they were all over each other. Like, like wild animals. It was disgusting."
"Give them a break, shuckface." Minho grimaced, as if he couldn't quite believe he'd said it. "Like you weren't 'all over' Ryan when━"
"Oh, shut the hell up." Ed cut in, face darkening. "That was━that was different. That wasn't━"
"Emis?" Chuck interrupted them with only a hint of irritation. "You okay?"
Emis had disappeared into her thoughts. Dark, whirling thoughts that were flashing images of people in lab coats and masks made of iron and her, Teresa, dark hair spilling like ink over her shoulders and a pale face that was distantly, but painfully familiar. Like looking at a reflection that was distorted and shattered in cracked glass; you knew it and it was familiar, but twisted and horrifyingly different to how it was supposed to look.
"Emis." Minho reached over and prodded her in the side. She jumped, jerking away from him as if he'd stung her. "What the hell is up with you?"
She blinked, shaking her head as if resurfacing from a dream. "I'm sorry." She smoothed her hands over her legs. "I got lost for a second, there."
"Are you feeling alright?" Ed was looking at her with a mildly hesitant expression. "You look like you're going to either pass out or sneeze."
She shook her head. "I'm fine, guys. Seriously." She hopped down from the counter. "Why wouldn't I be?"
There was a pause. Both Minho and Ed exchanged a look━a mirrored look of two people who knew, inexplicably, exactly what the other person was thinking.
Emis threw her hands up. "You know what? Don't answer that."
"Actually, Emis, you do look exhausted." Frypan said, tossing something else into the pot. "You can take a nap, if you want."
"I'm fine." She said, with a shot of aggression. Instantly, she felt guilty. She bit her lip. "What are you making?" She asked, mostly to change the subject.
Frypan let out a laugh. "Soup." He said, reaching into the cupboard and drawing out a spoon. Emis wondered vaguely what potato-lentil-herb-meat soup tasted like, but didn't ask.
"Smells good." She opened her mouth to ask if she could do anything to help, but she was cut off.
"We'll try and save you some for later." It was Gally. He stood in the entryway to the kitchen, a sort of break between the wood counters, and he had his hands clasped together awkwardly. "You know, because..." He trailed off, clearing his throat. Emis narrowed her eyes.
"Right." She said, "the Pit."
"It's not that bad." Chuck said, almost hastily. "It's kind of peaceful, at night, and at least you'll have Thomas to talk to."
"Great." Emis said through her teeth. "I can't wait." The thought of having to sit up and listen to Thomas's constant stream of consciousness seemed to make her headache even worse.
Gally laughed, almost nervously. It was strange seeing Gally laugh. Like watching a tiger rolling over and playing with a ball of yarn, but with his claws out. "Sorry, Em." He said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's only one night."
She glanced sideways at him. "Who are you calling 'Em'?"
There was a crackling silence as Gally swallowed. "I, uh━" was he blushing? "I really wanted to, erm. Get past this, Emis. I can call you Emis, right?"
She nodded. He sighed in relief. "I just ... can we start over? I'd like to be friends. Not ... not hate each other."
She realised that he was speaking to her with a careful, gentle voice. She wanted to laugh. Gally was scared of her; and the urge to laugh fizzled out as she realised that they all were. She felt the rising anger quell inside her chest like a fire that someone had thrown ice water onto. Suddenly tired, she waved his comment away with a hand.
"Sure. Whatever. We can be friends." She said. "As long as you keep your mouth shut."
Gally's face broke into an expression of confusion and relief mixed together. "I can do that." He said, with the ghost of a smile.
"And," Emis continued, her look hardening. "You stop defending that scum. Ryan."
"'Scum?'" Gally blinked. There was another pause as Ed stood up straight, folding his arms. Gally seemed to weigh his response very carefully before speaking. "I mean, sure. Yeah. You're right." He hesitated. "Actually," He said, and his face scrunched up as if he were bracing himself for impact. "I wanted to ask if any of you guys had seen him. Ryan, I mean."
Ed gave him an incredulous look. "I think you're asking the wrong group of people, bud." He said, voice light, but crackling, and dangerous, slightly.
"Right." Gally said, instantly embarrassed. "No, that's what I thought. Um." He clasped his hands together again, throwing Emis one last unreadable look. "I guess I'll be going, then. Sorry," he added as an afterthought. "About Ryan. What he said earlier, he━"
"You can go get him to come and say it himself." Emis said, and she could taste the bitterness in her voice as she said it. "Until then, stop apologising for him."
Gally nodded. "You're right. Okay." He swallowed. "See you, I guess." And he left.
"Well, that was weird." Ed said, voice tight as if trying to decide whether to laugh or not. "I, for one, have never seen Gally so speechless. Shank always has something smart to say."
"Yeah." Emis heard her voice trail off from far away, as if someone else was speaking. She sounded tired, she realised. Devoid of energy. Frypan was right. She was exhausted. Suddenly, and without warning, a sharp, stinging pain shot up the length of her right forearm, as if something sharp had burrowed underneath her skin. "Damn it." She muttered, running her fingers over the skin and finding it hot, burning hot.
"How'd that happen?" Chuck asked, and she realised that the burning area had flowered into a deep, red-blue bruise. The colour was stiff and unnatural. Like everything else about her.
"I don't know." Emis said. She was irritated to find that her eyes had sprung with tears. "It just ... appeared."
"Does it hurt?" Minho asked. He sounded uncharacteristically concerned.
"No." Emis said, as the bruise gave a throb. She grit her teeth. "Not at all."
"Here." Frypan slid a bowl of soup across the countertop towards her. Ed opened his mouth to protest, but Frypan cut him off with a glare. "Slim it. She's not getting anything to eat at all, tonight, and she looks paler than a sheet. If I didn't feed her I'd be a pretty terrible Keeper of the Cooks." He grinned at Emis. "But eat that fast, in case Gally comes back."
"Thank you, Fry." Emis said, with a smile of gratitude. Frypan chuckled.
"What any good person would do. Now eat, hurry."
Weirdly, potato-lentil-herb-meat soup tasted fine. It was hot, and scalded her tongue, but she wolfed it down in record time, a warm, spicy aftertaste lingering as she wiped her mouth. The spoon rattled against the empty bowl as she set it down on the side next to her. Warmth from the soup was spreading like warm water through her chest, and suddenly she felt bone-tired.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" She offered. Frypan shook his head.
"Chuck," he said, and Chuck reached forwards to take the empty bowl and spoon and dropped them into the sink with a clatter. "My best Slopper," Frypan said, voice tinted with pride. "Gets half the washing up done faster than anyone else. You have a great skill, my friend." He said, and Chuck grinned as he wrenched the faucet open.
"I'm going to find Newt." Minho said, with sudden randomness. "Ed," he added, "come on. We gotta tell him, uh, secret-Runner-stuff." He said. At Emis's narrowed eyes he shook his head. "Nothing you don't know already. Now, let's go." He grabbed Ed by the neck of his t-shirt and hauled him out of the kitchen space with him.
"We'll give him a big kiss from you, Emis!" Ed yelled over his shoulder. Minho kicked at his ankles.
"Emis." Frypan said from beside her. His voice was its usual gentleness. "You should go and take a nap. Catch a few winks before Thomas bothers you."
Emis bit her lip. "Are you sure I can't help?"
Frypan shook his head, slotting the lid onto the pot. "Nah. This just needs to stew. Go on, Emis. I'll wake you up in an hour."
She swallowed. "Half an hour." She argued.
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Half an hour. Go on, shoo." He waved her away with a hand. Chuck waved goodbye, as well, hands lathered up with foamed soap.
The warm cooking smells faded out as Emis neared the hammocks. The air was beginning to deepen, with a stronger, fresher smell of pine leaves and forests and damp grass. It still smelled like sunset and woodsmoke, the sky a striking, hollow blue. The sun had disappeared behind the walls, pink and gold ghosting against the sky like faint watercolour paints.
Emis didn't bother kicking her shoes off. She crawled into the hammock and let the sound of wind through tree branches and distant, crackling fires━and somewhere, very distantly, the walls of the Maze slotting into place━lull her into a restless sleep.
𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 she woke, at first, all she could feel was nothing. Exactly like the sensation that had struck her when she had woken up in the Box, she was paralysed, almost, a cold, empty numbness spreading from the tips of her fingers to her toes like ice water. And, just like before, feeling collided with her like a trainwreck.
Emis gasped and spluttered, air coming into her lungs sharp and hard as if she'd just been winded. She coughed, and she could taste something bitter. Like blood and oil. She wiped her mouth and as her hand came away she saw that it was stained with black, like ink. Grimacing, she sat up, the hammock swinging underneath her, and got to her feet.
She was surrounded by white again. As soon as she had stood up, the hammock had disappeared, as if made of smoke. There was a ringing, resonating silence that seemed impossibly still, and all she could hear was her breathing. It was as if she were underwater; the only sounds her breathing and her floating, distorted heartbeat.
Swallowing uneasiness that tasted bitter, she took a step forwards, and froze. Though the couldn't see anything, the ground underneath her had cracked like glass under her weight. This is just a dream, she told herself. If you fall, what's the worst that could happen?
She didn't linger on the answer very long. She had a feeling she wouldn't like it.
She continued walking forwards, or what felt like forwards, but kept her feet light. Still, the ground made fragile crackling sounds with every footstep, as if relieving the pressure didn't make a difference. Nothing changed as she walked. It was an awful feeling, like running in circles, but worse. Trapped inside a blanket of white, still air.
Suddenly, an invisible wall loomed up in front of her, and she slammed into it. The shock of it sent her flying backwards, but, as if tied to an invisible chord, she felt her body swing back towards it easily. She landed softly on the floor, and as she pressed her hands in front of her she felt that the transparent wall was warm to touch, almost hot, but a comfortable hot. Something rippled across it, as if it were made of water, and she narrowed her eyes.
Like blots of ink, colours and shapes began to blotch into view, mixing and swirling together like paints, creating vague, indecipherable silhouettes that Emis had to squint to make out. And then, very suddenly, like the snap of an elastic band, the wall swung into motion like a carousel, and all she could see was everything.
Images reeled past her in an eerie silence. A lab, a hospital monitor, a living room. A metal table, a dilapidated, scruffy kitchen, hallways and hallways painted white. They flew past her like an old movie player, fuzzy against the screen. A whirlwind blend of colours. Of blood reds and icy blues and bright, shocking greens. Suddenly, again, the racing slammed to a halt, ending on one image.
It was a tiny room. Painted white, but painted this time. Not just blank, like everything else. Streaks of the colour were on the walls and there were tiles on the floor, painted white still. Dust motes danced gently in the flooding cold light of the fixture in the ceiling. There was a metal table in the middle, and she sat at it. A younger version of herself, a frightened version of herself. An angry version of herself.
She was handcuffed to the table.
"Hello, Artemis." Said a woman's voice. She slid into view, and Emis sucked in a breath. It was the woman from before, with the neat straw-coloured hair and the pressed white lab coat. She sat down on the chair opposite, smiling. Her face was sympathetic, her eyes were soft. There was something almost inherently motherly about her, Emis thought. A gentle, calm aura surrounding her.
The younger Emis swallowed, refusing to look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and red, skin raw from scratches and scars. Her hair was limp and oily and hung heavily at the nape of her neck in a messy knot. The woman leaned forwards.
"Artemis ━"
"Don't call me that." Emis said, her voice a cold snap of anger. Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were shined over with tears. "Don't say that. You've taken everything else from me, let me keep my name."
"Your name is Artemis." The woman said softly.
"No it's not!" The yell shattered against the window, and Emis felt a cold shock throw up against her cheek as if the sound had actually hit her. Breathing in shakily, she pressed closer.
The woman remained calm. "You need to keep your heartbeat slow, Artemis. Otherwise you'll have another attack."
"I don't care." Her younger self said stubbornly, "I don't care about losing control anymore."
"It's alright," said the woman, "Feel angry. Release it all, but control it, Artemis. You could die, otherwise."
"That's your fault," was the reply, "All of this is your fault. Your fault."
"Artemis ━"
"Your fault, your fault ━"
"━ I have someone I'd like you to meet." The woman cut her off, ignoring her. "She's your age. A month older. Her name's Teresa ━"
"━ is it? Or have you just told her that?"
"━ and she's just like you. You'll like her."
"I doubt it."
The woman breathed out very slowly, as if trying to contain her impatience. She turned over her shoulder, leaning out of the frame, and there was the sound of a button being pressed. And then the hiss of a door opening. Emis craned her neck to get a look, but she didn't need to. The girl had already stepped into the frame.
She was hesitant; it was clear that she was taking her time as she made her way towards the table. Her dark hair was twisted into a long braid down over her back. She looked fresh, almost sparkling compared to Emis, who's fingernails were black with dirt. Or blood. There was a stubborn set to the other girl's jaw, her hands were fiddling by her sides and her eyes were wide and sparkling with curiosity and apprehension.
"Artemis, this is Teresa." The woman stood fluidly, and disappeared out of the frame. There was the high, quiet beeping sound again, and the sound of the door hissing open and sealing shut again and leaving them alone together.
Teresa slid into the seat opposite Emis; her eyes darted towards the leather-bound handcuffs around Emis's wrists. A shiver seemed to go through her. "...Hi." She managed, looking up. Emis was scowling.
"How old are you?" She demanded.
"Fourteen."
"What's your real name?"
"Teresa."
"No it isn't."
There was a pause. "Yes it is."
"No it's not."
"Yes it is." The girl said, and her voice was sharper. This seemed to aggravate Emis even more.
"You're lying." She fired back.
Teresa sighed. "What did they give you?"
Emis shrugged, "I don't know. They didn't tell me. And I don't care. All it's done is made me angry."
"Has it? Or is it just your head telling you to be angry?"
"Find out if you want, I wouldn't mind demonstrating."
Teresa sighed. She glanced back behind her, then back at Emis. "Fine, show me."
Emis blinked. "What?" She asked, taken aback.
"Go on then," Teresa sat back, crossing her arms, "Show me how angry you can get."
Emis could see herself battling with her thoughts━showing Teresa would make her seem powerful and strong, whereas withdrawing that power would make her seem stubborn. She chose the latter.
"No." She said, "I won't."
"Good," said Teresa, relaxing into her seat. "Then we can talk."
Emis looked away, clearly irritated by the fact that Teresa had shown her up. "Fine." She muttered.
"Let's start over. I'm Teresa. You're Art, right?"
"Don't call me that. It's Artemis."
There was a pause. "Okay, Artemis. How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"When's your birthday?"
"I don't know. Can't remember."
Another pause. "Fair enough." Teresa drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "What's your favourite colour?"
"Don't have one."
"Well, why don't you pick one?"
"Why should I?"
Teresa shrugged, "It'd be nice to think of a colour when you're, y'know━"
"Being torn apart from the inside? Being disassembled and then put back together again, like some━some animal?" The younger Emis let out a cold laugh. Teresa was still drumming her fingertips on the table. "That's nice of you. They already tried that. It doesn't work. I can only think of red."
"Why?" Teresa's voice was small, as if she couldn't help asking it.
Emis shrugged. "It's the colour of blood." She said. Teresa's eyes flashed with something, but she hid it quickly.
"Well think of a different colour, then. The opposite of red."
"Blue." Emis said instantly, "But I don't like blue either."
"Fine," Teresa said, "How about ━"
"It's not going to work." Emis sounded almost tired. "Stop asking me what my favourite colour is. I've already told you. The only colour I can think of is red."
Teresa sighed. "Fine. How about ..." She trailed off. "Do you have any friends?"
"No." Said Emis. "Apart from━" She said something, but it was like her voice had been put on mute. Emis tried to read her lips, but missed it. "━actually. No. Never mind." She sighed, as if coming to a conclusion she didn't like. "I don't have any friends."
Teresa shrugged. "You have me."
Emis narrowed her eyes. "You don't want to be friends with me."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a freak." The younger Emis shrugged, rattling the handcuffs. Emis felt her heart pang as she realised that tears were spilling down her cheeks. "No one wants to be my friend. I scare them all off. I'm unnatural and my only purpose is being a weapon, or surviving. I'm not supposed to have anyone care about me. I'm not supposed to need anyone."
Teresa didn't say anything for a moment. Then, she smiled. It wasn't a patronizing, simpering smile. It said different things. It said respect, and pride, and almost smugness. "Well, you don't scare me." She said.
Emis narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm handcuffed to a table."
"That's because adults are always scared of things they don't understand. Me?" She shrugged. "I want to be your friend. And I really don't see how you being handcuffed to a table cancels anything out."
There was a pause. Emis was obviously speechless. Then, she said, "Huh. You're kind of smart."
Teresa smiled again. "I know." She said. There was another pause. Her mouth opened again, but the voice she spoke in was not her voice. It was a swarm of wasps, a thousand overlapping voices as she said, "Remember, Artemis. WCKD is good."
And suddenly, like floes and sheets of ice, the floor underneath her shattered into pieces, and she fell through it, tumbling away from the little white room with the metal table, falling through freezing, shimmering whiteness until her back slammed into an operating bed.
Like tentacles, leather belts snapped around her wrists and ankles. Suddenly, all the light flared off, and she was plunged into darkness, surrounded only by the sounds of her harsh, uneven breathing again. There was a break of that same, ringing silence.
And then: "Hold the subject still, please." It was a voice. A human voice, but stiff and cold. Emis felt a cool shadow brush against her arm. "Inserting Serum Twelve-point-Four into Subject I-R-Two. Hold her, please." The voice repeated. Emis felt the sharp scratch of a needle, the painful, achy skin of something injecting into her bloodstream, and for a moment she felt nothing.
And then her body was set alight.
At least, that was how it felt. Her veins, flooded with gasoline that had caught fire, were searing with an uncontrollable pain. She could feel her mouth opening, but she could not hear her own screams. All she could hear was her heartbeat, so fast now it was almost a low hum, and her blood churning and frothing and fizzing with chemicals.
She felt the clean snap of leather as she broke easily from the bonds, and then there were hands on her, and a panicked voice, yelling, "Inject Antidote! Inject━"
She felt another syringe slam into her arm, not carefully, but hurriedly, and almost instantly she went limp. Cool numbness went through her in a wave, and suddenly she was struck with the sensation of floating on water. Very faintly she could still feel her skin tingling, raw and red.
There was a sigh of relief from somewhere in the darkness. "Test two-hundred-and-ninety-one successful." Said the voice. "Results are positive. The Antidote has been completed."
𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑺 was pulled out of her nightmare by an urgent voice. Someone was shaking her, a little roughly.
"Emis? Come on, Emis. Wake up, wake━" The voice cut into a yelp of surprise as Emis shot awake, and fell straight out of the hammock. She nearly hit the ground, but time had seemed to slow down. With what felt like ease and grace, she landed lightly on her fingertips and her toes, like a cat, and sprung instantly to her feet.
Frypan stumbled back, caught very much off guard, and knocked a lantern off its handle behind him. It wasn't lit, but it smashed into tiny shards of glass as it hit the ground. Frypan swore indelicately.
"Shit, Frypan, I'm sorry━" Emis stepped forwards, but he shook his head at her. He was laughing.
"It's fine." He waved it away. "You told me to come wake you up, and you weren't moving, you were barely breathing━"
Emis laughed through her teeth. "I'm a heavy sleeper. Sorry, Fry."
He shook his head again. "It's no problem."
The sky had deepened now, into a hazy, burnt orange glow, the sunset sparkling off the far walls like tarnished gold. The air smelled like woodsmoke and nighttime and grass, and Emis felt her chest sink with relief. There was no antiseptic, no harsh, frozen metal. No woman in white with straw-coloured hair.
But there was Teresa.
The realisation felt like being dashed in the face with a glass of cold water. Emis let out a quiet gasp, the moving images in her nightmare suddenly falling into place, like puzzle pieces. It was impossible, she thought. But was it? Could it be?
"Emis?" Frypan was looking at her with a hesitant expression. "You, uh, you alright?"
"Where's Teresa?" She said, her voice breathless. He blinked at her. Oh, right.
"The girl. Where's the girl?"
"Oh, she's at the Med-Hut, but, wait━!" He sighed. "Oh, never mind." He muttered to himself, and to the falling dust left in her wake.
Emis nearly fell in through the doorway, she'd been running so fast. At her hasty interruption, the room fell silent.
Newt had his arms crossed, in one hand he cradled a syringe filled with a blue, oddly shimmering liquid; at her entrance his mouth had fallen open, as if he had wanted to say something. Thomas had clearly broken off mid-speech, words dying out as she straightened up in the doorway. Teresa was behind him, her arms folded.
It was the first time Emis had really gotten the chance to look at her, while she was awake. Her dark hair was down and in frizzy tangles over her shoulders. Her face was pale, but flushed with red from the heat, Emis guessed, though she didn't feel it. She was taller than her, and her eyes were piercing. Blue, like clear cut shards of sea glass, bright and wide and just as curious as they had been in the nightmare. She was staring at Emis, too, and Emis felt a flicker of hope inside her chest. Did she recognize her as well?
The hope fizzled out as Teresa turned to face Thomas. "This is her? The other girl you were telling me about?" She sounded almost disappointed. Emis felt a small twist of dislike for Teresa flare up inside her. She ignored her, shoving past her to stand in front of Newt.
She took a deep breath. "Give it to him." She said.
Newt's bewildered expression furrowed into one of even further confusion. "What?" He blinked. "Emis━"
"Give it to him, now. Or he'll die." She reached forwards to snatch it out of his hands, but he swung it up and away from her reach. He glanced over at Alby, who was lying in the centre of the room with his arms and legs bound by fraying rope. Emis felt a twinge of panic shoot through her━hadn't she been able to break through bonds ten times stronger?━when she realised that, in retrospect, she probably was ten times stronger than Alby. He was covered in a heavy layer of sweat, his breathing was wild and erratic, his skin latticed with a growing network of thick, purple-blue veins. Newt swallowed. "You have to give it to him, Newt."
"Emis is right." Thomas cut in. "Newt. He's already dying. How could this possibly make it any worse?"
"Wait, what did you same your name was?" Teresa cut in, voice shaking. "Emis? Is that your full name?"
Emis could barely hear her. "There are worse things than death, Newt." Her voice felt distant again. "Compared to what he's going through now, death would probably be sanctuary."
"Oh," Newt's voice rose slightly. "And you would know, would you?"
"YES." She said, her own voice raising to a shout. "I would. Give it to him."
There was a pause. "Fine." Newt said. "But if he dies━" He cut himself off, as if the thought of Alby dying was a little too painful to cope with. He handed the syringe to Thomas silently, stepping back and massaging his forehead. Emis could see the pulse in his temple jumping with apprehension.
"He's not going to die." It was Teresa who spoke, in a voice made of fraying silk. They had all converged around the bed: Jeff and Clint, Teresa, and Newt, standing next to Emis.
Thomas cast another look over his shoulder, as if checking for any interruptions. There were none. "Okay." He said. Breathing in sharply, he raised the syringe in his hand, and leaned over, preparing to insert it. But he had moved too slowly. Alby's eyes had already opened.
And they were completely, entirely black.
Without warning, and lightning-fast, Alby had somehow managed to wrench his hands up into Thomas's shirt, and, with overpowering strength, yanked him towards him by the throat. His breathing had lapsed into breathless hyperventilation, and over and over he seemed to mutter the same words.
"You shouldn't be here."
It felt as if someone had plunged Emis into a bath of ice water. She stumbled back, almost shocked. Somewhere in amongst the chaos she heard Thomas yell, "Get the syringe!" She felt her heart contract with painful relief as Teresa managed to shove Thomas out of the way, and plunge the needle into Alby's skin. He fell still, breathing going slow. There was a moment of crackling, fervent silence. And then Jeff spoke.
"Well," he said, voice wavering. "That worked?"
"Okay." Newt was breathless, his chest rising and falling heavily, as if he'd been running. "From now on, someone stays here and watches him; around the clock."
There was an exchange of hesitant, silent looks. Thomas was staring at Teresa as if gauging for a reaction. She looked back at him, and, almost unnoticeably, shook her head a fraction to the side. Emis narrowed her eyes.
"Hey." Gally had appeared in the doorway. He looked almost sheepish. He nodded towards Thomas. "Sundown Greenie." He said, and then cleared his throat. "And, uh, Emis." He shifted on his feet. "Time to go."
Teresa threw an almost terrified look at Thomas, who seemed not to notice it. "Okay." He said. He glanced at Emis. "C'mon."
They left the Med-Hut in silence; Thomas and Gally went ahead, Gally with a glowing torch in hand, and Emis fought the urge to roll her eyes as the two of them lapsed into familiar argument. Outside night had fallen, now, and Emis had missed the walls shutting. Still, distantly, she could hear the thud of a wall slotting into place. The high-pitched, unnatural, guttural sound of a Griever, somewhere in the heart of the Maze. She felt a shiver pass over her.
"Hey." She jumped. Newt had appeared next to her, arms folded against his chest as he fell into step beside her. "Thought I'd, uh..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"Walk me to my doom?" Emis offered in a dramatic voice. He grinned at her.
"Yeah. That." There was a pause. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, since, y'know. We talked."
"You want to know how I'm doing?" She stopped, turning to face him. He was looking away from her, over his shoulder at the Med-Hut. She bit her lip. She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Newt. He had known Alby for years. "Alby's going to be okay, Newt."
He turned to face her. She was surprised to see that he was smiling. "Yeah. Had a feeling you'd say that." He said, his dark eyes simmering, glittering against the darkness. "You have a habit of telling me the world's going to be okay. And unfortunately, I have a habit of believing you."
Emis shot him a grin. "Well," She said. "Aren't you smart?"
"No," he said, taking a step towards her. Emis felt her breath catch as he settled his hands on her waist and tugged her so that she stumbled into him. His breath was warm and feathery against her skin as he said, "Just observant." And this time, she didn't wait for him to kiss her. She did it herself.
That familiar, warm, crackling urge to hold him close to her flowered up inside her chest as he kissed her back, his hands going up to cradle the back of her head. He tasted like Newt; of salt and smoke and apples, and she felt her arms twine around his neck as she arched up against him. He stumbled back with a laugh against her mouth, and the kiss broke apart.
"Well," She breathed out, disentangling herself from him and blushing furiously. "I should━"
"Yeah." He said, clearing his throat. He was still grinning. "You should━yes. Yep. I'll just, erm, go..."
"Goodnight, Newt." She said, her voice oddly high-pitched. He nodded.
"Yeah. You too." There was a pause. Then, very quickly, he darted forwards to press a warm kiss against her cheek. "Sweet dreams." He added. He cleared his throat.
She was grinning. "Yeah. 'Night."
"'Night."
"Hey, Emis! Move your ass, it's time to go!" Gally's voice shattered through the warm, comfortable silence like a sledgehammer through glass. Newt threw Emis a, 'Looks-like-you're-on-your-own', look, and headed off towards the Med-Hut in silent fits of laughter.
Cursing all boys, she stalked through the tall grass to reach Gally with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest. "This friendship thing isn't going to work." She muttered, and his face fell.
He mumbled something about trying to be encouraging as he opened the gate for her. She swung down, ignoring his offer to help her, and felt her feet sting as they made impact with the hard ground. "Thanks." She said, trying to reign in the bitterness. "You can go now."
He blinked at her through the bars, wearing an unreadable expression, before turning to leave. He carried the only light source, and soon they were surrounded by darkness. She could hear Thomas breathing beside her, but other than that, he made no sound. He was probably in shock. Emis was surprised to find that she wasn't.
She slumped against the wall, the fizzing adrenaline from earlier disappearing, and she let her head rock back against the stone behind her. Through the bars she could see the dark, hollow navy-black sky and its spattering of stars, and wondered silently to herself if she'd ever get out of there, the Glade; or if she'd stay trapped within the four towering walls forever, with enough, infinite time to count the endless spiral of stars.
⁰⁰ ❛ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . .☄︎ ⋆࿐໋ ˖
i've finally updated! after 2938382 years! AND WE HIT FIVE THOUSAND OMG thank you for being so lovely && so supportive. what are you all doing in quarantine atm? i hope ur all staying inside and staying safe. these times are hard and if you ever need to talk, pls know that you can message me. i adore all of you. please take care of yourselves.
love, 𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊. *♡・.