CANON COMPLIANT: A Group B fanfiction following Minho's equivalent, Rogue. Read the Scorch Trials through the perspective of Group B.
"Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them. Her friends and their bodies. She saw Rachel and Ada, their cold, de...
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SHE FOUND HER in the dark.
Far from the others, far from the gym, in a tiny cupboard tucked behind her bed in their dormitory. There she was, sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor.
"Hey you," she said
"Hi, Ada."
Ada's hair, once matted and frizzy in the days preceding their escape, now cascaded in soft curls, framing her pretty face just as it used to. She looked just as young as she had on that first day, when Rogue had met her in the Box.
"Come sit," Ada said, patting the ground beside her. Rogue didn't hesitate. She folded herself down, wrapping her arms around her knees and taking all of her in.
She smelled sweet, like the Gardens, but her body showed no evidence of labour. Her hands were clean, her nails immaculate and trimmed. She was perfect. She was just as Rogue remembered her.
"You don't look well," Ada said, tilting her head. She reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of Rogue's hair behind her ear.
It was true.
A few days ago, Rogue had only caught glimpses of herself in reflections; in the still water of the range, in the glint of a polished metal surface, or in the faint shimmer of glass. But those were just distorted fragments, brief enough to ignore.
Now, in the gymnasium, mirrors were everywhere. She was everywhere, and the only thing that looked well about her was her body. She was toned and muscular from all her years of running, her shoulders broad and arms strong. Her face, however, was sickly pale, almost purple, with skin clinging to bones. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, the whites so strained they looked ready to burst. Dark circles hung beneath them.
She hadn't slept since they had put her under. Then again, how could she?
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them. Her friends and their bodies. She saw Rachel and Ada. Their cold, dead eyes looking into hers, accusing her. Haunting her. Hating her.
Grief didn't look good on her.
"What happened to you, finchface?" Ada asked.
"You did," Rogue said, sucking in a breath. Ada's hand froze in mid-motion before she retracted it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Ada smoothed her dress out, a familiar movement that brought a pang to Rogue's chest. "I really am, Ro. I just wanted us out."
