She Was Their Cure (Rewritten) - A Maze Runner Fanfiction

Shadows of the Past

Thomas stood at the edge of the clearing, his eyes fixed on the towering stone walls that enclosed the Glade. The entrance to the Maze loomed before him, an ominous mouth to the unknown. His heart raced with a strange mix of curiosity and fear. Something about that dark corridor called to him, as if it held answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

Before he could take a step closer, a rough hand shoved him hard from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, Greenie?"

Thomas groaned, looking up to see Gally standing over him, anger flashing in his eyes. The taller boy glared down, his face twisted in frustration.

"Stay away from there," Gally spat, his voice sharp. "No one goes in the Maze unless they're a Runner, and you'll never be one of them. You hear me? Never."

Thomas winced, brushing dirt off his hands as he scrambled to his feet. "I wasn't trying to go in."

"I don't care," Gally barked, stepping closer, the hostility practically rolling off him. "You stay clear of the entrance, or you won't last long around here."

Before Thomas could respond, Alby appeared, placing a hand on Gally's shoulder. "That's enough, Gally. He's new. He doesn't know the rules yet."

Gally huffed but backed off, shooting Thomas one last glare before stalking away.

Alby gave Thomas a long look before motioning for him to follow. "Come on, Greenie. I'll show you around properly."

As Alby led Thomas through the Glade, he pointed out the different areas Thomas had already seen in his brief time here. The Gardens, the Homestead, the Bloodhouse where they kept the livestock, and the Builders' yard. But it was clear that Alby was more intent on drilling the rules into him than just giving him a tour. Every other sentence was a reminder of how things worked in the Glade—how everyone had a job, and how following the rules was the only way to survive.

Eventually, they stopped near a wall at the far edge of the Glade, hidden behind some trees. It was a large slab of stone, smooth except for the names carved into its surface. Hundreds of names, some of them crossed out with thick, jagged lines.

"This here's our Wall of Remembrance," Alby said quietly. "Every Glader who's come up from the Box, their name's carved here. It's how we keep track of who's been through the Maze, and who didn't make it."

Thomas ran his fingers over the etched names. Most of them meant nothing to him, but one in particular stood out.

Aurora.

Thomas stared at the name, a deep frown forming on his face. "Who's Aurora? I didn't think there were any girls here."

Alby stiffened beside him, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. "Mind your own business, Greenie. That's all you need to know."

Thomas blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. "I'm just curious—"

Alby turned away abruptly. "Curiosity won't help you here. Stick to the rules, keep your head down, and maybe you'll make it."

The conversation was clearly over. Thomas bit back more questions as he followed Alby back toward the center of the Glade, but the name Aurora lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Who was she? And why wouldn't Alby talk about her?

That night, a bonfire blazed in the center of the Glade, casting long shadows across the walls. The Gladers gathered around, laughing, talking, and for the first time since arriving, Thomas felt a small sense of normalcy in this strange place. He sat beside Chuck, listening to the conversations around him, but his mind was still turning over the day's events.

He glanced across the fire to where Newt was sitting, the blond boy's face illuminated by the flickering flames. Something about Newt seemed weighed down, like he was carrying more than the others. Maybe it was the limp, or the way he always seemed to be watching the rest of the Gladers with a protective gaze.

Thomas leaned over to Chuck. "What's up with Gally?"

Chuck shrugged, stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth. "Gally's always been a bit of a jerk. But he's not all bad. Just... rough around the edges."

Thomas frowned, not entirely convinced. He watched as Gally sat a distance away, eyes cold and distant. There was something more to him than just anger. Something deeper.

Later, as the night wore on, Thomas found himself sitting beside Newt, his curiosity getting the better of him once again. "Can I ask you something?"

Newt raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Thomas. "What is it, Greenie?"

"What's Gally's deal? He's... I don't know. He acts like he's got a chip on his shoulder all the time. What happened to him?"

Newt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Gally's seen a lot of shuck things. Lost a lot of people." His voice grew quieter, almost distant. "This place changes people. It strips away any bit of innocence you came up with. You either harden up, or... well, you don't make it."

The ominous tone in Newt's voice made Thomas shiver. He thought back to the graves he'd seen earlier, and the bracelet on George's headstone. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Newt cut him off, as if reading his thoughts.

"Best not to think about it too much, Greenie," Newt said softly. "Or you'll end up like Gally. And trust me, you don't want that."

Thomas nodded, though the weight of Newt's words pressed heavily on him. He couldn't help but think that whatever had happened to Gally, whatever had stripped away his humanity, wasn't something he wanted to face. But at the same time, it made him wonder—how long would it be before he, too, started losing parts of himself to the Glade?

The next day, Thomas's thoughts continued to swirl as he went about his work, still grappling with all the mysteries surrounding the Glade. He was weeding in the Gardens again when Newt called over to him, clearly annoyed.

"Greenie, stop standing around and go grab some fertilizer. We've got crops to tend to."

Thomas nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and trudged off toward the trees. The memory of the graves he found while exploring still fresh in his mind, he hesitated as he neared the spot he'd found the day before. Part of him didn't want to see it again, but something pulled him toward it, a nagging sense of unfinished business.

He walked slowly through the trees, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached the clearing, the sight of George's grave hit him hard. The bracelet was still there, wrapped around the marker like a silent sentinel. He knelt down, tracing the letters of George's name, his thoughts a chaotic mess of questions he couldn't shake.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, a rustling sound from behind startled him.

Back at the Maze entrance, everything was chaos.

The Runners had just returned, dragging a thrashing, sweat-drenched boy named Ben through the gates. The Gladers surrounded him, their faces pale with fear and confusion.

"He's been stung!" someone shouted, panic lacing their voice.

Thomas stood frozen, watching in horror as Ben's wild eyes locked onto him.

"Thomas!" Ben screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Thomas! You did this! You're the reason we're here!"

Thomas's blood ran cold. He had no idea what Ben was talking about, but the sheer intensity of his accusation left him shaken. He didn't know Ben—had never spoken to him—but the way Ben screamed his name felt like the truth, like something Thomas should remember but couldn't.

Alby and Newt pushed through the crowd, their faces grim. Without hesitation, they began pulling Ben away, their strength overpowering his weakened state.

As the chaos unfolded, Thomas's eyes flicked back to the graves, to George's name, to the bracelet, and to the one carved word that lingered in his mind.

Aurora.

What happened to her? What did it all mean?

And why did it feel like he was connected to everything in ways he couldn't understand?