Girl Glader (A Newt TMR fanfic)

Secrets and Scars

A Gathering was called. In Thomas' honor. Because he had broken the number one rule.

"Lyra?" Newt asked. So far about 2/3 were for Thomas becoming an official runner, and the others thought he should be punished.

Lyra looked at Thomas, then at Newt. "I think he should be a Runner. Times are different now. I doubt we'll be in the maze longer than a week more, alive or dead. Let him Run, if he can. He's been put here for a reason. Same as the girl. Let him do his part before it all goes down in flames."

The Keepers were silent. Lyra was defiant. Her word, usually, goes. It was a sort of unspoken rule.

"I think that settles it, then." Lyra pushed back her chair and left.

"Alright. Minho, you take Thomas tomorrow. Show him the Maps. Get him suited up." Newt said with an air of finality. "The Gathering is adjourned."

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The next morning dawned cool yet sunny. Thomas lie asleep in the Homestead, only to be woken up by Minho whispering in his ear.

"Oi, shank! Get up. We've got a big day ahead of us." Thomas groaned but quickly got up, remembering that he was now a Runner. The pair picked their way around sleeping bodies, Thomas accidently treading on someone's hand and getting punched in the shin in return.

"Follow me," Minho directed. The two ran quietly across the still sleeping Glade. Finally, they entered another building.

"Running shoes. If we didn't have good shoes, our feet would never last. What size are you?" Minho asked Thomas seriously. Thomas stared.

"Eleven," he replied. Minho handed him a silver pair and then a wristwatch.

"Only the Keepers and Runners get these. Could save your life." Thomas took the watch, strapping it onto his thin wrist.

"Oh, I almost forgot..." Minho unlocked a small, concealed door in the far wall. "Weapons."

"Weapons?" Thomas choked out. Minho looked at him. Thomas entered the room and took a small weapon.

"Last thing: you need to see the Maps. C'mon." The Maps Room was one place Thomas had never been before. Apparently, few people had.

Minho knocked softly on the door to the Maps Room, then unlocked it and pushed it open. Inside were trunks full of maps, and in the center, was a wooden model. Minho pointed.

"So we have the Glade, surrounded by eight Sections, each one a completely self-contained square and unsolvable in the three years since we began this freaking game. The only thing even approaching an exit is the cliff, and that ain't a very good one unless you like falling to a horrible death."

Behind him, a door suddenly opened.

"Mmm, a very horrible death. But we'd never know. For all we would be able to tell you would just disappear. No bones, no broken, shattered body at the bottom of that bottomless Cliff." Lyra stepped out. Once again, her hair was braided over her shoulder. She wore a short-sleeve short and short denim shorts. Hunting boots protected her feet, one dagger in place on the left side. There was a small pack on her back, including a quiver and collapsible bow.

"Lyra!" Thomas said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too," Lyra replied, casually sharpening her other dagger. "And I already told you once, shank, I am-was-a Runner. A bloody good one, at that. I also live here."

"You live here?"

"Clean your ears, shank! Do you really think I wanted to live in a room packed with filthy, smelly boys?" Lyra rolled her eyes.

"Minho, would you give us a moment, please," Lyra asked politely, but her tone made it sound like an order. Minho nodded reluctantly and stepped outside. "Don't go anywhere near that freaking Cliff, you hear me? It's dangerous. Unless you're planning to die a stupid, heroic death, steer clear. Promise me." Her tone turned dangerously serious.

"But why?" Thomas asked, puzzled.

"Promise me."

"I-I promise, but-"

"No buts." Lyra turned away, put her dagger in its ankle sheath, and began to study the map. Thomas noticed for the first time that she wore fancy metal armor over her left forearm.

"Why are you wearing armor on your arm?" Thomas questioned. Lyra stiffened.

"None of your beeswax."

"You're hiding something," Thomas guessed. "Something on your arm?"

Lyra froze, then sighed. "It's nothing. A reminder, that's all."

"Can I see it?" Lyra spun to look at him. Then she stopped. She turned 180 degrees away from him, so her back was facing him. Thomas heard her unlatching the armor. Lyra placed it on the table, paused, and hesitantly turned back towards Thomas. Her arm was crossed against her stomach.

Thomas waited. Lyra shakily put out her arm. Thomas glanced at it.

"I don't see anything," he commented. Lyra turned her arm over. Thomas gasped.

"Holy-" he cut off. Thomas stepped forward, and rested her wrist in the palm of his hand. He gently touched her arm with his thumb, and Lyra stiffened.

There, cut deep into her arm, where the words:

WICKED is good

They were scars by now, but the thin red lines were impossible to miss.

"Lyra, what happened to you?" Thomas looked into her green eyes.

"I suppose Newt told you about the first night in the maze?" She laughed softly.

"No, he didn't. He told me that it was for you, and only you, to tell." Lyra looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Thomas, I..." Lyra shook her head. "I can't, not yet." Thomas understood, but still was curious.

Lyra looked in a trance at the maze model. Thomas looked at her, unsure of what to do. He was trying to take it all in, understand the full extent of what this girl had been through.

"MINHO!" Lyra yelled. The door flung open. Minho took in Lyra's sad expression but didn't comment. "Oh, and I'm coming with you. Meet you at the Doors in five minutes." Without another word Lyra fled.

Thomas just stared after her in a daze. "Dude, what's up?" Minho stepped into his line of sight. "What the hell just happened with you and Lyra?"

Thomas shook his head. "Uh, nothing."

"Wel, it sure as heck ain't nothing coz she's been crying. So keep your hands off or Newt'll have your hide."

"I wasn't-"

"I know. Just a warning. Don't hurt my friends." He paused. "Oh, and protect her with your freaking life."