Remember for the Both of Us [COMPLETED]

7: Morning

The room was still dark when I heard the knock on my door. I blinked my eyes open, groaning as I rolled over. I heard another knock. "What is it?" I asked groggily. The door cracked open, and Newt poked his head in. 

"Wake up, Greenie," he said. "I've got something to show you."

I groaned again, rolling out of bed and slipping my feet into my shoes. "Today, we'll move you in with Teresa," he said idly. "You've stolen my room for the last week."

I froze, suddenly feeling awkward. "Um... I'm sorry," I said, trying not to turn bright red.

"Don't worry about it," he said genially. I shot him a look, but he didn't notice. He was almost... nice. It was stranger than seeing him cold and removed.

We trudged outside, and I glanced up at the sky to see light beginning to creep over the walls. He took me through the masses of sleeping boys to the edge of the Glade, where I gaped up at the Walls in honest disbelief. I had seen pictures, I had seen them with my own eyes, but standing right next to them, I could not take in their gigantic scale. "Come here," he whispered, standing next to the little window through which we could see into the Maze. 

I stood next to him, popping up onto my tiptoes to get a better look. He grinned, and I rolled my eyes. "You're just a wee little short shank, aren't you?" he asked. 

"Shut up," I muttered, though I was laughing a little. "You're not that much taller than I am."

"Yeah I am," he said. "Look at that! You only come up to my shoulder! Don't worry though," he said, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes that always meant he had a killer remark coming up. "You might still be able to grow a couple inches."

I looked at him in laughing disbelief. I wanted to slug him on the shoulder, which had been my usual recourse, but there was seemingly an awkwardness hanging between us. I doubt he felt it, since he had no memories of the way it used to be, but to me it was stifling.

So I changed the subject. I looked away, as if thinking, and asked, "How old am I?"

He shrugged. "You look about seventeen, eighteen, same as me I'd think."

I nodded, turning back to look out the window. Nothing in the corridor. "When--"

"Just wait, it'll be coming," he said.

I bit my lip, letting the silence drag out as we both stared at the little piece of Plexiglas."So... you don't remember anything?" I asked.

He was already shaking his head. "Nothing specific. I mean, I can still remember my life before, but there are no names attached to it. I don't know what you can remember, but I know that it snows sometimes, that it gets hot in the summer and cold in the winter, that the leaves turn red and fall off in the autumn. I just can't remember any people. I know they've existed, but I can't- bloody- remember anything about them! Their faces are blurred, their names gone." He was angry, words coming out in sharp tense outbursts.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, and he stilled, turning to look at me. 

"Did you--"

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, not looking at him.

"Why?"

"Well, if you're feeling anything like I'm feeling, it must be hell," I said.

He looked up. "People assume since I'm their leader, I've got it together. That I must be able to deal with it. But... that's not always true."

I sighed, and reaching out, gently punched him on the arm, and when he looked over, smiled slightly. "If you ever need to talk..."

He looked at me oddly. "You're a strange one, Greenie."

"Well," I looked down and told the truth. "Listening to other people's problems is a lot easier than thinking about my own."

He nodded. "That's true. But sometimes you need to talk about yourself, too. So if you ever need to talk..." he reached out and punched me on the shoulder back.

I felt my cheeks warm and hurriedly looked back at the window, just in time to see the Griever slide past. I froze, as if I was in danger and any movement would end my fragile life. "What is that?" I breathed.

"It's a Griever," he said. "Nasty buggers. They'll either kill you or sting you. If you get stung, you go through the Changing. Bloody awful, it is, but you survive. Now you see why you don't go out there, right?"

"Why don't they come into here when the Doors open, during the day?" I asked.

"We don't know..." he said. "Sometimes they would roam the Maze during the day. That's why all these klunk-headed babies are too scared to run out there any more."

I swallowed and nodded as it slurped past. I never understood why WICKED chose Grievers to patrol the Maze, and not some other form of monster.

The silence stretched out for a long moment, and then I had to ask another question. Probing, trying to gauge how much he knew.

"So... it never comes back? The memories?"

He sighed and turned back towards the Glade. "No. Sometimes you get dreams, if you're lucky, but they all slip away in the morning." He hesitated for a long moment, deciding whether or not to say something, then blurted, "I remember--I remember one little thing. Maybe not a face or a name, but a feeling. And a girl. There was a girl."

A bubble of hope rose inside of me as I stared at him. 

"I don't know who she was, but she existed at one point in time." He suddenly started walking at a brisk pace, and I hurried along to keep up. "It doesn't bloody matter though. She's probably dead by now or something. How would I know? She might've lost her memory like me. And even if she hadn't, even if she was alive and well, I don't know her anymore. If she... you know, liked me back, how awful would it be for her to see the person she loved not even know her, or know her name? So honestly, I hope I never find her. Because I wouldn't want to put her through that. We're so preoccupied by the hell on this side of the bloody memory wipe that we don't even imagine what it must be like for the people on the other side."

I was glad his legs were longer than mine, because he strode ahead, limp suddenly pronounced, and didn't see me wipe the tears from my eyes.