[2] Remember Me ➝ The Maze Runner ✓

*Grief Serum*

*Grief Serum*

We emerged into the Homestead and sprinted up the stairs, directly behind Thomas, and almost collided with Newt as he exited the room in which Azela lay.

"Woah, watch where you're going," he exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

I gulped and avoided his gaze, though I felt his on my neck. My cheeks flushed, and I pushed past Thomas and Newt to stumble into the room. Jeff was clutching a syringe, and he quickly injected Azela with a sickly green substance.

"What's that?" I inquired, moving to stand on the opposite side of the Med-jack.

"We call it the grief serum," he stated, dabbing Azela's gleaming head with a damp cloth.

Sudden memories of Newt doing exactly the same to me flashed through my thoughts, and I clenched my jaw.

He doesn't remember you, Rowan. Maybe those memories aren't even real.

There was a knock at the door, and it gingerly swung up to admit Axel. I smiled briefly at him.

"Here, I'll take over," I offered, gesturing toward the damp cloth.

Jeff stared at me for a brief second, before shrugging and handing me the towel. He smiled and excused himself from the room.

The door clicked shut, and Axel slumped on a chair in the corner.

"Where's Soldier and Kyle?" I asked, absent-mindedly dabbing Azela's face.

"Getting something to eat," he mumbled, sighing in the process.

I nodded and continued my duties, remembering my job as a Med-jack. Then my thoughts turned to Glenn, and I once again found myself wandering what had become of him.

WICKED's little spy.

WICKED's little puppet.

My jaw clenched, anger simmering through my shoulders, at the thought of him.

"Let me take over," Axel suddenly suggested, and I suddenly heeded him stood beside me.

I faltered, then nodded.

"Look, Rowan. I think you should talk to Newt; tell him what's going on. Maybe he'll be able to understand you more."

I stared at him for a prolonged moment, somewhat startled by his suggestion. Would Newt really believe me?

I averted my gaze, releasing a shuddering breath. "I suppose you're right," I murmured, trying to convince myself it was the right idea.

And don't forget, he whispered in my mind. I'm right here. He tapped his forehead with a smirk, and I suddenly turned and left the room. Everything he'd suggested seemed reasonable; and what harm was there in trying to explain the truth. Right?

Staring at the floor, deep in thought, I didn't notice the silhouette turning the corner of the Homestead, until I collided straight into them.

My hip brushed roughly past something and I stumbled forward, only to have a hand swing round my waist to stop me tumbling to the ground.

I glanced up in surprise and found myself staring into the startled brown eyes of Thomas.

My cheeks flushed as I realised he was still holding my waist, and he instantly dropped his hand in embarrassment.

"Uh, sorry," I murmured, training my gaze on the floor.

He chuckled nervously, offering me a sheepish smile. "It's alright. You know where you're going?"

I nodded silently.

We both stood, immersed in awkward silence, until Minho suddenly bustled around the corner.

"Ah, there you are, shank," he exclaimed. Then a look of realization crossed his face. "Oooooooh," he whistled with a smirk. "I see what's going on here..."

He suddenly began to back away, a mischievous glint in his eye, but Thomas sighed exasperatedly. "No, you really don't," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"I'd better go," I stated quietly, pushing past a smirking Minho, but then pausing.

"Hey, d'you know where Newt is?"

Minho shrugged. "Probably making out with Alyssa."

My heart plummeted into my stomach. My words lodged in my throat. What?!