Maze Runner - Oneshots and Imagines

Alive - Gally | Death Cure

She had the guard down in less than a second. Even though she couldn't remember why she knew how to fight, it had come in handy various times already. The gun clicked as she cocked it, she ripped the mask away from the drivers face and pointed the weapon it at his head. 

Newt and Fry in the back of the van had kept quiet for the past few minutes, only moving to follow her barked commands. Why none of the guards had shot them until now was a miracle to her. 

"Where are we going?", she addressed the driver through gritted teeth. The pistole close to his temple, he had no other choice but to do what she said. 

"To Lawrence", he retorted. For a second, she frowned. She would've bet her ass this was some operation WCKD had started. Who the shuck was Lawrence? "Are you bringing the others there?", she asked. The others - Thomas, Brenda and Jorge, those who were left. The stranger only nodded. She thought for a moment. "Fine. Keep driving. No tricks, or I'll shoot." 

Ten more minutes, she counted, and the guard stopped the car in some old parking ramp. She motioned for Fry to get over, pressed the gun into his hand without removing it from the guy's head, and collected another two from the ground of the van. She handed one to Newt, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Whatever was out there, her friends would be here, and it would be worth fighting. 

But no fight was waiting for her. Thomas, Brenda and Jorge were standing in the open area, and the girl relaxed at the sight of them all in one piece. When Frypan stepped out of the van, his gun still remaining at the driver's head, some of the other guards pointed their weapons at them, obviously debating whether Fry would actually shoot him. 

"We're not doing anything as long as you don't do anything", the girl promised, but she herself cocked her gun and scanned the room. 

"Calm down", she heard another guard say. She turned to face him as he stepped from the side into the middle of the circle the strangers had tried to form. "We're on the same side here." 

"Same side?", she spat. "Who the hell are you?"

There was a familiarity in his movements and the way he spoke that she couldn't quite place. A pause. She didn't allow her gaze anywhere else than on the guy, her focus not shifting once as he stared back at her through his mask. 

And then he removed it. 

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. 

Gally. But she had seen him die. She had watched the way Minho's spear went through his chest, how he fell down onto the ground. She remembered how she screamed, remembered how she thrust her body against the glass keeping her from him, how she kicked multiple WCKD guards unconscious, how she did anything just to reach his lifeless body only to be taken away seconds later. 

That was the moment her life had taken a turn. The moment her friends had realised that she was still alive. And the moment that the most important person in her life had died.

"Hey Greenie." The boy was looking straight at Thomas, not even gazing at her. But it was her throat that became sore, her stomach that felt like being kicked, her mouth that opened before Thomas could even react.  

"Gally?", she whispered hoarsely. Memory struck her for a heartbeat. The boy she'd once loved so dearly - the boy she had been taken from. This wasn't him. It was another one of WCKD's tricks. 

Her gun was up in no time, pointed right at his heart. But he'd reacted the same. The gun he'd carried until a second ago was in his hands, cocked and ready to shoot. 

"Who are you?", she demanded. "Who are you?", he retorted. 

If this was WCKD's idea of revenge, playing some sick mind-game with her, she would show them what real revenge looked like. She would kill them all. Every one of them that had something to do with this - she'd seek them out one by one and give them a taste of their own medicine. 

"You're not him", she said. "You're not real. He's dead." 

But the boy snorted. "I think I could tell if I was", he snapped. If it hadn't been for this strange situation, maybe she would've even laughed at that. "But you're supposed to be."

She was indeed - and she would've. But WCKD wouldn't just let her die. No, they had to keep the myth alive that no one survived a night in the maze without killing her. She was Subject A3, the key after all, what would they do without her? 

"Who are you?", she repeated. She was looking the guy straight into the eyes. He looked like Gally. A version of Gally that was older, older not only because of age, but experience. A grown Gally. A broken Gally. 

"Who are you?", the boy asked, the same intensity in his voice. She groaned, realising there was no way he would tell her about himself before she told him about herself. "(Y/n)", she said. Her voice was steady, confident even. But she felt stupid for having to introduce herself. She wanted WCKD to get as less information as possible while getting the most herself. 

"You're not", the Gally-wannabe shut her down. She inhaled sharply. "My (Y/n) died in the maze years ago. We found her bloodied shirt, we heard her scream and the Grievers that killed her." 

The desperation in his voice almost let her tremble. There was so much suppressed rage and sadness, and the tired sound would've broken her if this had actually been Gally. But she knew it wasn't, it was a trap - and this only angered her more and more. 

Instead of responding to his well acted words, she tilted her head and repeated her own question a third time - Who are you?

"Gally." 

She lifted her chin, her fingers tensing around the trigger. "Well my Gally was killed by a spear, died in front of my own eyes. He wasn't breathing anymore when I got to him."

For a second, the two fighters stared into each others eyes without saying anything. Even from this distance, she could read the determination on the boy's face. There was no sign of a lie. Pure honesty - or a damn good act. But, could this be happening? If she was alive - alive while everyone had thought she was dead, could it be possible that somehow, some strange, twisted way, Gally had survived? No, she wanted to chant in her head. No, this couldn't happen. This was impossible. But there he stood. Didn't he? He had grown, but he looked exactly like her Gally. The Gally she had loved and cared for so much. Staring at his face, into his eyes as he stared right back made her think that maybe, just maybe, there was a small possibility that this was not a trick. 

Suddenly, something in his expression changed. "You always told everyone your favorite color is black. You thought that was appropriate - it stood for the night and darkness. But actually, it's pink. You were too embarrassed to admit that to anyone else but me."

It took her a moment to realise what he'd said. Then she tensed. 

"You used to draw me in that notebook WCKD sent up the box. Never told anyone how talented you were, but all of our memories were captured on the pages. I thought I looked beautiful when you drew me and you told me I was more beautiful than your drawings could ever be", she said. 

There was a moment of silence. Unbearable happiness rushed through the girls veins, anticipation, relief - so many emotions she couldn't understand, so many emotions at once that they became too much, and tears started forming in her eyes. In a heartbeat the girl had thrown her gun onto the ground and Gally followed her example. A sob left her mouth as she sprinted towards him, cheeks glistening with wetness, and she jumped and wrapped her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck while he caught her easily and embraced her. 

It felt like home. Just as it had back in the Glade.