Rose// Gally Maze Runner

A Search For Answers

It had been a while since the last time someone died. Newer gladers were jittery and curling in on themselves. They could hardly sit still on the benches, causing occasional scuffles of the wooden legs scraping against the creaky flooring. Those who had seen this happen before wore sullen looks and sat stiff, waiting for someone to tell them what to do next. Because that was the only way they got over things like this. Nick would recite a grandiose speech at the funeral and then he would hand them a new task, usually something the whole lot of them had to accomplish together. The last time someone died, they had reorganized the entire garden.

Nick was gone. The leaders he left behind were still processing his absence. Twenty-nine pairs of eyes were clouded with uncertainty and looking to Newt for answers. Minho was one of the last to find a seat, making sure to stop and pat Newt on the shoulder before taking a place front and center for whatever announcement Newt was about to make.

A shaky hand rubbed over his face as Newt willed himself to speak up, "I called this Gathering because we need a new leader."

Chuck was on your right and giving you a look of confusion. He had expected Newt to fill the role of Leader since he had been Second-in-Command. You all did, and that wouldn't have been a bad choice either. Newt had been in the glade for nearly three years, and he had been Second-in-Command for most of that time. He was well overqualified for the role.

Your hand gently patted Chuck's that was gripping the bench between you. His nervous energy seemed to personify itself through his constant movement. The kid was practically vibrating. You leaned in to give him a hushed reassurance, letting him know that Newt knew what he was doing. That the Glade would continue on just fine. That Nick's circumstance had nothing to do with Chuck. At all.

Chuck sniffled and nodded, letting you know he was hearing you. But did he believe you? Did he truly know how deeply you related, having gone through such a heartbreaking loss your first week in the Glade as well?

A couple of benches over, Gally was watching the two of you with a tight jaw. Working together to find Nick in the Deadheads was necessary at the time, but you were still angry he had shown the Leaders your note. Had it not been for Chuck, you would have gone right back to ignoring Gally's existence. But then he went and made that stupid wooden rose and now. . . Well, things weren't so black and white.

His little art project with Chuck happened to be identical to the soap carving you brought up in the box. It was already rare that you had come up with such a personal possession. Logically, you knew everyone must have known each other before the Glade since you all came up in the same box. So it shouldn't have been such a shock when it was confirmed that you had known Gally from your life before. Still, that rose felt like finding the centerpiece to a puzzle you gave to charity years ago.

All it really revealed was that once upon a time, Gally made you a rose out of soap. What the hell were you supposed to do with that information? Did it even matter? It must have if the mysterious T went through all the trouble to send you a note and a new bar of soap.

"I'm nominating Alby," Newt announced. "Not only is he now the one that's been in the Glade the longest, but he really stepped up when we were looking for Nick in the Maze. He's had plenty of experience enforcing the rules and isn't afraid to throw his own friends in the Slammer when they've earned it." He threw Gally a brief side eye before continuing, "We don't always agree on the best approach, but that's why I think he would make a great leader. Between the two of us, I know we'll be able to come up with the solutions that benefit everyone."

Alby's tense stance had slightly softened during Newt's nomination, but his face still remained neutral to not draw attention or sway the vote either way. Streaks from the tears that had fallen during the funeral still stained his skin, matching the look of many other gladers in the room.