Author's notes:

Usually, I don't like to alter the original but Dashner left me no chance.

The origin of the name for my original character is revealed at the end of the chapter. This fanfiction is strictly told from the OC's POV. She has weaknesses, we learn about them later.

And of course Newt is not dead. I mean… geez, people… this is 'Wckd' we are talking about. Thomas pulled the trigger, but he didn't check on Newt. There is enough space for evil plotting.

I'm not a native speaker, I'm working on my English… hints on notorious mistakes are always welcome.

Since this is a Mara Amber fanfic, you'll have to endure Nick Cave's lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. Sorry.

One last point: I didn't read other fanfiction of 'Maze Runner', it distracts me while writing. I'll read them when I'm finished and I hope that you can recommend me some good Newt/OC-fanfiction.

DECEPTION

Chapter one: The Recognition

Well I've been bound and gagged and I've been terrorized
And I've been castrated and I've been lobotomized
But never has my tormentor come in such a cunning disguise

I let love in

(from: 'I let love in' by Nick Cave)

The constant rattling and clattering was hurting her ear, it was far too loud.

In addition her side was hurting, she felt the imprint of the hard underground. It was some kind of a grate she was lying on. With caution she tried to move her legs, they didn't respond to her commands.

She tried to open her eyes and at first it didn't work. Don't panic, she told herself. Panic was a bad advisor, blocking your mind. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that everything would be alright if she kept calm. Analyse the situation, she reminded herself.

With all her concentration left, she tried it a second time and forced her eyes to open. Though it was almost dark, she realised that she was in a cage. From the silhouettes that passed by she concluded that she moved upwards, her stomach confirmed the impression.

There was a white chest right in front of her eyes with a red cross on it. As if it was placed here to be the first thing she saw when opening her eyes. Like an anchor for her memory that appeared right before her eyes.

'He failed.'

A pain, a cold grip on her heart. Something terrible had happened.

She wouldn't accept it. An hard argument with a girl betraying her name. She knew that she was the one who had to go.

But why? What was it that she had wanted to do so badly? And why didn't anyone in the memory have a face? The panic came back, she felt it rising. What had happened to her memory?

She tried to keep a hold on the memory, but her headache got stronger the harder she tried. Maybe she should try something different.

Another deep breath. Keep calm, panic won't get you anywhere, she told herself. Like a mantra she kept repeating it until it showed an effect.

Once again she tested her arms and legs, she still didn't have the full control over her body, but it was way better than just a moment ago. Accepting that she had to wait a little longer, she closed her eyes. Collecting as much strength as possible could prove useful. If there was only a way to shut out this unnerving noise.

An eternity later she noticed that the box was getting slower. Was the end of her torture near? Or would another torture wait for her? All of a sudden the ride came to an abrupt stop and it was silent.

That meant that things developed, it would show if it was for the better or the worse. At least she wouldn't be here for an eternity.

No, it was not silent, there were voices. Confusing voices, so many of them, talking at the same time.

There was a rattling and with a loud clash something metallic hit a ground.

After all the time enduring the loud clattering, the voices were like whispers. A humming in her ear made it impossible to distinct the words.

Someone called for light and only a few seconds later, a glare, noticeable even through her closed eyes, shone on her.

Only one voice was louder than the others, exclaiming: "It is a girl."

"A girl?" a choir replied. The voices became louder and exited while she heard a shuffling as if the bodies belonging to the voices moved.

With the time the humming subsided and she could follow their debate.

"She is dead." "No, she isn't." "Klunk." "Maybe she is still alive." "Unconscious." "She is dead." "No, she is still breathing." "Is she good-looking?"

"We must get her out."

"Get some ropes."

"We'll go down."

No, it wasn't a debate, it was a bunch of assumptions they were expressing. No one was listening to anyone and no one was answering. Only the last statements were clearly distinguishable after the general excitement.

If they discussed that she was dead, playing possum was an option. Before she confronted them, she wanted to be sure that she had the full control back. Her condition had constantly improved over the last minutes.

After two loud thuds the whole construction was jiggling, two of them had landed in the box and immediately started to fix some ropes around her.

They worked in silence, fast and it felt as if they had done this several times before.

Until the one securing her arms stopped and said "There is something written on her right forearm."

A writing on her right arm? It must have happened after she had been drugged. Only a drug could induce such a condition she was in. The writing could be of importance, especially since it couldn't be hers. She'd deal with it it later, there were more urgent tasks at hand. Causing a confusion just by being a girl couldn't mean anything positive.

"Let us get her out first. Heave ho!" The other one answered and with a jerk they started to pull her up.

She used the time they heaved her to check her muscles one last time. One after the other. At first the right arm, followed by the left arm. Both of them were working. As well as the muscles in her legs. The only problem left was her headache, which got stronger once she forced herself to remember.

They paid attention while placing her on the ground, which was way softer than the bottom of the box. It was damp and cold, it felt like morning dew on grass. Much to her relieve, they removed the ropes immediately. Probably they wouldn't have done it, if they knew her, it occurred to her.

From the directions of the murmuring she could tell that they had formed a circle around her and came closer.

Again, she could distinct several sentences. "She's hot." "She's a scorcher."

Great, just the first thing you wanted to hear, having been drugged, lost your memory and waking up in a box, she gave a résumé. The gathered crowed grew more anxious until one with an authoritative voice called for order.

"Stop it. And stay clear." The person belonging to the voice kneeled beside her and picked up her wrist.

"She is still alive. There is pulse, but it is weak." He announced and there was a common gasp of relief.

"Would have been a real waste otherwise." One commented. She made a mental note of the voice, he needed a serious check.

The kneeling one turned her arm and said. "The writing reads: Subject, the following B is crossed out, then A0. Backup – The balancer."

Another commotion awoke.

Subject A0? Backup? The balancer? That was cryptic. The words didn't mean anything for her, but they rang a bell.

*A girl with blond hair, she understood her, wanted to support her. She wrenched a promise from her. This message was important . *

But what could it mean? The more she thought about the meaning, the more it slipped through her fingers. Still, this riddle didn't have priority one. She would think about it later, trying to force it didn't appear to be helpful anyway, it only caused headache.

But the riddle occupied the ones around her. "What does this mean?" "The balancer?" "Why did she write this?" "Subject A0?" "A message of the creators?" The bystanders were as clueless as she was.

The only intelligent person appeared to be the one kneeling beside her. He placed her hand back and called a second time for order before he gave his opinion. "She hasn't written it by herself."

"And why not, Braniac." One demanded to know.

"The writing is on her right arm. She is right-handed." He answered as if he was shirty stating the obvious.

"How come you know that, visionary?" A rather aggravating voice demanded to know.

Another one answered this time, as if explaining it to a little child. "The knife is secured to her right thigh, moron. When being left-handed, that would be rather unhandy."

"She could be a both-hander." Someone else suggested.

"Still the letters are too neat."

Didn't they have more urgent problems than her handedness? She wondered.

"The medjacks should look after her. Bring her to the homestead." Finally someone with some sense left said something helpful.

Shuffling once more, and this was her chance.

In the split second she was sitting upright, only to notice that it was around dawn. Her sudden movement had the expected effect: they gasped and moved a step backward.

The one kneeling beside her was still close enough, within her reach. A mistake. Without any warning, she went all-out and rammed her elbow against his chest. It took her two jumps. One over the boy, struggling for breath, one pushing two of the open-mouthed boys aside and she was free. Almost. Where should she go?

In a quick check she noticed that she was surrounded by gigantic, smooth rocks. Odd was the perfect square they were forming, to her they appeared artificial. There was a house, there was a garden, there were compounds. The best chance of escape offered the little forest at the right side. Maybe she could hide in the underwood to get away. She wasn't a good runner, but she had a head-start and started to run.

That tore them out of their stupor, she heard them calling and following her. Well, some of them were fast. She had trouble to keep her head start, they were high on her heels. Still, she didn't pay attention what they were shouting, all she wanted was to get away.

Reaching the forest line, she realised that she wouldn't get away. One was so close, that she could feel his breath in her neck. She had to fight.

Just in this second, he reached out, grabbed her shirt and sent her to the ground. He couldn't control his full speed run and stumbled across her, landing on the ground as well. Most of the others had reached them already, it was now or never.

In a knee-jerk reaction, she drew her dagger, twisted the stumbled boys arm and drew him up with her, holding the dagger at his throat. It felt like she had done that a thousand times before, though she had no idea when and where she had trained it. Anyway, she couldn't care less, because that move impressed and all of them stepped backwards.

But what should she do? She didn't have a clue, she had been focussed on escaping. Where was she?

An awkward silence aroused while they were staring at each other. The boy she held captured tried to move, but her grip was tight and with a twisted arm he didn't have much choice.

What should she do now? Feverishly she tried to think, but her mind was black. She had no idea, so they continued to stare at each other and she analysed the situation. There were around 40 boys, and when she said boys, she meant boys. She was the only girl around. Neither one of the faces looked familiar nor did it ring a bell. Their clothes were worn-out and dirty, their overall appearance neglected as if they had more important tasks at hand.

Finally, someone pushed his way through the gathering. When the last boys stepped aside, he made a few steps in front of the others.

"Welcome to the glade, greenie." He said and she didn't trust her ears.

Did he really say 'Welcome to the glade, greenie.'? Or did her ears fool herself? He must see the distrust inside her eyes and made a calming gesture.

"Where am I?" She tightened the grip on the boy.

"Nowhere good." The guy in the front answered and from the tone of his voice she could hear the resignation and frustration he felt. This wasn't promising at all.

"That isn't exactly a helpful answer." In a threatening gesture she moved the knife.

He made another calming gesture. "Just quieten down and relax. We don't want to harm you."

She wasn't exactly sure if he realised how incredible ridiculous that sounded. She had woken up in a pit, in a cage in addition. Had been called a 'scorcher'. Boys, not one girl. How on earth should she think that they wouldn't harm her?

Her gaze focussed at the boy in the front, he was among the oldest. Tall, muscular, red-haired. A tad over-trained in her opinion. She looked into his brown, almost black eyes.

"Name's Nick." If the situation wouldn't have been so critical, she would have laughed. She was close to getting hysterical. Abruptly everyone around looked at him, back at her, back at him. Finally they ended looking at her.

"Émilie. Je m'appelle Émilie." Where did that come from? Did she speak French? She remembered her name, but she couldn't recall much more else. As a result they looked at her as if she were an alien. What most probably hit the nail on the head from the boy's POV. Being a girl and speaking French.

Nick must have noticed the puzzled look on her face and made another soothing move. "We all have been in this situation. We all have arrived the way you did."

And they were still here, what a great perspective. She checked them once again. They were approximately between 12 and 17 years old.

"Name's Alex." He pointed on the boy she held captive.

Holding him captive seemed to make no sense anymore. Nick had a soothing effect on her and they appeared to be prisoners as well as she was. Without really noticing it, she lowered her knife and loosened her grip. Alex seized his chance and stepped beside Nick.

"Which keeper's going to get her?" One wanted to know and by the discussions arousing, she concluded that this was an important matter.

"No one's gonna get me!" She interjected, almost shouting. To emphasize her words, she pointed with her knife in the brief direction from where the voice came. It had the effect that they died away.

"Well, that's not like it sounded." Nick tried to explain.

What had happened? Why was she where she was? WHO was she? What about her identity? For most of her questions they wouldn't have answers.

"I can't remember anything." was all she could think of.

"She has a strange accent." They started to whisper among each other. "Where does she come from?" "What is she doing here?"

"That's enough." Nick called for order once again, not very successfully this time. Turning back to her, he continued. "We have all gone through this. It'll take one or two days and you'll feel better."

What an inspiring idea, that made her day. Maybe there was at least one question they could answer this time. "Where am I? I mean, what about this place."

Nick stepped closer and patted her shoulder. "On the glade, we call ourselves the gladers. Come on, I'll show you around. It is still early in the morning."

With a slight pressure he directed her out of the forest while shooing the bystanders "Back to daily routine."

Though they grumbled and grumped, they obeyed and toddled of. He must have earned a lot of respect and authority since she seemed to be the sensation of the day.

"Now", he grabbed her arm when the last ones had left. "What does this mean?"

She looked him straight in the eye and didn't flinch a bit, he had to believe her. "I don't know."

"Listen closely. You are the first girl arriving here after one years. You are armed and have a message written on your arm." He spoke every word of the next sentence articulately, he was deadly serious. "There HAS to be something behind it."

His whole body language told her that she would live to rue it if she lied. "I wish I'd know it myself."

Obviously, much to her surprise, he believed her. With the most shirty expression he turned. "Come on, let's get started." He must have done this many, many times before. His warm, deep voice was like a monotone monologue she couldn't and wouldn't interrupt. The effect was too smoothing.

They started their way around and soon she realised how incredible ridiculous her idea of escaping had been. The compound was completely surrounded by walls, too high and too smooth to climb. There were four gates which opened with an earpiercing noise just the moment they started their guided tour and Nick mentioned the maze and dangers lying behind them. Not that she had the ambition to examine it any time soon. First of all she had to adapt to the situation before she tried anything. The doors closed every evening at the same time, he added.

Great, she was trapped in a giant test laboratory and she was the guinea pig. Maybe they should have put her in the maze as the prize the gladers had to find. Should have doubled the motivation. Something with the experimental set-up was definitely off.

Everything one needed to survive was there. There was a supply coming weekly and every month accompanied by a newbie. This time she was the newbie, the first girl and even armed. While he explained her all this, he started to introduced to her the others.

First of all, she met the boy she had knocked out.

"Name's Past." He introduced himself.

He was taking it far less seriously than she had feared. He appeared to be a very gentle and sympathetic guy. In his eyes reflected his intent and attentive mind, he was tall and lean. In summary: he was her type and she felt awfully sorry that she had hurt him.

By the stare he sent her when they greeted each other appropriately, she knew that she had been forgiven already. How long on earth hadn't they seen a girl? Not to mention one with female attraction .

"Hi, name's Émilie." She greeted while inspecting him. As he had taken of his shirt, she could see the red spot where her elbow had hit him. Surely it would turn blue the next day. In addition he had nasty laceration on the back of his head, he must have hit a stone falling backwards.

Émilie felt even worse. Contritely, she looked directly at him. His eyes were of an incredible blue, she couldn't avert her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to harm you. I was scared waking up, not knowing where I was. I didn't mean it personally."

"No offence. It has stopped bleeding already." He turned and showed her the wound.

She bit her lip and rose on her toes to have a better look. The cut was rather long and dehisced. "It looks like it has to be stitched."

"Yeah, emergency is just around the next corner." Nick said.

"No, she is standing right in front of you." Émilie didn't know where it came from, and both of them stared at her.

"Explain." Nick demanded.

"There is a white box with a red cross on it, it came with me. And I know how to treat it."

"The tour is ended." Nick grabbed Émilie`'s wrist. "Past, get Alex, bring the white box over to the homestead."

Nick headed towards a come-down house, dragging Émilie behind him while she protested. "Hey, what's all of a sudden?"

He stopped so abruptly, that she almost bumped into him. "If you think you can fix this", he pointed vaguely in the direction Past went. "Then I know why you are here."

He was like a drowning man clutching at a straw. All of a sudden, the routine, resignation and slight huffiness had made place for an agitation she hadn't noticed in him before.

Well, he must have a reason for his doing, Émilie thought and followed him without further protest.

He hurried to the skew-whiff dump he had called 'homestead' in a moment of megalomania. Émilie decided that he either needed glasses or a serious reality check. He was already ahead of her and she had to sprint to close up to him.

Unconventional he opened the door by kicking it in, it dangled dangerously in its hinges and for a second Émilie thought the construction wouldn't withstand the force he had used. He didn't hesitate for a second and headed to the first door to the right.

When he opened the door, he remained in the entrance and Émilie had to stand on her tiptoes to sneak a peak of the room. It was a small room, very light which she hadn't expected from the fragile design. On a second thought the many cracks made the small window unnecessary.

"This is one of our runners." He stepped aside and she saw a guy lying in the only bed in the room. He was lying on his back and stubbornly looking against the opposite wall, deliberately ignoring his surroundings.

His figure was oddly familiar to her, but she had only eyes for his leg. It was broken several times, in one spot she could even see the bone. The facture was still fresh and dilettante treated. If he was a runner, his career was over. There was no chance for a full recovery.

If he wanted to walk again, she had to do something about it. Though a limp would remind him till the end of his life of the accident.

"The greenie is here. Big surprise: It's a girl this time." Nick addressed him, he didn't even flinch.

He must be utterly devastated and Èmilie stepped into the room, deciding to take the initiative. "Hi, name's…"

With her first words, he turned his head. He stared wide-eyed at her and the words stuck in her mouth. She felt a coldness grabbing for her heart, she was standing right in front of an abyss. She knew him. Indeed, he was the reason she was here.

She whispered before one of them could continue. "Name's Newt."

Author's notes:

The name for my original character is picked from Émilie du Châtetet, a historic person, just couldn't resist the tempting idea. I am sure I am not the first one who came up with it. Of course she can look after herself. Newt needs someone independent who looks after him.

And well, I had several ideas, but this is the one I liked most.

Would be nice to leave a review if you like the basic idea. Concerning my English: I know, I am working on it.