Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but I would like to sincerely thank all of you for getting this far and for all of your support! I genuinely can't believe that this is the last disclaimer ):

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LOCATION: PARADISE

Things weren't always easy in the years that passed.

Quickly, it became apparent that we needed to build structures in order to survive. Men and women did their part in building homes from the resources available. A few people found a seemingly endless supply of construction supplies a few miles away from the beach. It was like Paradise truly was only that— a place where everything was ideal.

Except it wasn't. Gally led the crew, personally designing and building some of the first homes. I could tell that it was hard for him to be the only Builder remaining from the twelve he had in the Glade. Sometimes his eyes would get far away as he hammered away at a roof, seeing things nobody else could.

The first two years were too busy to do much except work. It was like the Glade— everyone had a job, and everyone did their part. Few children were born during the time it took to rebuild civilization as we knew it. Those years came to be known as the Dark Years; we struggled to build, struggled to eat, struggled to survive as the world continued on around us.

It took Thomas a long while to open up again. A part of him had been left behind in the W.I.C.K.E.D complex that had burned down years ago. I supposed it was the same way for all of us; I certainly wasn't perfect. There would be nights where I couldn't force myself to sleep. Crackles of thunder reminded me of the explosions, the sand brought me back to the Scorch, being alone was completely suffocating.

Relationships changed in the years that passed. Gally became one of my closest friends as the two of us bonded while we built houses together. He taught me all I needed to know, patiently allowing me to adapt to the new change in work. I was physically strong, which definitely helped, and soon the two of us were leading projects together.

Brent practically adopted Thomas, Sonya, and I. He stepped in to be the father figure I didn't remember having, though still maintaining his strict and sarcastic personality. He wound up being a Builder as well; his immense strength proved him to be handy at lugging wood and other supplies around.

Brenda was slowly becoming more like family. It became fairly clear that she and Thomas weren't letting go of one another, and I was glad that they had each other to lean on. Watching them sometimes reminded me of Newt and what could have been. If he'd been Immune, would that have been us? Would we have stuck together all those years? I tried not to spend my days dwelling on those questions, but sometimes I couldn't help it.

Garret began writing songs again. At first, it helped him cope with the trauma he'd gone through, but then he began opening up and sharing his music with the rest of the survivors like he'd previously done in the Glade. Some of his songs brought everyone to tears— especially the remaining Gladers. But I would always be grateful for his voice; it was a reminder that good things could last during impossible times.

I wasn't exactly sure when it started to happen, but soon, I found my eye wandering along the field until I saw Minho. Gally would constantly tease me about it if it happened while we were working. But soon I realized that I couldn't stop.

It took me a long, long time to come to terms with that. I hated myself because I kept feeling that I was somehow betraying the memory of Newt even though he'd been gone for four years at that point. And it hurt even more knowing that Thomas never told Minho the truth of what happened to him. Just how I could never utter the words to Garret.

They were starting to heal. Telling them would only inflict more damage, Thomas and I agreed.

That was the worst year I had. My productivity declined, I avoided Minho as best as I could, and nothing could cheer me up. My brain tore at itself as I struggled to come to terms with what I felt. To the other Immunes, I must have seemed insane. But none of them had their memories wiped. None of them understood that liking or loving Newt was all I knew for such a large part of my life.

What if, when I get up there, I'll be attracted to, like, Minho or something. I certainly hadn't been wrong about that— the feelings had just blossomed over an extended period.

It was during that time when Thomas finally spoke the truth of what the blond boy had revealed to him during his final moments. I remembered the cracking of my chest as he struggled to repeat the words— how Newt's limp had been a result of his attempted suicide. That was how they'd known that the ivy didn't go all the way to the top. I recalled how he'd known about my existence prior to my arrival in the Glade and wondered what my role in that was.

But things got steadily better after that. I began to feel more at peace with myself as our civilization grew, as the Dark Years came to a close, as children started being born, and as hope began to break through the overbearing clouds of despair once again. The sun seemed to shine brighter than ever. Days were longer, the air always fresh and clean in my lungs.

Minho and I fell into each other fairly easily once I stopped distancing myself from him. Thomas caught on fairly quickly and teased us from time to time, causing Minho to verbally threaten to skewer him and leave him in the woods or something else of that same violent nature. But my brother would merely ignore those statements and wait for another opportunity to be annoying— as every sibling did best.

Years ago, I would never have thought that the idea of us having romantic feelings for each other was possible. We hardly ever got along as teenagers. Our personalities clashed too violently, not a few months passing until we would get into another friendship-altering argument. But as we grew and shaped into new people, it was like it was supposed to happen all along. Nobody was as close to me. Nobody understood my thoughts and decisions so well. It was like our brains were sometimes on the same wavelength.

Five years later, at the respective ages of twenty-six and twenty-five, Brenda and Thomas welcomed a beautiful baby boy into the world. They decided unanimously to name him after our curly-haired best friend in the Glade.

I would never forget the time when Brenda, my brother, Minho, and I were eating breakfast in the mess hall when Thomas had suddenly blurted, "Chuck."

Minho and I stared at him in confusion. Even after so long, my heart still struck with pain at the mention of his name. Only a very pregnant Brenda seemed to understand what he meant and replied with a simple, "Okay."

With Brenda's bronze skin and Thomas' eyes, I was certain it would be the most adorable baby I'd ever seen in my entire life.

Until, the next year, when I had a child of my own.

She was hairless at first, with Minho's heritage evident in her eyes and skin tone and my mouth and facial structure. Chuck had just celebrated his first birthday a few months prior and didn't understand the concept of people now fawning over a new baby. He didn't like that his parents were staring at the newborn, so he bopped his father on the nose hard with the side of his chubby fist and gave him a nosebleed. Then, upon seeing the blood, burst into tears.

It was a very eventful birth. Even Jorge got a bit misty-eyed.

She wasn't named yet. I stared at her for a long time, admiring her as she slept in my arms, a single thought plaguing me over and over. Minho must have detected it in the way my eyebrows were furrowed. He crossed the tiny square that served as our living room and pressed his thumb to the crease to smooth it away.

"I'm not going to object to it, you know," he said.

My eyes immediately shined with tears; I blamed the post-birth hormones.

We named our daughter Teresa.

And as the next generation of Immunes came into the world, some of the other families we'd rescued began asking us the names of the ones we'd lost. A baby Alby popped up somewhere. Rosa from Group B found a new face in a newborn girl. It had me thinking that maybe W.I.C.K.E.D was wrong— that instead of being named after famous people from the past, the tale of what we'd accomplished would be told in history long after we were gone.

W.I.C.K.E.D is good. Maybe that hadn't been true in the end, but it had led me to something that was.

THE END.

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um ??? it's over ???

warning: long rant ahead

i've spent four (!!!) years writing this trilogy. it took me that long to power through ages of writer's block, to bring this story to a close, and to say goodbye to the OC i've written about for the longest time.

to dylan,
thank you for the ride. you started out as a spur of the moment decision in 2014, a mess of clichés that i somehow fixed into a suitable plot. i will miss writing about your adventures and your amazing sibling dynamic with thomas. i'm very sorry your life kinda sucked, but you got this happy ending so i guess it's alright

to my readers,
thank you for sticking with me. i know that, at times, i was terribly inconsistent with updates (aka me taking 6 months to write chapter 7 lol) and yet you continued to follow the story until the end. i can't thank you enough for your countless comments and unending support

to my future readers,
if this has already been published and you're reading it after the series is over, hello! i hope you enjoyed the books, whether you read them in a week or over the course of several months. i truly appreciate you giving this series a chance!

also, to those who may think that minho and dylan being endgame was a half-assed attempt at me trying to make a fairytale ending: it actually wasn't. i've been carefully planning this ever since the middle of the first book— this is the same image i had for the epilogue from way back in 2015. i can give you exact moments of foreshadowing if you want concrete proof!

i've always said that dylan is her own character and doesn't exist because of newt. hopefully i was able to properly reinforce that idea in this epilogue, because it's something i think needs to be spread across every fanbase. although this was a newt fanfic, i found it essential that dylan would move on after him— it wouldn't be realistic for her to stay single from the age of 16 until the rest of her life.

also, this is the first gif of dylan smiling in a really long time. it felt good to include it (':

-kristyn

(but be prepared for a chapter of extras because i'm nostalgic trash)

PS: WANT MORE OF THE "DIFFERENT TRILOGY" CHARACTERS? Here are places to check out for more content!

— WP TikTok: stilestastic.wp (edits for my stories)

— Other TikTok: stilestastic (memes/other things related to my stories & writing — the account is private, but I will accept you!)

— Meet my OCs book: Sunshine (more details about my OCs)

— Pinterest: stilestastic