Here it is! The sequel to Within! If you haven't read the first story you can find it on my profile. You don't have to read it necessarily, but to know the character a little better I would advise it.

I know it doesn't seem like much but Im actually pretty proud of myself for sticking with this story for so long and actually continuing it. There have been moments where I've been completely unmotivated to write or just can't find the words to form the story I want to, but I'm so excited to see where Cleo goes and I hope you guys are too!

So, as always thanks for checking my story out, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following. You guys are so very lovely! Enjoy! Xx

It wasn't what she excepted when they told the remaining teens they were going home. The large facility, standing alone in the middle of the barren wasteland seemed anything but homely. Her body ached, reminding her just how long they had been cramped in the back of the helicopter, leaning against one another. A few of them were still sleeping, but she hadn't been as lucky. She hadn't slept long before nightmares snaked their way into her mind, forcing her awake. She sat in silence for the remainder of the trip, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from her. She had watched the sunset, the heat still radiating inside the small metal box they were seated in. She was more than thrilled when they announced their landing.

"Newt," She shook the boy on her left, careful not to startle him too bad, "We're here."

He yawned in response, turning to examine their surroundings. The door was opened and she was forced into the humid night air before she had a chance to wake Thomas, who had been using her shoulder as a pillow. The sand beneath her feet was hot even through her shoes and the air cut at her skin. She didn't fight the man that placed a hand on her back, guiding her towards the large building. She didn't have the energy. Teresa was on her right; they looked at one another briefly before a voice echoed over the wind.

"Cranks! We got Cranks!"

Cleo could barely make out what she assumed were humans coming over the mountain ridges behind them. They ran with uncalculated steps, stumbling over themselves. Something about them was off putting even though she couldn't see them entirely. The men around them starting firing their guns, dropping the advancing Cranks. She was shoved towards the building with more urgency and soon enough she was running, slipping in the sand before her feet hit a platform and she stumbled inside. Her friends surrounded her, just as confused as she was. Thomas was the last to enter, just before the door closed, blocking out the sounds of gunfire.

They turned and looked at the large room around them. It was a warehouse of sorts, people working on a million different things, completely unfazed by the new arrivals. They stepped closer together, Cleo's hand finding Thomas's as a group of men approached.

"This way." One instructed, and slowly, they followed after him.

They were placed in a room, turning to object with the men that slammed the door behind them. It was Frypan that got them to shut up, pointing out the array of food. Cleo's stomach growled, mouth watering at the sight of the steaming meal. She stepped around Frypan, the first to reach the table and took a large bite out of whatever was in the first bowl. The moan that escaped her mouth was enough for the others to rush the table. They crowded around it, not bothering to sit down, and began shoveling food onto plates. Minho drank straight from the pitcher in front of him, passing it on to Cleo who waited impatiently. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips as Teresa tossed a piece of bread towards Newt. He was momentarily appalled before tossing scraps from his own plate. This began a short food fight, earning genuine laughs from the teens before they got their fill. They settled around the room, taking a moment to actually relax. Cleo leaned back on her elbows, legs bent over Thomas's like a tent of sorts. She hid a yawn with the back of her hand, listening to the others talk quietly. The door opening made them all jump their feet.

A man in his late thirties, early forties was standing in the door way. He smiled at them with what Cleo figured was supposed to be kindness but she wasn't going to get her hopes up. She stood silently beside Teresa, eyeing the man with distrust.

"You kids doing all right?" He asked, getting no response from the teens in front of him, "Sorry about all the fuss. We had ourselves a bit of a swarm."

"Who are you?" Thomas interjected. His shoulders were tense. He didn't trust the man either.

The man's smile never faltered, only grew slightly, "I'm the reason you're all still alive. It's my intention to keep you that way. Now, come with me. We'll get you kids squared away."

He disappeared around the doorway, giving the teens a moment to look at one another. Cleo gave Thomas a nod, reminding him that they were following him now, and he stepped forward.

"You can call me, Mr. Jansen. I run this place," They were taken through the warehouse once again, dodging sparks and power lines, "For us it is a sanctuary, safe from the horrors of the outside world. You should all think of it as a way station. Kind of a home between homes."

Minho and Cleo raised an eyebrow at one another. By the looks of it, no one believed the man. Which, in the long run, might help them. But for now, they would keep their mouths shut, see where things went. Maybe they were wrong.

"That means you're taking us home?" Thomas inquired.

Jansen looked back at him, the same shit-eating grin on his face, "A home of sorts. Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you. A refuge, outside the Scorch, where Wicked will never find you again."

Again, Minho and Cleo exchanged a look. This one held a tinge of disbelief. After all they had been through, it was hard to believe they were completely safe. At least for now.

"Why are you helping us?" Cleo questioned as Jansen stopped in front of another door.

His eyes flickered to her and she felt immediately uncomfortable, moving to shield herself somewhat behind Thomas's shoulder.

"Let's just say the world out there is in a rather precarious situation. We're all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that kids can survive the Flare virus," His eyes never moved from her, "Makes you the best chance of humanity's continued survival. Unfortunately, it also makes you a target as no doubt by now you've noticed."

Cleo scoffed, looking away from their tour guide. Teresa nudged her shoulder, a silent 'be nice' and she rolled her eyes. There was no way in hell she'd trust this guy. Or this place.

Jansen didn't seem to notice her amusement in the entire thing, and if he did, he had chosen to ignore it. Swiping a card into the small box at his hip, the door behind him slid open.

"First things first. Let's do something about that smell."

They were led down long white hallways, almost never ending. Teresa and Cleo were directed to the right, while the boys were directed left. Once separated, the girls followed a woman not much older than them into the bathroom. They were met with the strong scent of something floral, familiar but hard to put a finger on. Both were given a change of clothes, a bar of soap and a small tube of shampoo.

"If you need anything I'll be just outside." The woman gave them a smile, ducked her head and disappeared back outside.

Exchanging a look, the girls began peeling off their dirty clothes, stepping into their respective showers. The warm water was enough to make Cleo cry and she wanted to drown herself in it. She took her time scrubbing at her skin, rising the dirt and blood from underneath her fingernails. Washing her hair felt the best. She lathed her head up with the floral smelling shampoo, taking longer than necessary to massage her scalp. As the soap ran down her shoulders and to the ground she took a deep breath. She had been able to wash the last few days off her body even if she couldn't wash it from her mind.

Teresa was already dressed when she shut off her water, wrapping the plush towel around her body and stepping into the room.

"You should have someone look at your ankle when you get a chance." The brunette commented, pointing at said ankle.

Cleo looked down, finally getting a good look at the bruised skin. It was still swollen. She scrunched up her nose in disgust and plopped herself down on the bench in the middle of the room.

"It's just a sprain. I just need to ice it for a bit. I'll be fine."

Teresa gave her a pointed look, ringing the rest of the water out of her hair, "You can relax now, Cleo. We're safe."

"For now." The blonde mumbled back.

Teresa didn't respond, turning to fix her hair in the mirror behind her while Cleo got dressed again. After a few minutes, the woman returned, smiling when she saw both girls were ready. With a wave of her hand, she guided them out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The boys weren't around, either still inside or already at the next destination.

The two girls were separated once they reached the medical ward, though Cleo could still see her friend across the room. Behind the blue curtain separating them she could hear Newt on her right and Thomas on her left. Minho was situated catty-corner from her, running at a steady pace on a treadmill. Wires were hooked to his arms and up under his shirt on his chest, monitoring him as he ran. He gave Cleo a grin when he saw her staring and she tried to mimic the gesture. The needle in her arm was really putting a damper on her already bad mood. She had watched the man stick it underneath her skin, which had been the setting off point. If she hadn't seen him do it, she wouldn't even notice it was there. But she had, and she could definitely feel the cold needle just below her skin, pumping in all the nutrients she had been deprived of for the last three years.

"All done." The man was cheery. Around the same age as Jansen, but his smile felt genuine. He gave her a small pat on the leg and twisted around in his chair towards the clip board on the counter behind him.

He scanned over the paperwork and turned back to her, "So I heard from a little bird, that you've got an injured ankle."

Cleo's eyes glanced from him to Teresa across from her. The brunette gave her a mischievous look before a female doctor closed the curtains around her.

Her leg was lifted, propped up so that she was leaning back. She stared at the ceiling above her, fluorescent lights irritating her eyes. The doctor had moved his chair to sit at her feet, examining the bruised area as tenderly as he could. Each time Cleo hissed in pain, he would pull away sharply and apologize. Finally, he moved away, rising her back into the sitting position.

"It is just a simple sprain." Cleo smirked to herself, silently sending a I told you so Teresa's way, "We will need to have you rest it for a bit, put some ice on it. Okay?"

Cleo nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable seat. Her friends had long since left and she was growing antsy. Even Teresa had been escorted out. She was alone, with a room full of strangers.

"Jameson," The woman that had previously been with Teresa appeared around the curtain, wearing a large smile, genuine but still untrustworthy, "Cleo. I'm Dr. Crawford," She reached out to shake the young girl's hand, "We're going to move you to a more comfortable place, give your ankle some time to rest."

"What about my friends? Where are they?"

Dr. Crawford's smile remained and she helped lift the girl from the chair, "You will see them again shortly. First, how about a couple pain killers for your ankle, hm?"