AN: It's been about a month since I've finished The Death Cure and wrote this and I've finally got around to reading through it to edit and flesh it out. This is what I'm left with and I felt like uploading it – since I'm also looking to expand my writing to more fandoms that I'm in.
Disclaimer: I'm not James Dashner, I don't own The Maze Runner. If I did, there would probably have been a somewhat different ending.
Aftermath
He sat in the shade of the surrounding trees he'd found a little after they'd gone through the Flat Trans. He was leaning up against a tree, his arms folded and resting on top of his knees. He titled his head back so that it lay against the bark.
He'd snuck away from everyone else, needing some time alone.
Time to think.
Mostly he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Whether or not that was a good choice.
Upon searching the grassy line, he'd found the spot he was at and decided it was a good a place as any to sit. It reminded him a bit of what had become his favorite place back in the Glade – the tree at the edge of the Dead Heads. Despite everything that happened, he found the slightest bit of comfort in that.
Yet he couldn't help but think of the time Ben had attacked him in the trees and Alby had shoot him with that arrow – saving Thomas's life. He then thought of Ben's banishment after he'd tried to kill Thomas after going through the Changing.
He thought of his own experience of the Changing.
He thought of the grievers and knew that he would probably never get the images of those creatures out of his head. He'd probably never be able to forget anything that had happened to them while in the Glade and the Scorch.
Everything that had happened had been because of him. Because he'd agreed to work alongside WICKED and help them create the maze.
Ben.
Alby.
Chuck.
Newt.
Teresa.
Each and every death and hardship they went through was on his hands. All because of the past he couldn't remember with WICKED. His memory was still foggy in places but he did wish that he could remember what he was thinking when he agreed to this klunk.
What had caused him to be okay with this?
He closed his eyes and sighed.
Alby's face appeared in his memory, followed by Chuck, then Newt and finally Teresa.
He felt a pang of guilt from somewhere deep inside him. He opened his eyes and tried to shake his thoughts away, but it was useless. Not when everything was still so fresh in his mind.
He could still vividly see Chuck throwing himself in front of him – the younger boy risking his life to save Thomas. The adrenaline he felt when he attacked Gally – all the sorrow, pain and anger escaping him with each punch.
If you've ever been my friend, then shoot me.
Newt's word's still stung.
He could still hear the gun shot ringing through the night and the slight thud of Newt's body hitting the pavement.
The memory still unnerved him and would probably stay with him forever.
Then there was Teresa.
He hadn't even been paying attention to his surroundings; he was more concentrated on getting out of there before the Flat Trans disappeared and the building collapsed.
He faintly hurried the grinding sound of metal moving and someone shouting his name; but it didn't register until he felt someone pushing him from behind.
She had shoved him out of the way of the failing ceiling. She had willingly sacrificed herself just to save him.
He could still hear Teresa's last words echoing in his mind.
Me…too
I only ever…cared for…
He closed his eyes again for a quick moment.
He'd heard those words over and over again in his head. As much as he didn't trust Teresa towards the end, he was as confused now as he ever was. Did he really understand her?
She had risked her life to save his. She wouldn't have done that if she was untrustworthy, would she?
There was a part of him that had hung on to the hope that they could have a chance to talk after everything was over. Really talk.
Maybe he could have triggered some more of his memories of her, learned more and been less suspicious.
But that hope was crushed as quickly as it had come. And now he was stuck with constant wondering. How things could have been different or if they could have been different if something have been changed in the end.
If he and Teresa had been a second earlier…
He shook his head.
He needed to stop thinking about the what ifs and the what could have been's. They wouldn't do anything. Especially now.
Though, maybe a part of him, did regret how he treated Teresa. Maybe he should have given her a chance. Or maybe he should have just gotten his memories back when everyone else did.
He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face.
I'm sorry, Teresa.
He saw the outline of a shadow and glanced up to see Minho standing over him.
"What are you doing all alone, moping, shuck-face?"
"Thinking about all this klunk we've been through," Thomas replied. He would have been more specific, but he knew how Minho felt about Teresa and he didn't want to bring up mention of Newt.
"Yeah…all thanks to those slintheads," Minho sighed. "Can you really believe that's we're finally done with WICKED?"
"I keep thinking that somehow this is just another trial," Thomas admitted. "That WICKED just has more dangers in store for us even though it's highly unlikely. It's going to take a while to lose all the suspicion I guess."
"Good that," Minho responded. "But it'll feel good to not have to watch our backs every second anymore…Maybe we can manage here the same way we did in the glade."
Thomas nodded. "Maybe we should call a gathering, figure things out."
He saw the hint of a simile tugging at the corner of Minho's mouth. Minho motioned Thomas to come with him before he turned and walk back the way he came. After a moment, Thomas stood up and fell into step behind his friend.
He knew it would be a long while before they could back to feeling even the slightest bit of normalcy. But maybe, somehow in this place, they could find that sense of normality and do something good for the human race for once.