Teresa walks home to her WCKD-supplied penthouse apartment. She weaves through people rushing to get home before curfew, some wearing medical masks, some with scarves covering their mouths, some braving the city with no protection. But all are on edge. Everyone is always on edge in the city.
She dodges left and right, constantly saying "excuse me," or "sorry," but never stopping even for a moment unless she needs to wait to cross the street.
The journey takes about 20 minutes, and as she walks the final block to her building, her brain can't help but liken the journey to a maze.
And then of course her brain thinks of the other Maze she knows so well, the Maze she worked so hard on- they worked so hard on.
Thomas had been just as excited about the Maze Trials as she had. They had talked for hours about what they'd do once they finally found a cure- travelling, rebuilding, maybe even taking a few days to relax.
He had wanted the cure just as much as she did. And, at the time, she thought he was willing to do anything to find it.
But he wasn't. Quite the opposite, in fact.
So she was left to her research alone. But she wants to find a cure more than anything, even if Thomas doesn't. So she has to keep going.
She runs into a father and son in the elevator. The father has dark circles under his eyes, but he seems genuinely interested in whatever his son is babbling about.
The boy is 7, maybe a short 8, and unlike the adults that populated the world, he doesn't seem to have a care in the world.
Teresa can't help but smile, a smile that wavers ever so slightly as she remembers Chuck, and how happy and free he had been before the Maze, back when he was around this boy's age. Even in the Glade, he'd managed to keep his positive outlook.
But he had died, far too young and innocent to die such a horrific death.
And she knows that without a cure, the little boy in the elevator will die young, too. So she has to keep going.
She heats up some pre-prepared dinner WCKD keeps supplying her. She sits at an empty table and forces the fork into her mouth. She doesn't feel like eating. She never does.
The food tastes like chalk to her, so for a moment she lets herself imagine that it tastes like Frypan's stew. She thinks of hearty vegetables and tender meat, always served with a smile from Fry. It was the best part of the Glade.
She sits up straighter at this thought that had invaded her mind. No, the best part of the Glade was that it was helping to find a cure.
Because there are people on earth who would rather eat Frypan's flesh than Frypan's stew. So she has to keep going.
Some nights, Teresa doesn't even try to sleep. She stays up all night working and reviewing data over and over until she's sure her eyes will fall out. That always makes her remember her mother, and her motivation resets to 100.
Tonight she decides to go to bed immediately. She changes into pajamas and combs out her hair. Then she grabs a bottle of pills from her medicine cabinet and fishes one out.
She turns it over in her hand a few times before she gulps it down with some water. Ava Paige had given them to her, saying that it would help keep her calm and quiet some of the dark thoughts she'd been having.
She remembers how Thomas had fought to send some of these same pills up to the Glade after Newt had jumped. He'd screamed at her that Newt needed the pills, screamed until his face was red and he was in tears.
Teresa had screamed back that the pills would alter Newt's brain chemistry, and altering his brain chemistry could have serious consequences for their research, and if they wanted a cure, they had to stick to the plan.
Tears well up in her eyes at the memory. Thomas had vowed never to forgive her. Perhaps that was the beginning of the rift between them. Maybe that's part of what drove him to his betrayal.
But she squeezes her eyes shut tight, knowing that if Thomas could remember that Newt wasn't immune, he'd be fighting for a cure just as hard as she is. So she has to keep going.
She spends hours tossing and turning. Her bed is large and comfortable and state-of-the-art. All the best for WCKD's favorite researcher.
But she can't settle down. She never can.
She's haunted by thoughts of a boy who is probably also trying to sleep. But he is in a bed no better than a plank of wood, and he has metal handcuffs clamped around his wrists, and he is being drained of blood every day, barely staying alive.
She wonders if he ever thinks of his friends, or if he's too tired and weak to even formulate thoughts.
She finally lets the tears flow as she thinks of the dead look in his eyes, the zombie-like way he moved when he was able to move at all. She feels like a betrayer, even though she's only doing what she thinks is right.
She runs the back of her hand across her cheeks to clear away the tears. She hopes they find a cure soon, because if it takes too much longer, she doesn't know if she can keep going.
The thought that finally lulls her to sleep is the image of a little girl. Her eyes are bloodshot and her body throbs with thick, black veins. She screams in pain and lashes out before she's able to take back control of herself.
But taking back control is becoming more difficult for her. Teresa has only seen her get worse.
Then she thinks about the same girl, with bright brown eyes and clear skin. Her hair flows free and she's laughing. She no longer needs to worry about things like the Flare because the world has finally been cured.
She needs Teresa to find the cure. The world needs Teresa to find the cure.
So she has to keep going.