Roles Reversed
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Summary: [THOMESA] He wished that things were different, roles were reversed. Thomas wished harder every night. He knew to be careful for what he wished for, he wasn't stupid. Thomas would never know that his dream came true, because it did.
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Maze Runner Trilogy and its characters.
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Categories: Adventure, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
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A/N: Don't kill me! Please… I know this isn't the usual 'Memory Escape' chapter I post about. This is a complete brand new story I've decided to write. No this isn't about Naruto like the usual, I'm extremely pumped for the new movie 'Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials' and I'm writing this story just to get my thoughts out on . I really hope that the movie adaptation is different from the books; to be honest the trilogy lost my interest when my two favourite characters, Newt and Teresa died in the Death Cure. The prologue is written in Thomas's POV a year after the events of the Death Cure, the rest of the story is written in Teresa's POV.
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LucidClockwork
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Chapter 1
Prologue
Tonight would be like all the other nights. Paradise was quiet, everyone was quiet and had gone inside to blissfully sleep knowing that they were no longer bound to the trials WICKED had set them and that they had nothing to worry about. Each star lit night; Thomas would sleep under the twinkling stars. He wouldn't shiver in the cold or slap the mosquitoes that latched themselves onto his arm.
He was used to the nights.
After their nights together, Brenda would head home leaving him in his house of solitude and loneliness. They had been dating for over six months; Brenda could pick out which smiles were fake and which were real. They had grown closer since they had met in the Scorch Trials but Brenda would never know what kind of hell he was living through.
Each night, Thomas would give her a light kiss; she would return the kiss and leave his front porch unknowingly accepting the each painful kiss Thomas planted on her lips. Thomas would then quietly sit outside, behind his house where no one would look.
The stars comforted him; he could hear the imaginary twinkles of each star. Thomas felt like it was sign, from Teresa.
Tom!
Thomas jumped in surprise and looked around.
Teresa?
There would always be no reply, Thomas slouched back onto the tree and quietly gaze at the stars again. The night sky was the only thing he had left that reminded him of Teresa. The white moon that would illuminate the Earth during the peaceful night reminded him of Teresa's eyes, full of emotion and mystery. The whispering wind that softly whipped around him reminded him of Teresa's dark, soft hair. The twinkling stars would remind him of her smiles.
Every night, Thomas would try to tune himself to secrets of night to try and get closer to Teresa. Each night, he would fail. Each night, he would cry.
He would cry about his regrets.
All she had ever wanted to do was keep him safe. Even if it meant that she had to sacrifice the friendship she had with him, even if it meant that he would never look at her the same way. She would do it. All she had tried to do was keep him safe, Thomas had repaid her with coldness. He had thrown the remaining shards of their friendship at her.
He hurt her, but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was him.
He would wail about what he could've changed.
Teresa betrayed him to keep him safe. Maybe if he hadn't been so blind he could've forgiven her but his stubbornness got the better of him. There was nothing he could do to change how she died. Thomas just wished she could've died knowing that Thomas had forgiven her.
Each sob was racked with sadness and despair. Thomas felt useless. He couldn't save Teresa, he had caused her demise. Thomas killed Newt with his own two hands; Thomas would never forget the blood on his hands, Newt's blood. He remembers Chuck, jumping in front of the bullet to protect him. All three of them had been his friend, all three would jump in front of a flamethrower to protect yet he wouldn't do the same, he couldn't do the same.
No matter how much he cried, the pain never seemed to stop and Thomas would only ever let the night sky see his tears. He would only let his three friends, who watched from above, see the pain he was going through. Thomas deserved it. He had done nothing but kill.
Thomas would cry himself to sleep, slowly growing used to each jump his body produced. The night would grow darker, sometimes he wished. He wished that things were different, roles were reversed. Thomas wished harder every night.
He knew to be careful for what he wished for, he wasn't stupid. Thomas would never know that his dream came true, because it did.
Short note, the events of the 'Kill Order' has not happened yet. Not that I've read it yet, I'm fairly sure that the 'Kill Order' will probably come out before I can finish this fic. The prologue took place a few months after Teresa's death. This next part takes place during the first part of the first book.
-~- Roles Reversed -~-
Chapter 1
All she could remember was the piece of the ceiling falling. She stopped in her steps only to find Thomas standing directly under it, frozen in place. Teresa pushed his body out of the way with all the strength she could muster, everything else after that was red and painful, she could no longer feel her arm.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," She heard a voice whisper.
Her mouth moved, working to speak. She faintly saw Thomas leaning in through her blood spottedvision, trying to make out what she was saying.
"Me… too," She replied weakly.
"I only ever… cared for…" Then everything had started to die away. She faintly saw Thomas being pulled to his feet by two others and being dragged along and into the Flat Trans while he stared back at her in anguish.
Everything was faded into darkness, the pain numbed and her vision distorted. She couldn't feel her own body.
Teresa swam around in the darkness and propelled herself blindly in a random direction. She felt she was swimming for hours while also feeling that only a few seconds had passed. Her lungs begged for air but didn't seem to need to breathe. Eventually, she could no longer swim forward. The solid invisible barricade seemed impossible to breach.
Everything happened so suddenly, Teresa settled with tapping on the wall gently, wondering about how everyone was. Then a sickening crack was heard and she was showered in invisible shards of the barricade. Teresa tried shielding herself; she felt the shards dig into her skin, even though she had no body.
Then she jolted and she was no longer in the abyss of nothingness. She woke up surrounded by the familiar cold darkness and stale dusty air. Teresa widened her eyes as she heard voices from above; there was something awfully familiar about the place and the voices. Fear tightened in her chest as she weakly clawed at the walls of the metal box.
She heard metal grind against metal, Teresa limply fell over onto the lurching shudder of the floor. She wiped away the drops of sweat that was beaded onto her forehead, despite the cool and stale air.
Everything was too familiar, the harsh sound of chains and pulleys like those of a steel factory. Her face slightly paled as her stomach churned in nausea. The smell, Teresa scrunched up her nose at the smell of burnt oil evaded her senses.
This place was the box, the thing that brought subjects into the glade.
The… Glade...
Teresa felt herself explode; she began clawing, screaming and biting at the walls while also crying hysterically in nostalgia. She never thought she would see the place again; here she was, being sent up into the box. Teresa hiccupped and curled herself into a tiny ball in the corner of the box.
She was supposed to be dead, crushed by a piece of the ceiling. Sacrificing herself to save him, Teresa had even watched him being dragged away from her until he jumped through the portal, she would never see him again. She pounded her fists on the wall with all her strength, ignoring the pain that rippled through her flesh.
"Someone… help… me! Thomas!" She screamed even more, each word ripping her throat raw.
A loud clang rang above her, Teresa let out a startled breath as she looked up. First, a single beam of sunlight shone through a small crack in the ceiling until a heavy grating sound of double doors being forced open stabbed light into the box. After being in the darkness for so long, the sudden light ached her eyes. Teresa winced and looked away into the grated floor of the box.
She heard familiar noises above – voices – fear and nostalgia gripped her heart once more.
Teresa forced herself to look up, the familiar faces of her friends peeped over the box. She saw Alby, Newt, Minho, Frypan and so many others. Newt leaned over to get a better view of her then suddenly jerked back into an upright position, confusion etched on his face.
"Holy…" She heard him breath. Newt glanced around at nothing in particular. This time, Alby had also gotten a good look at her, he gasped with a similar reaction.
"No way," He murmured, almost in a trance.
Teresa heard the chorus of questions fill the air; she suddenly choked as fresh air overpowered the stale dusty air of the box, earning frightened looks of the Gladers above her. Everyone had begun to push past each other, hoping to get a look at her and see what all the fuss was about.
"Hold on!" Alby yelled, silencing everyone. "Just hold on!"
"Well, what's wrong?" someone yelled back.
Teresa saw Alby stand over the box, over her as he looked over everyone in the crowd.
"For two years, nothing different, now this." He almost said in a whisper. He looked directly at her, she stared back, shivers went up her spine.
"Why don't you just tell us what the shuck is down there Alby?" Gally.
There were more murmurs; Teresa vaguely spotted a boy surge forward.
"You shanks shut up!" Alby yelled. "Tell 'em, Newt."
Newt looked down at her in the box one more time. Their stares locked, Teresa suddenly paled in nostalgia, she hadn't seen a non-flare infected Newt for a while. He looked away and faced the crowd, gravely.
"It's a girl," He said.
Everyone started talking at once; Teresa only caught bits and pieces here and there.
"A girl?"
"I got dibs!"
"What's she look like?"
"How old is she?
Teresa was drowning in a sea of confusion. Had the boys not met her before? Had she really travelled back to the time when she came into the maze? She vaguely remembered, after all, she had fallen into a coma. Teresa tightened her fist, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Didn't I come with a piece of paper?
Why hasn't my memories been removed by the swipe?
Why am I here? I'm supposed to be dead…
Where's Thomas!?
A couple of boys grabbed some ropes made from ivy vines and lowered it down into the box; the end of it tied into a big a loop. Teresa hesitated, then stepped into it with her right foot and clutched the rope as she was yanked towards the sky. Two pairs of hands reached down, Alby and Newt's, grabbed her by her clothes and hands, pulling her up.
Her world span as a sense of familiarity flooded her senses. The faces of those that were once her friends swirled in a mist of faces, colour and light. Teresa's gut wrenched, twisted and pulled in a storm of emotions. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to smile. No one yelled traitor, no one looked at her in disgust but rather curiosity.
She hadn't betrayed anyone yet, she would be sure not to. Newt spoke as he and Alby yanked her over the sharp edge of the dark, metal box. Teresa knew she would never forget the words.
"Nice to meet ya, you're the first girl we've ever seen. Welcome to the Glade,"
Teresa pulled the blonde boy into a hug.
"I'm home,"
A/N: This was probably the best thing I've written. Keep in mind that I am simply rewriting a few things in the first book. This isn't exactly plagiarising, if you haven't already guessed some things are going to turn out differently. Teresa is awake and she isn't the trigger to the ending. So who is?
11/10/2016 – I haven't picked up this story since last year, I'm sorry to everyone that's been patiently waiting for this story that hasn't been updated since. I have no excuse, I lost my enthusiasm to write for about a year and everytime I tried, sloppy and boring writing would be produced. Re-reading this, I can definitely tell that my writing style has changed but don't worry, it's still me. I'll be writing up the next chapter but I cannot guarantee I'll ever get update regularly.
-LucidClockwork