"Teresa!" Thomas screamed, an unearthly sound that somehow rose above everything else. He scrambled toward her. Blood streaked her face, and her arm looked crushed. He shouted her name again, and in his mind he saw Chuck, falling to the ground, covered in blood, and the madness in Newt's eyes. Three of the closest friends he'd ever had… And WICKED had taken them all away from him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, knowing she couldn't hear. "I'm so sorry."

Her mouth moved, working to speak, and he leaned in to make out what she was trying to say. "Me … too," she whispered. "I only ever … cared for…"

And then Thomas was being dragged to his feet, yanked away from her. He didn't have the energy or will to fight it. She was gone. His body ached with pain; his heart stung. Brenda and Minho pulled him up, got his feet under him. They lurched forward, pushed ahead. A fire had started burning in a gaping hole left by an explosion—smoke billowed and churned with the thick dust. Thomas coughed but only heard roaring in his ears.

She was gone. His heart now did more than simply sting; it was about to shatter. It was about to shatter at the realization of the simple fact that she was gone before he managed to forgive her. Or actually before he managed to tell her he had forgiven her already; he had forgiven her already and he was loving her still. But how could he have admitted that to her, when he hadn't even admitted it to himself?

Another resounding boom shattered the air; Thomas turned his head as he ran to see the back wall of the storage room exploding, falling to the ground in pieces, flames licking through the open spaces. The remainder of the ceiling above it began to collapse, any support now gone. Every last inch of the building was coming down once and for all.

He was about to collapse himself, about to do anything to stop the pain raging inside. But he kept running, the sound of his heels hitting the ground somehow reaching his ears through all that mayhem, numbing and soothing him inside. Soothing him enough to keep him breathing, as her loss was slowing suffocating him, gripping his lungs from within and refusing to let them go. If suffering was a seed, it had blossomed within his lungs, and the grim flowers were stealing his breath away.

"I always thought there was going to be more time," his own mind tried to console him. It was true, he did. Despite facing death every single day he remembered, he felt both him and Teresa were untouchable. They were not Gladers, they were more than that. They were, no matter how hard they wished they weren't, members of WICKED. And WICKED was untouchable. Up until then.

He always thought there was going to be more time, and for that, he had no reason to let her get used by them to hurt him again. He loved her, he had always loved her, and they both suffered for that. They suffered for love, as love makes you vulnerable, a priceless Variable and their greatest advantage. He couldn't let them use that advantage again, not when he thought there was going to be more time.

But there was wasn't. And he had pushed her away, hiding his love for her within the darkest corner of his mind, shadowed by his lost memories and the bitter taste of her forced betrayal. A betrayal he had forgiven, but hadn't forgotten, only to make letting her go easier. And it had gotten too easy.

Without him realizing it, they reached the door to the maintenance room, squeezed inside just in time to see Gally disappear through the Flat Trans. Everyone else was already gone.

Thomas stumbled with his friends across the short aisle between the tables. In seconds they'd be dead. The sounds of things crashing and crumbling behind Thomas grew impossibly louder, cracks and creaks and squeals of metal and the hollow roar of flames.

All of it rose to an unimaginable pitch; Thomas refused to look, though he sensed it all coming down, as if it were just feet away, its leading edge breathing against his neck.

He pushed Brenda through the Trans. The world was collapsing around him and Minho.

He thought of Teresa again, her lifeless body trapped under the boulder she had saved him from. Her bright blue eyes open, their fire extinguished. Her raven black hair a tangled mess, all around her face which remained beautiful even in death. He thought of how much he loved her, and how much he had hurt her. Because, no matter how many times he doubted it, she loved him more. So much more it hurt, because he knew he didn't deserve it.

But the thought only lasted a moment. Another delay and he would be joining her, and Newt, and Chuck, in the after-life, if there was any. A tempting concept, but the ultimate waste of their sacrifices. Of her sacrifice. He turned around to face Minho.

Together, they jumped into the icy gray wall.