Thomas had imagined it happening, countless times. What he would do, what he would say. How he'd rush forward and tackle anyone who came in, make a run for it, flee, escape. But those thoughts were almost for amusement more than anything. He knew that WICKED wouldn't let something like that happen. No, he'd need to plan out every detail before he made his move.

When it did happen—when that door popped open with a slight puffing sound and began to swing wide—Thomas was surprised at his own reaction: he did nothing. Something told him an invisible barrier had appeared between him and the desk—like back in the dorms after the Maze. The time for action hadn't arrived. Not yet.

He felt only the slightest hint of surprise when the Rat Man walked in—the guy who'd told the Gladers about the last trial they'd been forced on, through the Scorch. Same long nose, same weasel-like eyes; that greasy hair, combed over an obvious bald spot that took up half his head. Same ridiculous white suit. He looked paler than the last time Thomas had seen him, though, and he was holding a thick folder filled with dozens of crinkled and messily stacked papers in the crook of one elbow and dragging a straight-backed chair.

"Good morning, Thomas," he said with a stiff nod. Without waiting for a response, he pulled the door shut, set the chair behind the desk and took a seat. He placed the folder in front of him, opened it and started flipping through the pages. When he found what he'd been looking for he stopped and rested his hands on top. Then he flashed a pathetic grin, his eyes settling on Thomas.

When Thomas finally spoke, he realized that he hadn't done so in weeks, and his voice came out like a croak. "It'll only be a good morning if you let me out."

"We will get to that shortly. Everything will make sense to you very soon." The man spoke as if he was asking for a second sugar in his coffee, not trying to placate a human guinea pig.

Thomas knew a lot of words for hate, but none of them encapsulated his emotions, not even a little.

He wanted to rip the man apart, strangle him, but he had to force himself to stay calm, or they might never let him out.

"I … want you to tell me everything. Now." The words came slowly, the steadiness forced.

"Oh, Thomas." The Rat Man said it quietly, as if delivering sad news to a small child. "We didn't lie to you. You do have the Flare."

Thomas was taken aback; a chill cut through the heat of his rage. Was Rat Man lying even now? he wondered. But he shrugged, as if the news were something he'd suspected all along. "Well, I haven't started going crazy yet." At a certain point—after all that time crossing the Scorch, being with Brenda, surrounded by Cranks—he'd come to terms with the fact that he'd catch the virus eventually. But he told himself that for now he was still okay. Still sane. And that was all that mattered at the moment.

Rat Man sighed. "You don't understand. You don't understand what I came in here to tell you."

"Why would I believe a word that comes out of your mouth? How could you possibly expect me to?"

Thomas realized that he'd stood up, though he had no memory of doing so. His chest lurched with heavy breaths. He had to get control of himself. Rat Man's stare was cold, his eyes black pits. Regardless of whether this man was lying to him, Thomas knew he was going to have to hear him out if he ever wanted to leave this white room. He forced his breathing to slow. He waited.

After several seconds of silence, his visitor continued. "I know we've lied to you. Often. We've done some awful things to you and your friends. But it was all part of a plan that you not only agreed to but helped set in place. We've had to take it all a little farther than we'd hoped in the beginning—there's no doubt about that. However, everything has stayed true to the spirit of what the Creators envisioned—what you envisioned in their place after they were … purged."

Thomas slowly shook his head; he knew he'd been involved with these people once, somehow, but the concept of putting anyone through what he'd gone through was incomprehensible. "You didn't answer me. How can you possibly expect me to believe anything you say?" He recalled more than he let on, of course. Though the window to his past was caked with grime, revealing little more than splotchy glimpses, he knew he'd worked with WICKED. He knew Teresa had, too, and that they'd helped create the Maze. There'd been other flashes of memory.

"Because, Thomas, there's no value in keeping you in the dark," Rat Man said. "Not anymore."

He stood, clutching his strange folder, walked to the door.

"Unless you'd rather stay in here." Rat Man motioned to Thomas.

Thomas was slightly embarrassed by how quickly he stood and followed.

Showers had been delightful before, after leaving the Maze and the Scorch, but none of them had ever felt this good.

He washed himself from head to toe again and again, until there was no more dirt left anywhere on his body. Then dressed in some of the clean clothes provided, it felt like heaven.

Rat Man reappeared, gestured for Thomas to follow him.

"You will be reunited with your friends now. And we will tell you all what is to happen next."

Next. Was there another Trial? Had the past month in that awful room been a Trial? What was the purpose of it all? Thomas's mind spun with questions.

They entered a small auditorium and relief washed over Thomas. Sitting scattered among a dozen or so rows of seats were his friends, safe and healthy-looking. The Gladers. Teresa. Aris. Minho. Frypan. Newt. Sonya. Harriet. Everyone seemed happy—talking, smiling and laughing—though maybe they were faking, to some extent. Thomas assumed they'd also been told things were almost over, but he doubted anyone believed it. He certainly didn't. Not yet.

Where was Rachel? The thought suddenly hit Thomas. She wasn't with Teresa and Aris, wasn't in the room at all.

He was about to open his mouth and demand Rat Man told him where she was when another door opened, and she appeared escorted by a severe gray-haired woman.

She ran over, hugged him tight. The other Gladers had noticed them now, jumping out of their seats and shouting. For a moment Thomas just let himself hold her, was reminded of the morning after he had spent that awful night in the Maze.

Teresa and Aris had appeared by the time Thomas let go. They all embraced each other, for a moment so happy at being reunited nothing else really mattered.

Others greeted him when they broke apart; Newt, Harriet, Sonya, Minho had Miyoko beside him. She looked angry and tired, odd when everyone else was happy.

Rat Man came marching down the aisle clapping his hands. "Everybody take a seat. We've got a few things to cover before we remove the Swipe."

He'd said it so casually, Thomas almost didn't catch it. The words registered—remove the Swipe—and he froze.

The room stilled, and the Rat Man stepped up onto the stage at the front of the room and approached the lectern. He gripped the edges and repeated the same forced smile from earlier, then spoke. "That's right, ladies and gents. You're about to get all your memories back. Every last one of them."

Thomas was sat between Teresa and Rachel, and glad of it. His memories returned, their memories. They would remember everything they had done to the Gladers, how they had started the Trials. Could he take that, would the others hate them?

"But before all that. You deserve an explanation on why we subjected you to the Trials." Rat Man began from his podium, despite his loathing of the man and everything he stood for Thomas let the speech have his full attention.

"As you may or may not be aware our world has been devasted by unpredictable solar flares, fourteen years ago to be precise. This killed millions of people and has rendered the areas near the equator almost entirely uninhabitable, the polar icecaps melted, flooding millions of acres of coastal land and islands.

"Following this disaster, remaining world governments combined themselves to form FIRE, the Flares International Recovery Endeavour." Someone shouted something about inappropriate acronyms and Thomas had to agree. Once it was again silent the man continued.

"As it sought to reintroduce order to a chaotic world FIRE discovered that the flares had caused the release of a deadly virus from a biochemical lab in the eastern United States. This virus quickly mutated, it is what you now know as the Flare." Teresa tensed beside Thomas and he squeezed her hand, wondering why it would affect her.

"The virus is utterly incurable and highly contagious, driving those infected insane. Safe zones have been established worldwide in cities that were still standing but the virus always finds its way in.

"For a time it was believed that this would be the end of humanity, until we discovered an immunity. It is found in less that one percent of the population, and chiefly in those who were under the age of twenty at the time of the Flares. WICKED developed from FIRE in an attempt to find a cure for the disease. To do this the immune would have to be tested, their brains. Your brains. Manipulated so that we could discover exactly what makes them different." The man gave a sickening smile.

"What makes you different. Of course, you are not all immune, and who is not will be announced in due time, we had to have a control group as no experiment is worth anything without one. These tests, are what you have come to know as the Trials, the Maze, the Scorch, and now the Phase Three that you have just returned from. The blueprint for the cure is almost complete, and with your memories restored you will be able to aid us in our final steps in saving humanity."


A/N: How do you like my explanation of the Maze Runner world? I will have the next chapter up maybe tomorrow or Thursday, but now I have to get back to my EPQ. If you don't know what that is I envy you.