Buzz about WICKED and the supply shortage filled the air. It put Thomas on edge. It reminded him of when things in the Glade started to change. A chill ran down his spine, for once not comforted by the memory of his old life. He had an overwhelming sense of foreboding embedded in his gut and every theory was like a fist squeezing at the pit of his belly. He tried to lose himself in his daily chores. It was dirty, tedious work but tending the crops brought him some resemblance of peace.

"Tom!" A voice cut through his thoughts. Brenda glared at him with heaving breaths. It appeared she had been calling his name a while.

He scowled. He wanted to remind her not to call him that. Despite her many betrayals Teresa gave her life for him. The name Tom was only for her.

Brenda rolled her eyes at him in annoyance as she folded her arms across her chest. "We need to talk." She said ominously. Despite her stern expression; there was fear in her eyes.

Thomas gestures with his hand for her to continue but she shook her head. "Not here." She stated as she glanced around at the other residents. The energy was palpable.

He followed her with trepidation. She led him deep into the forest edging closer the mountains beyond them. She stopped finally. Jorge, who was sitting on a large embedded rock stood up quickly as they approached. His smile was forced behind his troubled, hazel-eyed knew he was at least in his early twenties when they met but somehow aged quicker than the three years that past.

Minho appeared beside him with a similarly grave expression. Unlike Jorge; he didn't bother to attempt to hide it.

"Hermano. It's good to see you." Jorge said to Thomas.

Minho let out a derisive snort beside him, glaring at Thomas with a fury that reminded him of how Gally had while in the Glade.

Thomas nodded to them both curtly but said nothing.

Jorge's painted smile fell slightly but said nothing of it. "I brought us together because well, you know why. WICKED making any sort of movement is a bad thing. A very bad thing."

"Like this shuck face cares." Minho grunts out.

Brenda shoots Minho a menacing glare. "We need to find out if they are around still. If they started up again; they could try to find us."

Her words hung in the air like a looming weight pressed down on them. They all wanted to believe it was truly over but deep down they knew that it wasn't despite the fact that they destroyed the flat trans from the WICKED compound. The truth of the matter was, they had created the Safe Haven and it was likely they knew exactly where they were.

"Well that's just shucking great. What the shuck did we bother coming here for if we were getting sucked right back into fighting those slintheads again? Was this some stupid vacation?" Minho started to pace in a small circle, fuming.

"Here's your shucking vacation package but don't worry you'll be back at war watching your friends die again soon enough!" Minho continued; every word was thick with biting mockery.

"Minho, Hermano—" Jorge started tentatively.

"No!" Minho barked out, a furious gaze on Jorge, the fury in his gaze resembling a crank. "No! I won't—-not again!" He pointed an accusatory finger pointed at him.

"We have no choice." Thomas found himself saying. "We have to. For the people who died while getting here. For Newt. Alby. Teresa. Chuck. Everyone who died while we lived. We can't let WICKED live this time, though. We have to kill them all." It was more than what he has said to any of them the past three years.

The other three gaped at Thomas in shock. A piece of his old self had finally surfaced. Except his words were cold and harsh. They were devoid of the moral dilemma of ending another person's life.

Silence hung over them for a few more moments before Brenda let out an audible sigh.

"He's right." She finally stated. "It's the only way. Whatever they're up to is not good."

"And killing them is for what, the greater good?" A voice cut in from the distance. They all turned their heads toward it.

It was Jake. Thomas stared at him absently as he approached.

"I get it. They're evil and have done horrible things but killing them for some so-called bigger purpose is exactly the sort of thing they would do. It would make us just like them." Jake continued.

Jorge furrowed his brows, considering what the younger man had said. "You didn't see what we saw. You don't know….you don't know half of it. We've seen what they're capable of." He shook his head. "Thomas is right."

"Yes. As horrible as it sounds. He is right." Brenda said sad, conflicted expression.

Minho sent Thomas a look that chilled him to the bone. "You're still a useless slinthead but you're right. We got to end this klunk once and for all."

Jake sighed. "You may as well be one of the cranks that are past the gone." He shook his head, turned and started back through the forest.

Thomas frowned, watching as Jake left. He slumped his shoulders, deflating at the thought of Jake being upset with him. He shook it off and turned back to the remaining three.

"Where do we start?" It was too easy to switch back into fight mode. He had a gut feeling that war against WICKED was starting again.

Jorge perked his brows, "Let's not be hasty. Yes, let's end them but we have to plan this out. You know how sneaky they are. For now, let's gather more information and go from there."

"Good that." Minho said, not seeming too eager to jump into war again.

"OK." Brenda said.

Thomas' face contorted with rage for a moment; he could feel himself bubbling with anger. They wanted to wait? For what? For WICKED to capture them all? He wound up his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He wanted to kill them all. Fury worked up within him, consuming him for a moment. Then he tucked it inside as he had done so many times before. His fists finally uncurled, and he relaxed. That was when he noticed everyone was staring at him with a mix of confusion, concern, and anger. He nodded his head slightly, turned, and started to walk in the direction Jake went.

He thought he heard Brenda behind him but was already running. A sense of freedom moved through him as he swiftly made his way through the forest. It was like being freed from binding chains that had been wrapped so tightly around him he could barely breathe. All his worries were swept away with the wind. His heart thumped out of his chest as he allowed himself, just for a moment, to be.

He slowed once he neared the hill, stopping at the top. Daylight was starting to dwindle but he knew that he had to speak to him. He started to jog down the hill, ignoring the quizzical looks as he made his way across the fields, until he reached the beach. The fishers were already finished for the day. Only Jake occupied the beach shore now. Thomas stopped next to the seated man, panting. He remained otherwise silent as he caught his breath.

"Sit down, already. You know how it makes me nervous when you hover." Jake spoke crossly.

A smile tugged at Thomas' lips as he sat down beside Jake. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Thomas lost himself in the sounds of the waves crashing. He wondered if he ever went to the beach before his memory was wiped. He didn't regret not getting his memories back but there were times where he was curious about who he was before he landed in the Glade.

"Why you?" Jake cut through the silence as he turned toward Thomas.

Thomas turned to stare wordlessly at him with perked brows. "What?"

Jake let out a grunt, "You heard me, shank ." He spat out the last word mockingly. "Why you?"

Thomas' hands balled up into tight fists as he glared back at Jake, his face burning bright red. "First off, don't mock me. Second, I have no clue what you're trying to ask so just spit it out." He spat back.

Jake's face fell, visibly deflated. He turned back to the ocean, sighing audibly. "Why do you have to go and save the world? Why can't we just stay here and let the rest of the world worry about WICKED?" He said without another glance in Thomas' direction.

Thomas relaxed a bit, his anger dissipating as quickly as it started. He stared at Jake. "Because a lot of it was my fault. The maze, the trials, the deaths of people I cared about...I am responsible. I have to fix it. I owe 'em this." He explained numbly.

Jake shook his head, "That's the thing, though. You said you don't have all of your memories, right? You have no idea how much you had to do with the whole thing. Beyond that you were a kid! You said around sixteen, right? That's not a legal adult. That's a child being manipulated by the government." He paused a moment. "Risking your life and saving us munies captured by WICKED was by your own accord. You weren't manipulated into it; you chose to do it. You have done more good than bad, Thomas, I promise." He concluded as he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. The air chilled as the evening breeze picked up.

Thomas contemplated Jake's words. He had a point, but he also knew that he couldn't just let WICKED rise again. What if they started new trials? He couldn't allow what happened to him and his friends to happen to anyone else. Didn't Jake see that?

He sighed, his gaze never leaving Jake's. "I hear you, I do. I can't let them terrorize the world again. I can't. You don't have to come with-in fact I would rather you didn't. You should stay here and be safe." He told him quietly.

Jake snorted, "You can't get rid of me that easily." His eyes bore into Thomas' as he spoke. "Someone has to keep you grounded. Just call me Samwise." He said with an easy grin.

For a moment, Thomas remained quiet, his eyes remaining steadily on Jake. Then he let out a rare laugh. "Good that." He paused, "Just tell me one thing, though. Who the shuck is Samwise?"

Jake perked a brow at him and then smirked, his hands falling to his sides. "Never mind, Thomas. Never mind." He shook his head slightly in amusement.

He was tempted to pry but his mind was too wiped for any new information. A comfortable silence fell between them as they stared out into the ocean. A part of him wished they could sit there forever, shuck everyone else. He felt a pang of guilt hit him like a jab to the stomach. What would Newt say if he were here? He'd tell him to fight, right? Since Newt's death; memories of him seemed to dim as time passed. He hated time and how it seemed to be its own version of the swipe.

They watched the sun go down together, the sky replaced by the stars that twinkled above them. Basking in nature was one thing that seemed to keep the storm that brewed within sated. He turned toward Jake, who seemed equally lost in nature. Thomas studied the way his shoulders slouched as he relaxed. He always looked so peaceful. Thomas envied him in a way. Guilt twisted so violently in his belly he nearly let out a grunt. He turned away, his face scrunched up. He couldn't take that away by allowing him to come with. If he faced WICKED, he could lose that peaceful nature. Or he could die. The thought filled him with dread. He couldn't lose his best friend. Not again.

A voice cut through Thomas' thoughts. "Hey! Hate to break you shanks from your romantic evening by the beach, but we got work to do!" It was Minho.

Thomas turned his head, sending Minho a death glare, his cheeks flushed red. He stood up and brushed the sand off of his shorts. He heard Jake's quick movements beside him. Without looking back; Thomas headed toward Minho with a stony expression and a sense of heavy foreboding that seemed to make every step ache like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.