Disclaimer: I don't own The Maze Runner Trilogy. Just good ol' Flo.
Thomas' eyes drifted across the room like a gentle wave; his eyes locking with a few objects, such as the security camera, the two-way mirror, and the small keypad beside the door to the right of him. He folded his hands in his lap, waiting patiently for his visitor.
Thomas was stolen from his friends the moment his eyes shut to go to sleep that night. A man he recognized to be one of Janson's lower employees shook him from his slumber and told him that he had wished to speak with him, so now, here he was, waiting patiently to talk to the man in a space that looked similar to an interrogation room— cement walls, two chairs, and a single table.
He had waited rather tolerantly to speak with Janson, but why had he decided now was the right time? Why had he woke him up just when everyone was about to sleep? What was so important that he couldn't wait till morning? Not that Thomas' minded. He was eager to speak with the man.
The door buzzed loudly, startling Thomas, and he massaged his hands together, watching as Janson stepped in the room, dressed clad in a white turtle neck and dark jeans. There were multiple papers in his hand, and he clutched them so tightly, like his life depended on it.
"Thomas! Thank you for seeing me," he nodded, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry for the inconvenience," He apologized while moving towards the table Thomas sat in front of him. "I was just hoping me might get a chance to chat in private… away from the others." He shot Thomas a sinister smirk, to which Thomas replied with only a nod.
He was still mad at this man for taking Teresa away from him.
"Don't worry," He groaned, spinning the chair around so he could sit across from Thomas. "It won't take up to much time…" He explained.
Thomas licked his lips nervously.
"I really only have one question…" He said, his eyes averting for a moment. He felt awkward in the silence following his words, and waited for him to continue. "What do you remember about WICKED?"
The question didn't surprise him in the least. In fact, he expected him, but Thomas was still deliberating with himself over what to tell him and what not to tell him, because truthfully he didn't trust the man.
Thomas brows pulled together, and Janson's face softened in response. "You're not in trouble," He shook his head once, "I'm just having a conversation; I'm just trying to understand."
Thomas' head twitched to the side slightly. "…Understand what?"
There was a low hum in the room from the fluorescent lights above, and they seemed to grow louder in the few seconds proceeding Janson's answer.
"Whose side are you on?"
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. That's what he kept telling himself. That's what he kept telling himself through all of this. It was right then that he decided that Janson was the enemy; someone who couldn't be trusted.
"I wasn't aware there was sides…" He played dumb.
Janson sighed through both nostrils, leaning back in the chair as if he didn't believe him. "Tell me all about WICKED, Thomas. Tell me everything."
Thomas hesitated.
"I asked the other's the same questions too, you know."
Oh he highly doubted that.
Sighing, Thomas gave in. "I remember that they sent me into the maze… I remember watching my friends die in front of me—" his eyes flashed up, just for a moment, to see if there was any reaction surfacing in Janson, but there wasn't from what he could tell. "I remember escaping. If the others didn't tell you already, I was the last one that arrived in the maze before Teresa. I wasn't there for long."
Janson nodded, his eyes dropping to the papers in his hand. "Oh I know, it's just good to get other views."
Thomas scowled at him, though he couldn't see. "I had friends die in there; people that will never come back into my life again. Do you know what that's like? I don't exactly feel like spilling my guts."
"I understand Thomas." He nodded once— slowly. "I got most of the information I needed from the others anyways."
Needed for what?
"We're almost done, I swear. I just have a few more things to discuss." He assured.
Thomas nodded for him to proceed.
"Don't you want to understand it all, Thomas?"
Thomas frowned again. What was the man getting at? "I watched the video of the woman— Ava Paige" There it was! That name. It struck a chord in him, something. His eyes seemed to avert away immediately once he addressed her, and he started shuffling the papers like he had no interest in him anymore. "She told us what was going on, what was happening."
Instead of saying anything, Janson just shook his head, placing the pile of papers upon the table. "They had you there for years, Thomas, you know that right?"
The quick diversion of subject made Thomas believe he was lying. Janson saw that Thomas caught the glimmer of familiarity in his eyes and quickly varied the topic.
Thomas' chest leaned against the table, his hands still by his side while he tried to see what was on the papers.
It was his name.
His name, his blood type, his age, his hand print, thumb prints, doctor's notes, everything.
"What is this…?" He asked in a mistrustful tone.
"Your file," He explained. "They planned to go farther with you in the trials Thomas, did you know that?"
Thomas didn't reply, just kept staring at his name at the top of the page, with the words "Property of WICKED" above it, like he was some kind of animal.
"I want you to trust me, Thomas. I need you to trust me." Janson said in a soft tone of voice. "The world around you is much worse then it seems. Life is hanging on by a very thin thread, so those of us still alive need to stick together. WICKED is still in the works, you know that right?"
He nodded.
"Do you trust that this facility will keep you safe?"
He nodded fervently, then immediately knocked himself for it. The answer was too quick, maybe Janson could see through his lies. He didn't trust this place the second he stepped into building, but he would never admit that. "I'm just worried for Teresa."
"Teresa is fine," He sighed with an eye roll. "She's perfectly fine!" He clapped, "All that's wrong with her is a little internal bleeding, something from the maze most likely, it just took a little while to notice so when we did we had to give her a simple operation. The maze effected her more than the rest of you and she's taking it a little harder. She's been having night terrors, and been emotional unstable so all we did is move her to a room where she is a little more stable."
"Can we see her?"
"—NO…" He answered too hastily. "No. She needs rest. She'll be free tomorrow… the next day latest. I promise you."
Thomas nodded. He was doing that a lot, lately. It was the only way to answer his question in a calm demeanor, without showing emotion that Janson could feed off of.
Janson stood up, placing both hands on his waist. "I suppose we are done here, Thomas."
Thomas bolted upright. "Thank God…" He murmured under his breath.
He opened the door to the hall for him, and gesticulated for him to exit into the hallway and return to his room. "Just remember, Thomas, trust is an important key in survival."
He felt like vomiting. The words made him want to upchuck they were so fake. He exited the anxiety-inducing room and poured into the hallway.
This conversation got him nowhere, it only made him want to leave the facility more, distrust everyone even further.
He stood in the hallway, processing his thoughts as he watched people pass by. He was surprised by the amount of people in the hall for eleven o'clock. He nodded at one of the fellow employees as they passed by, and breathed a loud raspberry as he ran a hand through his clean hair.
His feet finally started to move and he walked leisurely down the hall, taking his time as he thought. Janson's behavior was skeptical. He seemed to be on the anti-WICKED side, but other times Thomas swore he knew too much to not be a part of WICKED.
He was in the same place he was before the conversation started, only, if it were possible, he despised Janson even more. He didn't know what it was about the guy… he just didn't trust him. He lied, and he could see through that.
Thomas would tell Aris and Minho about this later. He should probably talk to Newt, as well. The boy was getting weird again, and they were afraid he was slipping into some sort of depressive state. He felt bad keeping things from him, but he knew that the moment Florence's name came up, or talk about not trusting their home, he would shut down.
"OW!" Thomas hollered when his shoulder collided into the rock hard brick-like arm of someone else.
Alistair. That was his name. At least he thought so. He heard Florence say his name before she died. He had seen this man not long ago, and here he was again. Let's just hope Newt didn't spot him. He would've lunged on the guy, he would've pounded his face in for shooting her; hell, Thomas would do the same because that was his best friend! But the other night… something had happened. He helped them, at least he thought so.
There were so many things to think about, in this situation. If he was helping them eavesdrop… why? Why would he want them to hear the conversation? Was he against Janson? Maybe he knew that something wrong was happening in the safe haven, he wanted us to discover something. Or maybe it was purely coincidence, but Thomas had a feeling deep in his gut that told him it was not merely a coincidence. They two caught eyes multiple times that night, and Alistair never shooed them away.
Could he trust the man? He was still debating that… so instead of calling him out for all the things he did he just apologized for shoulder checking him with a simple "Sorry," and pretended not to recognize the man that shot his best friend.
Alistair's eyes widened as if that was the most alarming thing he'd ever seen. He made it quite obvious, too, and he whispered something to the small woman standing next to him.
They started to walk off at a quick pace, but not before talking a second to glance back in the now empty hallway— only him remaining in it now.
When he locked eyes with the female, he became rigid. His hands fell limp to his side, and his mouth hung open. He knew the girl, but he didn't know where. The familiarity struck him with such intensity that he wanted to cry out. You know when you see someone in public, and you can remember their face, but you can't recall where you've seen them before? Or who they are? That was the indescribable feeling that Thomas had looking at the girl.
I know you from somewhere… He thought to himself.
Her hair was short, very short, only a little longer then his. Her face was oval-shaped, she looked around the same age as him, and her nose was small and button-like. Her cheeks red, and her skin a perfect olive color. She wore a crank collar, which deeply dismayed him.
The most alarming thing about her was her eyes. They were a dazzling tiffany blue. They reminded him of ice. She quickly jerked her head back, and just like that, he lost sight of her around the hallway.
Where did he know Blue-Eyes?
Maybe this was just the memory loss messing with him. The Swipe was still inside him, and the feeling of déjà vu happened more often than not for the gladers. If it weren't for the fact that her eyes were so brilliantly blue, her hair was so short, and the fact she was wearing a crank collar, he would say that she could be Florence's ghost. Or sister. Ah, it was bugging him so much. He needed a better look at her. It was so brief, and so swift. That he really didn't have a shot to give her a good once-over.
He supposed seeing her again wasn't the most important task at hand. In fact, it was probably the last, exploiting this place and finding Teresa being the first.
Wow, his head hurt from thinking so much.
He yawned, once, loudly, and deduced it was time for bed.
It took him a minute to reach his room, and he attempted to open the door soundlessly, but Newt ended up stirring from his arrival.
"Sorry," he apologized slightly, hopping into his bunk.
"S'alright." The boy replied. "I was up anyways."
"Yeah?" Thomas asked, not really looking for an explanation.
But he gave one anyways. "Yeah. Been thinking is all."
"What about?" Thomas asked as he made a poorly-positioned yoga pose as he tried to slide his pants off.
"The maze. Everyone. Chuck, Gally... Alby, Florence..." His voice cracked during the last two name's, and Thomas knew that that wasn't intentionally. It was difficult for Newt to even mutter up her name. Newt never even talked about Alby. It was like he was compartmentalizing his emotions in such an unhealthy way, that he earely ever talked of them both. Thomas shimmied into his boxers and pulled the covers over him, listening to Newt's voice in the quiet darkness. "I keep thinking I'm seeing her face. I knew that sounds weird, but it's true. I'm dreaming about her constantly, it almost doesn't seem like they're my dreams."
"That doesn't make sense…" Thomas commented.
"Well… I dunno." He heard the boy exhale loudly. "Like they aren't my dreams. Like they're being planted into my head. I know that sounds funny, but s'true."
Actually, it didn't really sound that funny at all. If this place wasn't as angelic as it seemed, maybe they did have the power to manipulate people's dreams, but Thomas supposed that that was kind of far fetched and pointless…
"We don't have to talk about this. You can go to sleep." Newt muttered, shuffling around in his blankets.
"No!" Thomas exclaimed too loudly. "Shuck," He cursed himself, hoping to not wake the other boys up, "No. It's fine. Talk about it." He wanted Newt to talk about it. Maybe that would make it better.
Newt didn't argue, he just span into a long monologue about her. He envied the relationship they had had, but it was a dangerous thing to have in a world like this; example one being her death. Now Newt was left here, wasted away, barely living on without her, and to think he only knew the girl for a few months.
"Sometimes I think back to the days in the glade where it was easy and I would just lay in the hammock with her, or chase her into the forest, or listen to her irrational theories, and I realized: I had it good, ya know? Even if she did turn out to be bad in the end, I don't care."
"I don't think she was bad, Newt, at all." In fact, Thomas knew she wasn't bad, first hand. He knew what trust looked like, and despite only knowing Florence for a little while before her death, he knew that she was telling the truth. He knew because he saw it in his other friends. Chuck. Jeff. Maybe not so much Gally… but at one point he did trust him, after the Changing, he just didn't agree with his methods.
He heard Newt yawn, but contradictively, he didn't seem the least bit tired.
"You know what sucks?" Newt asked.
"What?"
"I think I love her." He replied quickly. "I didn't realize it till these last few days, which is weird, but thinking back to the glade, I know I must have. That must be what love feels like, right?"
"I don't know," He replied, his heart breaking listening to Newt. "I've never been in love."
Newt let out a quick, breathy laugh. "I think I love a dead girl. How bloody sick is that?"
The conversation ended there. They both respected the last line enough to not say anything else. He mourned for his friends, and he mourned for Newt, because he was basically dead inside. Hollow. Lifeless. The only good thing that came out of this conversation was a bit of closure for Newt. He was happy that he had talked about her, and not in a way of denial, or bickering back and forth about whether not she was a spy or she truly was trying to help us.
Thomas yawned one last time, feeling the effects of exhaustion kick in. He had only one thought on his mind before drifting into his much-needed slumber.
Who was Blue-Eyes?
A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter. Thanks for the reviews from EVERYONE these last few weeks. They are actually so inspiring and so motivating, especially when you guys get super in depth and talk about your feelings in the chapter. So thank you for that. Thank you for everything! Enjoy!
(P.S. If you didn't get it... Florence was Blue Eyes because her iris change last chapter. She might be referred to that in the next two chapters, just so you know.)
Please drop a review, I'll be the happiest little fanfic writer ever :)
