Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, guys and girls, and a special welcome to the new readers of this fanfiction. I'd love to hear more from you! Do you have any suggestions or things you want to see more in the next chapter? Let me know. Also, I know that Jorge has a pretty sad past, but as a guest longed for, I definitely will try to help him to smile more. Well, not in this chapter really, but in the future, I hope. This chapter has a lot of overlap with the book: all the things said here were taken directly from chapter 42 and 43 of the Scorch Trials, so I won't take credit for that. The things Jorge does and thinks, is all mine. Anyway, hope you like it and stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 20: Special

"Well, that really cleared things up," Minho said sarcastically after Thomas's explanation on what had happened during his kidnapping. "Must have something to do with all those signs about you in the city."

Unlike before, Minho apparently had decided to be ahead of the rumors about the plaques that suggested that not he, but Thomas was supposed to be the real leader. Well, ahead of those rumors? Thanks to Aris's meddling, all the Gladers already knew what he was talking about.

Thomas slightly shifted in his spot on the ground of their shabby cabin. "Glad to know you're so happy to see me alive."

"Hey, if you wanna be the leader, no skin off my back. I am happy to see you alive."

Jorge was actually a bit surprised by Minho's words – and equally so by Thomas's next ones.

"No thanks. You keep it."

His frown deepened when he turned his gaze from Thomas towards Minho, while greeted by the silence following that statement. The absence of a reply from the Asian kid was an anomaly on its own. Of course, he knew him only for a few days, but Jorge had thought that Minho would have been more defensive about his leadership role, just as he had been with him. Unless... the Glader never saw Thomas as a rival.

Jorge's expectation of Thomas, however, consisted of the impression he had gotten during their first talk, during which he decided to let the Gladers live and even help them through the Crank city – which had been WICKED's plan all along, but they didn't know that. He had thought Thomas would have wanted to fight everything WICKED stood for, but apparently, though, he wasn't that eager to show WICKED that they wouldn't just roll over and die any time yet. Unless... he had more faith in Minho as a leader than in himself.

While mulling over his thoughts, Jorge saw that Newt took on a standing position and came up with some kind of summary of all the things Thomas had told them.

"So we're all potential candidates for something. And maybe the purpose of all the buggin' klunk we've been through is to weed out those who don't qualify. But for some reason the whole gun-and-rusty-bullet thing wasn't part of the... normal tests. Or Variables, whatever. If Thomas is gonna croak and die, it wasn't supposed to come from a bloody infection."

Minho spoke up again. "What this means is that they're watching us. Just like they did in the Maze. Has anyone seen a beetle blade running around anywhere?"

Several Gladers shook their heads, as if they actually understood whatever that was supposed to mean. Jorge frowned his eyebrows, exchanging a confused look with Brenda, before opening his mouth too. "What the hell's a beetle blade?"

"Little mechanical lizard things that spied on us with cameras in the Maze," Thomas answered.

Jorge rolled his eyes. "Of course. Sorry I asked."

"The Maze was definitely some kind of indoor facility," Aris entered the conversation. "But there's just no way we're inside something anymore. Though they could be using satellites or long-range cameras, I guess."

While listening to the Gladers's very own outsider, Jorge almost felt his jaw dropping. How the hell did Aris know all this? Weren't their memories supposed to be wiped clean? Was he a computer engineer in another life or something?

Instead of dwelling on this subject, Jorge decided to change it up a bit and he cleared his throat. "What is it about Thomas that makes him so special? Those signs in the city about him being the real leader, them swooping in here and saving his butt when he got all sicky-sicky." He looked at Thomas. "I'm not trying to be mean, muchacho – I'm just curious. What makes you better than the rest of your buddies?"

"I'm not special," Thomas protested. "You heard what they said. We have lots of ways to die out here, but that gun shouldn't be one of them. I think they would've saved anybody who'd gotten shot. It wasn't about me – it was the bullet that messed things up."

Yeah, right. Jorge could hear in his voice that Thomas himself did not even believe what he said, but he wasn't going to draw more attention to it. "Still," he instead replied with a smirk. "I think I'll stay close to you from here on."

Discussions were breaking out between the Gladers, but Minho abruptly ended them by insisting they needed sleep if they were planning on marching through the night. Jorge, however, had rather listened in on the Gladers complaining, then to try and sleep again. With a sigh, he heaved himself towards a wall, where he found a somewhat comfortable position. He closed his eyes, immediately seeing flashes and glimpses of his memories of Joaquin and Ana, but still he forced himself to keep his eyelids sealed shut. He knew he needed to rest, even if sleep wouldn't come.

Hours later, sleep still hadn't overwhelmed him. Resting against the wall, eyes still closed, Jorge kept a low profile, even though some of the Gladers were already awake again. He heard how Newt woke up Thomas.

"Sleep well, Tommy? How's that shoulder?"

"Feels really good, actually – aches a little, but not much. Hard to believe I was hurtin' so bad before."

It made Jorge wonder if Thomas even knew about Newt's injury. He guessed not, for the question wasn't reciprocated.

"Feels like we haven't talked much since leaving the bloody dorm," Newt said in his typical accented voice. "Not much time to sit around and sip tea, I guess."

"Yeah..."

A part of the conversation eluded him, for the sounds of other Gladers waking, talking and packing drowned out their voices. Jorge's eyelids fluttered shortly, but he still pretended to be sleeping.

"Morning. Or evening. Whatever," he heard Brenda saying, after letting out a very big yawn.

"Another day alive," Thomas answered. Maybe he didn't realize it, but he sounded pretty gloomy about it. "I'm assuming you guys had time to get to know each other? If not, Brenda, this is Newt. Newt, Brenda."

Newt responded mockingly. "Yeah, we know already. But thanks again for making sure this bloody sissy didn't get his butt killed while you two were out partying."

The barest hint of a smile flashed across Jorge's face. He quickly had his facial expression in check again, not wanting to draw attention to his eavesdropping.

"Partying. Yeah," Brenda scoffed. "I especially loved the part where we had people trying to cut our noses off. Guess it won't be long before I'm one of those psychos."

Thomas tried to reassure her. "You're probably not that much farther along than us. Remember that..."

"Yeah, I know," she interrupted him. "You guys are gonna take me to a magical cure. I know."

After that, Jorge heard that she got up and walked away. He actually was impressed by her decisive acting, about how she did not want to become a psycho Crank and her skepticism about a cure. Well, that last thing was not very hard to do. His thoughts wandered again to reliving the loss of his younger brother and sister. Subsequently, he almost missed Newt's whispered wisecrack, directed at Thomas. Almost being the keyword.

"She your new girlfriend? I'm telling Teresa."

Jorge's eyes sprung open. Girlfriend?

And who the hell is Teresa?