And… here it is, I know you probably didn't expect an early update! I know I certainly didn't, but I decided that I wanted to write instead of doing anything vaguely productive. This one was difficult to write, so many emotions and streams of consciousness, but I thought it added some je ne sais quoi (Ooh look at me using fancy french). I bet you saw the reveal coming, but enough rambling and let's get on with it for heaven's sake. Obviously, swearing and spoiler warnings (and also emotion warnings, I guess) but yeah. Read!

I didn't like the answer either. How the fuck was I going prevent turning what was a hope-filled and heartfelt conversation into an emotional bloodbath? The blond-haired girl had been somewhat cheery when she finally asked me about it, but that was about to end. I saw the change in expression from relief to horror throughout my last comment and wondered if I was going to have to deal with yet another meltdown. I took in a deep, albeit ragged, breath and breathed out an even more indistinctly mournful sigh.

"So do you remember the blonde haired guy who rescued the train with us?"

Don't hold your breath, keep calm.

"That's him? Thanks Thoma-"

"No. There's more. A lot more."

Stop hesitating between sentences, stop showing her that you care!

"Before all that, I'm glad that we got the opportunity to talk to one another, me and him. It may have been about your kidnapped friend, but at least that was something. I'm not holding out any more hope."

Before I knew it, I had started walking. I beckoned for her to follow me and she did, eyes ablaze with hopelessness, hands trembling like an earthquake was about to hit. The wind wasn't particularly bitter, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched her untie the coat from around her waist and pull it on. One foot in front of the other, leaving prints in the damp sand. Two pairs of footprints led away from naivety and towards the truth. You know what they say, "Ignorance is bliss" and I was willing to bet Sonya would agree with me.

She's still behind me, probably extremely confused.

That's when I heard a mangle of a sigh and a gasp escape her lips, broken. She figured out where I was taking her. I turned around to see her facing back towards the ocean, her fingertips cradling the side of her head. She was breathing shakily and she was shivering in spite of the mildness of the air.

"Don't cry, don't cry, you pathetic little- "

She doesn't want me to hear her. She's tough, but not emotionless.

Looking away, I couldn't help noticing one warm and salty tear running down the edge of my nose. I thought I was stronger than this, but then again, the last time I saw someone cry was minutes before they fell to their death from a burning rooftop.

Teresa, why did I let you fall, why couldn't I have grabbed you at the last moment like in the movies?

Then another tear escaped my eyes and I blinked profusely to get rid of it.

Two crying teens on the beach? This really was like the movies.

"He's dead. Here I was, saying that I wasn't holding out hope and then-"

Her voice was shuddering. It was vulnerable. The girl who helped to almost blow me up was crying.

The sun was gone by now. So were the strokes of purple and peach and pink. The blackness of night not only brought darkness, but unimaginable grief. A bright, blazing fire was crackling behind me and it brought me back to that night. The one where my regret for stupid mistakes became guilt. I had two lives to take care of and I crushed them in my hand like a piece of paper, threw them into the bin and then lit it on fire. Gone. Just straight up gone. That word rang through my mind until it had lost all meaning.

Teresa told me that it was called Semantic Satiation. It was some sort of psychology class from before the maze I think.

I remembered trying to say those words together over and over again, sort of like a tongue twister. That was one of the only memories I had been allowed to keep. It had punctuated my dreams in the maze and it punctuated my dreams now. Just me, Teresa and a whole lot of knowledge about very specific phenomena.

Sonya's mumbling pierced my thoughts

"Why did I have to chase the truth?"

Her words somehow summed up the last year. Why did we want the truth when we could have stayed in our nice little ecosystems? People had died, but at least it was gradual.

The events that had occured only took place over a period of 8 months. Not even a year. I knew Chuck for all of 3 weeks before my friend shot him dead. I didn't know Jack, nor Winston really. Yet their demises weighed down my heart with wishes that I could change the past. "My hope for you is that when you're looking back on this, years from now, you'll be able to say the same" were words that Newt had written in his last and only letter. He had wanted me to not feel guilt, or grief. Only hope for what the future brings.

So I walked over to Sonya, whose once-hazel eyes had become scarlet and puffy and whose nails were looking considerably more rugged than before this conversation, and I said 5 words to her.

"We can't change the past"

"I know that you dingus"

Wow, not the comeback I was expecting from a sobbing mess.

She wiped her eyes and took another sigh. I spotted Harriet and Aris in my peripheral vision looking incredibly concerned, but Sonya hadn't seemed to notice.

"What was his name?"

Finally, Sonya.

"Newt"

"Like the amphibian?"

"Yes, WCKD named your brother after a small water lizard, what d'you think?"

She let out a small giggle. Once again, sarcasm saves the day.

"Just checking"

That's what they all say.

A faint smile spread across her face, just enough for her dimples to make an appearance. Her sigh was still as jagged as the cliff face to our left, but at least there were no stray tears creeping down her splotchy face. I had almost forgotten that there were probably visible tear marks on my face too, but I decided that I didn't care. All I cared about was that Sonya had gotten her closure. She knew who her brother was and I was able to release some of the guilt that Newt's death had brought about. It was as if every visible sigh from the cooling air was a piece of my old soul that had been shattered when our plan went pear shaped. I was mending it, moulding it to fit into a new life. A life with no crippling responsibilities, no fear of your mistakes leading to the downfall of the human race, nothing but bliss.

"So, how come he's not here then?"

She still can't bring herself to ask what killed him.

"It's complicated"

My voice sounded rough, uncaring, insensitive. So much for closure.

"Let me rephrase it. Did you leave him behind, or is he really dead?"

Oh, you bitch. Of course you would know.

I wanted to play dumb, I really did. Except that Sonya knew, somehow. I wasn't sure if it was because of his frequent outbursts or because she was an excellent psychic, but whatever it was, I was about to get the answer anyway.

"Thomas, answer the bloody question!"

Her unrequited violence reminded me of myself, earlier. I couldn't shield myself from her truth seeking forever. The fact that she was using British slang made it even worse.

"Answer the fucking question! Did you lose hope in him? We all know about that little blue vial you keep in your black jacket."

It wasn't that question I was reluctant to answer, it was the inevitable barrage of questions afterwards.

"I did try Sonya, I did."

I wasn't sure what made my reply a whisper, probably a mixture of nerves and anticipation of a reaction.

"Thomas, I know he had the Flare. Stop playing around."

I already knew that she knew, but hearing her speak it aloud was so much worse.

"Fine, how do you know?"

"You know when I told you about the WCKD soldiers killing my parents? It was because they wanted me. Only me. I can't really remember the moment that well even with my memories back, but the moment I realised my brother wasn't immune, I do remember crying into Harriet's shoulder"

The ice had melted. I liked to think that it was because at that exact moment, Vince put a huge log onto the bonfire and the embers sprayed past us like a stampede. It wasn't everyday that you recount crying into a friend's shoulder to pretty much a stranger.

"There's a lot I need to tell you"