Hello! And I'm sorry! I know it's been forever and I don't have much of an excuse other than life got in the way. I had to put this on the back burner more often than I wanted to, but I've had some time recently to get it written down and edited. I'm still not entirely sure how much I like this chapter, and I might come back later to edit it, but I am happy with it for now and hope you guys enjoy it! Xx
She was shoved forward by a large man, bumping shoulders with Newt, and sent a sneering glare back at her abuser. He showed no emotion, just a quick once over before moving on to examine Frypan. As much as they wanted to, no one fought back, opting to stay as civil as they could.
Cleo was the only one to see Brenda's paled expression and wobbling legs and reached out to the sickly girl. Just as her hand wrapped around a thin wrist, Brenda went head first between Thomas and Jorge, hitting the ground in a dull thud. Cleo was dragged along with her momentarily and she watched the girl begin to convulse.
"Brenda!" Jorge was immediately on the ground, cradling the girl's face in his calloused hands, "Talk to me."
The girl managed to push out an apology, eyes rolling back into her head as she convulsed more. Thomas dropped beside Jorge, offering assistance he wasn't sure would help as the others watched on with panic and confusion. Vince had also knelt down to get a closer look at the girl and nearly fell backwards on his ass as he jumped away, exposing a large bite mark on her leg.
"Shit," His gun was drawn in an instant and before she could think straight, Cleo was putting herself between the barrel and her friends, "Crank! We got a Crank!"
Thomas came up beside Cleo, shielding her with an arm as he held the other up in defense, "No! No! Wait, wait. Listen, okay? This just happened, okay?"
Tension was heavy; no one said a word. Everyone standing at the ready, waiting for someone to make the first move. Cleo was rigid beside Thomas, staring at the gun rather than its owner, waiting for him to fire it.
"She's not dangerous." She assured. She hadn't known the girl long, but aside from their first encounter, Jorge and Brenda had done nothing but help them. And she wasn't going to let another person die. Not if she could help it.
"You shouldn't have brought her here!" Vince shouted back, grip tightening on his gun.
"I know, we know." Cleo reasoned. Had they known she was bit, they would have done better at hiding it, or explaining it before it came to this. Her eyes shifted to Thomas with momentary anger, accusing him of keeping it from them, but that was a conversation for another time.
Vince's jaw locked, "We let Cranks in here now, the Safe Haven doesn't last a week!"
It was Thomas that answered this time, placing himself in front of Cleo, "I understand, okay? I understand. Just listen. Please. Please, okay? I told her that you could help. Okay? No, there's got to be something you can do."
Vince nodded solemnly, "Yeah, there is," He adjusted his aim on Brenda once more and Cleo's hand tightened around Thomas' arm, "I can put her out of her misery."
Cleo moved herself so she was obstructing his line of fire and stared him down. The group had grown hostile, tensing up; ready to fight their way out of this like they had so many times before. But another voice rose over the crowd, and Cleo's head whipped around so fast it startled the man reaching to grab at her.
"Let him go."
At first all she could see was the brown hair weaving through the crowd before a woman came up beside Vince and lowered his gun.
Vince, flabbergasted, lifted it once more, "She's infected, Doc. There's nothing we can do for her."
The woman smiled, eyes shifting towards Thomas, "No, but he can."
Cleo's hand dropped from Thomas' arm, lips parting in shock as the woman moved closer. Their eyes met briefly, but if the woman knew her, she didn't give any hint to it.
"Hello, Thomas."
Thomas, in his own shock, swallowed and squinted at her, "What? You know me?"
She narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful manner, smirking, "Interesting. It makes sense they'd put you in the maze," Her attention shifting to Cleo, "Both of you. Though, I must admit," Back to Thomas, "I was worried they'd kill you after what you two did."
"What we did?"
"The first time we spoke, Thomas, you said you couldn't take it anymore. Watching your friends die, one by one," The woman smiled fondly, "The last time we spoke, you gave me the coordinates of every Wicked compound, trial and lab. A small file, stolen by you, Cleo."
A nauseous feeling came over Cleo and she was finally able to look away from the woman. She felt lightheaded, a wave of memories slamming against her and piling up on one another as she tried to keep herself on her feet.
"They were our source," The woman turned back to her own people, "We couldn't have pulled all this off without them," She motioned towards Brenda then, "Take her to the tent. Get these guys some warm clothes."
People started moving as if they hadn't just been hostile with one another. Brenda was lifted carefully off the ground by a large man Cleo hadn't seen, and carried up the small incline to a large tent while the others were slowly directed off to the side by Harriet and Sonya. Thomas was already moving to follow the woman when Cleo was finally able to find her voice.
"Mom?"
The word stopped all her friends, each turning to look first at her and then to the woman she was speaking to. The woman had paused, and for a moment kept her back to the young girl. Cleo's chin quivered, heart beating a mile a minute.
"I was hoping you would remember me," The woman looked back finally, "But that conversation will have to wait, my dear. We have to help your friend first."
0000
She had followed Thomas and her mother to a large medical tent silently. The sick feeling in her stomach had yet to subside and a million questions ran through her mind. She watched the woman working rhythmically, taking blood from Thomas and prepping Brenda for whatever she was going to do. Jorge stayed uncharacteristically quiet beside Brenda, never speaking a word, never looking away from the shivering girl.
"In the beginning, we were lost. All we knew for sure," She looked at them, "was that the younger you were, the stronger your chances."
Thomas looked to Cleo before speaking, noting the girls stiffened posture. Her eyes hadn't left the woman, not that he could blame her. Her proclamation outside had shaken all of them, even he wasn't sure what to say exactly. So he did what he did best and started question everything.
"You worked for Wicked?"
"A long time ago. You know, at first, we had the best intentions," Mary explained, her own eyes drifting to her little girl, "Find a cure, save the world. It was clear you kids were the key, because you were immune."
"But why?"
Mary moved to a table in the back corner, taking with her a vile of Thomas' blood. She mixed it with a blue liquid, holding it so the others could see, "An enzyme produced by the brains of the immune. Once separated from the bloodstream it can serve as a powerful agent to slow the spread of the virus."
"So you found a cure?" Cleo had asked the question, her attention finally shifting from Mary to Brenda, her own curiosity overwhelming shock.
"Not exactly. The enzyme can't be manufactured, only harvested from the immune. The young. Of course, that didn't stop Wicked. If they had their way, they'd sacrifice an entire generation. All for this," Mary held up the vile, "A gift of biology. Of evolution."
"But not meant for all of us." Cleo mumbled. She had taken Brenda's hand to lend consolation, squeezing the sweaty palm in her own.
They watched as Mary stuck the needle into her thin arm, draining the liquid into her bloodstream. Brenda seemed to relax immediately, her breathing slowing back down and her grip on Cleo's hand loosening some.
"How long will that give her?" Thomas asked from beside Cleo.
"It's different for everyone. A few months maybe. But that's the catch, isn't it?" Mary sighed, "She'll always need more."
With that she returned to the table and discarded the needle. She returned to place a hand on
Jorge's shoulder and smiled kindly, "Let's go outside. Let them rest."
Jorge was slow getting up, his hand lingering in Brenda's before he finally followed Mary outside. Cleo stayed behind a moment longer.
"Go. You should talk to her. You need to." Thomas spoke quietly in her ear. He was becoming drowsy, sleep catching up to him.
She sighed, not looking at him. She knew he was right, but nerves had frozen her to her chair. What was there to talk about? Of course, she had a million questions but she barely knew her mother. How would she even start a conversation like that? Where would she begin?
Thomas's hand rested on her knee gently, "It'll be fine, Cleo. Go talk to her."
Finally looking at him, she nodded and stood from her place beside Brenda's cot. Thomas squeezed her hand as she passed, sending her an encouraging smile and she left the tent without saying anything.
0000
Outside, Jorge was seated only a few feet away. He was facing the tent, but his head was resting in his hands. He looked up when she appeared and she gave him a reassuring nod before her eyes wandered to the woman standing just beside him.
"Come along, kiddo. We have some catching up to do."
0000
It all felt like a dream. Sitting beside her mother, eating an actual meal. She half expected to wake up back in the glade, her mother a distant memory, a voice in the back of her mind. But she wasn't. She was here. They were both here. Together. Finally.
"You were always the rebellious type. Even with small insignificant things. You were always trying to find a better way. The right way. You and your father both. Stubborn. Brave." Mary smiled fondly at her daughter, admiring the woman she had become. For years she had spent believing her daughter was dead and now, here she was. A survivor.
"What happened to my dad?" Cleo asked setting her plate at her feet. She was never one to leave any scrapes but what she had eaten had filled her up. She had never been full before, and now she felt like she might burst.
"We lost a lot of people getting here. Your father being one of them. But he would have been proud of you. You remind me a lot of him."
"I used to dream about you," Cleo blinked, "When I was in the Maze. I would hear your voice in my dreams. You would tell me that I was going to get myself in trouble. That what I was doing was dangerous."
Mary nodded, smiling slightly, "You wanted to help your friends. And you were smart. You knew how to get what you wanted. And Thomas would do anything for you," Cleo ducked her head, blushing, "So when you decided you'd take things into your own hands, there wasn't much we could do. We didn't even get to say goodbye. One day you were there and the next," Mary swallowed, "You were gone."
She reached out to brush hair from Cleo's face, admiring her once more, "I never thought I'd get the chance to see you again."
Cleo smiled sadly, "Me neither."
Composing herself, Mary let her arm drop back into her lap and continued, "The day they took you, that's when your father and I decided we were going to fight. Thomas giving me the chip only gave us a weapon to retaliate with."
Cleo shook her head. She didn't want to believe it was happening. After everything they had witnessed, everything they had to go through to get here, she couldn't believe something this good could be happening. She blinked as her eyes started to water.
Mary, noticing her daughter's change in demeanor, took her hand and stood them up, "You've suffered enough, you and your friends. And I'm so proud of how strong you've been. How strong you have always been. I'm sorry for the things you've had to endure and see, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," She squeezed her hand, "But I'm here now."
Cleo let herself cry then and for the first time since she could remember, stepped into her mother's embrace. Mary held her while she cried, soothing her as best as she could. Cleo didn't try to refrain herself any longer. She let her shoulders shake and her breath get caught in her throat. She cried for Chuck, for Winston, for Alby, hell, even for Gally, for all the people they had lost, for all the times she had been scared. All the frustration and sadness and anger she had felt. And when she had finished and had dried her eyes, she felt safe and hopeful.