He snorted, but hadn't a chance to say anything as there was a knock at the door. I sat back in my chair, looking over my shoulder at the door which was opened to reveal Chuckie, though he looked a bit worse for wear.

"What's wrong?" Newt asked, standing up, the jokiness of the moment before washed away, a serious undertone taking over.

Chuck began wringing his hands, "Med-Jacks sent me."

"Why?" I questioned.

"I guess Alby's thrashing around and acting all crazy, telling them he needs to talk to somebody."

Newt made for the door, but Chuck held up his hand, "Um… he doesn't want you."

"What do you mean?"

"He keeps asking for him." Chuck pointed at Thomas.

So, I suppose he'd be bringing him along then. Right? "Well, come on," Newt said, grabbing Thomas' arm, "No way I'm going without ya."

And so Newt left, dragging Thomas' along by the arm with Chuckie dogging on his tail, leaving Minho and I alone in the room. I sighed moving towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Minho questioned.

"Thought I'd go check up on the girl," I said, "Been so busy with Alby I haven't even gone to see the only other female to step foot in the Glade."

He shrugged, following after me as I climbed up the spiraled staircase that lead upstairs.

"Newt?" I questioned. "What are you-"

"Shank wanted to talk to Tommy alone," he muttered, jabbing a finger towards the door. I looked back to Minho, who shrugged apologetically. Climbing up the stairs beside me.

I touched him arm as I passed… "Minho and I are gonna go check on the girl, okay?"

He nodded, "Alright."

It was an awkward interaction. I had a lot much more I wanted to say. But I couldn't, not now. He wouldn't thank me for that. Affection was something we showed in the cover of darkness, when we were alone with each other, when nobody could see us… but us. So I settled for patting his shoulder and walking on, Minho by my side.

The girl was… pretty I supposed, she looked like she was sleeping, her skin healthy and full of color, but if you looked passed that… she had beautiful dark hair, black as tar and long eyelashes to match. She was smaller than I was, thinner with less muscle. She was softer, pretty in a way that I could never be. Years in the Maze had hardened me past that point.

I knelt by her side, brushing the hair out of her face. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn't open, her mouth moving slightly, lips forming words that wouldn't sound. "S'alright, girlie," I mumbled, "You're not alone…"

"She looks… different," Minho said quietly, standing next to me.

"She's in a bloody coma, Minho," I told him, returning my gaze to the girl, suddenly realizing she was offered the luxury of clothing that fit her. I narrowed my eyes, how come I didn't get shirts that fit. I had worn Newt's for over a day before I found one that fit almost right. It was still big though. And I had found a pair of pants, but I had to us a belt to keep 'em up, and they were baggy, but… I supposed I couldn't complain. I was clothed after all.

"MaC"

"Hm?"

"I'm starving, I'm gonna go grab some food. Want any?"

"Ah, yeah, bring me up something for the girl too, will ya?"

"Good that," he mumbled, exiting the room.

Mashed potatoes and soup for the girl. And mashed potatoes and meat for me. And some water for the both of us. Minho left after that, leaving me alone to feed the girl. I was currently dropping water into the comatose girl's mouth a few drops at a time.

"Hey, MaC," I turned to see Newt had entered the room, Thomas by his side. "She surviving?"

"Yeah, keeps talking in her sleep." I told him, "Clint thinks she'll come out of it soon enough."

"Have they been writing down everything she says?" Newt asked.

"Most of its gibberish, hasn't said anything recognizable since I got here, but Clint got a notepad of what she's been sayin'."

"Give me an example." He said pointing towards the nightstand holding the remnants of her food and the notepad.

Taking the note pad and read what chicken-scratch that was Clint's handwriting. "Same thing she said when we got her outta the Box- about everything changing. Some klunk about the creators and how it 'all has to end'. And um…" I glanced up at Thomas.

"MaC?" Newt questioned.

"Well, I can't make it all out, Med-Jack's handwriting is klunk but she keeps saying, your name over and over, Thomas."

"Pull up a chair, Tommy," Newt said, sitting on the edge of the bed, which was my spot.

Tommy grabbed the chair from the des and pulled it right up beside where her head lay. He leant forward a bit to study her as I took a seat beside Newt.

"Anything ring a bell?" Newt asked. "Anything at all?"

I sat there, feeling extremely awkward as Thomas' eyes locked onto her face, looking over her face. "I do know her," he whispered after a time of silence.

Newt stood up, "What? Who is she?"

"No idea. But something clicked- I know her from somewhere." Thomas said, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

"Well, keep bloody thinking- don't lose it. Concentrate."

"I'm trying. So shut up." Thomas said, closing his eyes. The irony was not lost on me, He didn't even know who he was and we were asking him to figure out who she was. Random girl, dropped on our doorstep. We really couldn't- "I just don't-" He began looking up at Newt in surrender.

He suddenly jolted up from the chair, knocking it backwards as he did. He turned in a circle, like he was searching for something. "Thomas?" I said, a bit concerned.

"What's wrong?" Newt asked, "Did you remember something?"

Thomas ignored us, looking around the room in confusion. His gaze settled back on the girl. "I…" he picked the chair up, sitting back down and staring at her, "Did either of you say something before I stood up?"

Newt and I exchanged a glance, saying, "No," in perfect unison.

"Oh," he said, "I just thought I heard something… I don't know. Maybe it was in my head. Did… she say anything?"

"Her?" Newt questioned, his eyes lighting up, "No. Why? What did you hear?"

"It was… I swear I heard a name. Teresa."

"Teresa?" I repeated.

"No, I didn't hear that," Newt began, "Must've sprung loose from your memory blocks!"

"That's her name, Tommy Teresa. It has to be."

"It was… I swear I heard it. But in my mind, man. I can't explain it." He jumped from the chair again, startling me into standing up. He scrambled as far from the bed holding the sleeping girl as possible. He knocked over the lamp in the process. I winced at the crash, broken glass flying across the floor.

"What's bloody wrong with you?" Newt asked. I picked up the lamp, careful not to cut myself on the glass all around.

"She's," he began, his eyes wide. He looked freaked out. His chest was heaving with racing breaths, "She's freaking talking to me. Inside my head. She just said my name!"

"What?" Newt said in confusion as I just stared at the boy. That was… um… not expected. He didn't look so good anymore, he looked really freaked out. I began to walk towards him.

"I swear!" he said, "I'm… hearing her voice in my head- or something… it's not really a voice…" He trailed off.

"Tommy, sit your butt down. What are you talking about?"

"Newt, I'm serious," Tommy said, "It's… not really a voice… but it is."

I stood beside him, trying to pull him towards the chair which I'd sat back up again. He put his hands up to his ear, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tommy," I whispered, a hand on his back, "Thomas?"

"Tommy? What are you doing?" Newt asked, though louder than necessary. Thomas shook his head, his eyes snapping open as he made for the door, yanking it open and slipping out before I could really react.

I just stared at the doorway, not even looking back at Newt. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was- What in Bloody Hell was that?

He was the first to recover however and, laid a hand on my shoulder, "Come on," he said.

"Should we go after him?" I questioned, looking up at him. He looked better than he did earlier. Not as angry, or moody, just confused… and a bit worried.

"In a bit, but he need a while to cool down." I nodded.