little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 6 •°*"˜

Thomas tapped his foot restlessly as he waited in the meeting room. Its walls were made of dull stone; its only furniture was a table and a couple chairs, likely for an interrogation.

The door opened, breaking the silence, and in walked Mr. Janson. 

"Thomas," he greeted, "thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I was just hoping we might get a moment to chat in private, away from the others."

Thomas said nothing. The man pulled over a chair and took a seat across the table, so they were face to face. "Well, I won't take up too much of your time," Janson promised. "I really only have one question."

He hesitated for a moment, his blue eyes boring into Thomas's. It was as though Janson was taunting him, daring him to say something snarky or question his authority. Thomas stayed quiet.

Finally, Janson spoke again. "What do you remember about WICKED?" When Thomas didn't immediately reply, the old man sighed. "You're not in trouble. We're just having a conversation. I'm just trying to understand."

"Understand what?" Thomas asked.

Janson's gaze was ice cold. "Whose side are you on?"

Thomas's hands clenched into fists. He could feel his temper rising. He had been tortured and nearly killed by WICKED, not to mention they killed a whole bunch of his friends. How could this man even think for a second that Thomas would be on their side? It took all of his willpower not to lash out right there. He forced his anger to recede. If Janson really was just trying to help, Thomas as least owed him an explanation.

He took a deep breath, then began. "I remember I used to work for WICKED. I remember that they sent me into the Maze. I remember watching my friends die in front of me. I'm on their side."

Janson nodded. "Interesting. You say you worked for WICKED, but they sent you into the Maze. Why would they do something like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should've asked them before you killed them all."

Janson's lip curled, a look of disgust flashing on his face for a brief moment, until it was replaced with a neutral expression. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

He stood up casually, acting as though the conversation had never happened. "Enjoy the rest of your stay."

"That's it?" Thomas asked. Janson's sudden ease had caught him off guard.

"Yeah, you've told me everything I need to know," the man replied. "You and your friends have all been cleared to join the others. Soon you'll all be moving on to greener pastures." He opened the door.

"Wait," Thomas called. "'Others'?"

Janson smirked and exited without an answer. He signalled to a guard. "Escort Thomas to the cafeteria. I think it's about time he ate a proper meal."

***

Y/n tapped her foot impatiently. "Where is he?" she demanded out loud, though no one had an answer for her. "He said he'd be back soon! What if something happened to him?"

The blond boy called Newt knelt before her, meeting her eyes. "Tommy's one of the toughest people I know," he reassured. "He'll be fine. Why don't we go get some food?"

Newt stood up and took Y/n's hand, leading her into the large cafeteria. They sat down at a table with four other Gladers named Minho, Frypan, Winston, and Jack, plus two other boys she didn't recognize. The strange boys seemed to be deep in conversation with the Gladers.