little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 7 •°*"˜

"W-what are you talking about?" Thomas asked. "How could you know that?"

Y/n shrugged, suddenly regretting saying that. She didn't know how to explain her strange life with only hazy memories. She also had a hard time talking about Janson and the things he did to her. Plus, she was only a child. Why would they believe her?

Thomas glanced at the window; his eyes suddenly widened as something caught his attention. 

"What the hell?" he muttered.

Y/n followed his gaze, seeing the dark-haired girl named Teresa being ushered down the corridor outside the cafeteria by a doctor in a white lab coat with dark skin and a stern look on her face. Only then she realized Teresa hadn't been with the Gladers since they left the lab. She didn't have the chance to process what Thomas was going to do before he stood up and moved after her, calling, "Hey, Teresa?"

Either she didn't hear him or just decided to ignore him. Nevertheless, she kept walking.

Thomas didn't give up. "Teresa!" he yelled. He probably would've followed her right out the cafeteria door when a guard put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Hey, hey, hey," the man soothed, pushing Thomas back.

Ignoring the protests from Newt, Y/n got up from the table to join her friend. She grabbed Thomas's arm and tried to pull him back. "Come on, Tommy."

Thomas restrained against her to ask another question about Teresa. "Where are they taking her?"

"They just have to run a few more test," the guard replied. "Don't worry, they'll be done with her soon."

Thomas didn't look very reassured. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine."

Thomas sighed. Finally, he grabbed Y/n's hand and the two went back to their table.

***

The door buzzed as it opened up into the Gladers' new dorm room. It was dull and undecorated, with metallic grey walls and floors and sets of bunkbeds taking up most of the area. The mattresses looked thin and lumpy, but no one could complain. The Gladers hadn't been able to sleep in a properly sheltered building with actual beds for as long as they could remember, and just the mere thought of finally having that was a luxury.

"Ooh, I got top bunk," Frypan, who entered the room first, called.

Unfortunately for him, Minho hauled himself up onto the bed first. "Too slow."

Thomas and Newt stood together, attempting to shield Y/n from Janson's minions, who were escorting them. As soon as the guards left and sealed the door shut, the boys exhaled in relief. They were safe. For now.

Winston stretched himself out on a bottom bunk, grinning. "I could get used to this," he decided.

"Yeah," Newt agreed. "It's not bad."

Thomas moved closer to Newt, speaking in a soft voice so that no one else would hear him. "Hey, what do you think those guys want with Teresa?"

Something like disappointment mixed with hurt flashed in Newt's eyes, but he covered it up quickly. Interesting.

"Now, if there's one thing I know about that girl," the blond said, "she can take care of herself."

Thomas turned to meet his eyes. They were soft and kind and chocolate brown.

"Don't worry about it," Newt assured. Then he turned away and climbed the ladder to his bunk, leaving Thomas alone on the ground.

Well, not completely alone.

Thomas glanced down at the little girl beside him, the same time she looked up at him.

"Come on, Y/n," he sighed. "There's a spare bed over there with no one in it. I'll tuck you in."

He gingerly took her by the hand and led her over to the bed. He wasn't used to interacting with young kids, but he had to try his best. Y/n clearly didn't have anyone, and the Gladers needed to be there for her. His friends all seemed to have different views on the matter. Some thought they should just leave her behind. She'll only be a distraction, they said. She's young. She'll need extra care. We can't have another Chuck.

That was the worst one for Thomas. He already bore enough guilt from Chuck's death; he didn't need anymore. The little wooden figurine that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in his pocket was a constant reminder of that.

But still, Y/n needed their help. And she was tough for her age, Thomas could tell. There was a lot of trauma behind her mask of childhood innocence, and Thomas couldn't shake the everlasting feeling that he, in some way, was part of it.

He tried not to think about that, though.

He helped Y/n climb into the bottom bunk and tucked her in under the sheets.

"Tommy?" she asked. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Uh, yeah sure." He sat down on the edge of her bed, not really knowing what to say. So he told her all about life in the Glade and the Maze, how he ran every day with Minho, looking for a way out until they finally found it. He talked about escaping and fighting the Grievers, though he made it sound more heroic than terrifying, as though it were something out of a superhero comic.

By the time he was done, the girl looked very ready to pass out. "Good night, Y/n," he whispered.

He hadn't expected her to respond, but she opened her eyes a crack and murmured, "Good night, Tommy."