The Boy With The Limp || TMR Fanfic || DISCONTINUED

Chapter 35; The Gathering

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Hazel's P.O.V

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    "Guys!" Chuck shouts, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Hey, he moved!"
   I jump off the table, sprinting up the stairs. I'm out of breath by the time I reach the room that we'd placed Thomas in. My eyes dart from Nathan, who's standing by the doorway to Chuck, who's standing next to my brother.
   "Thomas," I call out, walking towards them. "Thomas, it's me. Hazel, your sister. Can you hear me?"
   My brother lets out a soft grunt, but doesn't open his eyes.

    I watch as Chuck reaches his hand out. "Hey, Thomas, it's me, Chuck. Are you okay? Please don't die on me, dude."
   My body tenses at the mention of death but Nathan gently squeezes my hand, causing me to relax. I let out a sigh of relief as Thomas's eyes slowly flutters open. Groaning, my brother sits up on the bed. He swings his legs over the edge of the cot, holding his head in his hands.
   "You're awake!" Chuck states, his smile widening.

    My brother winces at the sound of Chuck's voice, cupping his hands over his ears. "Do you have to be so loud, Chuck? I don't feel so good."
   "Right, sorry," Chuck apologizes sheepishly. "You're just lucky I'm not showering you with kisses."
   I finally speak up. "And you're lucky that I haven't punched you yet."
   Thomas holds up his hand. "Please don't do that, both of you."
   He then inches towards the wall and leans against it, stretching his legs out. "How long was I out?"

    "Three days," Chuck answers for us.
   "We put you in the slammer at night to keep you safe and brought you back here during the day so that Hazel and I could keep an eye on you," Nathan tells him.
   "Three bloody days," I say. "I stood here for three bloody days waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you how stupid you were for doing what you did that night."
   "Well, that can wait for later," Thomas says. "Did the Grievers come?"

    "Yeah," I say. "They got Zart and a couple others one a night."
    "Minho and the other Runners have searched the Maze for any more clues that we might've missed or some use for that code that we discovered," Nathan adds.
    "That shuckface Newt kept me under supervision," I grumble. "He told all the Runners to not let me run in the maze."
    "Did they find anything?" Thomas asks.

    Chuck shakes his head. "No, nothing. But why do you think that the Grievers are only taking one poor shank at a time? Like, why not take a bunch of us?"
    But Chuck's question falls on death ears as Thomas looks up at us with a deadly serious expression. "Get Newt and Alby."
    I furrow my eyebrows.
    "Tell them we need to have a Gathering," he continues. "As soon as possible."
    "Serious?"

    Thomas sighs, tired. "Chuck, I've just gone through the shucking changing. Do you think I'm being serious?"
    Chuck then runs out of the room without a word, his cries for the Glade leaders getting softer as he get further away. Nathan gives me a look before running after Chuck in search for either Newt or Alby. I turn my head back to face Thomas, who's now resting his head against the wall.
    Teresa, he calls out, trying to reach her.

    Her response wasn't immediate, but then her voice appeared in our minds as loud as clear as if she was sitting next to us.
    That was really stupid, Tom. Really, really stupid.
    I had to do it, he answers. I had to know why they took my memories.
    Couldn't you at least have told us that you were going to do that? I ask. We could've found a safer way to get you stung instead of stand by helpless and afraid as you participated in a suicide mission.

    I didn't mean to scare you guys, you know that, right? He asks us.
    I look away, not wanting to meet his gaze.
    The two of us pretty much hated you for the next few days, Teresa tells him. Hazel especially. She kept saying that she'd kill you if you died.
    You hated me?
    That's my special way of saying that I'd kill you if you died, Teresa answers.
    Well, thanks? I guess.
    So how much do you remember? I ask, my back facing my brother. 'Cause it'd better not be all for nothing.