Night Visions (TMR) (Newtmas)

27

After Newt left to call Minho and Alby—not without pecking Thomas on the cheek and the lips, giving him mini strokes each time he touched him—, Thomas let himself fall backwards on the bed again, with a huge smile spread throughout his face. He felt on cloud nine, and even though he reckoned that feeling so happy while the creators were trying to scare the klunk out of them and kill them, he couldn't help thinking of himself as the luckiest shank on Earth.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus despite the constant tickling in his stomach. There was someone important he wanted to talk to. Teresa.

The intensity of her voice surprised him. It was as if she were sitting next to him. That was a really stupid thing to do, Tom. Really, really stupid. I pretty much hated you the last couple days. You should've seen yourself. Your skin, your veins...

You hated me? It wasn't the kind of welcome you expected after coming back from the verge of death.

Teresa remained quiet for a while. That's just my way of saying I would've killed you if you died.

Smiling, he felt a bubble of warmth explode in his chest and expand throughout his body like the waves of an earthquake. Thanks, I guess.

How much do you remember?

Enough, he admitted. What you said about the two of us and what we did to them... What I saw...

It was true? Wait, what did you see?

He scratched the back of his neck. He'd forgotten for a second the fact that he hadn't told anyone about the visions. Should he tell Teresa? After all, she was like his sister. And siblings trust each other. I... When you hadn't arrived yet, I started having some... visions with someone. They were short scenes of my..., of our past at WICKED. I guessed from them that I worked for the creators. Anyway, now I've got the whole picture. We did some bad things, Teresa.

Teresa didn't say anything. Thomas could, anyway, feel her frustration building.

Did you learn anything to help us get out of here? she finally asked.

Maybe. But it won't be easy. We need a Gathering, and I'll ask for you to be there—I don't have the energy to say it twice. And Teresa?

Yeah?

The Maze can't be solved.

He sensed hopelesness going back and forth between their minds; like he received Teresa's despair and bounced it back to her while she did the same with his strong trust that they could scape—even if there was no solution to the Maze.

I think we all know that now. Thomas hated the pain in her voice—he could feel it in his mind.

Don't worry; the Creators meant for us to escape, though. I have a plan. It is terrible, and some of us might die. Sound promising?

Big time. What's it?

I'll tell you later, in the Gathering, he rushed.

Hurry! she urged him. Oh, and Thomas? Congrats.

An hour later, Thomas sat among the Keepers for the Gathering, just like he had a week or two ago. They hadn't let Teresa in, which pissed him off as much as it did her. Newt and Minho trusted her now, but the rest still had their doubts.

"All right, Greenie," Alby said, looking almost in good shape now. "Forget all the beat-around-the-bush klunk. Start talking."

Still feeling a bit queasy from the Changing and all the strong emotions—specially the one sitting next to him now—, Thomas forced himself to take a second to organize his thoughts.