Subject A250: The Fangirl (COMPLETED)

Twenty-One: A Promise From Thomas

Thomas was already in the Slammer when Trace arrived. However, she was disappointed to find that there were multiple sections, just like the movie, and she could only see Thomas if she stood up and poked her head through the bars, peering into his section.

"Great running this morning," she said, once she'd figured out she could actually see him if she tried.

"Yeah? Great faceplant," he shot back.

"It was intentional."

"Sure didn't look like it."

Trace huffed and sat back down, having to raise her voice to speak to him again. "You know, you sure are much sassier than I first anticipated."

Thomas was silent for a few moments, and Trace wondered if she'd managed to offend him by calling him 'sassy'. Just as she was beginning to think their friendship was over, Thomas spoke again:

"We gotta get out of here, Trace."

Classic Thomas. Trace sighed.

"I know, Tomato. I know. Trust me, I know. And we will. We will get out of here."

There was a pause while Thomas considered her words.

"You know, you're the only one here who's actually said that; the others seem to think it's impossible or something."

Trace smiled to herself, pleased to be able to reassure Thomas this way; he had a lot worse coming his way soon. "I guess I'm just an insightful person. Besides, you heard the new girl; she said everything was going to change. Sounds like a way out to me," she explained, taking care not to use the name 'Teresa' just yet.

"I feel like I know her."

The words sent chills through Trace's heart. Of course Thomas knew her; Trace already knew that herself. Trace knew Teresa. But, somehow, hearing Thomas say it out loud to her made her feel odd. Out of place. It wasn't something he ever told anyone in the books or the movies, and here he was telling Trace now. She couldn't find the words to reply.

"I was going to keep it a secret, you know. It's a dangerous thing to share. But there's something there that seems familiar about her. I can't pinpoint what. I know you're a little crazy and everything, but I feel like I can trust you. Like you know how to keep secrets."

Well, wasn't that the truth. Trace definitely knew how to keep secrets, that was for sure.

"Besides," Thomas continued. "Ben came after both of us that day, and Alby said he knew us both. That has to mean something, right?"

"Yeah," Trace replied, unable to do much other than repeat what had already been said, her mind running at a million miles an hour. "Has to mean something."

"Does she seem familiar to you at all?" Thomas had stood up and was peering into her section of the Slammer now, his worried gaze locked on her now, searching for any kind of reassurance. She had to say something.

"Alby?" she asked, stalling for time.

"The girl." He rolled his eyes.

"I guess. A little. Like you said, I can't pinpoint it, but there's something there," she said, refusing to tell the full truth, with good reason.

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad. I'm so glad it's not just me. I'm not going crazy!"

"No. You're not going crazy, Tomato."

"Phew!" he exclaimed, before returning to his spot on the floor. Trace embraced the silence that followed, knowing that with Thomas, silence didn't last long.

"Whose clothes are you wearing?"

Point proven.

"This is a vintage number from Newt's collection actually."

"Huh. Very nice. They don't fit."

"That's the style."

"They look weird on you."

Trace had to look down to double-check that was true; she still didn't quite believe that Newt had, in fact, lent her his clothes to wear for the day.

"I had no other option!"

She heard the responding smirk.

"No, Thomas! I had no other option!"

"You had one-"

"No, I didn't. No other option. Clear that from your mind right now!"

"Yes, sir," was Thomas' sarcastic response.

"I think you'll find there is only one person in the Glade that the name 'sir' is not applicable to, and that person is me, you slinthead," Trace replied.

"Two."

"Huh?"

"Two people in the Glade. There are two girls now," Thomas stated, as if he were a genius for remembering that.

"I know that; you're allowed to call her 'sir', just not me."

"Okay, ma'am."

"Much better."

Apparently this was enough to silence Thomas for quite a while, because the next time they spoke was after lunch, when Chuck arrived with food.

"Here you go, Thomas," the young boy said, reaching between the bars to hand Thomas a helping of bread and water.

"Thanks, Chuck," was the mumbled reply from Thomas, who was already scoffing his food down.

Chuck settled down in front of Thomas' area, and Trace was immediately offended.

"Hey!" she cried, getting to her feet. "Where's my food?"

Chuck shrugged. "I only had enough to give to Thomas," he said, winking at Thomas as he spoke. The little slinthead.

"I thought we were friends, Chuck!" she said, hoping she sounded as offended as she felt.

"We are," he replied. "That's why I was just kidding with you."

Chuck reached into his pocket and pulled out another helping of bread, much to Trace's surprise and relief.

"Chuck!" she exclaimed. "Thank you! You're the best shank around!"

"I know," he smiled, handing the bread over, obviously chuffed with his little surprise. Trace just wanted to give him a big squeeze right there and then; he was just so precious.

She had to protect him. She was really the only one who could. The only one who could foresee what would happen. She had to use it to the best of her abilities. She had to plan.

Chuck started talking to Thomas about his parents, about how he missed them without even knowing them. Thankfully, he didn't hand over any little carved wooden doll, so Trace didn't need to worry about keeping track of that storyline.

Then Thomas made a promise.

What an unfortunate rhyme, she thought. A Thomas Promise. Kind of ironic, considering they never worked out that way.

He promised to get Chuck back home. Back to his parents. A promise Trace knew that, no matter what, no matter how hard they tried, he could never fulfil. Chuck's parents were long gone. Book or movie, they'd never be found.

And it made Trace angry. Incredibly angry. Not at Thomas. Not at Chuck's parents. At WICKED.

She knew then that she'd do whatever it took to get Chuck as far as she possibly could. She really would try her best. She'd use what she knew to her advantage.

Then she'd just have to hope against hope that he was immune.

She hoped the very same for herself.