Love is a Weakness, Causing My Death and Yours

Part 3

An evil smile overtook Janson's face. "We won't, unless you step out of line. That includes attempting to escape, harm a member of the staff, or do anything to disrupt the.....procedures that are going to need to be performed. Understand?"

Thomas played his last card. "How do I know that she's still alive."

"We have nothing to gain in lying to you at this point."

"I want proof," he was well aware that it was taking all of his self control not to strangle Janson. "Let me see her."

Janson sighed. "Very well."

He kept sitting, just staring at Thomas. Thomas stared back until the door opened and in walked four guards, along with Teresa. Without thinking Thomas jumped up and rushed to her. His hand jerked him back almost as soon as he moved though, and he tugged a few times before settling on staring into her eyes.

Teresa seemed...off. She looked disheveled, her hair was hanging in knots and there was a cut on her cheek. She was more hunched over as well. She looked to Janson once and he looked over to Thomas, then gave a slight dip of his chin. 

The man was smiling. 

"Let's leave them for a moment." Janson told the guards with a sneer, and the five of them exited the room, the door closing behind them. 

It was as if a string connecting Teresa to the wall cut loose. She rushed to Thomas, throwing her arms around him and pressing her face into his shoulder. Thomas moved back about a foot or so so he could put his other arm around her. It wasn't much, but it was enough to space that he was able to wrap a hand partially around her waist and the unchained one around her shoulders. He knotted one of his fingers in her hair, putting his mouth right to her ear and whispering her name over and over again.

"Teresa," he whispered urgently; not knowing how much time he had. "Teresa it's okay. It's okay, we're okay." He kept muttering his mantra over and over, running his fingers through her hair in what he hoped was a calming manner. 

Eventually she pulled back to look at him and Thomas took her chin with his unchained hand, carefully tilting her face to examine her cut, not missing the slight bruise beginning to form in front of her ear. She pulled back from his hand, her eyes meeting Thomas's.

"It's nothing. Seriously Tom, I'm fine."

He didn't buy it, but figured it wasn't worth the argument at the moment. Instead Thomas leaned in closer to her and asking the one question that had been nagging him from the first time he had heard the news. 

"Is it true?" He whispered.

Tentatively, she nodded. 

Thomas put his forehead to Teresa's, a then slowly slid his unchained hand on her stomach. She inhaled a bit, and Thomas thought of his child just there below his hand. He looked up to Teresa and smiled. They were close to kissing now, and just as Thomas leaned in Teresa jumped away from him. Putting around five feet between them.

Thomas was confused. "Teresa?"

She wouldn't look at him, and Thomas could see from her body language that she was uncomfortable. 

"Teresa what is it?"

She took a breath. "I can't do this anymore Thomas."

His breath caught in his throat. "What...what do you mean?"

Teresa looked up at him, "I don't love you Thomas. I don't want you to be in my life anymore. You turn me into someone else when you're around me, and that's a person I don't like."

Thomas was shocked. "You can't mean that," he stuttered out somehow, "What about your kid. Our kid."

"Goodbye Thomas."

And with that she was gone.

--------

The guards had dragged Thomas back to his room, but he had stumbled there as if in a haze. He was currently sitting on the bed just staring at the wall in front of him. What Teresa had said to him had left him confused, angry, and saddened. It was ten times worse than what she had done in the scorch. After all, WICKED had found a cure, she had nothing to defend her actions this time. At least when she betrayed the Right Arm to WICKED she had had a motive that he had come to terms with in the months they had spent apart. Yet he refused to believe that the words she had spoken to him were hers. That someone had forced her to say those things to break his spirit and get rid of the one little flame of hope inside of him. 

But maybe that flame wasn't gone.

He had the certainty now that the child she was carrying was his. If for nothing else he would try and live, to get out, for his son or daughter. If whoever had made Teresa say the things she did (and he was pretty sure it had been that rat bastard), had not managed to crush him. They had fueled him. The rage inside him he would store away for the time being until the perfect moment. Then he would somehow escape the place he was held in and hopefully take Teresa with him if possible. 

Focusing for the first time in what felt like hours, Thomas noticed an object on the desk in the room. He stood and walked to it, very confused at what he saw.

The sonogram picture was sitting on the unfinished wood, and as he picked it up a piece of paper was left behind. As if it had been set under the photo. He paused, reading the short note. It said:

Thomas, 

Thought you might like to have this.

- Ava

He hovered over the note for a bit, wondering why the main leader of the organization that had imprisoned him was giving him a comfort object. But whatever the motives were, Thomas took the photo and lifted one corner of the mattress, carefully placing the picture underneath and lying down on top of the thin scratchy sheets. Whatever was coming to him, he would face after a light nap.