Chapter Text
24/12/232
Thomas stares up at the clock. The longer hand ticks by in a rhythmic pattern, which echoes in his head. He sifts through the papers in his hands, sighing through his nose. The subject code A7 is repeated numerous times in these files he has been expected to read, and he is fearful that it stands for one of his friends.
Okay. He is correct, and he knows that, but he doesn't want to imagine seeing Minho walk through that door. Does he look as bad as he did when him and Newt had found him? Worse?
Minho is dragged in shortly after these thoughts cross Thomas' mind, and sat down opposite him, eyes blank. Thomas' throat tightens, and he only dares to talk when the guards leave.
"Minho?"
It takes a minute for Minho to stir, but recognition flashes in his eyes and he adjusts his posture. "Thomas." His gaze narrows on Thomas, who isn't handcuffed like he is, "Are you with them as well?"
For Thomas, this accusation comes out of the blue, and makes his heart thunder.
"Was Gally right? Have both you and 'Reese been with Wicked from the start?" The venom in Minho's voice is undeniable, but it is obvious that he is thoroughly worn out by whatever has been done to him recently. So, Thomas does his best not to take anything to heart. Although it isn't easy. Not when he is being studied with the same eyes that watched Teresa's betrayal play out.
"We're being filmed." Thomas gets out weakly, nodding towards a camera on the wall.
Minho's eyes flick to it, then he picks up on Thomas' tone. Thomas watches him carefully, not daring to smile. He cups his mouth, hiding it from the camera, "No."
"Do not obscure movements from the system, please, A2." A voice comes over an intercom.
Thomas sits back in his chair, "Sorry."
Relaxing slightly into his seat, Minho manages a grim smile, his attitude shifting scarily quick, "Alright. Let's restart on a better note. How've you been? You look healthy."
"Thanks." Thomas runs a hand through his hair, pinching some of the paperwork with the other, before deciding it means nothing to him and opting to focus on his friend only, "What do you know?"
"..About what?"
"Newt. Gally."
Pain is evident in Minho's features, "I haven't seen Newt at all."
"Really?" Thomas is shocked, and his face falls. His eyes drop to his hands, "They've been testing him."
"What?" Minho's voice hardens.
Thomas glares over at the camera, "They inject him with Serum and time how long he stays sane for. It's.. horrible."
Minho's voice is low and drawn out, "Thomas. What do you mean."
There is a flicker of confusion shared, Thomas meeting Minho's eyes again in worry, before despair visibly crashes down upon Minho's shoulders — a cruel realisation hitting him.
He stands, "Newt isn't—?"
"A7, please sit." A voice commands from overhead.
Minho doesn't. He just keeps staring at Thomas with something he has rarely ever visibly expressed before. Fear. "Immune. Yeah." Thomas closes his eyes, "If I don't cooperate, they show me him in pain. I just…" his voice shorts out, "I don't think I can do this, Min."
That only peaks Minho's interest, though, and he slowly sinks down into his chair, knees feeling weak. "You too?"
"Huh?"
"Gally—" Minho begins, frowning, "—a few days ago, they brought him in and beat him to pulp, man. Fuck-face-rat-face said something about Subject training and bonds between people."
"Okay." Thomas digests the cruel words, "So.. they're using us against one another." He states it more like a fact than a question, and Minho nods unenthusiastically.
"Basically."
Thomas thinks a few things over for a moment, then pulls up his hands to count on his fingers. Minho asks what he is doing, but he is hushed. "Are you sure you haven't seen Newt?"
"Positive."
"I haven't seen him in seventy.. hours… too long. Do you think..?"
The question goes unsaid, and the answer unwanted.
Minho glares at the handcuffs on his wrists, "If they've done something to him, I'm taking down this whole shucking place by myself."
"They haven't, they haven't," Thomas whispers more to himself, "why would they? He's more use alive than dead, no?" And he hates how he is phrasing it, but it's the truth.
They fall into silence. Thomas looks back at the clock.
"They want me to make notes on you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Thomas sees the ballpoint pen that has been laid out for him and picks it up, clicking the end of it a few times.
Minho stops looking at him, eyes never quite remaining in one place.
"Gally."
Minho says the name so quietly, that Thomas almost doesn't catch it.
"He's real. Isn't he."
It's not really a question. Minho is just seeking confirmation from someone he trusts. Thomas nods, "As real as us."
"I thought so." Minho huffs, "It's just.. you can never tell with Wicked."
"What makes you think he isn't real?" Thomas is undeniably curious.
Minho easily deflects, "What questions are on the paper, then?"
Thomas understands straight away how Minho does not want to talk about that, so he directs all of his attention to the papers. There is a short row of questions, and he reckons that their time together will end once he's read them all, so he's gonna have to drag them out.
"How are you finding your time here?"
That makes Minho snicker, "You what?"
"That's what it asks."
"Shit."
"..Well I don't think I can write that."
"Do it. Don't be a scaredy-shank."
And Thomas goes to, liking the fact that Minho's attitude is still as rock hard as ever, but Newt's face appears in his mind, tainted by the Flare. He scribbles out negative instead.
"Who is your best friend." Thomas's brow furrows at how ridiculous these questions are, but he ends up grinning at Minho, "I do hope you give me a good answer for that one."
Minho snorts, "That's gotta be a trick question."
"I know, right? They probably think you're as stupid as you look."
Thinking for a moment, Minho ignores Thomas and feels something come to mind. He looks at Thomas with an overly serious expression, "…Teresa."
Thomas writes that down.
"What job did you hold whilst in the Maze?"
"Surely they know that. Runner." Minho pauses, "And put Keeper in front if you don't mind."
Doing exactly that, Thomas moves to the next paper, "Oh, there's a follow up question. And what job would you have wanted otherwise?"
Minho blinks. His mouth opens and closes, and it suddenly looks like he is actually thinking hard about this, like the question has really gotten to him. "I— uhm, I don't know."
"Just pick one."
"I can't. I was a Runner, I was going to die a Runner if I'd had to. These questions don't even mean a fucking thing, what are we doing?"
"Minho."
Nostrils flaring with anger, Minho chews the inside of his cheek, "A gardener."
"…Are you being serious?"
"Look, shank, I don't know." Minho lifts his cuffed wrists off of the table to wipe them over his face, "A builder, then."
Thomas writes both.
The mood in the room has shifted after that, the next couple of questions being straight to the point and painfully simple. Minho's tone is chipped through the rest of their meeting, as if he is battling something in his head. And losing.
"I think that's it." Thomas eventually murmurs, glancing at Minho nervously as if he is worried guards will appear out of thin air and remove his friend from the chair across the table.
That doesn't happen.
A digital screen appears underneath the clock Thomas had been watching earlier. Janson's face makes his eyes go fuzzy from anxiety. He has been lucky enough to hide behind doctors with his varying notebooks whenever Janson has entered a room, but the grimace Minho is pulling tells him that he has not been able to do the same.
"A2, you are free to leave. A7, I would like for you to remain seated."
Janson vanishes, but the screen does not. Thomas and Minho share a look, then Thomas stands with shaky legs. "I'll find a way to get us out of here. I promise."
Minho's pupils shrink, "Thomas— cameras."
"I don't care what they hear. What if they've done something to Newt? I need them to show him to me again." Thomas feels as angry as he did that night when he held up a bomb right in front of Ava Paige. "I will free us all again. I'll do it a thousand times over if I have to."
Minho looks proud. Not in an overly triumphant way, because both him and Thomas are far from winners in this situation, but in more of a respecting way. And Thomas isn't able to show just how much that means to him.
"A2, please exit." The same recorded voice from earlier fills the room.
Thomas hates to be leaving Minho here, and knows that as soon as he is off duty again and is put back in his cell, he will start mentally mapping whatever ways he can to try and flee this place.
Ava Paige is waiting for him in the corridor outside.
He clenches his jaw, slowing down, and makes sure to stay a couple of metres away from her when she begins to walk. "How was that, Thomas? Do you think your talk was successful?"
"Sure."
"I'm glad to hear it. What are your thoughts on this scheme, then?"
"My thoughts?"
They turn a corner, and Ava easily hands the clipboard she is holding to a passing nurse, "The subject friend tests. Do you think they're working?"
"I think it's cruel. Unnecessary."
"..Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Alright. We'll keep that in mind."
"I'm sure you will."
Ava regards his tone for a moment, "Are you feeling okay, Thomas? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine."
"Well, if you're sure."
Thomas only grunts.
Ava doesn't seem effected by his demeanour one bit, which doesn't really surprise him, but it's still mildly irritating. Unlike Janson, Ava seems immune to giving reactions, which makes Thomas even more uneasy around her. She is impossible to read. More complex than even Teresa.
Walking with haste, they travel towards a room stocked with hundreds of active computers. Thomas' gut churns when he sees one with a reel of the security footage of the room interiors in cell-block, but he is more unsettled by the guard lingering behind him, ensuring he is aware of his lack of authority here.
When he pauses walking to look at a live camera reel that possibly shows the room he just left, the guard bumps into him, and Thomas can feel their pistol press up against his shoulder blades. "Keep moving, A2."
"Fuck off." He mutters, shaking them off. But it encourages him to walk the tiniest bit closer to Ava.
Ava acts oblivious to the scenario, and smiles at Thomas with the same, empty expression she always wears, "I am aware you've been worried about your friend, Newt."
"Really." Thomas scoffs.
"I just want to tell you, that he will be okay. You can find him soon." She nods, then is pulled aside by a doctor, who hastily hands her some items.
Thomas shifts on his feet, "Find him? Find him where?" He shouts over the growing noise in the room.
After he is ignored, he calls to Ava again, unsure whether he should make a move towards her, but the guard pushes themself ahead and grabs his shoulder, roughly bustling him along and towards the far exit. Thomas shoves them, trying to make the guard ease how tightly they are gripping his arm, but it does nothing, so he gives in.
All his mind can focus on right now is Minho. Why did he need to stay? And why had Janson spoken to them directly on the screen? That is never a good sign. He just hopes that Minho is okay.
And Gally, apparently. Thomas remembers being in the room when the guy first woke up after being tasered. He'd experienced an awkward fall onto his head from that, apparently, and was the last of their group to wake up. Thomas was put on medical watch duty for a few hours jus to make sure nothing changed, so the night doctors could have a break.
Unfortunately, it was just his luck that Gally decided to wake up then. He had tried to hush him and urge him subtly to go back to sleep, but the second those nurses suspected movement, he was up and out of the bed, ready for his first trials.
Plus, after what Minho said?
"—a few days ago, they brought him in and beat him to pulp, man. Fuck-face-rat-face said something about Subject training and bonds between people."
Thinking about all of the records on Minho's behaviour he has seen already, Thomas thinks he fears for Gally the most.