The Death Cure Rewrite

Part 11

We were back in Wicked's building and I held two blades in my hands, clutching onto them like they were life. Most of the building had no power, like all of the buildings here, but some areas were still illuminated, hanging on by a thread. But even with no light, I could still clearly see Ava Paige standing in the center of the hallway, staring out at all the wreckage happening through the large windows.

Thomas approached her with his gun aimed and I kept my blades ready at my sides. We got 6 feet away before she looked at us, and Thomas automatically cocked his gun. I wondered if she could still see the pain in our eyes, the sadness. I wondered if she took the blame for it. If it wasn't for Wicked, Newt might still be alive. She just stared at us as the gun shook in Thomas' hand.

"Is it true?" he asked. "Newt. Could I have saved him?"

Ava kept her calm composure, reminding me of the very first time I'd saw her in the video where she pretended to kill herself. "You saved Y/N. You can save us all." Thomas inhaled, his hand quaking roughly, and Ava maintained eye contact with him. I side-eyed him, seeing the emotion in him, so I curled my pinky around his to comfort him while also trying to avoid dropping my knife.

The second he felt my touch, he lowered the gun, dropping his head and sniffling loudly. The gun clattering to the floor was loud compared to the soft sobs he released, his hand switching to hold mine in a way that kept him from getting cut by the knife.

Ava approached us slowly, eying me as I stiffened, but she remained at ease. "It's okay," she whispered softly, calmingly, almost like a mother.

"Just leave the others alone," Thomas bargained.

"What?" I blurted. When I said to finish this, that hadn't been what I meant.

"Leave Y/N alone."

"Thomas!"

"I promise." Ava smiled kindly, her own eyes filling with tears. "I will-." A loud gunshot sang through the halls and I gasped, jolting back for a split second as I looked over her. I didn't feel any pain, nor did I see any in her face. Until she grunted once, slipping slowly to the tile. She grabbed for Thomas, but he let her fall, still in shock.

I wasn't upset she was dead but seeing who'd done it made me see red. Janson walked confidently towards us, his gun still raised, with an arrogant smirk on his lips. I gripped tightly onto my knives, watching him carefully.

"I wouldn't, Y/N," he said, his gun pointed at my forehead as he stood behind Ava's body. He was close enough to touch. Close enough to kill, if it wasn't for that gun. He lowered it to his side, his lips spreading into a friendly smile. Out of confusion, I cocked my head at him, wondering if he was giving up.

In the blink of an eye, he slapped my neck as well as Thomas'. I felt the sting of a pin prick and reached up slowly, still staring at him. His smile wasn't nearly as friendly now. I pulled something blue and small from my neck, feeling my vision become fuzzy. My hands were the first to become weak, my knives slipping to the ground as I stumbled.

"What did you..." I couldn't finish my sentence because I blacked out. I remember hitting the ground, but then there was nothing besides the sound of Thomas' voice softly straining out my name.

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Thomas awoke to the sound of buildings crumbling down outside of the window. It just sounded like a thunderstorm to him. It took him a minute to realize where he was, to realize that Teresa was sitting right next to him. As he lifted his head, she looked at him as though she didn't think he would come back so early. He looked down at his arm, seeing the vial of blood she was drawing from him, and he was surprised to find himself thinking about hurting her.