The Inventor

Chapter Forty Three; "Apple or carrots?"

     Three days went by with Thomas screaming bloody murder until sedation shut him up. You prayed he wouldn't start having another seizure in the middle of the chaos at night. You got to see it all first hand, how horrifying it was to be in the old wooden building with grievers clawing at the perimeter.

     You kept Chuck close, checking in on Newt until finally another glader was taken to death. Three days of it and Thomas hadn't woken up.

     It worried you in a way you refused to admit out loud. Thomas was smart, you knew that despite your constant jabs otherwise. He wouldn't run a suicide attempt straight into a griever like you were told he did. There was a reason.

     You stuck by his bed, making sure he didn't die quietly for some reason you weren't aware of.

     "He's awake!" Chuck yelled right into your ear, startling you awake and gripping the chair you sat on.

     Thomas groaned on the bed and you rubbed your eyes, grumbling about being woken up.

     "Don't scream little man," You reminded him, "I still think I have a headache."

     "You have a headache?" Thomas grumbled, "I just got stung seventy times by a griever, my head hurts."

     "And whose fault is that?" You countered, "If you weren't sick I'd give you a good hit over the head for being reckless."

     "I thought you were buggin dead man!" Chuck said, "I could kiss you right now!"

     "Please don't do either of those things," Thomas blinked, opening his eyes finally, "How long was I out?"

     "Three days," You answered.

     "And you look as good as new!" Chuck complimented. You snorted since Thomas looked quite the opposite, but you didn't rain on the little man's parade.

     "What happened since?" Thomas slowly sat up and you put one hand firmly on his shoulder to keep him sitting there. You didn't trust him not to get up at random and try to go off all heroe like.

     "The grievers came, they got Zart and two others," Chuck started listing off, "Runners haven't found anything in the maze about the code, Newt was all pissy and I think he got in a fight with Y/n."

     "We're not fighting," You corrected stoutly, "We are having a dispute amongst two mature people that can only be solved by ignoring each other until one surrenders. Which will not be me, I have won against Newt the last three times and I have a streak to keep."

     "Fine, you're having dispute," Chuck waved it off, "We still don't know why the grievers are only taking one shank at a time, it's driving everyone coo-coo."

     You studied Thomas's face carefully, watching it pale and drain of emotion.

     "There needs to be a gathering, soon," Is all he said.

     "What? Why?" Chuck questioned.

     "Chuck, go tell Newt and Alby to get a gathering together, yeah?" You asked him.

     "Seriously? A gathering?"

     "Dead serious," You patted his back, "You're the man for the job."

     He huffed dramatically, "I know you're just saying that to get me to go but fine! I'm going!"

     He waddled out of the room, his little footsteps pattering down the stairs. You smiled until he was out of sight, then gripped Thomas's shoulder harder and looked back to him with a neutral expression.