little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜*°• 29 •°*˜

Thomas stumbled from the tent, breath shaky and thoughts jumbled. He managed to get himself out of sight of his friends, unsure if he'd be able to handle their questions and concerns at that moment. After finding a rock to sit down on, he managed one deep breath, then another. Finally, there was nothing left to do but try to process Mary's words.

Thomas had a sister. A living sister. And Y/n was that sister. The girl who had been by his side ever since he escaped the Maze, the strangely clever six-year-old who had put her life at risk time and time again in order to have a chance at freedom.

Family, actual blood-related family, was something that Thomas had long given up on. The closest thing he thought he would ever have to a younger sibling was annoyingly optimistic Chuck, back in the Glade, who taught him to never give up hope. But when Chuck died, any hope that may have blossomed with the thrill of leaving the Maze died with him. Now, though, Thomas had Y/n. And he knew that no matter what, he would do anything to protect her.

***

A few hours later, Mary did the DNA test to confirm her suspicions: Thomas and Y/n were officially siblings. 

The Gladers heard the news and congratulated Thomas, who was mostly looking forward to telling Y/n. However, the little girl was still sound asleep, though she did appear to be getting better. Colour had returned to her skin, and her breathing was much more rhythmic. Whatever Mary gave her for her illness certainly seemed to be working.

In the meantime, Thomas decided to go and check on Brenda. He arrived at her tent to find her passed out on her back, one hand strung over chest. Clutched in her grasp was some sort of pendant. Thomas's curiosity got the better of him; he tentatively reached over to pry it from her. He opened the pendant to find an old photo of a boy who looked quite similar to Brenda, only with slightly rounder and more masculine features.

"He was my brother," came Brenda's groggy voice from down on the cot. Her eyes were open, dark circles underneath them. But all in all, she looked much better.

"Oh, sorry," Thomas averted his eyes awkwardly and handed back the pendant. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

But Brenda wasn't listening. She ran her thumb back and forth over the picture of her brother, gazing wistfully at it. "You remind me of him," she finally said. "He always saw the best in people."

"Where is he now?" Thomas asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Brenda shifted onto her side, pillowing her head on her arm. "I don't know. When we were kids, we were taken in by one of WICKED's camps. They gave us a bunch of tests. They didn't want me." She paused, and tears welled up in her eyes. "They wanted him, though. They didn't even let me say goodbye."

Thomas was at a loss for words. The only thin he could think to ask was what his name had been.

"George," Brenda replied. Her voice was barely a whisper.

George. That name rang a bell for Thomas. From what Brenda had told him, it seemed clear that her brother was thrown in the Maze. But even if he did remember a George, it couldn't have been that one, could it? Had WICKED not changed everyone's names when they arrived at the complex? Unless ...

"Thomas!"

Thomas jumped up at the sound of his name, just as Minho came barrelling into the tent.

"Thomas! You— Oh, hey Brenda. Nice to see you." He turned his attention back to his fellow Glader. "Come with me, man. There's something—er, someone—you gotta see."