TMR - Thomas x X-reader fanfiction

Chapter Thirty

Y/N's POV

The air in the chamber felt heavier as the group stood in uneasy silence. I sat cross-legged on the floor, my back leaning against one of the glowing cylinders. My breathing was even now, but my mind remained in turmoil. The fragments of my memory swirled, sharp and jagged, refusing to settle into place.

Thomas crouched beside me, his gaze soft but searching. He didn't speak, knowing that whatever was brewing inside me needed time to surface.

My fingers traced the grooves of the floor absentmindedly as my mind drifted back to my earliest vision. Randall. The room with the sterile lights. The way he'd looked at me—detached yet focused, like I was an anomaly he couldn't quite decipher.

"She's valuable," he'd said. "But unpredictable. Keep her under close watch."

The memory was like an open wound, raw and pulsing with unease.

I closed my eyes, the memory flooding back with startling clarity.

I was strapped to the chair again, my arms bound tightly to the cold metal. Randall's voice echoed through the room, calm and measured, as if reciting an experiment's findings.

"She remembers too much," he said, pacing in front of me. "Her neural patterns aren't responding to suppression protocols the way we anticipated. It's as if her mind is... rewriting itself."

Another voice, sharper and more clinical, responded. "Should we escalate to neural fragmentation? It would ensure compliance."

"No," Randall said firmly. "She's critical to Phase Two. The memories may prove useful if we can control their emergence. For now, we isolate the triggers and monitor closely."

My head throbbed, the pain unbearable as they activated some unseen device.

"Tell me what you see," Randall ordered, his tone devoid of sympathy.

"I don't... I don't know," I gasped, my vision blurring with flashes of the Maze.

Randall leaned in, his expression sharp. "You're lying."

"Y/N," Thomas said softly, his hand brushing against mine. "What is it?"

"They didn't just try to erase me," I said, my voice trembling. "They wanted me to... remember things. But only what they wanted me to see. Everything else—everything real—they tried to bury."

Thomas's hand tightened around mine, grounding me. "But you fought it," he said. "You're still here."

I nodded though my mind was far from steady. "It's not just me, though," I said, my gaze meeting his. "You've seen it too, haven't you? The flashes. The pieces of something you can't quite place."

Thomas's expression darkened. He nodded slowly, the memory of his own vision surfacing unbidden.

Thomas' POV

I was standing over a table in a sterile white room. Its surface cluttered with maps and blueprints of the Maze. A man I couldn't fully see spoke beside me, his voice low and urgent.

"This is where it begins," the man said, tapping the map. "The first trial. The variables must remain intact."

I frowned, my eyes scanning the map. "And what about them?" I asked, his voice quieter than I intended.

"They're a necessity," the man replied. "You of all people should understand that."

The words sent a chill down my spine, though I didn't understand why.