TBS Imagines

A Cure (Part Two)

A/n: The parts are going to coincide with the chronological time order of the books. Fever Code was part one, TMR will be part two, TST part three, and TDC being part four. So we're looking at a four part mini series? Hope this doesn't flop?

- 3rd Person POV -

The girl panicked, a gasp wracking her as she sat up abruptly. Her mind was as empty as the darkness around her. That was what she thought of at first. The darkness. And her blank mind. Panicked filled her as she tried to recall a name or a face or even simply how she'd gotten here. But she couldn't. "H-Hello?" she called. No answer.

As she unsuccessfully got anyone's attention and realized the severity of the situation she was in as whatever she was actually, physically in started to go up, she scooted into a corner. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing and tried to sort out what the actual bloody hell was going on.

Bloody hell.

That was not something she said.

Something tugged at her, warm and tantalizing but barely within range to even feel it. But reach it? No. She let it go, keeping herself calm. Her foot hit something as the ground shifted. She reached out to touch-

A box?

She suddenly thought of the extent of what was going on. Never mind where she'd come from - where was she going? Panic pushed her again and she pulled the box closer. In the dark, she pulled open the top, dumped out all the contents half-hazardly - she would have been gentle but she was in a moving container. If something breakable was inside, taking it out of the box guaranteed it getting broken, whether she was gentle or not - and curled in a ball, pulling it over her.

It was suffocatingly small and kind of scary actually, but it made her feel more guarded for some reason so she didn't make to leave the box.

Everything stopped and the girl froze, eyes wide and breath ragged. She covered her mouth to muffle it.

Meanwhile, the Gladers were all rushing as the Box approached, the alarm going off and causing confusion. This wasn't possible. Thomas had JUST come. How was this possible?

As the chaos started to take a grip, Newt moved to the front of the crowd. He jumped down into the box. "It's... a girl." He looked up at the other boys. But he wasn't talking about the girl hiding under the box, thought she tensed as she thought he was. The sunlight filtered into the box, harsh compared to the complete darkness from earlier but extremely muted so that her eyes adjusted a lot smoother than anyone else's had.

There was a gasp as the other girl Newt HAD meant when he'd spoken before shot up, looking around. Her eyes landed on the confused Greenie brunette and she choked out, "Thomas." Then, just as soon as she'd awaken and flipped out, she was out again, limp on the floor. Everyone slowly looked at Thomas. After a second, Newt looked around at the rest of the contents of the box. Two boxes - one awkwardly shaped and presumably empty as the other was tucked into the opposite corner, neat and sealed. The awkward, maybe empty box was upside down and its contents were strewn all over the bottom of the box.

Confused, Newt moved to the box, meaning to turn it over to start to pick up the mess of shirts and pants and socks. But, when he lifted the box, another pair of eyes met his. Newt stumbled back. "There's another one!" he shouted. Everyone looked back down as the girl blinked rapidly, looking around. Her eyes landed first on the other girl, then on Thomas. She looked at him a full second and they both seemed to breathe deeply, as if finding a piece of themselves in each other but neither really sure why. She moved on, looking at the other boys. They all seemed vaguely familiar, as if they'd passed in the background of a movie or had met ever so briefly in a dream. Doing something normal. Maybe one had held a door opened as she walked down the aisle or one had cut her off as she drove or another had bumped her as they passed. Something fleeting and brief. Things she assumed she'd maybe dreamt of, as the ideas of the possible encounters filled her head but none of their faces matched to them. Neither did her face to the person she pictured as her. These memories were not hers. They weren't memories at all. They were mental images. Nothings. It saddened her.