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Dying was terrifying. I lied in my letter to Tommy, of course—why would I want to make him feel even worse after I was gone? No, I wanted this to be as easy as it could be for him. But in reality, I was scared, and it hurt. It hurt like hell.
The thing that scares me the most, though, is that now I’ve got no bloody clue how to actually… die. I mean, I’ve got the whole not breathing and heart stopping part down, but the rest of it, I’m not so sure about.
Thomas stares down at my body with tears in his eyes, and I want to run over and touch him, ask him what’s going on. But I don’t think he’d know either. Plus, I can’t seem to move. I don’t feel limbs, and that’s disorienting.
Anyway, dying. I was petrified. Losing my mind was bad enough, but in those last few minutes, I didn’t realize just how painful it’d be. It would have been nice to at least die on my own terms. Fully there, maybe fighting to protect the people I love. But no, I died nearly killing him. Tommy.
I’m glad I didn’t get the chance to hurt him. Not too badly, anyway. Nothing permanent, even though any wounds I may have caused him pain me horribly. I look at him, and the blood on both his hands and shirt that I caused, but he looks past me.
Brenda is here now with the serum. If I didn’t just die, I might laugh at the irony. Behind her comes Gally, Fry, and… Minho. I’ve never seen the boy look more broken than right now, and if I have a heart still, it breaks.
I look back at Thomas, but he’s up now, and he’s starting to turn away. I try to call out to him, but there’s nothing to call out with. So, instead, I do what I’ve always done. Somehow, I follow him.
Despair washes over me as I watch him walk in silence, alone. I try to figure out where he’s going, then it hits me—everything Teresa said over the speakers. Is he actually going to believe her? She could have just said that all to get him to go back so they can do some pointless experiments on him that, knowing them, will inevitably kill him.
Don’t do it, Tommy. Don’t go. Hearing that message sent me over the edge, I think. I was slipping in and out at the time, but what I heard made me angry because I knew that it was the exact thing Thomas would fall for. I curse myself for not holding on.
Tears pour down Thomas’ face, and he’s never looked worse. His bottom lip sticks out, and when I look down at his hand, he’s holding a gun. I’m afraid of his plans. He walks past a street filled with gunfire, and he doesn’t even glance up in its direction, let alone make sure he’s out of harm’s way.
You bloody idiot, watch out for yourself. I want to shake him. Maybe it’s the leftover anger from the flare, but this is insanely frustrating. I just died, and it definitely wasn’t just so I could watch Thomas get himself killed too.
Then, I remember something. The necklace. Does he have it? Did he take it? I think back, and I did tell him to take it. I gave it to him. Is it on him? Did it get lost during the fight? The thought is nearly the worst thing I could imagine. I fought so hard to get that to him.
When we make it to WCKD’s building, I’m forced to watch Thomas walk in. It’s dead in here, so he goes into the elevator, dragging his feet on the ground. His hand is shaking violently as he presses a number, and when the doors start to close, Thomas leans against the back of the wall.
His eyes squeeze shut, and he lets out a shaky sob. Every breath seems physically painful, and I can’t even comprehend what I’m watching. This is Thomas. My leader. My best friend. The one person I trust—well trusted—above anything else, and now I’m watching him completely shattered before me.
I want to revive myself just to change this. Just to give him his fight back the way he gave me mine. I want to tell him that before he came up in the box, I lost all of my faith. A lot of us had. But he showed me a different way.
Eventually, the elevator doors open, and I can barely believe we even got up the building in the shape it’s in at the moment. This floor is empty, and I think they must have evacuated, which is exactly what Thomas should be doing right now.
But no, he walks faster now, his head constantly turning to look down different halls. What is he doing? I want to ask so badly, I want him to hear me and know I can see him and know that I feel that what he’s doing is wrong. He shouldn’t be here.
Finally, he stops. When I look down the hall, I see why.
Thomas walks forward now. At first he’s quick, but then, as more tears come, he slows down. I’m almost taken aback when he raises the gun. His original plan was to kill Ava Paige—is that what he’s doing now?
Ava looks at him when he begins to talk.
“Is it true?” Thomas asks. I haven’t heard him even remotely like this since Chuck died, if ever. “Newt. Could I have saved him?”
You couldn’t have saved me, I want to shout. If he’s going to pull the trigger, he should do it now.
But he listens to her. Then, he lowers the gun. I can’t believe it. Why isn’t he killing her? She took Minho. She tortured us all since we were children. Why is he believing in this stupid cure?
I’m filled with terror when I hear a gunshot. I immediately look all over Thomas, but before I can look too deeply, I hear someone else collapse. Ava.
Apparently, it was Janson. I go for the gun, but I can’t grab it because I’m not even here. Is this all some kind of twisted dream from the afterlife? Why can’t I do anything?
Before I can register what’s going on, Janson’s hand is moving for Thomas’ neck, and Thomas is collapsing. No! I try to scream. To shove Janson, to pick up Thomas—it’s no use. Is he dead? Is he merely unconscious?
Rage and anguish boil up in me. This is because of me. Thomas came back here because I died and couldn’t stop him anymore, and now look where it’s gotten him. Maybe I should have fought harder to make sure I stayed alive. Just a few more moments. Sure, there was a time where I thought this was what I wanted. But then Thomas happened.
Janson leans down and grabs Thomas’ limp body before he begins to drag him by hooking his arms underneath Thomas’. I go with them, seemingly out of my control. I’m forced to watch it all happen. The only consolation is that I’m pretty sure Janson wouldn’t bother taking Thomas somewhere if he was dead. But on the other hand, what he might do with him could potentially be worse.
We don’t stop until we’re a few feet from a side room. Janson not-so-gently drops Thomas’ torso on the ground, and I’m fuming.
“Teresa!” Janson yells. The door of the room opens, and Teresa’s head pops through.
For a moment, I’m expecting her to smile. To thank Janson for bringing her her lab rat. I’m already wishing I could go over and get revenge for Thomas and Minho when I see the look of horror on her face.
“What did you do to him?” Teresa asks, sounding like she’s fighting to keep her voice level.
“I got him for you, and now you’re going to finally make this goddamn cure,” Janson says.
There is no cure, she lied, I want to shout.
“Did he come here on his own?” Teresa asks. Her blue eyes have tears in them.
“Found him in the hall with Dr. Paige. He shot her, so I had to knock him out,” Janson says.
I want to tell Teresa he’s lying, but what’s the point in that? She blinks a few times, trying to process Janson’s words. “Nobody was with him?”
“No—does it matter? Help me get him in there before the little shit wakes up,” Janson says with a snarl.
Teresa still stands frozen in the doorway for a moment longer before she joins Janson. They carry Thomas together, then lift him onto something. Something with restraints.
Are you happy that you came here, Tommy? Was it worth it? I want to cry, because the urge is overwhelming, but I can’t. All I can do is watch.
I watch them take blood from Thomas. I watch Teresa go to work on it, straight-faced. I watch Janson smile wickedly, and all of it makes me sick.
Thomas comes to eventually, and he immediately notices his restraints. Janson starts monologuing, because he’s a dramatic son of a bitch, and Thomas looks back at Teresa. Of course she’d betray you, Tommy. Of course you’d believe her.
I can see these exact thoughts crossing Thomas’ mind now as he looks back. But he looks defeated. Utterly drained, and I don’t blame him, but I still hate it all the same.
Janson explains that they’ll be taking Thomas’ blood, and I assume he means all of it. When he lifts up his sleeve to show how infected he is, oddly enough, I wonder when it started. When he noticed.
For me, I noticed my mood first. Little things started bothering me more and more, and my memory started fading too. I’d forget parts of plans right after we’d make them, or Thomas would mention a name that I’d have to battle my own brain to remember.
Then there were the other symptoms. I wrote off the stomach pain at first as a lack of food, since we weren’t all that stocked up. We had things, but definitely not the typical amount you’re supposed to have daily, and with every newcomer, the rations got smaller.
Then, when I’d be doubled over coughing and clutching my stomach crying in the middle of the night, I couldn’t ignore it. I felt awful, but I pushed through it. Nobody had to worry about me, because what could they do? Besides, we had to focus on Minho.
There wasn’t a specific moment that I discovered I had the flare. It came before the joint pain, and the disgusting black veins, because I just knew in my heart that this was it. That’s why I wrote that letter for Thomas while everyone else slept. I needed to tell him things that I didn’t have the time to say. All I can hope is that somehow, he still has it.
I’m snapped back to reality when I see Teresa slowly inching her way towards Janson, his back turned. She picks up something glass, and if I could smile, I would as she brings it up and smashes Janson over the head with it.
The next few minutes happen so quickly, they’re a blur. Teresa helps Thomas out of his restraints, Teresa’s head is hit, Thomas and Janson begin fighting. I move with Thomas supernaturally, and I’m up close and at a distance all at once. I don’t understand. And he has no idea.
I’m in a trance, feeling helpless until I’m brought back to attention by the sight of Tommy being shot. I notice before he does, I think. Him and Teresa run into the lab, and Thomas covers the wound. It’s horrible. I can almost feel it, and it hurts worse than when I brought the knife up to my chest.
I can’t believe the horrible suspense while the two of them scramble to hide, Thomas practically out of commission. I want to kill Janson myself, so that maybe Teresa can treat Thomas’ wound with whatever they have here. This is a bloody medical lab, right?
I’ve never hated someone as much as I hate Janson. That’s pretty much solidified at this point. I’m wishing that my pure rage could somehow manifest in a way that would make me able to help, but I know that that’s a lost cause.
Teresa is sticking up for Thomas, and as much as I want to blame her for everything and hate her, I know she cares about him. If that’s enough to get Thomas out of here alive, then I should practically worship the ground she walks on after.
I’m starting to believe this cure is the real deal, considering Janson wants it so badly, and Teresa’s keeping it from him. I’m mostly watching Thomas, though. His eyelids are drooping, and I wish I could try to tend to him. The blood is all over the front of his shirt now, and I couldn’t even look away if I wanted to. Being dead is a freaking joyride, so far.
Suddenly, Thomas is speaking up. Then, he’s throwing something. Janson dodges it, and I inwardly cringe.
“You missed, you little shit,” Janson says.
Thomas just looks up at him, then there he is. The boy I know. “Did I?”
The glass behind Janson breaks, releasing the cranks that I hadn’t even noticed till now. If Thomas wasn’t shot, I’d be cheering, because Janson deserves a fate as bad as that—if not worse.
Teresa helps Thomas up, and then they set off. The world is burning down around them—around us. I never saw it happening like this. I thought, at the end, it’d be the three of us—Thomas, Minho and I—side by side fighting, if we couldn’t live out our days at the safe haven. Plans change, I guess.
They climb up a stairwell, because there’s nowhere else to go. The situation is hopeless. But I’m not watching Thomas die. I refuse to.
When we reach a door and Teresa pushes it open, lugging Thomas along with her, it almost takes me a moment to register that we’re outside.
The city around us is in shambles. Fire everywhere, screams and gunshots sounding like a haunting backing track from below. But up on the roof, it’s just Thomas and Teresa.
They fall to the ground, and I can’t believe this is it. After Thomas’ heroic journey, after everything, it comes to a close on the burning rooftop of the WCKD building. WCKD started this all, and now, after Janson and Ava Paige’s deaths, it’s still going to find a way to finish it.
As for Teresa, well—WCKD really will turn out to be her downfall. It’s saddening. Sure, I’m harboring a lot of anger towards her. But she’s a kid. We all are. She doesn’t deserve to die, and neither does Thomas.
I wonder what will happen after. Will they join me? Will I be able to communicate with them? Tell Thomas how unbelievably stupid he was for going back?
Teresa gives Thomas the vial of blue liquid—the cure—and holds him in her arms as their lips touch, the fire around them closing in. She loves him, in her own way. It’s all so tragic and awful, and so private that I wish I could leave. I don’t want to watch any of this, in any way. There’s a burning feeling that I know I can place, but there’s no use for it anymore. I’m dead. Gone. Whatever irrational feelings I may have don’t count now.
Luckily, a distraction comes in the form of a berg. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thomas and Teresa head to it, and relief floods over me. Thomas will be okay.
If only they could get a little closer.
They try and try, but Thomas can’t muster up the strength to get to them, and I can’t bear to watch this. Everything reaches a point. He’s so close, so damn close, why can’t they reach him? Teresa tries, but nothings happening. Nothing’s happening.
Don’t ask how, because I have no idea. I don’t feel myself materialize, exactly, but my presence feels stronger until I can practically feel the fire licking at me. I’m not there. But I’m with Thomas. And with everything I have, as Teresa puts her strength into it, we throw Thomas onto the berg.
And I’m there with him. Somehow, I’m on the berg with him. He rolls over, and now all eyes are on Teresa.
I’d help her. If I was there, I would try to get her onto the berg. But I can’t move. She’s crying, and her skin is glowing with the orange light surrounding her. She doesn’t look like she’s even going to try as she turns around to see the building falling.
It happens in slow motion for everyone watching. The building crashes into WCKD’s, and Teresa looks back. I will her to jump, to try, but she doesn’t. She’s looking at Thomas, and I could swear she smiles for a moment. She’s accepted her fate the same way I did.
Then, the building is going down, and with it, Teresa. Nobody can do anything but watch. Watch her fall, watch the building collapse, and all the remainders of WCKD crumble.
Thomas lets out a horrible scream, reaching out as everyone pulls him back. It breaks something in me. After a few moments, his eyes go dark. Blank, almost. There’s fire in them from the reflection, but they’re dull, absent of anything I used to see in them.
He falls back eventually, and everyone else is gathered around him. They hold his head, stare at his wound, and weep for him. I’d be doing the same if I could.
When his eyes close, there are screams and pleas, and I feel like I’ve failed.
The safe haven is pretty beautiful. I think I would have enjoyed living here. But it’s getting real tiring not being able to move or talk to anyone.
I’m always here. Just always. No sleep, or anything. I’m with Minho, now, somehow. It’s been a few days since we got here, and I just follow him around.
He goes to check up on Thomas every day. He’s a bit out of it, and hasn’t been awake long enough ever to acknowledge where he is, but he’s alive. I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
It’s a beautiful day when I feel it. Just a sense of okay-ness. I don’t even have to look to know that Thomas is up.
He looks around, taking it all in. I love this for him, truly. Peace. He deserves it more than anyone.
His eyes lock with Minho’s, and they pull each other into a tight embrace. I’ve never seen these looks on their faces before, but that’s a good thing. It’s a hug that says they did this. They made it. Maybe it’s not perfect, but they’re together. I hope they feel me here, because in my heart, I’m smiling at them the same way I did when we all reunited in the WCKD headquarters.
There’s a bonfire. It’s a lot like the ones from the Glade, actually. That makes me happy. This place is a lot like it, but only the good parts. Not the nightmare of a maze and grievers taunting you at all hours of the day. No, here, they have the ocean, sand, hills, and open air.
Vince makes a speech, and when it’s over, everyone claps. It was beautiful. He really does know how to do the whole motivational thing.
They’ve got a big stone, a monolith, right on the beach. I like it. It reminds me of the glade even more, but this stone represents freedom for them, and everyone that died to get them there.
Minho doesn’t go up, instead walking away from the crowd. I definitely enjoy being with Minho. He seems to be adjusting, although he’s also got a sense of dullness that I hate seeing in him. The runner has always been so put together, but I don’t blame him now after all he’s been through. He deserves to rest. He doesn’t have to be strong for anyone anymore.
He walks up to Thomas, who’s sitting on his own. I could have guessed that, though. The poor boy’s battle scars are all too evident, even if the physical marks are mostly gone. You can read it all over his face.
Minho sits next to him, and Thomas barely glances at him.
“You’re looking great,” Minho says, half sarcastically. Thomas lets out a halfhearted chuckle, but his expression doesn’t change much. “How are you liking it here so far?”
“You guys have done a great job on it, yeah,” Thomas says, nodding. His eyes are trained on the water.
Minho nods back. “This is gonna be a good home for us,” he says. Thomas looks at him briefly, before looking back out at the water, then down at his hands, then back again. His eyes are glassy, and I can tell he doesn’t want to speak. I know him well enough by now. He’s probably thinking a million things. That he shouldn’t be here, or that Teresa, Chuck, Alby, Winston and I should be. But he needs to let that go. Minho finally reaches into his pocket and pulls out something, and if I could cry, I would now.
“You had this on you while you were passed out,” he says, handing it to Thomas. “Figured I’d keep it safe for you.”
Thomas stares at it, and holds it in his hand, and I feel something happen in me—or maybe to me. A sort of warmth, if that’s even possible. Tommy has it. Tommy has the necklace.
“Thanks, Minho,” Thomas says softly. He looks upset, because he knows what it is. But I’m elated for the exact same reason.
Minho pats Thomas on the back, and I’m glad he’s leaving him alone for this. “See you out there,” Minho says.
Thomas looks at him now. “See you,” he says. He watches him leave, and I’m afraid I’ll be going with Minho, unable to watch over Thomas. But this time, I stay.
Thomas looks down at the necklace. Open it Tommy, I want to beg. He wraps the string of it around his hand, and my desperation grows. Please.
I thought this design would be safe because I know Thomas. And I know that he’s the most curious shank I’ve met in my whole life. Nothing will ever be as it seems to him. So why would a necklace just be a necklace?
I see the switch in his face, and I know he’s got it. Now, something does change in me. I feel it. Everything I feel is heightened when Thomas opens the top of it, and when he finally takes that note out, the world seems to glow.
But that’s okay. Because Thomas found the letter. He has it, and he’s okay. They all are. He unfolds it, and after looking at it for a moment, he looks away, covering his mouth. I can only imagine how he feels. This is, after all, the last thing he’ll have of me. But I’m alright with this being it, because he needs to hear it all.
I know the letter well. I went over it a thousand times, and when I started forgetting things, I’d read it again and again until I had it memorized. Plus, you never really forget the things that come from the heart, right?
So when Thomas finally begins to read the letter, somehow, I speak the words I’d written out loud. “Dear Thomas.” I don’t know how I do it, because I’m certainly not alive and not a person. But I can feel it, and something tells me that deep down, Thomas can too.
As it goes on, I feel myself begin to be more and more… whole. Not being more here, and not having a body, but whole. I’m not sure what I believe in anymore, but if souls are a real thing, it’s got to do with that for sure.
I’m so busy watching Tommy, hating that he’s crying but thankful knowing that the message is getting through to him, that the light around me doesn’t even register, because I don’t mind. I know it, in a way. All that matters is getting these words out.
“Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. Thank you for being my friend.”
I’m smiling. This is it. This is all I’ll need to tell him, because I know him. If I can’t be there, he’ll have this. This will be enough. “Goodbye, mate.”
The last thing I see is Thomas’ teary eyes glued to the last letter of the page, before the light finally engulfs me. I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Newt.”