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The station was packed.
People of all kinds, elderly, middle-aged, kids... they all fought their way to the soldiers at the top of the station, where the trains were.
Disease was floating through the air, the people coughed and hacked as the pushed past others. They all knew their fate, but if there was a chance of their survival, it would be wherever that train was going, and they weren't going to miss their opportunity.
One woman, brown locks curled past her shoulders, was pushing through the disease-ridden people with particular determination. She needed to get to the soldiers.
But not for herself.
For the small boy in her arms.
She made it to the soldiers at the gate, relief spreading through her body. This was for her son's future. For his ever-changing affect on the world. He was going to save the world, she just knew it.
The woman put her son down, and stared lovingly into his eyes. The boy looked confused and so goddamn scared it almost made the woman want to change her mind and take him back.
But she couldn't.
"Remember," she whispered to her little boy, her face nodding encouragingly at him, hiding her sadness. "I love you... I love you, Thomas."
Just as she pressed her warm palm against the boy's soft, smooth cheek, one of the soldiers came, and from behind, picked her son up and took him away from her.
"Mom!" he called out, struggling against the unfamiliar hold on him. He reached his arm out for his mother, doing everything he could to keep his eyes on her. "Mom!"
He didn't know if he was ever going to see her again.
The next second, he was in the transport, sitting by himself yet surrounded by the soldiers in big, black armour. What comforted him was the fact that he wasn't the only child there. Miserable faces of other children were present in the train, and though he liked the idea that he wasn't completely alone, he knew somehow that they wouldn't get to play with each other.
"Thomas," an older woman's voice spoke softly to him. Thomas looked at the lady with blonde hair and a soft, yet somewhat devious smile directed towards him.
"It's okay," she said before leaning back, yet not taking her beady eyes off Thomas.
Suddenly Thomas was sixteen years old again, his present self.. it must've been a dream.
The area he was in though, it was moving, jerkily so, Thomas couldn't stand up without gripping onto the metal gate.
Wait... no..
He was in the box... again.
Thomas' head spun as he stood up.
'This can't be happening, not again!' he thought, completely panicked.
"No, no, no, no!" he yelled, banging his palms against the side of the box, that only increased in speed.
"Thomas!"
A familiar voice, a comforting voice called out to him, from God knows where. Thomas looked around bewildered in the jerking box.
"Thomas!"
He saw that he was nearly reaching the surface... the Glade and so he screamed, he screamed his throat raw until a bright light took over his vision.
"Thomas! Wake up, we gotta go!"
Finally jerking awake, Thomas opened his eyes and saw Minho. The one who'd been calling to him.
"Come on!"
The helicopter had evidently landed and so much was happening at once, Thomas couldn't think straight.
Soldiers pulled him out of the chopper, and as Thomas was about to follow them, he remembered something.
Chuck.
"Wait, wait!" he yelled over the the engine of the helicopter and the... gun shots?
Without a second thought, Thomas reached into the chopper and pulled out the the wooden carving Chuck had given to him. It was all of what he had left of him.
"Get outta here!" the soldier yelled before taking his attention off Thomas, and widening his eyes at something else. "CRANKS!"
Thomas was being hurriedly escorted into the huge facility by two soldiers. The gunshots increased and Thomas could hear almost inhuman cries of pain coming from figures he could barely see.
The huge doors shut Thomas and the others from the outside and Thomas walked through the Gladers, making sure everyone was there.
Newt, thank God.
Teresa, Thomas felt relieved.
Minho... Thomas wanted to thank God, Jesus and all the angels personally.
—•—
They'd been fed, showered and completely catered for.
This was apparently some facility that would be keeping them safe until they were called to be transported to a farm, a kind of safe place.
To Thomas, this all seemed to good to be true.
He lay in the bottom bunk of the bunk bed he was sharing with Minho, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't sleep.
Too many thoughts were flooding his mind at once. He was utterly confused at the fact that they weren't the only Maze and completely puzzled at the fact that this 'rescue group' had coincidentally turned up just when they'd escaped the Maze.
With his head aching, Thomas just closed his eyes and sighed.
Chuck.. the boy who'd, only over the course of three days, had become his little brother was on his mind. He was so close. He was going to have made it, should've made it.
If he hadn't saved Thomas.
Tears pooled in his eyes.
Chuck was only twelve. He had a huge future ahead of him, Thomas was sure of it, and yet he was back at the WCKD Lab, rotting away with his killer.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a head hung down from the top bunk.
Minho.
"Hey, c'mon shank, don't cry," Minho's tough-guy voice came out, yet the empathy Minho was unknowingly conveying was shining through. "You're just gonna make me cry too."
Thomas smiled sadly through his tears, yet he couldn't hold back a sob.
Minho sighed, yet not in an annoyed way at all, but more-so in a way that showed how sad he was too, because Thomas was crying.
He climbed down from the top bunk and knelt down by Thomas' bed.
This surprised the younger of the two, his hazel-brown eyes, still filled with tears, widening at the other boy. His whole body was still trembling due to his current state.
Minho placed his larger hands, course yet caring, over Thomas' soft, small, shaking ones. He held them tightly, comfortingly and glanced up at the brunette with his dark eyes. He sighed once again.
"This 'bout Chucky?" he said softly, giving Thomas' hands a little squeeze. He knew he didn't really need to ask, but he felt it'd make Thomas feel better.
Thomas nodded, more tears spilling down his cheeks. "H-He's dead.. b'cause of me," he sniffled, head still lying against his pillow.
Minho shook his head. "No, that's not true.. it was his decision, it's not your fault, you didn't make him do anything."
Thomas shook his head. "He was.. was'so young, Minho," he sobbed out.
This was true, and it really pained Minho to think about it too. He'd always seen Chuck as his little pal, but he knew that even though Thomas had known him for a short time, Chuck became his little brother.
Minho then stopped kneeling and softly grunted as he climbed into bed next to Thomas.
"M-Minho, wh-wha—?" Thomas started before he cut himself off when Minho's strong, buff arms wrapped around him.
"Shh.. s'okay.." Minho whispered against Thomas' ear before kissing it lightly.
Thomas let out a shaky breath but began to relax against Minho's body.
"Go to sleep, Thomas, 'kay?" the Asian whispered again, and Thomas found himself drifting off to sleep in the safety of Minho's arms.
He didn't know then, but there was a whole adventure filled with dangers waiting for them, but he did know that he'd be sleeping a lot safer when in Minho's arms.