Work Text:
“I’ve seen enough people die,” Thomas spits. Ratman doesn’t react.
Thomas wants him to. He wants a reason to punch him, even if the stains on this alleyway indicate that it’s seen more than enough blood.
“You don’t even know half of it.” Ratman says dismissively.
Thomas doesn’t know why he’s chased him down now–it’s not like Ratman. “Doesn’t matter. This isn’t going to work.”
“Oh, it will. I know which buttons to push to get you to do what I want. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You don’t control me.”
“Don’t I?” Thomas jerks backward, not in control of his own body. But Minho isn’t here to hold him down this time.
“We got rid of that.”
“You really think we wouldn't have a back-up plan, Thomas? Especially when it comes to you.”
“Shut up.”
“I could make you do anything with that, you know.” There’s a glint in Ratman's eye that Thomas really doesn't like. “You're lucky that I'm not. It would be a suitable punishment for trying to escape us, don't you think?”
‘It wasn't really an escape,’ he can't say–he can’t make his mouth move enough to get the words out. ‘More like a failed rescue.’
Most of them got away, he thinks. But he doesn’t know. He didn't, so maybe it was totally pointless after all.
Thomas can feel the moment the control releases him. He doesn't know where they’re controlling him from.
It's not like Ratman will have a remote that he can grab and break.
He can’t see anyone around, but where Ratman goes, guards follow. Usually with Launchers.
“Reconsidering already? Normally you're more stubborn than this, Thomas.”
Thomas swallows. He’s not reconsidering his escape. He needs to get out. He needs to find the others–if they're even still here.
Thomas wouldn’t be surprised if they think he’s dead somewhere in the streets of Denver.
“No.”
“And here I thought I'd gotten through to you.” Ratman shakes his head. “You're going to need to try harder if you want to get away, Thomas. You haven't even attacked me yet.”
“Sounds like a good way to get a launcher to the chest.”
“Do you see any guards?”
“I'm not stupid, Janson.”
“I'll even give you a free hit. I won't control you.”
Thomas can’t take him up on that. It’s too dangerous.
But he wants to.
“It's a shame you choose not to have your memory restored, Thomas. I think there are a few things in there that might help you change your mind.” Ratman smiles, slowly, like it’s a parasite infecting his face.
“Or maybe they'll just reinforce it. Minho is one of our braver subjects, in part because we had a Griever pin him down well before he was in the Maze.”
Thomas flies at Janson, fists raised.
Three, four, five, six, eight, ten, fourteen–that's how many punches to takes for his limbs to seize up, no longer under his control.
Ratman's fingers are working behind his back, and Thomas grabs for his arm.
The remote controlling him falls to the ground, and Thomas snatches it before Ratman can react.
“I thought you were smart enough not to bring this with you.” Thomas says. “I know you can control me remotely.”
Ratman lunges for him, it, whatever, before he can smash the remote on the ground, and they struggle for it for a few minutes.
Thomas hits Ratman over the head with it. It's not heavy enough to do any real damage, but it means he has a chance to run.
He carries the remote with him, not willing to risk destroying it until he knows he's far enough away.
Thomas doesn’t look back at Ratman, ignores the people shouting until there are hands on his shoulders and a familiar voice say “Shucking calm down, Greenie, you ain't being chased by a Griever.”
“Minho.” He leans into Minho, more than he would usually allow himself. Minho pulls him closer, too cautious to kiss him in public but not denying either of them this. “Did everyone else–”
“We didn't get everyone. Didn't think we got you, either.”
Ratman wanted to toy with me, he doesn't say. He thinks about what Ratman said, about Minho and the Griever, and wonders if he'll ever know if it’s true.
“Ratman got to me.” Minho’s still waiting for an explanation. “I don't know if he followed me or not. Minho, I have another one of those chips. They can still control me.”
Minho goes still for a moment. “Then we'll have to find it and cut it out.”
“I know. Ratman had a remote he was using, but I've got it now.”
“Throw it into the street or something, make sure it's never usable again.” Minho says. “Then come inside, talk to everyone else, they probably think I've lost my klunk mind out here.
“Will you do it? I don't know if they'll let me.”
Minho delicately unwraps Thomas's fingers where they're clutching the remote. Instead of throwing it into the street, letting it be ground to dust under wheels and feet, Minho bashes it against the wall.
As soon as he does, Thomas gasps, pain shooting through his body. “Do it, Min, I don't want them controlling me.”
“What the hell are you doing, Minho?” Brenda stomps outside.
“Getting rid of this so it can't control Thomas.”
“And the failsafe is pain.” Thomas mutters. “I mean it, Minho, get rid of it.”
Minho hurls it against the wall–in another life, he might have been a baseball pitcher.
Thomas only has to bear the pain for a few more throws, when it's finally broken enough to stop sending signals. It's enough for him to sink to his knees in the middle of the street, Brenda’s hands on his arms and his on his head.
“I got him. Go kick that thing a few more times for me, okay?”
Minho picks him up, and Thomas is too out of breath to protest.
“You can complain about this later, when you're not clutching your head like it's gonna explode.”
“Not gonna… explode.”
“You better not. I don't wanna know what else they stuck in us.”
“Min, stop talking. Please.” Minho doesn't carry him for very long, but Thomas can’t bring himself to open his eyes when he's set down. The pain in his body is gone, but it seems like the headache is here to stay.
“We've got you, Thomas. I've got you.” Minho says into his ear. “We've got half a plan already, you can judge it when you feel better.”
Thomas flicks him in lieu of rolling his eyes. “Or you can tell me now.”
“Your brain's probably soup, I'm not telling you anything except to go to sleep.” Thomas listens, eventually, when his brain gets the memo that he's safe despite the pain.
And if that only happens because Minho kisses his forehead, well, that's between him and his brain.