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*morgan evans voice* Hey everyone! Welcome to the roast of Theo. Theo? More like The-nobody likes you. ROASTED!

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The weirdest thing about the next day was that I couldn't remember anything about the previous night. I just had the distant, cloudy memory of running to Thomas. Anything else was a void of frustrating blackness.

According to Teresa, I had somehow felt Thomas' pain. She had slung me onto her back and carried me all the way back to the Homestead. Chuck helped her get me up the stairs and to my room. When they dumped me onto my bed, I had half-lidded eyes and kept muttering two words in a dreamy manner: "He's remembering."

I had no recollection of any of that, but apparently I was experiencing too much agony to think straight. The thing that puzzled me the most was the fact that I felt perfectly fine as of then. No amount of discomfort was plaguing my nerves. I felt simply at ease, except for the nagging confusion as to how I had felt some of my brother's suffering.

Teresa understood that if the other Gladers knew about what really happened, they'd interrogate me until my brain turned to mush and I went bug-eyed. Only a select few knew the truth- Newt, a still bed-ridden Theo, Teresa, and Chuck. Minho was probably still hiding in his room.

A little while later I finally decided to get out of bed. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and I slipped by worn, grass-stained combat boots on. They had become my trusty companion during my stay; one constant variable in the ever-changing society I was forced into. I brushed out my hair and left it in a messy side braid. After quickly changing into a new pair of clothes, I headed into the hallway.

The Med-jacks hadn't kept me overnight. They had worse problems to deal with than me. With Theo's injury and Thomas going through the Changing, their hands were completely full. For once, I was completely free to do whatever I wanted with my day. I decided to start it out by visiting Thomas.

The second I opened the door at the end of the hallway, Jeff stood up. His short-cropped hair was messy and his eyelids had purple bags beneath them. He looked exhausted.

"There's my favorite twin," he greeted with a tired smile, shoulders slack and entire body slouching with fatigue.

I laughed softly. "Let's hope Thomas can't hear you."

When I said my brother's name, Jeff turned to the unconscious boy lying in the bed beside him. My eyes drifted to him and my heart immediately picked up its speed. He looked awful- skin white as paper, blue and black veins sticking out of his skin, and pale, cracked lips. His eyes darted around beneath his closed and fluttering lids. Thomas' chest rose and fell unevenly in time with labored breaths. The sight of him like this made my stomach churn in on itself. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"He's...doin' alright," Jeff said slowly, almost as if he was unsure. "I mean, for a person going through the Changing, that is." He noticed my queasy facial expression and waved his hand toward the door. "Come back later when he's a bit better. Eat somethin'. Talk to Theo. Go for a walk- I don't care. Just make sure you don't puke while you do it."

Even though my insides were threatening to explode, I managed a shaky laugh and a timid smile. "I will take those suggestions into consideration. See you, Jeff."

He gave me a closed-lipped grin. "See ya."

I turned and walked to the door, hesitating when I got close to it. My hand hovered over the knob as my mind raced with thoughts. As soon as I laid my fingers on the warm metal, Thomas heaved a trembling groan from behind me. I whirled around to face him. Jeff blocked my vision and gave me a pointed look. "Go."

With a sigh I finally turned the doorknob and left the room, heart still hammering and stomach turning. I shut the door behind me and leaned against the wall beside it. The picture of Thomas so ill and helpless still burned behind my eyelids. It made my heart clench that I couldn't help him, and still not knowing how I was able to feel his pain.

And all the while, I wondered if that was what Thomas felt like as he saw me like that- as if he was dying, and a part of me was, too.

I didn't eat breakfast that morning; instead I asked Frypan for a bottle of ice-cold water and took small sips of it as I walked around the perimeter of the Glade. My eyes squinted as I looked up at the tops of the walls, more on reflex than necessity. It was still the same grey, dreary sky. I missed the sun, however artificial it had been.

I made sure my walk lasted as long as possible. I took my time as I went, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the dewy grass beneath my boots. I was about to stop when I reached the forest, but was intrigued by something that caught my eye. Beneath the ivy against the wall at the very back of the forest was something red.

"I'm gonna be shucked for this," I mumbled under my breath as I jogged toward it. Pushing the heavy mass of vines aside, I took a step back and discovered red, blocky letters stamped against the wall. They were cracked and chipped and worn, as if they had been there for a long time.

W.I.C.K.E.D is good.

W.I.C.K.E.D? The acronym stuck in my brain like a red flashing light. It didn't sound good at all.

I almost spilled my water bottle on myself when it clicked. W.I.C.K.E.D. What did it say on the wall when I was running the Maze with Minho and Thomas? World In Catastrophe Killzone Experiment Department. That was what it stood for. How could I have been so blind to it before? It was on the beetle blades, on every crate that came up from the Box. Property of W.I.C.K.E.D.

I didn't know what was more frightening- the acronym itself, or the fact that we were supposed to think they were good.

-/-

Three days. That was how long it took for Thomas to wake up. It had been a long stretch of seemingly endless hours and minutes that ticked by as slowly as possible. I finally got kind of used to seeing my brother in that horrible, zombie-like state and thus visited him frequently. Every shudder of his chest or whimper of pain sent my heart beating into overdrive. To say I was scared for him was beyond an understatement.

And above all of that, I wasn't there when he woke up- Chuck was. He had finally convinced me to eat the lunch Frypan had prepared while he sat with Thomas for a little bit. To his credit, I kind of figured Thomas would resurface soon. The color slowly returned to his cheeks and he lost that transparent skin look. But I was still bummed out.

Things around the Glade weren't looking much better, and I had striking anticipation for what Thomas would remember. I was sure it would only make matters worse by frightening us even more. Nevertheless, we needed the information.

The Grievers got Zart the second night. I felt still inside, for he had been incredibly kind and soft toward me. It was odd not seeing him in the Gardens anymore.

I hadn't told anyone about the words in the forest. Something convinced me that Thomas would figure that out during his Changing, and I figured I'd just exhaust myself trying to explain everything to Alby. Still, I felt even more uneasy knowing that the Creators had a name, something we could call them by.

I was sitting alone in the Kitchen when Newt burst in. The ham sandwich I had been picking at fell from my hands and dropped to the plate at the loud bang the door created. I jumped and whirled around, seeing Newt with a half excited, half nervous expression on his face.

"Dyl!" he exclaimed. "Tommy's awake. C'mon!"

I nearly fell over trying to untangle my crossed legs over the bench of the picnic table. When I regained my balance, I bolted for the door and after Newt. I actually managed to get up the stairs faster than he did (due to the limp making it harder for him). But because I was a good person, I waited at the top of the stairs for him. He shot me a grateful smile when he got to the second floor.

As we walked quickly toward the room at the end of the hall, the corridor seemed to stretch on and on. Every step I took felt like I wasn't moving at all. It was an endless hallway of never-ceasing anxiety and dread.

Newt opened the door and that all faded to dust.

I felt like I was going to faint with all the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I was scared. Would the Thomas I would see in the room be the same one that I hugged the day he was Stung? Or would he be turned into someone vicious and unrecognizable, like Ben?

I hadn't realized that Newt was in the room until he spoke. "Tommy- you barely look sick."

My vision cleared of the images of Ben and focused on Thomas. Newt was right- he hardly looked like he did two days previous. His skin lost that gory white coloring and his veins were no longer visible. The beads of sweat on his forehead were gone. He looked good as new.

Thomas nodded. "I feel a little queasy, but other than that, I'm fine. Thought it'd be a lot worse." His eyes shifted from Newt beside him to me in the doorway, and a smile immediately worked its way onto his face. "Hey, sis."

As soon as the words left his mouth, my taut lips broke into a grin. Almost all the nerves flooded away and were replaced with a cooling sense of relief. "Hey, bro."

Newt had a look that was quarters of anger, awe, amusement, and adoration. I had no clue how he managed to fit four "A" expressions onto his face at once. "What you did was half brave and half bloody stupid. Seems like you're pretty good at that." I snorted as he paused and shook his head. "I know why you did it. What memories came back? Anything that'll help?"

"We need to have a Gathering," Thomas replied in a deadly serious tone. "Before I start forgetting some of the stuff.

"Yeah, Chuck told me- we'll do it." Newt now looked slightly uneasy at how quickly Thomas had switched emotions. "But why? What did you figure out?"

"It's a test, guys," Thomas informed, still holding that eerie humorless aspect about him. "The whole thing is a test."

Newt nodded like he seemed to understand. "Like an experiment."

That acronym flashed into my mind again, red against my vision. W.I.C.K.E.D. Experiment Department. Of course- it was starting to make sense.

Thomas shook his head. "No, you don't get it. They're weeding us out, seeing if we'll give up, finding the best of us. Throwing variables at us, trying to make us quit. Testing our ability to hope and fight. Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down was only the last part, one more...final analysis. Now it's time for the last test. To escape."

My heart skipped a beat. "You know a way out."

Thomas nodded again. "Yeah. Call the Gathering. Now."

An hour later, I was back in that familiar room, surrounded by the Keepers in a half-circle. The reminder of the last Gathering made me shudder. But instead of being the center of attention, I was sitting with the people in charge. In Zart's chair, to be exact.

Another shudder. I whispered beneath my breath, "Sorry, Zart."

They hadn't let Teresa in due to the fact she was "untrustworthy." Yet they allowed me in, which wasn't much better. Everyone in that room knew I had a temper large enough to make up for my lack of height. Maybe they were afraid I'd fight anyone who tried to block my way into that room.

"All right, Greenie," Alby began from his chair in the center of the semicircle. "Forget all the beat-around-the-bush klunk. Start talking."

Thomas took a second to regain his composure and took a deep breath. "It's a long story. We don't have time to go through it all, but I'll tell you the gist of it. When I went through the Changing, I saw flashes of images - hundreds of them - like a slide show in fast forward. A lot came back to me, but only some of it's clear enough to talk about. Other stuff has faded or is fading." A pause. "But I remember enough. The Creators are testing us. The Maze was never meant to be solved. It's all been a trial. They want the winners - or survivors - to do something important."

My heart started to quicken its pace. There were no words to describe how I was feeling. Strange mixtures of nerves and anticipation and fear were blended into one horrible mess inside of me.

"What?" Newt asked, clearly confused.

"Let me start over." Thomas rubbed his eyes like he was tired. "Every single one of us was taken when we were really young; that's what Dylan saw in her Changing. I don't know how or why we were taken- just glimpses and feelings that things had changed in the world, that something really bad happened. I have no idea what. The Creators stole us, and I think they felt justified in doing it. Somehow they figured out that we have above-average intelligence, and that's why they chose us. I don't know, most of this is sketchy and doesn't matter that much anyway.

"I can't remember anything about our family or what happened to them. But after we were taken, we spent the next few years learning in special schools, living somewhat normal lives until they were finally able to finance and build the Maze. All our names are just stupid nicknames they made up- like Alby for Albert Einstein, Newt for Isaac Newton, and me- Thomas. As in Edison."

Alby looked like someone had slapped him. "Our names ... these aren't even our real names?"

I could relate to his expression. I felt cheated and angry. One of the things that I had rightfully to call my own wasn't even mine.

Thomas shook his head. "As far as I can tell, we'll probably never know what our names were."

And then it happened- a rush of color behind my eyes and a bright flash of pain that lasted for barely a second. There was something floating in my mind. It was just out of reach. If it were a physical thing, it would be like my fingers were just brushing it, but I was unable to see what it was. Somehow I knew what I was trying to grasp. My name.

I forced that memory to the back of my mind. I would save it for another time- this was too important to miss.

"-Supposedly we're really smart and they're just studying every move we make, analyzing us," Thomas continued, struggling to explain everything jumbled in his brain in a way that made sense. "Seeing who'd give up and who wouldn't. Seeing who'd survive it all. No wonder we have so many beetle blade spies running around this place. Plus, some of us have had things...altered in our brains."

That last sentence sent an ice-cold shiver down my spine. My spine went rigid and board-straight. I could've sworn that Thomas sent a fleeting glance my way, and that Newt had done the same. Altered in our brains. Did that mean me, or was that what W.I.C.K.E.D was trying to figure out- why my brain was different?

Again I had to force myself back into reality. I was missing too much.

"-I don't get why none of us remember this stuff," Alby grumbled. "I've been through the Changing, but everything I saw was..." He looked around quickly, almost as if he had been about to say something he shouldn't have. "I didn't learn nothin'."

"I'll tell you in a minute why I think I learned more than others," Thomas promised calmly. "Should I keep going or not?"

"Talk," Newt ordered almost without a pause.

Thomas sucked in another deep breath. "Okay. Somehow they wiped our memories- not just our childhood, but all the stuff leading up to entering the Maze. They put us in the Box and sent us up here- a big group to start and then one a month over the last two years."

"But why?" Newt demanded impatiently. "What's the bloody point?"

Thomas held up a hand for silence. "I'm getting there. Like I said, they wanted to test us, see how we'd react to what they call the Variables, and to a problem that has no solution. See if we could work together- build a community, even. Everything was provided for us, and the problem was laid out as one of the most common puzzles known to civilization- a maze. All this added up to making us think there had to be a solution, just encouraging us to work all the harder while at the same time magnifying our discouragement at not finding one." He paused and let his eyes linger on all of us. "What I'm saying is, there is no solution."

Instant chatter broke out among the group, outraged and confused voices blending in with one another. During this, I met eyes with my brother. He gave me a nod that told me he knew what he was doing.

He held up his hands again and everyone's voices died down. "See? Your reaction proves my point. Most people would've given up by now. But I think we're different. We couldn't accept that a problem can't be solved- especially when it's something as simple as a maze. And we've kept fighting no matter how hopeless it's gotten."

Thomas' voice slightly rose the more he spoke and color flushed his cheeks in a pink glow. "Whatever the reason, it makes me sick! All of this- the Grievers, the walls moving, the Cliff, - they're just elements of a stupid test. We are being used and manipulated. The creators wanted to keep our minds working toward a solution that was never there. Same thing goes for Teresa being sent here, her being used to trigger the Ending- whatever that means- the place being shut down, gray skies, on and on and on. They're throwing crazy things at us to see responses, test our will. See if will turn on each other. In the end, they want the survivors for something important."

Frypan stood up with a look of rage on his bearded face. "And killing people? That's a nice little part of their plan?"

A flicker of fear flashed in Thomas' eyes, one that I was almost positive only I could see. "Yes, Frypan, killing people. The only reason the Grievers are doing it one by one is so we all don't die before it ends the way it's supposed to. Survival of the fittest. Only the best of us will escape."

Frypan kicked his chair. "Well, you better start talking about this magical escape, then!"

I couldn't imagine how angry the others felt. They had been here for two years, working their butts off to find a seemingly impossible solution. And now, to learn that the solution really was impossible, that all their earnest had been for nothing but some twisted test, must instill enough rage to riot and burn villages.

"He will," Newt assured quietly. "Shut up and listen."

Minho finally spoke after being almost silent the entire time. "Something tells me I'm not gonna like what I'm about to hear."

"Probably not," Thomas admitted. He closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, preparing himself for what he had to say next. "The Creators want the best of the best for whatever it is they have planned." The room was completely silent. "The code."

"The code?" Frypan repeated, eyebrows raised and a trickle of hope in his voice. "What about it?"

Thomas looked right in his eyes. "It was hidden in the wall movements of the Maze for a reason. I should know- I was there when the Creators did it."

gif is my husband

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whoop there it is

ok but seriously...why is the gathering fOUR CHAPTERS LONG??? they're so short. jdash this isn't about suspense it's annoying pls stop

ps the disclaimer is a joke!!! you'd understand if you've seen the teen wolf after after show. 10/10 would recommend. it's hilarious.

-kristyn