˚ ༘✶₊˚. ⊹ ˚ . THIRD ACT
❪ THIRTY-THREE ♥︎ ₊˚༢࿐
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     Maeve's fingers curled into the dirt pile beside her father's grave, the soil soft in her fist as she sprinkled what was left of their healing Earth onto the coffin of a man that she wouldn't remember missing in the near future. Her blue eyes fill with fresh tears.

     She steps back into the crowd of doctors— that was the only family Maeve had ever known, doctors and scientists in white coats.

     "I'll see you back on the moon," She says mutters to the head stone, a phrase her dad used to say whenever he left for long days at a time, promising to come back to their moon shuttle, the walls of WICKED that he wanted to make the best of, make their safe space, their home.

     A saying that she would later twist into some form of afterlife for herself and her friends from what little memory she could stem— in a way, asking her father to guide her friends to where she hopes to reunite with all of them.

     Maeve keeps her head up, "You killed him." She says under her breath, enough for her mother to hear.

     but Ava Paige doesn't stir. She crossed her hands on her lap and keeping her head straight forward. A single tear falls, that was the only thing that reminded people she was human. That she loved even if it was just a little. She said nothing.

     Maeve always wondered if that little love died with the remains of her husband, giving the woman bitter stings in her chest when she looked at her, a reminder of someone that was gone.

     The girl looks back at the grave slowly.

This was the memory that she remembered from the Glade, wearing all black, with a blonde woman. It all clicked together in hazes.

     There was nothing said between them. Not even after the small service, not even after everyone had left and it was just them alone. Nothing. No words.

     It was suffocating for her.

     She was angry and she wanted to snap.

     So, Maeve stomped into their living room, where her mother was sitting in her favorite chair looking out at the city that she thought she helped keep standing. Supposed the luxuries, like the penthouse they stayed in right down the block from WICKED headquartered, made it worth it.

     "You had him killed, haven't you?" Maeve says in the doorway, her voice lingering. She wasn't crying anymore, if anything the fourteen year old sounded void of any emotion.

     Ava looks down at her glass, swirling the ice with clinks that filled the silence.

     "You knew what they were going to do," She continued, "You knew about the trials from the beginning! and when Dad found out—"

     "You don't know anything." Ava finally speaks, "I just lost my husband, have some respect."

     Her calmness angered Maeve, "He was my father, too! I was closer to him than you ever would be! I know that you've been raising my friends like pigs for slaughter! I know that Dad was going to tell the city everything, he was going to save them and WICKED killed him!"

     She doesn't say a word.

     "Say something!" Maeve cried by the door, "Say anything, won't you?!"

     Ava doesn't.

     Maeve closes her eyes, her body begging to break down as she swallowed her tears, "I need you," She admits, "Mum, please, I need you to not be you for a second and just hold me, please. We can go against them, we can speak up, they'll listen to you! Please!"

     She doesn't look away from the city, eyes shining with tears she won't let spill. The cause was just too important.

     "Mum," Maeve says, forcing down her sadness with a clench of her jaw. Her eyes hardened, "We can't let him die for nothing."

     In that moment, Maeve had changed. She had gone from a girl raised rich, the child of two scientists that were known for changing the course of humanity.

     She was the child on the outside of the glass, monitoring, watching, waiting. A lab coat waiting to be given like a ride of passage to WICKED, a place she had grown up in, loved in her own twisted way.

     Until she stepped inside the glass. Getting to know the subjects— her friends, who she wasn't different from in the slightest, watching them suffer at the hands of the people who loved her. The only difference being Maeve's privilege not to be on that test table too.

She fell in love with a boy. Thomas. Her first love, but most importantly, her best friend. If what her father says is true, in a few months, her friends including Thomas will be sent up into a maze.

To die or worse, make it to the next trial.

     Her father died trying to protect them from their fate.

    Maeve was alive and had the privilege to stop it.

    So, she would.

She had to tell Thomas.

     "Fine," She eased, stepping back from the doorway, "Have it your way." Stonily, she turns her back on her mother, her lifestyle, her rules, and walks toward the front door.

     Alarm set in Ava when the front door opens, "Maeve? Where are you going?" The door slams shut, forcing her on her feet, "Maeve?!"

     She turns the corner.

     and Maeve's bike is gone.

The girl's heart was beating in her ears as she placed the wheels of her bike on the pavement and pulled her leg over, giving herself a skipping start before peddling off into the darkness of the city.

     Curfew was hours ago, patrol was doing their normal rounds but in Maeve's mind everyone was after her.

     She could hear the shouts of her mother behind her, fading as she made it down the street just enough to turn a sharp corner.

     WICKED's building is up ahead.

She thinks about what to say. How to approach her boyfriend, her friends about what was really happening.

     She was close, so, so close.

Four guards with guns and suits come out of the building, causing Maeve to skid to a stop right on the street. Her eyes widen at the guns raised at her, fear shooting up her spine.

A car stops on the other side, blocking her in.

Ava steps out.

The girl raised her head up, realizing she was defeated. Couldn't even make it down the block. Her eyes burned with tears, knowing her mother wasn't on her side.

"Maeve!" Ava snaps, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What are you doing?" Vince asked, approaching the nineteen year old breathlessly.

"Mm," She responds, back turned.

He sighs, "Mae, thanks for meeting me. I've got them all around the building. What do you think we should do? You've got us this far."

Mae looks up at him now, she was sitting on a crate. Her hair was short, chopped to the shoulders in darker blonde waves. She wore Thomas' brown jacket over Newt's button up, Frypan's yellow beanie on her head for the cold.

She was staring at Teresa Agnes file, more importantly the picture of the girl that was taken years ago to identify her. A version of the brunette that Mae now remembered so clearly.

Betrayal fueled Mae's anger.

She snaps the folder shut, "I'll go in, get the information. Sniper on the roof. Then, we all move towards the train. . . Are they here?"

The man nods, "Of course. You've been gone a month, they've missed you."

A hint of judgement could be heard.

"I always come and go, don't I?" She reminds, "How else am I supposed to track down my mother's old connections and shake information," She crossed her arms, "Brenda, Harriet and I have been lining your maps for months, the things we've had to do—"

"I know," Vince says, nodding, "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just, they miss you and you're always avoiding them. I'm worried about you.."

Mae uncrossed her arms in defeat, "You're not my dad, ya know?" She meant it with anger but it came off soft, like a child. Vince gave her a look and the girl frowned, "I'll talk to them when this is over."

"If this doesn't work," Vince starts, "We'll lose our window of getting them back."

Mae forced a smile, "I've got us this far, I'll get him to talk. Just make sure my girls are close, you guys are just if things go sideways." She walks past him, moving to go back inside from the roof.

Vince chuckles, following after her, "Don't forget who taught you everything you know."

She genuinely smirks.

     A Scientist by the name of Lena Burke did personal trade with Ava Paige when supplies were scarce at her small facility in what used to be Arizona.

     Dr. Paige would give her medical supplies, and Dr. Burke would sedate and send immune children on a train to WICKED headquarters for testing.

     A fair trade at the time.

     Mae was here to give her a fair consequence, like the retired doctors and scientists that she and the Right Arm have been shaking down one by one.

     They've got so far as the general location of where the next train of immune teenagers to another base, this was the last stop before they reach the Last City.

     They needed to know the time before they miss them completely and they can't be rescued.

     Lena Burke knew she was out of time.

     Still the woman packed her research in her brief case, running around the abandon building she had been hiding in since word got out of doctors being picked off by some unknown rebellion for information.

     She was too late.

     "You don't understand," The woman cried. At first, it seemed like she was whaling into the night, but the outline of a shadow could be seen just in front of her by the door, "They'll kill me, they'll do far worse—"

     Maeve steps into the light, straight faced, "You should be more worried about what we plan to do."

     Harriet has a gun raise from the side, stepping out from the darkness just as Brenda came out from the other, pulling her scarf down from her face with a smirk.

     Burke's eyes widened. They couldn't all be younger than twenty and they've managed to find her and trap her this way. Figures, with who their ringleader was.

     "Maeve?" Burke questions, "Maeve Paige? I haven't seen or heard a thing about you in four years, half of your father's old team thought you died from the Flare," She educated, looking confused, "If this is about your mother, I don't even work for WICKED anymore, I-I'm an independent doctor—"

     "You still do trade," Mae raised an eyebrow, "Like everyone else doing WICKED's bidding. Just tell us the time the train leaves the last compound and heads toward wherever the hell WICKED is going to take them."

     The Doctor scoffs, "So it's true? The rumors of your father starting a rebellion with Mary—"

     "I run my own rebellion," Mae says smoothly, which was a lie. Thomas ran things with her, they did it together alone with their friends but she couldn't blow their cover.

     "I'm not saying a word," Burke vows.

     Mae doesn't have to say anything, Harriet and Brenda are quick to grab Lena by the arms and sit her down on a chair, tying her with whatever they could find before pressing their guns against the doctors temple.

     It's all for show. Harriet and Brenda have never used their weapons during Mae's questioning.

     But Mae did.

     "I've had a long day," Mae starts, crouching down in front of Lena, "A bit of a long year, even. I've lost a lot of people," She nods, "A lot of people by the hands of your people."

     "They're your people, too," Burke responds, "You were born into this, don't forget."

     "That's not who I am anymore," Mae corrects, "WICKED made sure of that. And now they have my friends. I just need a time frame, narrow it down to a single day, a single time and you can walk away."

"They'll kill me!" She snaps.

Mae grabbed the knife from her boot and raised it up, slamming it down into Lena's kneecap. The woman screamed, Harriet and Brenda step back.

"I'll kill you," Mae reminds into her ear.

"Please. ." Burke cries, her eyes diverting towards her briefcase on her desk.

Mae follows her eyes, thinking.

She rounds her chair and walks over to the desk, grabbing the briefcase, "This looks important."

"It's locked," Burke raised her chin, "You can't get in."

"Oh, I don't want to get in," Mae faked happiness, her accent strong, "I want to set it on fire! Brenda?"

Brenda smiles, pulling out a lighter that she swiped from Jorge. She flicks it twice for a small spark, "Still has juice."

Brenda throws the lighter into a mini trash can of crumbled paper, the flames sparking high.

"No," Burke's eyes widened in realization, "No!"

"Time frame," Mae demands, holding the old leather of the tattered old briefcase up against the flame.

The woman looked like someone was setting her soul on fire, "I've spent my whole life on that research, you can't do that! You can't!"

"Time frame!" Mae ordered.

"I can't!" Burke screams.

Mae roughly hands the briefcase to Harriet to hold over the fire, stepping in front of Lena and pulling the knife out of her knee, slamming it into the other one.

"Next is your wrists, so you can't log in another set of data again!" Mae warns.

"Tomorrow evening! Train track set towards the Last City! Around six-thirty!" Burke screams.

Mae instantly grabbed the walkie on her belt loop, holding it to her lips, "Did you get all that?"

She expects to hear Vince.

"We got it!" Thomas' voice rang.

Mae paused, her heart skipping an anxious beat, "What do I do with Burke?"

There was a pause, "She told us what we needed to know, yeah? Just let her go." Newt says.

"She could snitch," Mae reminds, "She could run to WICKED the second we head out there."

"No, no I won't! I promise!" Burke begs, holding her briefcase to her chest.

"What? You're gonna kill her? Come off it." Newt questions.

They've been butting heads recently.

"Bug off, you know I'm right." Mae responds.

Another pause, "Leave her with a small bag of food and water, she won't make it anywhere with that rainstorm in a few nights anyway." Vince orders, "Come on, we're all moving out."

Mae huffed in resistance, "Fine."

"I'm gonna go find Jorge, revise our part of the plan," Brenda explains, nodding in respect toward the girls before going out.

"I should go call first dibs on a shower back at camp," Harriet agrees, smiling softly at Mae.

The blonde forced a smile, "I'll wrap it up."

She doesn't move from her stance until Harriet is surely gone. Looking down at a weeping woman holding her whole purpose in her hands.

Mae hesitates.

Then turns off her walkie, "How do I know you won't tell my mother? That you won't ruin this."

"Why? Do you plan to blindside her with revenge?" When Mae doesn't respond, Burke looks up in surprise, "You want to kill her?"

"I am going to kill her," Mae corrects, "This won't end until she's dead."

"She's your mother!" Burke snaps in disgust.

"I'm her daughter," She whispers, "Where's the justice in that?"

With that, Mae stalks forward.

     "What are you doing?" Burke backs away.

     "What are they doing giving you blue jello?" Teresa asked, the fourteen year old sitting at the bottom of Maeve's hospital bed, eating another one of the girl's jello cups, "The red one is the best one! Maeve?"

     The little girl was bruised in the face, her lips chapped. She stared out at the city deep in thought.

     "Maeve?"

     "Huh? What?" Maeve looks over, blinking.

     Teresa frowns, "Okay, I thought not talking about it would make you feel better but you're clearly hurting," She puts the jello down and crawls to Maeve's other side, pulling her into a hug, "I heard you went to your dad's funeral yesterday, maybe that's why you acted out and fell off your bike coming over here, you weren't thinking straight."

     Fell off your bike.

     Maeve wanted to tell Teresa otherwise. She wanted to tell her that she didn't fall, and that her mother had forced the guards to take her away, to 'convince' her not to tell anyone about the trials.

     But she couldn't.

     Scared of WICKED's consequences.

     "When can I see them?" Maeve asked, changing the subject, "Newt, Minho, Nick, Thomas,' She continues to list, "I want to see them before they start their evening tests."

     "You can't leave," Teresa frowns, "I haven't seen you in days! Let's hang out," She suggested, "We can go around and pretend to fill in the doctors words from behind the glass like we always did!"

     "I'd rather not," Maeve dismissed softly, "I just want to see—"

     "Thomas," Teresa finished bitterly.

     "Yeah?" The boy asked. He was standing at the door, arms awkwardly in his sweatpants, his shirt sporting the WICKED logo on it, like all the other subjects.  

     Teresa turned to glare at the third piece of their trio— which had recently become a duo after Maeve and Thomas started dating in secret. The only one knowing being Teresa, "What are you doing out without a guard? Do you want to get in trouble?"

     He smiled, "I missed Mae."

     Only the boys ever called her Mae. It was Nick's nickname for her when they were all around eleven, and it just stuck between her and her boys.

     "How are you feeling?" He asked her.

     She smiles, "Better now."

     Sensing the shift of mood, Teresa awkwardly stands up, "I should go." She says shortly, leaving the room.

     "What really happened?" Thomas asked, taking Teresa's spot on the bed.

     "What do you mean?"

     "I've seen you door wheelies on that bike in the hallway before Janson yelled at you," Thomas recalls, "There's no way you fell off your bike."

She wanted to tell him, it was right there on the tip of her tongue. But she felt watched, monitored.

     Maeve looks down at her hands, remembering the torture, "I was trying to run away," She admits, leaving the details up for interpretation, "I was emotional and I lost control on my way here, I really did fall."

     She felt like a coward. But no one would believe her, her mother was pulling too many strings and telling Thomas wouldn't change anything.

     He frowns, not believing her, "Okay."

He lays down, looking up at her with soft eyes. She smiles, resting her head and looking down. It was so innocent. Looking at the other in comfort, saying with their eyes what they couldn't express out loud.

They didn't have to say it, eyes say everything.

     "Promise me that no matter what we are, we'll always be there for each other," She asked softly, her eyes watering, "Promise me that in years from now, I'm gonna turn my head and see you there."

     "I promise," Thomas' heart clenched, "No matter what we are."

     Mae closes her eyes, washing away the sweat and grime from her body, ignore the blood that stained the bucket of water that she used with a rag on her skin.

     She ignored herself in the dirty old mirror, brushing her teeth over the bloody knife in the makeshift sink.

     These were all normal things to her now.

     The curtain of her tent lifts to reveal Thomas, who doesn't say a word as he pulled his boots off his feet and plopped himself on the makeshift bed.

     She'd been gone so long that she forgot her and Thomas shared this tent, and was most likely using it when she left a month ago with Brenda and Harriet.

     She sighed, placing her rag over the now clean knife in the sink, brushing her hands on her long shirt, which was Peter's, thankfully it was big enough to stop at her knees.

     Mae rubbed her eyes, laying down on his other side, not looking at him.

     Thomas stiffens, hesitating.

     Then, he turns around to face her. He looks exhausted, and pale. He hadn't slept much since she left, worried, working, planning. He hasn't gotten a single break until now.

      And the real work began tomorrow.

     Mae found the courage to look up at him, eyes filled with guilt and shame that swarmed her.

     "You did good day," She says softly, a twitch of a smile on her lips.

     Thomas forced one back, "You did too."

     Subconscious, his arms wrap around her waist.

     The comfort was there, the familiar feeling.

     "Thomas. . ."

     "What are we?" He asked lightly.

     She frowns, unsure.

     "I need to know," He continues, "It's eating me up inside, you know? I'm always scared you're going to pack up and leave any second. . .you have before. . ."

     "I don't know."

     "You've been distant, more than usual," Thomas says, "And usually I can handle it but. .we're about to do something so unbelievably crazy tomorrow and I need to know if I'm doing it with my girlfriend or my best friend. I don't want to die not being sure of that one thing."

     Her eyes watered, and she inhales like she cared breath as she grabbed his arm and squeezed it, her eyes expressing emotions so clear, "I can't think about it right now. . .because if I do, I won't stop spiraling and we need to find Minho and Teddy."

     Thomas frowns, nodding.

     "We'll figure it out when we get there," She says softly, smiling, "Just promise me that no matter what we are, we'll always be there for each other."

     Unaware that he had promised this before, he nods instantly, like the vow alone being sacred to him, "I promise."

     Her lips quivered, "I'm scared that the things I've done to get here doesn't make up for what I had to do to be here," She admits, "I'm not the same person I was before."

     Thomas knew that. In fact, it was one of the reasons why he felt himself pulling away.

     The more he spent with Mae the more he felt like he was chasing the idea of her. Of who she was before the Scorch, before Maze. He loved Mae, he loved her with his whole heart.

     He just couldn't keep up with her.

     And so, he'll let her break his heart again. And maybe one day he'd stop falling in love with the girl with flowers in her hair, he'd stop trying to live life through her eyes.

     But today wasn't that day.

     "We'll figure it out when we get there," He repeats.

     She nods, snuggling closer and closing her eyes, "I should talk to the boys tomorrow, see if they hate me for being gone so long."

     Thomas' eyes watered. She couldn't see him, so he felt safe enough to cry about her, hold her in his arms as his heart broke. He had her and it was enough, it was worth it, even if she doesn't love him the way he loved her.

     "They don't hate you," He comforts, keeping his voice from shaking.

     She's too tired to notice, maybe if she hadn't been so tired, she would've, but she didn't, "I missed you."

      He closes his eyes, a tear falling down his face, holding her close, "I missed you too."

     They fall asleep in each others arms, where they think they're safe from the outside world, in a bubble of bliss for just a moment.

     A moment that Thomas spends dreaming of the ghost of the blonde in his arms. . .

     . . .and Mae dreams of being in the arms of a boy, who she thinks is a dead.

this last act is gonna hurt all over.