nestbox | | they've got the kingdom locked up. (CALL ME OUT)

"
His hands shake something furious,
and you don’t know how to stop them,
don’t know if they belong to a killer or a lover,
or if there’s even a difference anymore.

His shadow dances with yours
in the streetlights;
your darkness has found a kindred spirit,
but you are still trying
to take the fear from his mouth.

Demons and angels are at war inside of him,
and you swear to love every single one,
swear to love him wicked,
swear to love him holy.

He is licking prayers
he stopped believing
into your mouth;
if you thought kissing him
would save him,
you were dead wrong.
"

[ Trust isn't easy, after everything. Tenuous, tentative. The one thing they're all united in is their desire to see Ava Paige dead, to leave not a single piece of WICKED that would be big enough to pick back up. This isn't the kind of community that Tris so hesitantly settled into with the Right Arm, but it's something. One might think that people would get used to being torn from what's become familiar to them-- maybe she has.

Maybe that's just what life is. A series of trials and losses and always starting over one more time. Always ready for the other shoe to drop.

They always keep watch when they rest, three shifts a night, two people at a time. For what exactly they can't be sure. Everything. Nothing. Cranks, the weather, WICKED aircrafts, any one of them going crazy. All told, Tris is grateful she doesn't have an entire night to sleep. The nightmares haven't stopped. Maybe they won't.

There's no fire unless they have both something to burn and a good place to hide, which they don't tonight - they'll do without. Tris wraps her jacket tighter around herself with one hand while rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the other, and settles down where they're keeping watch, stifling a yawn. ]

I never thanked you for looking out for Aris.

[ Apropos of nothing. Perhaps not an ideal way to start a conversation, but she isn't going to be the howevermanieth person to ask if really, does he have a plan? It's impossible to plan for what they can't know yet. ]

[Trust is even harder these days, after everything. They know-- After all, Thomas has been more quiet than usual. He keeps to himself most of the time, speaking only when he is prompted, looking away when he is not. His mind is a mess; of questions, of doubt, of guilt. There's something he wants to do, his drive as strong as ever, yet sometimes he wonders if this is the way to go about it.

He doesn't want to watch anyone else die. He doesn't want to lose anymore of his friends. When he set his mind on making this journey, he had thought he would be traveling alone, he hadn't meant for anyone to come with him - He wouldn't dare asking.

And now here they are, and he isn't alone - and he is thankful for that - but still he worries if this decision won't end with him having to lose more people. With him having to watch them all fall from around him.

A week or so ago, he had been ready to push that button, to erase them all from existence-- Together, they had said, standing around him, and it brought Newt's words back into his mind, from when they were at the Glade. 'The most important thing is that we all have each other, because we're all in this together.' That was what gave him strength, what he clung to, when doubt flooded his mind.

He was in this to save Minho. He was in this to save every single one of his friends, to save everyone else like them, to save himself. To kill Ava Paige. And if they were here with him was because they believed him, because they believed it was possible. It was their decision, they would say. And Thomas could only hope that once it was all said and done, that they would still be there and his heart wouldn't be empty with the thought that he made them do it. He convinced them it was possible. He is to blame. It's all his fault.

'Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope killed more of my friends than the Flare and the Scorch combined.'

It's Brenda's words echoing in his mind, now, and he has to shake his head to will them away, thankful for the movement, next to him. It wakes him from his thoughts as he watches Tris try to stay warm, her question taking him a moment to fully process.

He gives her a small smile, first, before looking at the ground again, playing with a little stone he caught from it, drawing over the dirt.]

Aris was the one looking out for us. [He starts, voice quiet.] If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here right now.

[That she doesn't ask or even mention a plan is incredibly relieving. He doesn't need the reminder of that added weight on his shoulders (and mind) right now.]

[ The quiet, at least, is easy to get used to again. It's different from the quiet of the maze and the quiet of the ruins of the scorch, but the vast expanse ahead of them and all around no longer seems menacing. Finally, she's not running away from, but toward something again. Her eyes glance from Thomas to the horizon, then shift back to him. She returns the small smile. ]

I guess he does that. [ Like her, Aris seems more fragile than he is. Easily underestimated. ] I'm not surprised he caught on. But he couldn't have done it alone, either.

[ Credit where credit is due, at least that's what she thinks. She can't help feeling grateful, after everything they've seen and everyone they've lost, or couldn't save, had to leave behind and never got to go back for-- to see even one of them again? Is a gift. ]

[He can feel her eyes on him, though his own remain on the floor, attention set (only not really) on the mindless scribbles he is doing on the ground.]

None of us could have. [Done it alone, that is.

He is still surprised that Aris trusted him enough, even before he knew him, to show him what was going on. But from then until the end, it had all been about teamwork.

He wants to say he is sorry about the other girl. Rachel, wasn't it? But then, he needs to say he is sorry about Sonya and even Aris now, taken by WICKED because he had brought Teresa with them. He had wanted to save her, she was with them, she was part of their group and...

His expression darkens.

I'm sorry, he wants to say, simply, in general. Just 'I'm sorry'. But then he also knows what will follow: 'It wasn't your fault', 'You didn't know', 'There was nothing you could have done', 'You did what you could', 'You did what you thought was right'. He knew all that. And yeah, it didn't make him feel any better, it didn't brighten the shadow growing in his heart.

He didn't want to let it show, however. He couldn't. Mainly not now.]

How was it, in your maze? [He tried, trying to keep the conversation going.

It was nice to have something to keep him from thinking too much.]

[ She's glad he doesn't apologize, even though her answer might not be what he's expecting. Most of all, because she's sorry too. But it's a darkness she knows so well, she can almost guess where his thoughts are going when his expression darkens.

But when Thomas snaps himself out of it without her help and opens another topic entirely, she's thankful for that, unsure if she has it in her right now to comfort anybody. It's promising, she thinks, that he can manage despite everything. Tris takes a deep breath. ]

I hated it. [ A quiet laugh softens the statement, but not by much. It's all so far away now. ] All those walls, feeling so boxed in? Not having the choice to go anywhere? But it was home.

[ And we had each other. But she just swallows the thought down-- Christina, Marlene, Cara, Rachel. Tris looks down, bites her lip. ]

Everything was going alright until we ran out of maze to map. How long were you in there?

[Swallowing it down and keep walking forward is more of a way of life than anything else now. That's why he doesn't like to have too much time to think. Because it's in the silences that he can feel that darkness in there, the sort that if he gives in to he might not be able to get out of again.

And honestly? He can't afford that right now. Not if he wants to save Minho. Not if he wants to help everyone. Not if he wants to end WICKED and get rid of Ava Paige.

He snorts a little at her reply, another small smile coming to his lips as he nods. He knows exactly what she means.]

Yeah... [He gives away, with another nod.] I was there a few days. [It hadn't reached a week, had it? He wasn't sure, he hadn't counted the days. He was positive that it had been less than two weeks, though, and that they hadn't waited the usual month since his arrival for Teresa to come, too.] They got out of maze to map before I got there. [Or so they thought, anyway.] You guys divided yourselves with jobs and such, too? Builders and cooks and medics and people exploring the maze?

Days. Wow. [ He must've had some impact in those couple of days, for his friends to look up to him like they do. By the way they looked at him, she expected him to have been some kind of leader. Her stay was almost a year, which seems like a lifetime in comparison. At his question, she nods. ]

Yeah. It made the most sense that way. We'd let newbies try out different jobs for a day or so to see what fits. It's easier to settle into a place and a group when you've got something to do. [ She had to work hard to be allowed into the maze, but she never considered settling for anything else. ]

How was your first day? If... that's not too personal.

[He did cause quite the revolution, yeah.

He chuckles a little at what she says next, finally turning his attention back to her. His head tilts a little.]

Newbies, huh? They called them Greenies. [There's a fondness in the word, as he says it, that he hadn't quite been expecting. It's nostalgic in a frightening way.] I think that's how they did it too. I mostly helped around until I managed to get into the job I wanted. [And by 'managing to get into the job he wanted' he means 'going against 'orders' and almost getting himself killed', but hey, it turned out okay in the end. He was thankful for the faith Newt and Minho had placed on him. Things could have gone much differently if they hadn't.

And he is chuckling at the question again, eyes returning to the ground.]

A mess. [To put it simply.] I was terrified. Confused. I couldn't remember anything. There was a lot going on, I had too many questions... The walls bothered me. [And he resumes his scribbles, absentmindedly.] They made a party that night, I think it was something they did every time the box came up. Newt explained a few more things to me. Got in a fight. Remembered my name.

[He stops, throwing the little stone away at that and holding his own hand instead. It's a stress reliever, playing with your hands.]

I guess because I hit my head, it came to me faster than it ever did, to anyone else.

That sounds... eventful. [ She's trying not to smile. It isn't working, but if he can chuckle about it, maybe that's okay. ]

When Sonya tried to get me out of the box, I threw a punch at her. And once I was out of the box, I made a mad dash for the doors. You can imagine I wasn't really anyone's favorite person for a bit there.

[ But she did make an impression. Tris shifts where she sits, sheepish, wiping her palms on her pants. She can't hide her grin though. There are no regrets on her part. Not about this. ]

I took days to remember my name though. Maybe I should've fought harder, huh?

[And that only makes him chuckle more. Ridiculous, isn't it? He had been so afraid back then, so confused. And now, after everything they had been through... Those were the days he cherished, the days he looked back at. The beginning had been easy-- So easy. It was one of the only things he had that he could laugh about. When everyone had still been alive and happy (to an extent), even if they were trapped, used as lab rats against their own will (unknown to them at the time).

He doesn't regret having done what he did. Yet it was ironic, that the thing that he was glad they had escaped from was the thing he had the best memories from, too.

It's what she says next, though, that surprises him. His eyebrows rise a little and he turns his attention to her again. Soon enough, there's a smile on his face.

Huh.]

I did that, too. [And a snort, head shaking as he remembers it.] I started running as fast as I could. Until I-- [And he laughs a little, at the thought, looking down again as Newt's voice echoed in his mind.] Faceplanted.

[And then a nod.] I had the same problem. Mainly since I eventually did manage to become a runner. You know... A maze explorer. [He wasn't sure if the other mazes used the same terms, after all.

And heh. His time to grin a little.]

Maybe? I got my ass kicked. Hit my head on the floor... And there was light.

[ Faceplanted. This time she does laugh, bringing a hand up to her mouth to stifle it while she looks over her shoulder at the rest of camp. Better not wake anyone. She likes that he's smiling about it, too, like it's easy for him to smile about. He must not be as proud as her, for it to be a good memory. Then again, the problems they had back then were so small in comparison. ]

I wasn't fast enough, so I got tackled to the ground. But I guess I can't have hit my head that time. [ A shrug. ] Maybe getting caught was why they didn't want me as a- a runner at first. [ She adopts his term, and that's that. They're all using practical, straightforward terms anyway. ]

Did you start the fight? Or the other guy?

[He can't help but smile more, hearing her laughter, eyes going back to her again, only to follow her gaze over their shoulders, towards the camp. Then, he meets her eyes again, almost as if reading her thoughts.] If they can sleep through Frypan's snoring, they can sleep through anything. [It's a tease, of course, his friend doesn't even snore all that much at all, but it's a joke they have going, just like Minho keeps - keeps, he refuses to use past tense, they are going to get him back - calling him 'ugly shank'. It keeps the ambiance light.

As for his pride, those sort of things don't affect him much. Yeah, he faceplanted. He was the one sent to get fertilizer. He can be incredibly clumsy for a runner. And his hands are a bit like butter sometimes. But hey, it's part of who he is. He tends to be quite patient and puts up with quite a lot of teasing and prompting before actually 'fighting back'. When it passes the limit he is willing to put up with, though... Then it can get ugly.]

Runners had usually been around for longer. That and, well, no one ever wanted to be a runner. Not really. No one had ever survived a night in the maze before. [Which, he admits, still surprises him. But that's another story altogether.

He shakes his head at the question.] Neither. He was fighting with someone else, he won, and then I was just there and the other guys started calling for us-- You know. Before I could say anything on it, they just assumed I accepted the challenge.

[ She watches Thomas carefully as he jokes, however lightly, at his friend's expense, wary of any malice in his tone or on his face. Finding none has her relieved, so she snorts and nods and says, ] I'll take your word for it. [ It's not like her and her friends from the maze go easy on each other either.

But then she rolls her eyes, exasperated not with him but with the sentiment. ]

Just like nobody had ever seen the- [ wait, what would the boys' maze call them? ] you know the monsters in the maze? And survived? I think I hated that the most. Thinking that because no one's done it before that it can't be done. [ Her expression hardens as she looks away, jaw set. ] Living in fear of something you've never even seen, and just accepting it.

[ She shakes her head. It's not something she can do, she's found, just bending to the pressure of how something has always been. ]

[She would never find any malice for his friends there. Thomas would gladly die for them-- He is on their side. The jokes between them are just that, jokes. They keep a smile on their faces when they can muster one, and that, he thinks, is important.]

Grievers. [He nods, answering her question. And then, he listens to what she says next. It's interesting how close her thoughts were to his own. He had felt exactly the same way... Or well, close enough. He wouldn't say he wasn't afraid of the things, once he did set his eyes on them. But not doing anything about them-- That did bother him a lot, too.] ... Yeah. Mostly I wanted to know more. I wanted to do more. I couldn't believe that after three years they had found so little. [Though, to their credit, they had mapped most of the maze.]

We killed one of them. That's when we started to find out more.

Grievers... [ She repeats it to herself quietly, just to get a feel for the word. It's as good a name as any, she supposes. They did cause a lot of grief.

As he continues, she looks over at him again, attentive. It's a strange feeling, seeing there's someone who felt the same way she had then, even though it's not really going to matter out here, is it? Things are different now. But still, it's-- good to know. A comfort, a kind of common ground Tris hasn't had with anyone she didn't convince. She nods. ]

I think we had to kill one. Or at least one. I think it was part of the trial. Otherwise, how're you going to get the key?

[Thomas always assumed that was why the other boys had called them that, yes.

And well, for all it's worth, he is feeling exactly the same way towards her. He wonders, briefly, what would have happened if someone like Tris had been in his own maze, back when he arrived. Would things have gone more smoothly for him? Would they have been harder? Not that it really matters, in the end. After all, she's right, they are out here now. Things are very different.

He nods at her words.]

You wouldn't. [He nods again. He had never thought of it that way, but she did make a very good point. If they hadn't killed that Griever, they would have never managed to find the exit.] When you guys got out, did they show you that fake video, too?

They did. [ Her voice goes cold with anger, lips pressed into a thin line in the damning silence that follows. ]

Complete with a wrecked lab and the bodies lying around and people coming to our rescue just in time.

[ And she goes tense all over, furious with them for what they did, and just as angry at herself for believing it. For wanting so badly to believe it. She should've known it was all too convenient. Should've said something, done something.

But didn't.

They'd all wanted it to be real. Letting a breath out like she's been holding it, she tries to let the thought go, shakes her head. ]

It was so strange seeing the maze from the outside. Watching it vanish behind us.

Just like it happened with us. [He says, dryly, nodding at her words.

It's a moment he prefers not to think too much about, Chuck's death still haunting him.

At her next words, he nods again, eyes narrowing as he looks at the floor, hands playing with one another all the more.]

... Yeah. It really was. [Surreal, even.] The Right Arm got to you guys, though, right? Managed to save you, Harriet and Sonya before you got into the WICKED base? [Because only Aris and Rachel had been there, right?]

There were others. [ For a moment, that's all she says. On which side? With her, or with Aris? But this is past tense, and by how hollow she sounds, the implication is probably clear. She shrugs, uncomfortable, trying to shrink further into the jacket that's already big on her. ]

But yeah. They got to us. It... it didn't go smoothly.

[ When does anything? Too many losses. Tris crosses her arms and tucks her hands in, staring at the ground. This isn't a cold that clothes will help against. ]

I heard you were the one they got the info from.

[Thomas goes extremely quiet at that, as well. He doesn't say anything, the weight of her words falling on his own shoulders, his own thoughts.]

... I can imagine. [He mutters, eventually, eyes still set on the ground. Because, yeah, he really can. Theirs had probably been the first maze to be solved - which said a lot to their credit - as Thomas remembered being told that Aris had been at the WICKED facility for quite some time before they arrived. His, he thinks, was the last of the mazes to be freed.

He is about to change topics, again, perhaps ask her if she would like a blanket or something else to warm herself with (she seems cold) when her words completely break that intention.

Thomas looks at her, at first, from the corner of his eyes, and then shifts uncomfortably on his seat. He takes a while to answer, playing nervously with his fingers and massaging his wrists, all the while only looking at his hands.

Eventually, though, he does speak.]

Yeah... I... [A short pause, uncertain.] I guess so. [And a sigh.] I can't remember much.

[ It's the fidgeting that draws her eyes and pulls her out of the familiar dark she drifted off to. The horizon gets only a cursory glance along the way, but at him, she looks steadily, unfolding her arms and straightening a little. ]

Well, if it wasn't for what you did, I wouldn't be here right now. Even if you don't remember now.

[ Which- that's another reason she despises WICKED as much as she does. They erased all their histories without a second thought. They never even planned to give them back, if that was ever possible. In fact, that train of thought lets her offer him a way out of responding. It's obvious he isn't comfortable with any of that, and, thinking about it, she can't really blame him. ]

I wonder if there's a way to get our memories back.

[He doesn't look at her when she says those things, keeping his eyes on his hands, rubbing his fingers, his knuckles. There's a hint of a grimace on his expression, but he doesn't say anything. At first, because he isn't sure of what to say.

What he can remember, he isn't exactly proud of. And though he knows that he probably did do something, given that memory with Teresa about how he 'couldn't keep watching them die', he doesn't remember ever talking to Mary, he doesn't remember giving her the coordinates to all the mazes and the WICKED facilities. He doesn't remember what happened after WICKED caught him, he doesn't remember what they did to him.

All he knows is that he used to work for them. And that is enough to bring a sour taste to his mouth.

He remains quiet, this time not because he doesn't know what to say but because he doesn't want to say what he knows: Don't thank me.

What she says last, though, makes his eyes narrow, and he swallows down, looking past his hands to the ground again. He hates what he is about to say, too.]

There is. [And he is back to massaging his fingers again.] They returned Teresa's memories to her, back at where they took us to, after the maze. I'm sure there will be devices in their Headquarters, too, that will allow you to do that, if you want to.

[ It needed saying, to her. But then she sees him grimace, and she knows it wasn't the right thing to say at all. He seems more than unsure. He seems ashamed. If it were her, she realizes, she'd probably feel the same way.

Best to let it go. She nearly apologizes for bringing the whole thing up, but doesn't want to linger on it even for that.

And then there's Teresa's name. The traitor, the lone girl from his maze just like Aris had been the lone boy from hers, but obviously a completely different person. Tris had barely known her, but her act of treason made it personal for all of them in an instant. Try as she might to reserve her hatred for someone who seemed so desperate to save the world and save her friends, she can't ignore that Teresa sided with WICKED. She worries, for a moment, if some of them might too if they knew, and nervously wipes her palms on her pants. ]

At least that gives me time to think about it. On the one hand, I want to know. But-- [ there are enough things to regret already. ] but it's not like there's a way back, like I'll forget everything else that happened.

[ Does it make her a coward not to want to face any of the pain and loss she left behind? ]

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calling Tris! for the TMR AU (that we should probably name something prettier jdhkfsfh)

we should. one day we'll think of something.

sounds perfect

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