Tired of Running

59|| a partial reunion

// we all are living in a dream
but life aint what it seems-
oh, everything's a mess \\

    •
   
    Thomas and Brenda made it to the city.
WICKED guards were crawling all over.  Thomas had covered his face, slumping against a run down truck.  Exhaustion wore the pair thin; finding it harder and harder to catch their breath.  Brenda grabbed Thomas's hand, dragging him inside a nearly crumbled building.  Once in the clear, she pulled her water out, completely draining it.  "What are you do-"  Brenda put her hand over his mouth, shushing him harshly.  "Relax," she dropped the empty canteen back in her backpack, "We can get more."  Thomas squinted at her, "How?"  Brenda sat up, readjusting her bad leg under her.  She smiled,
"Marcus."  Before Thomas could ask, a hand grabbed him roughly.  He spun around, preparing to shoot at the WICKED guard.  But it wasn't- It was a middle aged man, looking beat up, running out of life.  "Well well," the man spit as he talked, "Here for the party?"
Thomas jerked away from him, but Brenda answered, "Yes," she stood straighter, "We think our friends are here."  The man smiled, and it sent a shiver down Thomas's spine. 

  "I'm Marcus." 
Brenda looked at Thomas, a spark of hope igniting in her eyes.  Marcus continued, "I know exactly where your friends are."  He began walking up shabby steps, Brenda followed.  He motioned for them to step through the door, "They said to be expecting you," he stopped once in the door, "Here,"
He handed them a flask, "Drink this,"
Thomas grabbed it, thankful.  He tipped it up, only to immediately spit the contents back out.
"What is that!?"  Thomas looked at the man, stepping back.  Marcus just smiled, "The price of admission..."  Brenda took it, swallowing it, face emotionless. 

  The room was barely lit, music booming hazily through the speakers.  Thomas felt dizzy; he knew immediately it was from the drink.  "Bren..."  His voice faded as he turned around slowly to look at her, "We have to stick together."  Brenda just nodded, her eyes locking on his.  Groups were dancing, some people were just drinking, others sharing food.  In the corner, a couple was making out-  Thomas turned away, eyes blurry, scanning the room.  Brenda touched his elbow, eyelids drooping, "They aren't here," her head nodded slightly, "It's just us now."  Thomas turned more frantically, nearly falling backwards.  They had to be here...  They said-  His mind had gone blank; why was he here?  Where was Minho and Newt?  His sister?  What was her name?
Brenda was pulling him close to her-
Teresa...
Her lips met his, softly first, then melting into him.  Thomas stumbled backwards, "No-"  He shook his head, grabbing the wall- the room was spinning, "You're not her..." 

~~~

    Newt bent over Thomas, looking anxiously to Jorge.  Brenda had already woken up, but Thomas was just as unresponsive as he had been when they found him, unconscious and drugged.  "He drank more...  A bigger sip,"  Brenda shook her head, leaving his side.  Something in her eyes looked hurt, but she wasn't Newt's concern.  Thomas gasped, sitting up, "What the..."  He rubbed his eyes, looking around the room- he was clearly in a daze, still completely out of it.  "Where are Harper and Minho?"  The room was still spinning, as he squinted, "I-"  Newt shook him, "Where are they?"  Thomas's head snapped in Newt's direction, now suddenly aware of what he said.  "They aren't here?  They're not with you?"  He jumped to his feet.  "They aren't with you!?"  Newt had stood too.  Frypan reached out for his shoulder, but stopped short.  

  "Talk!"  Jorge had tied Marcus to a chair, leaning on his knees, trying to get information.  "Where- is the right arm?"  Marcus laughed, shaking his head, "I cut my ties."  Jorge pushed him backwards, letting the whole chair hit the ground.  Newt and Thomas had walked over, slowly, standing behind Jorge.  "She isn't..."  Newt ran a hand through his hair as Thomas sat on the couch behind him.
Frypan sighed, "Look- If she's with Minho...  They're gonna be fine..."  Newt turned to him harshly, "If!  If either of them even made it.
God help us if one of them is just alone!  They would never make it!"  He hit the wall, walking outside.  Thomas rested his head in his hands, just shaking his head.