The Quiet Authority pt.2
Thomas x reader
pt.1
⋆⭒˚.⋆Summary: When the Maze Doors fail to close and Grievers attack the Glade, you and Thomas fight together to survive. Once the danger is over, he knows you're exactly who he can count on.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Author's note: Here's part 2!! (sorry if it's a bit repeattive)
A few weeks later, Thomas stopped looking like a Greenie. He still asks questions, still stares at the Maze like it owes him answers and still has a habit of wandering where he shouldn't.
But now he knows the routines. He knows the Gladers. He knows when Minho's joking and when Alby's serious. And he knows to look for you.
You and Minho were sorting crates outside the Homestead when Thomas wandered over for what had become the third time that afternoon. "You know," Minho said, not even looking up from the crate he was carrying, "I'm starting to think the shank's attached to your hip."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I just got here."
"Exactly," Minho replied, gesturing toward you. "You’re always near."
"I'm helping."
Minho glanced at the untouched stack of supplies beside Thomas. "You haven't touched a single crate."
Thomas looked at the boxes, then back at Minho. "...I was about to." You hid a smile as Thomas quickly reached for the nearest crate.
Newt walks by carrying a bundle of rope and shakes his head.
"Ignore him Thomas."
Minho grins.
"I'm just saying. If they wandered into the Maze, he'd probably follow."
Thomas opens his mouth to argue.
Then stops, Because...He probably would.
The evening settled over the Glade in its familiar rhythm.
Builders carried their last stacks of lumber back toward the Homestead. The Cooks shouted for anyone still working in the Gardens to wash up before dinner. Laughter drifted across the open field as a few younger Gladers argued over a game near the Deadheads.
You were helping carry baskets of vegetables toward the kitchens when the familiar low groan of shifting stone echoed through the Glade.
The doors were closing.
Every evening, the massive walls slid shut before nightfall, sealing the Maze away until morning. You barely look up. You've heard that sound every evening for over a year. It's as normal as breathing.
Until...
The sound stops.
A strange silence settles over the Glade.
You frown. Around you, conversations begin to trail off. Someone near you mutters"...Why'd they stop?"
Your head snaps toward the entrance. The massive stone Doors had stopped moving. Instead of sealing shut, they hung half-closed, frozen in place.
For one long, uneasy moment...
Nothing happened.
The entire Glade seemed to hold its breath.
Then, without warning, the Doors lurched. With a deafening groan, the ancient stone ground against itself before the two walls suddenly slid back in opposite directions, retreating to their original positions. The earth trembled beneath your feet as dust billowed from the cracks in the stone. The entrance to the Maze stood wide open.
A stunned silence fell over the Glade.
Then someone shouted, "It's not shut!"
Every head turned toward the Maze. The open passage gapes like a wound in the stone wall, refusing to seal.
"Everyone away from the Doors!" Alby yells. "Get everyone away from the Doors!"
"Runners, with me!" Minho shouts, already sprinting toward the entrance.
Gladers scatter in every direction, grabbing tools, dragging supplies, ushering the younger boys toward the Homestead. You scan the crowd.
Where—
"There you are."
Thomas appears at your side, slightly out of breath. Of course he found you.
“What’s going on?”
Before you can respond, A shrill metallic screech echoes through the Maze.
No.
Thomas looks toward the sound."What was that?"
Another screech. The sound bounces off the stone walls until it feels like it's coming from everywhere.Your blood runs cold. "They're coming," you whisper.
"What?"
"The Grievers."
Almost on cue, a Runner near the entrance stumbles backward.
"They're moving!" he yells.
Then chaos erupts.
"Barricade the Homestead!" Alby shouts.
Panic tears through the Glade. People shove past each other, tools clatter across the ground. The alarms begin ringing. Thomas instinctively takes a step toward the Maze. You drop your basket quickly catching his wrist. "Thomas."
He looks at you immediately.
"Stay with me."
"Okay." For the first time since arriving in the Glade...He looks completely overwhelmed.
"Listen to me," you say, tightening your grip on his wrist just enough to keep his attention. "Don't leave my side. If we get separated, head for the Homestead. Don't stop to help anyone unless you know you can. Understand?"
His jaw tightens.
"I understand."
Another scream echoes, you turn just in time to see the first Griever burst into the Glade. It heads towards the gardens, crashing through rows of vegetables, its massive metal body grinding against the earth as dozens of glistening legs carry it forward with terrifying speed.
“RUN!” you shove Thomas forward, he doesn’t argue.
Panic surges throughout the glade.
Gladers scatter in every direction, shouts overlap until they become one deafening roar. The fear increases as another Griever screeches from the opposite side of the Glade.
"There are more of them!"
"Get inside!"
A second Griever bursts through the open Maze Doors, its bladed limbs carving deep trenches into the earth. One boy trips before two runners immediately double back, dragging him to his feet before the Griever's tail slams into the ground where he'd fallen, sending dirt and splintered wood flying through the air.
"Move!" Alby bellows. "Keep moving!"
The emergency bell rings relentlessly, but it's almost drowned out by the metallic screeches echoing across the Glade. Everywhere you look, people are running. Some climb onto rooftops, desperately trying to get out of reach. Others shove heavy carts into narrow pathways, creating makeshift barricades.
Builders swing axes to hack apart fences, opening new escape routes as terrified Gladers pour through them. A storage shed explodes into splinters as another Griever crashes straight through it. Dust billows into the air, swallowing half the Glade in a choking haze.
You shout at Thomas before the crowd can separate you.
“Come on!"
"I'm with you!"
A wave of panicked Gladers surges between the two of you and the Homestead, forcing you sideways. "Forget the Homestead," you shout over the noise. "We need more cover!"
Thomas nods without hesitation.
"Lead the way!"
You weave through the chaos together, ducking beneath flying debris as another Griever tears across the center of the Glade. Its razor-sharp limbs slice through wooden fences like paper. Behind you, someone yells that the barricade has fallen.
Ahead, another scream echoes through the smoke.
You don't look back.
You can't.
The only thing that matters is keeping Thomas beside you as you sprint toward the nearest shelter before the Grievers find you first. You yank Thomas into a discarded supply shed just as another deafening screech tears through the Glade.
The wooden structure groans around you. Splintered beams lean precariously overhead, dust drifting through the air with every distant impact.
For one fleeting second...
It's quiet.
Thomas braces his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath."Think we can just stay here?" he whispers.
You shake your head. "No."
Thomas lets out a breath and slides down the wall until he's sitting on the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly. "...You're pretty fast."
You lean against the opposite wall, trying to slow your own breathing.
"I've had a lot of practice."
He lets out a tired laugh. "You ever think about becoming a Runner?"
You snort.
"And risk my life every day? No thanks."
"I'm serious."
"So am I.”
He pauses as you glance at him.
"I've seen what comes out of that Maze. The Runners are incredible, but I don't exactly wake up every morning thinking, 'I'd love to spend my day being chased by monsters.'"
Thomas smiles faintly, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"I think I would."
Your expression changes.
"What?"
"I'd want to be a Runner."
The words hang in the air. Outside, distant shouting echoes through the Glade.You stare at him. "You've only been here a few weeks."
"I know."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"I know enough."
"You don't."
Thomas looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I just..." He sighs. "Every time I look at the Maze, it feels like there's something in there I'm supposed to find."
You recognize that look.
You've seen it almost every day since he arrived.
The curiosity. The determination.The feeling that the Maze is somehow calling to him. "It's dangerous, Thomas."
"I know."
"No," you say quietly. "You don't."
He looks back at you.
"You haven't seen what a Griever does to someone."
His jaw tightens.
"You haven't watched Runners come back bleeding so badly the Med-jacks don't know where to start. You haven't stood in the Glade waiting for the Doors to close... only to realize one of your friends isn't coming home."
Silence settles between you.
For the first time, Thomas doesn't have an argument.
You soften your voice.
"I'm not saying you'd make a bad Runner."
He meets your eyes.
"I'm saying I don't want the Maze to take you too." Before Thomas can answer,
A metallic click.
Both of you freeze.
Another click. This one comes from the other side of the wall.
Thomas slowly turns his head toward the sound.
"...Did you hear that?"
You don't answer.
Because you already know what it is. The shed creaks. A long, bladed limb suddenly punches through the wooden wall with a deafening crack, missing Thomas by inches.
"THOMAS, DOWN!"
He drops instantly.
The Griever screeches as splintered wood explodes across the room. Thomas hits the floor just as the Griever's bladed limb tears through the wall where he'd been standing.
The creature lets out a deafening screech, forcing another limb through the splintered opening, blindly slashing at anything it can reach. "It's coming through!" Thomas shouts.
"I know!"
Another slam rocks the shed.
The walls groan.Cracks race across the ceiling.The Griever throws its full weight against the building again. With a thunderous crack, half the wall caves inward.
The Griever lunges.
"Move!"
You dive to one side as its tail smashes into the floor, sending tools flying in every direction.Thomas rolls, narrowly avoiding another bladed leg that punches into the ground where he'd been.
The Griever's limbs scrape frantically across the floor, searching.
Your eyes dart around the ruined shed.
A rack of heavy pickaxes.
Coils of rope.
A rusted lantern.
Then—
The support posts.
The entire roof was being held up by only a handful of thick wooden beams.
"Thomas!" you yell. "The posts!"
His head snaps toward you.
He follows your gaze. Understanding flashes across his face.
Without a word, he grabs one of the pickaxes.
The Griever charges him.
"THOMAS!"
He waits.
Waits.
Waits- then swings with everything he has.
The pickaxe bites deep into the nearest support beam.
CRACK!
The roof shifts.
The Griever shrieks.
"Again!" you shout.
You grab the second pickaxe and strike another post.
The old timber splinters.
The griever lunges again and Thomas slams the pickaxe into the weakened beam a final time.
The entire roof gives way, moonlight flooding the room. With an earsplitting crash, massive wooden beams, stone, and debris collapse onto the creature. It quickly disappears beneath the wreckage, dust erupting into the air.
You barely have time to process when a muffled metallic screech echoes from beneath the rubble.
"It's still alive," Thomas breathes.
"We're leaving."
You grab his arm and pull him away just as one of the Griever's bladed limbs bursts through the pile of debris.
The two of you sprint into the chaos of the Glade.
Another Griever tears through the Gardens. A third crashes into the Builders' huts.
"Over here!"
You whip your head toward the voice.
Newt stood in the doorway of a hut , waving frantically. Several Gladers crowded behind him, hastily pulling another frightened boy inside.
"Hurry!"
You and Thomas rushed toward them. The moment you crossed the threshold, Newt and Minho threw the heavy doors shut. Everyone shoved tables, crates, and anything they could lift against the entrance.
Then they waited, listening.
The Grievers screeched. Something massive slammed into the walls hard enough to shake the entire building.Someone quietly started crying.
Thomas stood beside you, his breathing uneven.
Without thinking, he reached for your hand.
You squeezed it.
Then...
Silence.The sudden quiet was somehow worse.
Thomas frowned.
"...Are they gone?"
No one answered.
A slow metallic click echoed from above.
Your stomach dropped.
"The roof," you whispered.
The ceiling exploded inward.A Griever crashed through the rafters, splintering timber as terrified Gladers scattered in every direction. It landed in the middle of the room with a shriek.
The creature whipped its tail toward a younger Glader. Thomas moved before anyone else. "Wait!" you yelled. He snatched a long spear leaning against the wall and sprinted straight for the Griever.
The creature reared back, opening the armored plates beneath its head for a split second as it prepared to strike. "There!" you shouted instinctively.
Thomas trusted you.
He drove the spear with all his strength into the narrow opening before the plates could close.
The Griever let out a piercing scream as it's entire body convulsed violently.
For one impossible moment, everything stopped. Then the Griever collapsed. Thomas slowly stepped backward, staring at the motionless creature.
"...Did..."
Minho blinked.
"...Did the Greenie just kill a Griever?"
A long, haunting screech echoed from somewhere outside.
Then another.
Every Griever in the Glade answered at once. One by one, the metallic cries began moving away, toward the Maze.
Finally, Alby let out a long breath. "They're retreating." Relief flooded the room instantly.
Thomas looked at you, still gripping the broken spear.
"You told me where to aim."
You smiled, exhausted.
"And you listened."
He let out a shaky laugh.
"I always do."
Morning came slowly.
The Glade looked nothing like it had the day before.
Broken fences lay scattered across the grass. Splintered wood covered the pathways. Entire sections of the Gardens had been flattened, and the air still smelled faintly of smoke and crushed ivy.
No one complained, they were alive.
That was enough.
From sunrise onward, every Glader had been put to work. Builders repaired damaged huts. Cooks salvaged whatever food they could. Med-jacks checked on anyone with even the smallest scratch, refusing to let anyone brush off injuries after everything that had happened.
You spent most of the morning helping clear debris outside the Homestead, tossing broken planks into a growing pile.
"Hey."
You looked up.
Thomas stood a few feet away, balancing a stack of boards against one shoulder.The sounds of hammers echoed across the Glade while voices drifted between the buildings. It almost felt normal again.
Thomas set the boards down beside the pile and wiped the dust from his hands.
"So..."
You raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
"I wanted to say thank you."
"You already did."
"I know."
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far less confident than he had when he'd charged a Griever with nothing but a spear.
"I just..." He looked at you. "If you weren’t there yesterday... if you hadn't told me where to run... where to aim..."
His voice trailed off.
"I don't think I'd be standing here."
You were quiet for a second before nudging his shoulder with yours.
"I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
He smiled, a real one this time.
"You know..." he said, "when I first got here, everyone kept telling me not to wander off."
"They were right."
"But somehow I always ended up finding you."
You couldn't help smiling.
"I noticed."
"I'm starting to think it wasn't an accident."
Heat crept into your cheeks.
Before you could think of a reply, Minho called from across the Glade.
"Oi, lovebirds! If you're done making eyes at each other, we've got walls to rebuild!"
You and Thomas answered at the exact same time.
"We're not- "
The two of you stopped, looked at each other, and groaned.
Minho burst into laughter.
"I didn't even have to finish the joke!"
Newt shook his head as he walked past carrying a bundle of lumber. "Leave 'em alone, Minho."
"No chance."
Thomas sighed dramatically before grabbing another armful of wood.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the damaged fence. "We've got work to do."
You fell into step beside him. The Maze still stood beyond the open Doors. Its secrets were still waiting.
But for the first time since everything had changed, the Glade felt less like a place that was falling apart...
...and more like a place worth fighting for.
And through it all, Thomas knew exactly where to find you.
