Everywhere, Everything//Maze Runner

Tris was a crank.

Clara stared through the glass as a numbing coldness flooded her. 

Part of her had hoped that WICKED had been lying to try and influence her. They couldn't have actually sent up one immune and one non-immune every time the box came up. It was a lie. Even now, looking at Tris, her eyes dark, veins running in and out of her loose dressing gown, Clara couldn't reconcile it with the Tris she knew.

Tris was bright, hopeful. A runner. A good person. She was supposed to make it to the end. They were supposed to make it to the end.

Together.

Clara pressed her lips together to keep herself from crying. She had to get Tris out of here, had to get her to the cures WICKED had. If only she hadn't sent them with Lia. 

Give her the cure, get her out of here. 

Clara shoved the door open. Tris twisted her neck at an uncanny angle to spit and scream, thrashing against the metal restraints. 

Clara refrained from flinching back. She moved through the room, staying out of Tris' range. She rooted through the cabinets, looking for something, anything, that could help. It seemed the doctors had left in a hurry, various vials and tools scattered across the ground in messy heaps. If Clara had more time-- any time-- she would've stopped the scan them and taken what was useful.

Tris continued to scream and thrash, as Clara opened the top stainless steel cupboard, and found one vial of the blue treatment remaining. Her heart jumped. It wouldn't stave off the Flare for long, but it would make her lucid enough that they might have a chance of finding more. From there, she didn't know, but perhaps she could convince Thomas to share his blood. It made Brenda better, it had to help Tris too.

Clara clenched the vial tightly, before approaching Tris with caution. The girl stared, her eyes wholly black. Clara could see now that the foam in her mouth was black. 

A massive explosion rattled the windows, and Clara whipped her neck to look out towards the walls. From their position high in the sky, Clara could see that the main entrance to the city had fallen. In a split second, the city would be overrun, both with protesters and cranks. She cursed. Couldn't Lawrence have waited a few more moments?

Clara took a step closer, ensuring Tris' restraints were tight before she lunged forward and jammed the needle into her thigh, dispensing the treatment. 

Tris immediately began to scream, lashing at Clara.

Clara stumbled back, her chest heaving, the vial unbelievably heavy in her hands. She stared at Tris, watching as she fought her chains. With every second that passed, Clara felt her fear rising, her panic beginning to consume her.

Clara couldn't make it without Tris. They were boxmates. They were sisters. They were going to make it out together.

There was a moment of silence, where Clara just watched Tris, until finally, the treatment started to work.

Her chest still rapidly rising and falling, Clara watched as Tris' eyes cleared, her limbs stilling. 

Clara stayed silent as Tris blinked, regaining her bearings. Slowly, her head turned to face Clara.

There was a moment of quiet.

"Sick eye patch," Tris croaked.

Clara burst out into laughing sobs, running forward and falling on top of Tris, hugging her tight. She removed herself long enough to undo the straps, letting Tris' arms and legs free. 

Tris pushed herself up, scanning the room. Clara could see her arms shuddering under the weight and pressed a firm hand to her back, giving her support.