Seperation // Gally x Reader

"Thomas, Y/n, come with me," the woman says, leading us away from the group. I stare at Vince's face before following, and it brings a smug smirk to my face. I don't think I've ever seen someone so shocked.

"I need to get some blood from the both of you," she says, wrapping her arm around Thomas' shoulders. "Is that alright?" She asks. Thomas is quick to answer with a simple nod. "What? Do you mean needles?" I reply, my voice wavering. "Yes," she says plainly. My throat drops to my knees. I can normally stomach needles, having being stabbed by them multiple times, but something about them taking my blood always seems to rattle me.

However, it seems important that she takes these samples. They may even be the cure to Brenda's illness. And I'm determined to help her in any way possible. The woman leads us into the tent Brenda had been taken to, and seats us on a bed beside her.

She quickly sanitizes two syringes and sits in between Thomas and I, taking my arm first. "Clench," she demands, and I curl my hand in and out of a fist. After a few seconds, a painful stab pulsates through the right side of my body, and I bite down hard on my lip. Thomas is much more cooperative, not even needing to look away. She stands and walks over to an array of countertops lined with cabinets.

As she prepares the antidote, she attempts to explain to us the origins of the Right Arm. "In the beginning, we were lost. All we knew for sure was that the younger you were, the stronger your chances."

"Of catching the flare?" I ask, twisting my body to watch her fiddle through cupboards. "Yes. It was unlike any virus we'd ever seen before," she replies.

"Wait, you worked for WICKED?" Thomas asks, his body mimicking my own. The woman turns her head away from us and nods slowly. "A long time ago."

She pauses for a few seconds before returning to the conversation. The brief silence left Thomas and I to return to facing forward, Jorge's eyes locked on ours. "You know, at first, we really did have the best intentions. Find a cure, save the world. It was clear you kids were the key because you were supposedly immune. But why? What was it that made you so different, so special? Eventually, we found the answer. An enzyme produced by the brains of the immune. Once separated from the bloodstream, it can serve as a powerful agent to slow the spread of the virus."

"So you found a cure?" Thomas asks. "Not exactly," she says with a heavy sigh. "The enzyme can't be manufactured, only harvested from the immune. The young. Of course, that didn't stop WICKED. I mean, if they had their way, they'd sacrifice an entire generation. All for this." She holds the syringe up towards us, a pool blue liquid loaded at the tip. "It's a gift of biology, really. But one that's not meant for all of us."

She sits beside Brenda, who's breathing immediately intensifies, and lays her arm across her lap. Jorge holds her head tenderly as the needle is inserted, and I can tell that the relief Brenda feels is pure bliss.

"How long will that give her?" Thomas asks. "It's different for everyone. But, since we used two samples, perhaps a few months. But that's the catch, isn't it? She'll always need more."

She rises to her feet, giving Brenda's leg a friendly pat. "Okay let's um... let's go outside. Let them rest."

Jorge and I follow the woman, but Thomas stays by Brenda's side. Jorge immediately forks away from us, and before I know it, he's having a heated conversation with Minho over something. I don't think I've ever seen either of them smile in each other's presence.

"You know she can't come with us, right?" The woman asks, and my smile drops. "Yeah... I know," I reply. Although I didn't know. I thought this would save her. I would be completely willing to donate a small amount of blood every couple of months to keep her healthy, and apparently that would work. So why would we have to abandon her?

She turns to walk away, but I stop her. "Wait. What's your name?" I ask.

"You really have no clue who I am?"

"I'm sorry, should I?"

She sighs and turns her body back to face me. "I'm Mary. We were quite close before I left. You were quite a lonely child, isolated from the others due to your mother's strange ideas about contamination. I looked after you most of the time, taught you things, entertained you, even scolded you when you deserved it." A small laugh escapes my lips. I can't remember any instances that she's talking about, but the words send warmth blossoming through my chest.

"You knew my mother?" I ask her. The way she'd said it was unnerving, as though my mother wasn't someone she respected. "Unfortunately, yes. Do you remember her?" I shake my head. "That's probably for the best, sweetheart."

"Was it me who gave you the coordinates. Or was it Thomas?" I ask her. I need to know whether or not this was the true reason I was sent to the maze. Maybe those doctors in my dream needed me for another reason? "I'm sorry, Y/n. It was Thomas."

I nod sadly, and we part ways.

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I stand there, alone, my eyes scanning for something to do to keep myself from the clawing grip of boredom. Everyone I see is either scowling, or looks insanely stressed and busy, and I don't think I'd want to socialise with any of them.

I walk over to a table of people and collect a small bowl of stew. It seems to be full of hearty lamb chunks and vegetables, and just a whiff of its scent made me yearn for a taste.

I see Aris sitting with Sonya and Harriet beside a bonfire, but they have a lot of catching up to do that I don't want to interrupt. "Y/n! Up here!" A voice echoes through the peaks. I look up and see the entirety of my 'friends' sitting up on a couple of boulders. I roll my eyes and start scaling the rocks.

"Good of you to join us," Lorenzo says with a smile. I don't answer and instead slump down in a corner, at least 5 feet away from the rest of them. His face drops instantaneously. He exchanges a glance with Minho, who's brows furrow for a few seconds before he clears his throat.

"So... Y/n. What were you doing in there?"

"Giving blood," I say bluntly. "What were you fighting with Jorge about?"

He scoffs and shakes his head. "Nothing. Everything. I swear, that shank wouldn't know style if it crawled up his pants and bit him on the crotch." Unfortunately, Minho has an irresistible charm that I can't help but laugh at. I curse at myself for forgetting my grudge, even if it was just for a few seconds.

"Look, n/n, we're sorry. So, so sorry. If you knew how everything went down, you would realise there really was nothing we could've done."

"Okay then, Lorenzo. Please, go ahead and enlighten me. Tell me how you did whatever you could, absolutely everything, to try and keep him alive," I spit.

He sighs and his voice becomes soft. "Please, just know we tried our very best to save him, and even in his last moments, Chuck was still laughing and thinking of you," Lorenzo says, keeping firm eye contact.

I stare at the ground, silenced. It's obviously not what I want to hear, but it's a strange relief to know that Chuck died happy- or at least as happy as he could've been given the situation. I wanted so much more for him, but at the same time, nothing.

I suppose it was unfair to believe that a single one of them wouldn't have fought endlessly to keep that boy alive. They all loved him like a brother, same as I did. Same as I still do.

I nod and give him a small smile. "Thank you."