Disclaimer: I do not own this amazing franchise know as the Maze Runner. All rights go to James Dashner, the author of the Maze Runner, and his publishing company whom he probably sold the rights to. This story is written purely for my entertainment with nothing to do with profit or recognition. "I write what I want to write, I write what amuses me, it's totally for myself."- J.K. Rowling.

This one-shot is canon compliant and happened in Maze Runner Files, only it is not a transcript. May be part of a series of future one-shots of the first meetings of Gladers.

Thomas had never expected that he would meet anyone other than the scientists in the WICKED headquarters. He certainly had not expected that it would be so soon, and especially not with sneaking out on purpose. Of all the unexpected things that Thomas could think of, being the first of the two young pupils was at the higher end of the list. But, of course, he was the first to speak. "Hey," he offered casually. The child across the table, a average height, black-haired girl with starting blue eyes, looked over at him blankly, not showing emotion.

"Hi," she replied absently, not seeming particularly interested in the conversation, rather gazing around the small room they had been enclosed in. It was not a particularly interesting room, though. The walls were a blank grey and windowless. The table was a plain, slightly darker grey, the same tone as the chairs. In the corners of each room there was a security camera, watching their every move.

"Why did they put us here?" Thomas asked, trying to spark a conversation despite the girl's, Teresa's, thoughts otherwise.

"I don't know. They wanted us to meet and talk, I guess." Again, no spark of life from the girl. She was like a robot, emotionless and lifeless.

Sighing, Thomas asked another question, refusing to give up the prospect of conversation. Having lived for four years in isolation, not seeing anyone under the age of thirty, he was not about to let the prospect of actually speaking to someone slip away. "How long have you been here?" Was the first question to his mind.

"Since I was five," Teresa responded lifelessly.

Not a very informative answer, considering that Thomas did not know how old the girl was. "So...?" He prompted.

"So four years," was the blue-eyed girl's bland response.

That caught Thomas' attention. She seemed older than just nine. "You're only nine?" became his confused response. He was not lying. Teresa really did seem older than him, even if not by much. Age was always a very important thing for a child, Thomas being no exception to such matters. He had always been a curious child, eager to learn more about the people and world around him. Despite his quiet intelligence, he also had a quiet, childlike innocence that, despite his trying to supress it, always seemed to cause the scientists to smile at him.

"Yeah. Why? How old are you?" Teresa asked easily, finally having a faint spark of life in her eyes. Thomas brightened instantly, smiling cheerfully. It always made him happy when someone expressed interest in who he was, not just his supposed intelligence. Teresa let out a faint snort of laughter at his express, amusement slipping onto her face. She didn't seem like a robot any longer.

"Same," Thomas said cheerfully. "You just seem older is all." The unspoken question was received by the smaller nine-year-old before him.

"I'll be ten soon. Haven't you been here just as long?" Teresa's voice was suddenly full of life, cheerful and warm, so unlike how she had sounded before, cold and emotionless. It was not that Thomas like human interaction or was good with reading emotions, rather that he was simply happy that someone else was just like him, quiet and unnoticed but still bright underneath a layer of something else.

"Yeah."

"Why do they keep us separate?" Teresa asked suddenly. "I can hear other kids screaming and laughing all the time. And I've seen the big cafeteria. It's gotta feed hundreds." Her voice had become suddenly harsh and icy to Thomas' ears.

"So they bring your food to your room too?" Thomas asked in response, intrigued by the similarities between them.

"Three times a day," Teresa confirmed. "Most of it tastes like a toilet."

Thomas let out a startled bark of laughter at her last sentence. "So you know what a toilet tastes like?" He inquired, sincerely curious as to how the black-haired girl before him would have decided on such word choice. It seemed rather unlikely that she actually knew what a toilet tasted like, but hey? Why not ask?

"Can't be worse than the food they give us," Teresa replied, grinning a grin that showed off two missing front teeth.

"Heh," Thomas laughed in response. It was quite true. "You're right," he grinned back, showing his own missing teeth. He had been rather proud when they had fallen out, yet saddened when no Tooth Fairy had left coins under his pillow like he had read about in an old children's book. He had always brushed them well, so why had such a fairy not come?

"So there must be something different about us, don't you think?" Teresa prompted softly, looking suddenly thoughtful.

Yawning, Thomas replied. "I guess. There has to be a reason we're kept alone. But it's hard to guess what when we don't even know why we're here."

"I know. Is your life pretty much school stuff from wake-up to lights-out?" Teresa asked, using the simple slang that the scientists used around the nine-year-olds. Once again, Teresa had been the one prying rather than Thomas who seemed to be the shier of the two, nervous around a new person but still willing to speak to them.

"Just about."

"They keep telling me how smart I am."

"Me too. It's weird."

"I think it has something to do with the Flare," Teresa offered, referring to the extremely dangerous disease that had been ravaging the earth for several years. In just those several years, the Flare had wiped out three fourths of the population and had infected well over half of the remaining people. "Did your parents catch it before WICKED took you?"

Instantly, Thomas felt a shudder pass through his small, yet still taller than Teresa, body. "I don't want to talk about it," he whispered softly. His father had caught it and nearly killed both him and his mother before being taken away. Just a few short days later, Thomas' mother had given him to WICKED just after she came down with the first symptoms of the terrible disease.

"Why not?" Teresa inquired.

Thomas turned his hazel eyes on her, as cold as ice. "I just don't!" He snapped in response, turning his torso away from her to glare petulantly at one of the walls. Another shudder raced through him as his father's crazed, hazel eyes, Thomas' eyes, flashed in his vision. Thomas' heart pounded at the thought of his father eating a small dog from the streets.

"Fine then," Teresa scoffed. "Me neither."

"Why are we even here, anyway? Seriously, what're we supposed to be doing?"

"Talking," Teresa replied blandly. "Being tested. I don't know. Sorry being around me is so freaking boring for you."

Pain flashed beneath Thomas' closed eyelids It hurt to have someone be angry at him. "Huh? He asked worriedly, gazing at the blue-eyed girl quietly. Thomas sincerely wanted this girl to be his friend, if only since neither of them had ever had a friend before. "You're mad?" His voice took on a nervous pitch, causing Teresa to give him a slight smile beneath her mask of anger.

"No, I'm not mad," she said finally. "You just don't seem very nice."

Anger boiled up on Thomas and he turned a glare at the girl. I'd like to see you talk about your father strangling your mum! He snapped mentally.

"I kind of like the idea of having a friend," she said suddenly.

"Sorry, Thomas said glumly. Sound kind of good to me, too."

"Then maybe we passed the test. Maybe they wanted to see if we'd get along."

"Whatever," Thomas huffed. "I quit guessing about things a long time ago."

"So... Friends?" Teresa asked hopefully.

"Friends," Thomas agrees calmly, though not entirely sure he likes this girl.

"Shake on it," she ordered bossily, sticking a hand out across the table between them. Thomas shook it calmly.

"Okay."

"Hey, does your brain hurt sometimes? I mean, not just like a normal headache, but deep down inside your skull?" She asked, leaning forward, anxious to hear his answer.

"What?" Thomas almost shouted. "Are you serious? Yes!"

Suddenly, Teresa froze. "Shh!" She hissed at him. "Quiet, someone's coming. We'll talk about this later."