FRANKIE COULD BARELY breathe. She was coughing, spitting, sitting on the wooden floor of the shed where she landed.

She swore she could feel the dust and smoke in her lungs, noses, and lips.

The cut on her forehead was still sprouting blood.

Minho, Thomas, and Brenda came stumbling in after her —all in the same condition as hers. Tired, relieved, and dirty.

They had made it.

Now, they truly escaped. And WICKED's building had burnt down to the ground —they were done for good.

Minho got to her as Thomas crawled forward, but Brenda immediately stood up. She reached some buttons on a control panel and the gray plane winked out of existence, revealing the cedar planks of the wall behind it.

"You three get out," she said, an urgency in her voice, "I have to do one last thing."

Minho had gotten to his feet, and he offered his hand to help Frankie stand.

She couldn't think of anything anymore, except that her right leg was terribly weighing her down.

"My shucked brain can't spend one more second thinking. Just let her do whatever she wants," Minho walked over to Thomas and helped him stand as well, "Come on."

"Good that," Thomas said, "Hey, can you walk?"

Frankie nodded, though she was desperately clinging to Minho's arm. She wanted to say something, anything, to ease the situation, but she just couldn't muster any energy to do so.

Minho threw his arms around his friends' shoulders on his either side and, together, they stepped out of the shed.

The sight outside managed to take whatever breath she had left away.

They really were in Paradise.

A place so lush and green and full of vibrant life. They were standing at the top of a hill above a field of tall grass and wildflowers. To her right, the hill descended into a valley of towering trees that seemed to stretched for miles, ending in a wall of rocky mountains that jutted out towards the cloudless blue sky.

The sky was real now, unlike the Glade's.

To her left, the grassy field slowly became scrub brush and then sand. And then the ocean, its waves big and dark and white-tipped as they crashed onto a beach.

It was paradise. Their safe haven.

She looked down —the three or four hundred people they had rescued from the Maze and the Right Arm had collected wandered the area. She could see some of them actually running and jumping.

She heard the door of the shed close then the whoosh of fire behind her. The three of them turned around to see Brenda —she gently pushed Thomas a few steps farther away from the structure, which was already engulfed in flames.

"Just making sure?" he asked.

"Just making sure," she repeated, and gave him a smile so sincere, "I'm... sorry about Teresa."

"Thanks."

Frankie tore her gaze away.

Teresa didn't make it.

And so were a lot of her friends.

Loss clenched her heart as they walked over and joined the group of people who had fought the last battle with them.

But, now that the adrenaline rush was over, her legs turned jelly and she fell down.

"Whoa!" Minho yelped, immediately holding onto her arms. "Frank! What's wrong?"

"I can't."

He scooped down and bridal carried her with his arms supporting her back and legs.

She circled her arms around his neck and whispered to his ear, "Minho, I'm tired."

He whispered back, "I got you, Frankie. It's okay, I got you."

And with one long, final look on the burnt shed that led them to their previous tough world —a life of being played, experimented on, and forced to survive the hard way), they paved their way down the beautiful green hill.

Together.

〰️

A FEW HOURS later, Frankie sat on the sand, staring aimlessly at the ocean.

She watched the glowing flames of the sun, almost dipping below the horizon. The sea was reflecting its glow and turned yellowish orange —so, Marla's choice of chalk was actually right.

Minho had already started taking charge in the village by the forest where they had decided to live: organizing food search parties, building commitee, security details.

Once the brief was over, he continued his meeting with the new leaders, including Newt, Gally, Jorge, Vince, Marie, Harriet, and Sonya. Thomas (and Frankie) declined the offer to join and was gone without a trace. Almost everyone went to their own just-divided housing.

And she went here.

She could only hope that wherever they were, they would be isolated and safe while the rest of the world figured out how to deal with the Flare, cure or no cure.

It would be a long, hard, and ugly process, and though she sincerely hoped that the Earth could recover someday, she absolutely want no part in it.

At least, not if WICKED's way was the only way.

For the first time since... since WICKED clothed her with one, Frankie put on a dress. It was a beautiful, flowy floral sundress with spaghetti straps that she had found in the stack of clothes.

No more WICKED polo shirts.

No more hidden weapons.

All the bruises, cuts, and bandages on her pale skin were proudly displayed.

She tugged on the collars of her jacket, which she had decided to put on last minute since the wind was pretty strong.

"Oi, Frankie!"

Frankie looked over her shoulder and smiled to see Minho. His hair was matted and windblown, his face tired, his lips a bit pale.

Yet, somehow, he looked perfect to her. He was perfect.

"I searched everywhere for you!"

"Is the Gathering done?"

"Yeah," Minho plopped down next to her, "Everyone's just tired. I should give them a few days off, shouldn't I?"

"As long as you got the basic stuffs covered."

"I did."

"How's your rib?"

"Bruised. But I'll live. You look nice, by the way."

She leaned in and pressed her lips on his. He smiled, returning the kiss for what seemed like forever.

A few minutes went by in silence as they stared at the vanishing light of day. Wordless, just enjoying each other's presence. Under their eyes, the sky and water went from orange to pink to purple, then dark blue.

"Have you heard?" Frankie asked, fiddling with the hem of her jacket, "Reggie didn't make it."

"I heard," Minho sighed. He leaned back with both hands stretched backward as support, "Newt told me. He said... Harriet said Reg took a few bullets."

"It's not fair," she said, her voice cracked.

"This whole WICKED thing's not fair. We just have to deal with whatever klunk we got in our hands now." Minho reached for her hand, "Thanks, slinthead."

"For what?"

"For surviving."

Frankie nodded. She couldn't imagine if she had to lose Minho on top of everyone else.

"Thank you back," she paused before adding with a smile, "Shuckface."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I doubt that."

"You're underestimating me."

Minho grinned back, but then he pressed his lips together, looking up to the sky.

"Man, it would be nice having Nicky and Alby ordering us around here."

Frankie couldn't see it, but Minho wiped his cheek with the back of his hand as if a droplet of tear was making its way down his cheek.

She leaned over and circled her arms around his waist, "Hey... It's your turn to cry."

Minho snorted, "What—"

"For everyone we lost and every klunk we went through. You deserve to cry, too."

Frankie buried her face in his chest so he knew that she wasn't looking at him. Then she repeated the words that once brought her strength and, ultimately, made her fall in love with him.

"Let me in, Minho. I want to help. And if you want to cry, just cry."

Frankie waited... She felt his body quivered.

Sobs racked his body and soon, after suppressing everything for so damn long, he wailed —mourning their family, their friends, and every hardships that they had to endure to get to this point.

Frankie couldn't hold her own dam, hearing his heartbroken howls like that, and she let the bottled up tears she also had slipped down her cheeks.

Minho buried his face into the nook of her shoulder, she kissed his temple before burying her face deeper into his chest, and they just... just cried, as the last wink of the sun's light vanished below the horizon.