"You guys all right?" one of the men asked as he pulled his mask off.
No, Winston thought. He bit his tongue, holding back a snarky reply to the seemingly innocent question just asked. Everything seemed like a blur after slaying the Grievers and watching the Maze shut down after 3 years.
Winston hung his head as he sullenly leaned against the side of the chopper, gripping the seat belt hanging down from the ceiling. He looked around at the bruised, haggard faces of the remaining Gladers who escaped the Maze just moments ago.
Fry, Newt, Minho, the Greenie Thomas, and the girl made it, along with a handful of others. Everyone except him – Jeff.
They had been just a few minutes away from escaping the Maze when a Griever fell from overhead and pinned Minho down as he was yelling the Maze pattern for Teresa to enter onto a screen. Jeff had slipped in and jabbed it with his stick, only to have his stick snapped before he was dragged under by a group of the slimy, ugly creatures. His screams mingled with the sickening sounds of metal limbs and teeth tearing Jeff's body to pieces.
Winston almost dashed in to save Jeff but was held back by the others who were trying to back up to where Teresa and Chuck stood, plugging in the code. Then Minho shouted the remaining numbers and Teresa entered them, forcing the walls to come down and crush the remaining Grievers under them.
He glanced at the Gladers, seeing that most of them were trying to sleep or were wearily looking around, trying to gather their bearings. He took this moment to shut his eyes as he tried to remember everything that he could about the Med-jack.
Winston had come up in The Box a couple of months before Jeff. Newt tried to have him learn gardening but he was too angry to handle some of the delicate plants, often killing things instead of making them grow. Gally tried to teach him how to build things but Winston hated numbers and measurements – besides, his attempt at building a shack was redone by Gally a few days later because the structure wasn't sound. Then a chicken had gotten loose one day, courtesy of Minho, and the others spent time trying to chase after it.
Minho cursed loudly as the chicken dodged him and Newt was too slow to catch it, due to a recent injury he had sustained. Gally had kicked a nearby tree stump in frustration and Alby seemed particularly sour that day. Winston happened to be coming from the bathroom when he quickly grabbed the chicken by the leg and twisted its neck with his other hand. The others watched in amazement or in shock.
"Get me a knife," Winston said once the chicken hung limply in his hands. "Looks like this shank will be our dinner tonight."
About 2 months later, The Box delivered a scrawny boy with warm chocolate-colored skin and short dark hair who had his fingers laced into the openings on the lattice pattern of The Box with a death grip. Gally tried prying the kid off the bottom of The Box but he refused to let go until Alby came down and comforted him. Minho and Newt chuckled at this Greenie's reaction but Winston remained silent, curiously looking at the scared boy and feeling sorry for him.
The Greenie couldn't remember anything like the rest of them. He failed at gardening, building, running, and cooking. When it came time to learn slicing, the Greenie had gulped and pursed his lips together when he entered the Bloodhouse, reeking of blood and death. Winston had handed the Greenie a knife to cut up a pig belly into bacon strips for Frypan while he began focusing on the cow that had to be put down a few days ago.
Winston had been trying to separate one of the legs from the hindquarters when he cut himself for the first time. He cursed loudly and dropped the blade, hissing as pain shot through his hand. Then in a flash, the Greenie had tore a strip from his shirt and began tying it tightly around the wound.
"Thanks Greenie," Winston said as he watched the younger boy bandage his hand.
The boy looked up and locked his brown eyes on Winston's. "Jeff," the boy uttered as he finished tying the cloth. "I just remembered that my name is Jeff."
Once he finished, Jeff stared at his work and murmured that Winston should take it easy on his hand for a few days. A smile spread across Winston's face and he pulled the Greenie into a hug.
"Welcome home Jeff," he said as he patted him on the back. Jeff couldn't help but smile as he wrapped his arms around Winston to return the hug.
They spent lots of time together after that incident, cracking jokes about Frypan's cooking, talking about the Maze and what lay within, and discussing whether they could find a way out of this place. Often times they ate together on one of the higher levels of The Lookout, just the two of them. Then more boys started showing up, which meant more people that Winston had to train as Slicers and less time with Jeff. He began eating dinner with the other Slicers, mostly because they were too shy to mingle with the other Gladers in other jobs. Jeff never stayed with a single group, instead choosing to go from group to group to see how everyone was doing. It was bittersweet seeing him at meal times and it was never enough for Winston.
"Jeff! Winston cut his hand and Stan fainted," Alby announced one day as he and Newt helped haul in the unconscious Greenie.
Jeff told them to put the Greenie on the cot near the door while Winston ambled in, clutching his hand that had a deep cut in the center of his palm.
"Thought you were supposed to be the bloody Keeper of the Slicers," Newt chortled as he nudged Winston.
Winston rolled his eyes and nodded over at the unconscious boy as he sat down on the other cot. "Greenie over there freaked out over the sight of blood, backed into the pig I was trying to wrangle into the Bloodhouse, and the rest is history. Knife slipped through my hands when that stupid hog got loose and Greenie fainted on the ground when he saw the blood.
"Guess he ain't Slicer material, eh?" Newt remarked as he looked over at Stan.
"Jeff is he gonna be okay?" Alby asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Jeff took Stan's pulse and checked him for injuries. "A couple bruises – probably took a knock to the head when he fainted. Should be okay though – ya might wanna move him to his hammock so he doesn't faint if he comes to while I'm stitching Winston up."
"Stitches?" Alby asked as he looked over at Winston. "A scrape I get but really?"
"Like I said Alby, it woulda never happened if Greenie over there hadn't freaked out," Winston said, a stony look on his face. "It was bad luck and a fluke, if anything."
Alby raised an eyebrow before motioning to Newt to help him with Stan. Newt slung the unconscious Greenie's arms over his shoulder while Alby took the legs. Winston didn't dare look at Jeff until both of the leaders had left the medical hut.
Jeff pulled out surgical thread and a needle from the supply shelves before walking over to Winston to take a closer look.
"Really Win? Was it all Stan's fault or did you encourage it?" Jeff asked as he studied the wound.
Winston scoffed and jerked his hand out of Jeff's. "Please Jeff, you know that kid wasn't gonna cut it – I thought he was gonna puke his shucking guts out before this happened."
Jeff turned back to the shelves and dug around for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. "Yeah well, what if that had been me? Dunno if you recall but I wasn't exactly thrilled 'bout cutting animals up when I first came here." He poured alcohol onto the cotton ball and took Winston's hand, wiping it across the deep cut on the inside of Winston's palm.
"Shucking Hell!" Winston cursed as the alcohol stung his skin. He hissed through his teeth and closed his eyes tightly as his hand continued to burn. Jeff leaned over him and Winston could smell mint on his breath.
"Win, I ain't stupid," Jeff said with a knowing look. "This is the 4th time you've been in here for a month – if I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a messed up relationship with your tools."
"Oh yeah? Why ya keeping count?" Winston shot back. "Ya gonna start putting a limit on medical visits?"
Jeff removed the cotton ball from Winston's hand and tossed it into the trash can. He began to thread the needle and he snapped the end once he pulled enough off the spool. "Well the first few visits were minor cuts and scrapes – nothing that a bandage couldn't fix. But with this one..."
"I already told you – blame the Greenie for freaking out and backing into that sour hog," Winston replied. "There's a reason why she was going into the Bloodhouse – her time was up!"
"Sure," Jeff said as he began stitching Winston's hand up. "You didn't just cut yourself again to see me without the Slicer crew 'round, right?"
Winston bit his lip at that comment. He looked around the medical hut, refusing to meet Jeff's eyes. The last few times he came in he'd crack a bad joke about what earned him that cut and Jeff would chuckle, shake his head at Winston, and fix him up. He noticed that Jeff looked different after all these years – sure he was still pretty thin but his shoulders looked broader, his arms looked less like sticks, and he was taller – about the same height as Winston now.
Jeff finished stitching Winston's hand and secured the end of the thread. He put the needle down on the table behind him and turned back to Winston who had looked down at his hand to study the stitches. Jeff cleared his throat and Winston snapped his head up.
"No slicing for 3 days minimum," Jeff said as he adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. "And I better not see you picking at them – they'll fall out eventually once you heal. Got it?"
"Yes Doctor Jeff," Winston replied as he narrowed his eyes.
Jeff took a seat next to Winston and crossed his arms over his chest. "Win, you never answered my question."
Winston sighed as he rumpled his medium dark hair. "If I say yes, will ya–hmmmph!" His eyes widened as Jeff pressed his lips against his for a few moments before pulling away.
"Knew it," Jeff said with a smirk as he cocked a brow at Winston.
Winston blushed as he touched his lips. He tilted his head toward Jeff and shot him a mischievous look. "Say Doctor, think ya said kissing would help me heal faster, yeah?" He leaned in and kissed Jeff softly, nipping the younger boy's lips with his teeth before pressing harder and grabbing Jeff's face. Jeff snaked his arms around Winston's neck and pulled himself closer to the Keeper of the Slicers.
"Well shuck me Newt, you were right," a voice spoke up.
Winston groaned in his head as he and Jeff pulled away to see Frypan and Newt standing in the doorway of the medical hut.
"Get. The. Shuck. Out." Winston growled.
Frypan held his hands up in defeat and Newt chuckled as he shook his head. "About bloody time you two did something about that – not like Alby and I couldn't see the stares and Winston's obsession with cutting himself recently."
"Don't you guys have jobs to do?" Jeff asked.
Newt held his hands up and nodded over at Frypan. "Yeah c'mon Fry – let's leave these two lovebirds alone. Just come out for dinner in 10 minutes, got it ya buggin' shanks?"
Both waited for Newt and Frypan to leave before moving away from each other. Jeff scratched the back of his head and Winston took a deep breath, his head swimming after the sudden chain of events.
"So uh, are we official?" Jeff spoke up.
Winston met Jeff's eyes and nodded. "You better shucking believe it."
The relationship was never a big, showy deal – few of the other Gladers knew that Jeff and Winston were together. Winston preferred it that way, especially since he didn't want the others prying into the intimate relationship he shared with Jeff. Shuck, most of the Gladers assumed that Jeff and Clint were together, even though the two couldn't be any more different.
Clint was quiet, sometimes clumsy whereas Jeff was a little loud at times and fluid in his movements. He had figured out pretty quickly that Winston and Jeff were an item and promised that he'd take it to the grave if anyone pried.
Jeff had been pretty confident in the Greenie Thomas ever since he came up in The Box. He watched Jeff size up Thomas, shot Winston a look, and began chanting, "Greenie, greenie, greenie…" when Gally asked for a new competitor in wrestling at the celebration. Winston had some doubts about this shank facing one of the toughest, biggest members of the Glade, especially since Gally was undefeated in wrestling. But he had to hand it to Thomas, it was about high time someone knocked Gally down a few pegs.
After Thomas had injected himself with the stinger from the Griever, Winston consulted Jeff privately in the remains of the medical hut away from Gally and his cronies.
"Ya really buying this klunk from Gal?" Jeff asked as he assessed the amount of supplies he had left.
"Not sure what to believe," Winston replied as he leaned against one of the remaining walls. "I mean, he did break a rule and things started getting weird once he came up. But…he got answers when we didn't have them after all these years."
"Sure wish Alby was still here," Jeff murmured as he closed a drawer. "Doubt he woulda let Gally get away with this."
Winston let out a breath that he had been holding in. "Look I'm suspicious about the girl like everyone else, but banishing her and Thomas? Something's not right."
"I'm with ya," Jeff sighed as he wiped away a bead of sweat with his shirt. "But what are we gonna do? Thomas hasn't come to yet and not sure whether Min's gonna go with Gally's rules or not."
Winston pulled the covers up over his head when the Gladers turned in after showers and dinner. He barely paid any attention to the clothes he was given and the food he shoved into his mouth. All he wanted to do was sleep and…mourn in private. He heard the others talking about the escape and others speculating what happened to those who stayed behind.
He missed Jeff's lips – they were soft and plump and shuck, they were shucking nice to kiss. Jeff's calloused hands touching his as he worked on bandaging Winston up. The low voice that was warm and approachable.
Jeff had been this close to being free. Free from the Maze, free from the Grievers, free from crazies like Gally and Ben. It wasn't shucking fair – Winston felt like the world had screwed him over, denying him his happiness with the shank he cared about. A friend, no a best friend; boyfriend; maybe even his soulmate.
Winston turned over on his side to face the wall as he blocked out the voices and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he cried for the first time in 3 years.