Chapter One:

Life as We Never Knew It.

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"Rise and shine Greenie!"

I jolted awake, muscles tense and coil, eyes snap open. A hand comes up instinctively to wipe the drops of cold sweat clinging to my brow, the heat skin on the bridge of my nose. The fingers trembled but I ignored it and heave myself into a sitting position with stiff elbows, heart still pounding. The hammock sways with the shift of weight, I plant my feet on the uneven ground to steady myself. The space around me still tilts. Another sharp bang on the wall as a strangled groan escapes my throat, the hand on my face moves to run through the tangled brown mess that passes for my hair now a days. I glare at the curtain that separates my room from the hall with hooded hazel eyes, knowing the person on the other side can feel it.

"Minho, you shank. When are you going to stop calling me that?" I grumble, voice thick and rough, and leaned over to put my boots on. The Runner chuckles and the shadow on the white sheet gets darker as he leans closer.

"When you stop looking so green." He replies snarkily and I can see in my mind his klunk-eating grin. I snort and snatch my discarded shirt off the ground, knees popping as I stand.

"Breakfast in 10, Bean, better hurry." He crows and I hear footsteps thump and echo as he leaves. Shrugging the dirt stained, worn thin top over my head, I quickly splash some water on my face and braid my hair sloppily down my back. I pause a moment at the curtain, anchored in place, swallowing thickly to calm my nerves, steady my heart rate and steel myself for another day in the Glade. I glance behind me, scanned the small space of my personal quarters, searching for what, I didn't know. The fading, muddled images of my dreams fraying the edges of my mind, already gone and forgotten. A heaviness settles on my shoulders as I clench my teeth, then slip out into the hall.

It's empty, the others already lined up at the kitchen no doubt. I jog down the steps of Homestead, squinting in the early morning light, and make my way through the grass to the crowd of hungry teenage boys. I acknowledge those I knew, which was just about everyone, and took my place in line. There was a lot of pushing and jostling, but I was use to it by now and did my best to not get hit. I sniffed the air as a delicious aroma wafted past, my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Henry, one of the Builders, slung an arm around my shoulders and gave me a wide white smile.

"Morning Greenbean, you look lovely." I smiled in return and swatted his arm away, the other boys around me snickered.

"Thanks Henry, I wish I could return the compliment." He laughs, so do the others, and shoves me good naturedly with his shoulder. I get other such greetings as the line moves up, I deflect most of them with a smile and an eye roll. Boys. But I couldn't help the warmth that spread through my chest, a flutter of acceptance that I didn't think, three weeks ago, would have been possible.

"Mornin Frypan, looks good." I greeted the Keeper of the cooks and accept the offered plate of scrambled eggs and some type of meat. He saluted me with his spatula and winked. I grabbed a jar of water, turned and searched the tables for an open spot. It was hard to see through the mass of bodies, when someone shouts my name over the clamor of voices.

"Flemming! Sit with us!" I stand on the tips of my toes, a hand waves at me from one of the back tables. I make my way to it, smile subconsciously growing as I see the owner of the hand; Ben, and the others seated around him, Alby, Minho, Zart and Newt-my heart stutters a little and I quickly look away, focused on not tripping and quickly sat next to Alby and Minho. They clapped me on the back as I take a bite of food. It was hot as it hit my stomach and sent pleasurable tingles into my limbs.

"Sleep well, Princess?" Zart asks with a mouthful of eggs. I smirked slightly, revenge on my lips and nudged Minho with my elbow, he gives me a puzzled look.

"He asked you a question, it's rude not to respond." I admonished playfully, and poked at my sausage links nonchalantly, gauging his reaction from under my lashes. Ben's laugh booms across the clearing, Newt chokes on his drink and Alby covers his mouth with his hand. Minho's face doesn't disappoint; it slacks with shock for an instant then my words register and it melts into a feral grin.

"She got you that time Minho." Zart wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"The Shank deserved it." Ben sniggered. Minho flipped him off and his fellow Runner blew him a kiss. I laughed with them and the dark haired, dark eyed boy sent me promising threats with his eyes and stuffed more food into his face, momentarily defeated. It had been like this from just about day one, the teasing and fighting, between the Asian boy and myself, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't imagine it any other way, and I knew he agreed.

"You don't say much, girlie, but when you do it's brutal." Alby states. Newt shook his head, dirty blonde hair tinted gold in the sun, and gestured at me with his jar.

"Is everything that comes out of your mouth so damn cheeky, yeah?" I wanted to slap the blooming blush off my face, and shrugged, too chicken to meet his eyes.

"Depends." Newt's grin was even more feral. The flutter in my chest burned.

"That's a yes." Alby guffaws, ruffles my hair and stands to bring his plate back to the kitchen. The rest of us follow suit.

"C'mon, let's get to work you sorry Shuck-faced shanks." The dark skinned boy called over his shoulder as the others around us began to scatter towards their respective duties. I waved at Minho and Ben as they headed off for their run, sending a silent prayer to anyone or anything listening that they would get back alive. A hand lands on my shoulder and I look up into dark blue eyes.

"You working with us today, Bean?" Zart raises an expectant eyebrow at me. I gulp away any residual heat, and nod as we walk to deposit our eating wear to the cooks, swiping an apple from the counter. The Keeper of the gardens drapes an arm over my head, being a good bit taller than me, probably one of the tallest in the Glade, and we head towards the fields, I let him.

This time.

The sun beats down on my back with unrelenting cruelty.

I'm bent bent over, knees ache from the strain, covered in dirt and drenched in sweat. I swipe at my face with the back of my hand and sit back on my feet to admire my work. The last few hours of my labor had paid off, the rows of vegetables now weed free. I flexed my hands and studied the forming calluses with a hint of pride, it was like finally earning my place. The painful memory of my first day as a Track-hoe flashed to mind, I huffed and stabbed my spade into the soil. I had come a long way.

It hadn't been easy. The first few days were pure, slow torture. The fear, the all consuming confusion, the void in my head where my memories use to be. It was still there, a huge, black, gaping maw, leaving me feeling lost and incomplete. It had taken days to get my name back, and I desperately clung to it, it softened the blow of the nothing that was my life before waking up in the Box.

After the first few days, after I had the tour and everything was explained to me, after I swallowed it all like a bitter stone, surprisingly, adjusting wasn't so hard. I didn't think I was going to ever survive that first day. The reality of being the only girl among so many hormonal, teenage prisoners was a bucket of cold water in the face for the first week. Like a lamb in the lion's den. I didn't feel safe anywhere and constantly looked over my shoulder. To this day and forever I'd always be grateful to Alby and Newt and all the others who came to my defense, protected me. A few words from them and the others left me alone. I still get stares and the occasional suggestive comment, but at times, I was just one of the guys. I was glad for that, the less attention I attracted the better. I think they were finally starting to see me as a fellow Glader.

I snorted, thinking back to the constant harassment, borderline special treatment at times-I wouldn't deny It was nice every now and then-and fancied the idea that Zart was right-something I'd never say to face-I had become the Princess. Another snort, more like the court jester, the new female form of amusement and excitement. That sounded more fitting; the fool. I let my eyes roam over the Glade-deceitfully peaceful-the distant figures at work, a small smile touched my lips. Underneath all the bravado and muscles, they were truly genuine in their conduct towards me, a mix of protective brothers and jealous boys.

I thought back to what Alby had told me the night of my arrival, at the bonfire, about order and working together, watching each others backs. My hands clenched in my lap, I had no intention of shucking that up, and hoped I never would. Despite the unsurity that shrouded everyday like a wet blanket and the stability of our life here, I could feel myself slowly getting comfortable, almost...safe. My eyes flicked to the walls, giant gray slabs that surrounded us from all sides, a cage. The door to the maze stood open and dark, I shivered. Well as safe as we could be in this God forsaken klunk-hole. Maybe I was mistaking comfort with contempt.

I dusted my hands free of dirt and made to stand up when a voice called from behind me. Still kneeling, I turned my head and brought a hand up to block the sun from my field of vision. It was Newt. My brain and body made two different commands at once. One was saying stay, the other, run. I forced my facial expressions to betray nothing of what was raging in my head and heart as the second in command walked over.

"Well done, that." He says as soon as he's close, jerking his chin at the rows of plants. I blame the heat in my cheeks from the glaring sun and rise to stand next to him. He had his hands tucked into his sand colored pants and his outer shirt tied around his narrow waist, a grimy tank top hugged the planes of his chest, his shoulders bare. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my back and pretended to study the garden.

"Figures the greenie would 'ave a green thumb." He smirks and I wanted to sink into the ground. I try for a shy smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"What can I say, I'm a perfectionist." If I could kick my own shucking ass, I would've right then. Newt only laughs and it made my stomach flip. I didn't know when the tall, skinny boy started doing strange things to my insides, but it happened whenever he was near, talked to me-shuck he just had to look at me and I lost all functionality of a normal person. I didn't want to call it infatuation, that sounded childish and didn't strike me as the best idea in a place like this,at a time like this, so I had been telling myself that it was just admiration, respect, a tumble of emotions from the last couple weeks that left me confused and unsure of what I felt about anything.

He had been the first to jump down into the Box, nominated hastily to "retrieve" the new Greenie. I still remember his soft eyes and kind words, tan hand and long fingers extended in a peace offering. That was it, he was the first person I met here, he helped me, that was all it was.

"Let's take a break, yeah. It's bloody hot." He broke through my thoughts and I nodded in full agreement. I grabbed my spade and tucked it into my belt and followed Newt towards the shade.

The sun is sinking down, the Glade cooling, submerged in the blue and purple shades of dusk, when Clint finds me.

I'm helping Kale, Zart and a few other Track-hoes put the tools away when he trots over.

"Hey, Flemming." I frown slightly as the Med-jack waves me over. Zart pats me on the shoulder and assures me they could finish up, I nod and walk over to the other boy. He was about my height, short brown hair and green eyes. I don't see him or Jeff much except at meals, they usually stay in the medical tent. What did he want with me? He saw the question on my face and smirked.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble, we could use your help." He said and my frown deepened.

"My help?" I couldn't think of what I could possible do to help the Med-jacks.

"Yours. Come by the Medhut after dinner." It was more of a command than a request, he didn't let me answer either, just turned and walked away. I blinked, a little perplexed. I watched him disappear into the lengthening shadows for a moment-something churned in my stomach, a twinge of something sour-then pivoted, headed in the opposite direction, towards the voices and smell of food. Zart fell in step next to me, footsteps soundless, so I jumped slightly when he suddenly appeared at my elbow. He grinned down at me knowingly.

"What was that all about." He stared at the spot where Clint had vanished and I lifted a shoulder in response.

"Not sure. He said he needed help with something after dinner." Zart grunted in reply, no longer interested as we fought our way through the throng for food. I perk up when I see Minho and the other Runners already seated, relief washes over me. I wave at him and he sticks his tongue out at me. I return the gesture and mouth the words 'Shuck face' at him and giggle as he scowls.

Plate in hand I joined the others by the fire. I crossed my legs and lowered myself to the ground just as someone landed right in front of me in a puff of dust and limbs. I made a sound of surprise in my throat and jerked away-almost dropping everything-and immediately scooted back. There was a whoop and cheers as whoever it was rolled to their feet. I looked up as Gally stalked forward, eyes locked on the other boy as they circled each other. I hunched protectively over my food and shrunk back. Great, they're at it, again.

Another heart attack as someone plopped down next to me, I flinch. And of course it had to be him.

"Shucking shuck, are you all out to kill me?" I hissed, drawing my legs to my chest with a huff, to keep him from hearing the sound my heart thumping wildly against my ribs.

Newt wore a lopsided grin that was completely unfair, and gave me a once over with brown eyes that glowed amber in the fire light. He swipes a chicken leg off my plate and I glare halfheartedly at him.

"Skittish are we, love?"

Our shoulders brushed and and I dug my hands into the material of my jeans to keep myself from jumping up and sprinting away. I scoffed and glanced up at him, then quickly back again. Shuck, Flem, get your klunk together.

"Just as much as the next person." I mutter. He quirks an eyebrow and takes a bit of chicken, then a drink from the jar in his hand, some of Gallys brew. He offers me some and my faces twists in disgust. He barks a laugh and leans against me. I go rigid but he doesn't notice, just takes another swig of liquid death.

"Has anyone ever told you you're bloody adorable?" He exaggerates the word and it's like I had suddenly stuck my hand in the fire. I was starting to think he had had too much to drink. He surely wouldn't have said that sober, right? My mouth goes dry anyways, and I hope the semi darkness will hide the flush in my cheeks. He yells something at Gally and Chris-I finally get a good look at the Builder's opponent-and I take the opportunity to shift away, put a little distance between us so I could breathe again.

"Not that exact word, no." I grumble. Newt drapes an arm on the log behind us and leans in slightly. I hold my breathe.

"Well, they should." His voice is almost a whisper, just for the two of us to hear, and takes another drink. Im frozen in place, tongue a useless bag of sand. He wipes his hand free of grease on his pants and my eyes follow the movement, entranced by his fingers, the muscles in his arms and wrist. I blinked and quickly looked away again before he could see me staring.

"Oi! Newt! Quit hogging all the shucking brew you shuck-faced shank!" Someone hollers from the other side of the fire. Gally had a new opponent and more boys had gathered to watch. Newt shouts something in return and pulls himself up-his hand skims across my back and it takes everything in me not to yelp. He grins down at me, tips an imaginary hat and winks, then was gone. I was going to com-bust on the spot.

Appetite gone, I hastily scrambled to my feet. I'm about to head to my room to wash and pass out, when I remembered Clint. I sighed, very ready to get this day over with, but I couldn't say no. A pair of eyes watch me as I walk towards the Medhut.

"Clint?" I call, pulling the curtain back just slightly and peered inside. A series of four cots were pushed against one side of the room, shelves of supplies and instruments against the other. I had only been in here once, my first week when I had passed out with heat stroke. The Med-jack had his back to me but turned when I called my name.

"Come in, Greenie." I stepped inside and stood there unsure of what to do. I fidgeted, rubbing a hand down my arm against the sudden chill.

"So, uh, what can I help you with?" He doesn't answer, just studies me with narrowed eyes.

"Sit." He points at a cot and I raise an eyebrow.

"Uh, Ok…" I move slowly towards the cot, a little hesitant. He turns away again, looking for something on one of the shelves. I sit on the edge and wring my hands, glancing at the curtain, then back to the quiet Med-jack.

"So are you going to tell me why I'm here, or?..." I trail off and he bends down to riffle through a box. Still he doesn't respond. My irritation spikes.

"Clint, do you need my help or not-"

"I don't need your help." He says. I glare daggers at his back and grit my teeth.

"What?" He pulls a bowl from a shelf and starts mixing things together.

"Then why did you-"

"It was the only way I couldn't think of to get you in here." The irritation is replaced by suspicion. He doesn't elaborate and I look towards the exit again. I swallow thickly.

"Clint, seriously, why am I-"

"You're having nightmares, aren't you?"

He looks at me then, my eyes had gone wide, the breath caught in my lungs. I balled my hands into fists in my lap. The look on his face wasn't going to let me deny it. I was caught. I tore my eyes away from his, lips pulling into a thin firm line,

"How did you know?" He tilts his head.

"It's my job."

"Bandaging the Slicers hardly qualifies you as a real Doctor, Clint."

"I know more than you shanks, enough to know you're not sleeping." I snort in exasperation.

"Have you taken a look at where we are, recently? None of us get any real sleep here. Im sure im not the only one with nightmares." I try my best to keep my voice calm and even. He goes back to whatever it was that he was doing. It looked like a bunch of herbs ground together. He adds a splash of water and something from a little clear vial.

"Yours are different. Don't think I don't notice the bags under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders, the lack of color in your skin-"

"You're looking at my skin-"

"-you get tired easier recently, and you're not eating as much as you use too. Fuss about it all you want, Greenie, but it's eating away at you." Silence settled over the Medhut, over the Med-jack and his impromptu patient. It was like a punch in the gut, because he was right. And I wasn't entirely happy about that. I slumped forward, ran a tired over my face.

"...then what do you suggest I do about it?" I said quietly, somewhat defiantly, I didn't want anyone to find out, especially the Med-jacks. He grabbed a jar and filled it with the concoction he had created. He gave it a shake, then turned and thrust it under my nose. I flinched back and almost gagged. It smelt worse than Gally's secret brew.

"This." He answered. I looked from him, to the jar, then back at him. I gingerly took it from his hand and gave it another cautious sniff. My eyes watered.

"What is it?" I hissed, holding it at arm's length. He rolled his eyes.

"Something of my own creation. It should help with the nightmares." I nodded, totally unconvinced.

"What's in it."

"Just some herbs and stuff, grow a shucking pair Greenie and trust me, will ya?" He drawled and leaned against the table.

"Stuff? Clint-"

"Just drink it for shucks sake" He growled. I glower at him, half tempted to dump the stuff on his head and leave. But he was still right, and I didn't want him to know it, but I was desperate and worst of all, curious. He smirked, like he was reading my thoughts and watched me expectantly, waiting. I brought the jar to my lips, still glaring at him-cursing myself up and down for ever agreeing to come here in the first place-and tilted it forward. As soon as the stuff hits my lips I want to gag again, but i forced them open and it enters my mouth and slips down my throat. One sip is all I could take. I thrust the jar back at him and clamped a hand over my mouth so it didn't have the chance to come back out. Clint is laughing and I quickly go for the jar of water he had used earlier, taking big gulps of it to get rid of the awful, downright foul, taste that lingered. I shivered and sat back down again.

"That's suppose to help me with my nightmares?" Clint shrugs. The mysterious elixir was doing funny things to my stomach. I hiccuped and wiped any residue from my lips.

"It should."

"Oh, should, great…." He merely laughs again and begins to tidy up. Another awkward silence. I bite my lip.

"Why do you even care?"

"It's my duty to take care of the Gladers, you're one of us, aren't you?" A flood of warmth in my chest momentarily dispels the effect of the drink. I finger the hem of my shirt.

"Do the others...have you told them?" He shakes his head.

"No, I haven't told anyone else." I nod and lick my lips. He's staring at me again, and I look away sheepishly.

"I don't want them to worry about me." Clint finds my words amusing.

"Oh, they're going to worry about you either way, Greenbean, nothing you can do about that." Right again. I stand up, he takes the jar of water from me and the eagerness to leave has returned, a white hot urge in my gut. I head for the curtain, but I stop and turn.

'Thank you." I managed weakly, still trying to get my head around all that had happened in the last twenty minutes. Clint just smirked.

"Just remember, Greenie, I'll be watching." I shake my head, the corners of my mouth lifting up a fraction.

"Good night, Clint"

The Glade is empty as I enter the Homestead, the bonfire just glowing, smoking embers now. I get to my room undetected, kick off my shoes and collapse into my hammock, boneless and exhausted. I didn't have the energy to wash, or change. I stared up at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day over in my mind. My eyes grew heavy, the lids drooped. Whatever Clint had made me ingest, it was working. I just hoped it work just as well when i was unconscious.

I felt my body relax, my head grew fuzzy and light. Brown eyes and blonde hair danced in my head, then everything went black.

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I press blood stained hands against the glass. She smiles softly at me from the other side and says something I can't hear, but I can make it out through the movement of her lips

Wicked is good.

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I woke up on my own this time.

With a groan I roll to the side, my legs coming up to catch me as I stumble around to change. Face washed and hair out of my face I go to pull my boots on when the certain is suddenly, violent, pulled back. I let out a startled scream and clutched the shoe to my chest. Minho is on the other side. I chuck my boot at him, he easily dodges.

"Minho, you shucking shank. What are you doing, what if I was-" I growled, ready to launch something else at his head, but stop when I see his wild eyes, the hard set of his jaw. He was panting slightly, like he had run here. I open my mouth again but he cuts me off.

"I was coming to get you, were holding a gathering, the whole Glade." The sour feeling from yesterday returned as my stomach dropped. I stepped forward, my angry fizzled away.

"Why? What happened?" His lips are firm, eyes grim.

"It's Henry, he's disappeared. Flemming, he's gone."

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Hey guys, thanks for reading. Please please review and let me know what yall think!

Thanks!

~Prosto