I realized I said it a lot in this chapter that Eleanor was small, and I know I've said it before in many other chapters - but I don't think I ever said how small she was. For those of you who don't know the actress I'm using to portray Eleanor, Caitlin Stasey, she's 5'1; so to the guys who are like 5'10-5'11, she's quite short. And she's very thin - I mean a gust of wind would just blow her over. Anyways, just thought I'd clarify that a bit in case anyone was wondering.

No one laughed when the Box finally came up bringing the newest Glader, and it didn't help that it was a twelve year old blubbering Greenbean. No one even wanted to speak to the pudgy boy, the image of Nick's body being pulled out of the hole and taken away still ingrained in their minds – at least the half of Nick's body that had left.

It was well past dinner before Newt returned to where Eleanor still sat. Alby had turned to Newt almost pleading with him to stay; and so Newt had, now in the position of Alby's second in command, and almost all of the bloody Gladers had come up to him asking what would happen now. And so even though Newt knew she wouldn't look at him and say anything, he was still disappointed when he knelt in front of her and she didn't respond. After such a long, endless, day he wanted to just sit beside her and let her comfort him.

She'd noticed one day his mood had taken a dive, something he thought he kept hidden from everyone save Alby who'd always seen through him. But she'd seen it. They'd sat together for lunch and suddenly her hand had come up to his cheek causing him to sigh at the feeling of solace, and the darkness of his mood had lifted.

That's what he wanted then, to feel the soft tips of her fingers tracing his face; a touch that calmed him. And so he laid her back on the bed, and without a thought to the consequences he laid beside her wrapped her in his arms - drawing as much comfort as he could from the feel of her head beneath his chin and her chest pressed against his own. There wasn't much comfort to be taken, she was so still and her lashes constantly fluttered against his neck, but she was warm and she fit curled against him.

"You were right," he whispered in her ear. "It was a bad idea, I should've fought harder with Nick about it. Maybe he," he broke off feeling warmth swell behind his eyes, something he hadn't felt in a long time. But he was so overcome with guilt, at having heard and seen her plea for them not to send anyone down the hole, he let Nick talk him out of his own worry. Now Nick was dead.

He laid with his arms wrapped tight around her narrow shoulders, his face buried in her long soft hair. He was so lost in his own mind that he didn't notice at first the feel of her hands on his back. "It's not your fault," she told him, the breath of her voice tickling his throat.

"I know," he breathed, not knowing if the sudden rush of warmth and emotion in his chest was from feeling her body curling closer or at knowing she'd woken from her daze at hearing his need for her.

She didn't believe him, not in the slightest; her mind was still sluggishly returning to reality and she could still hear the falseness in his voice. "You can't trust my mind."

He nodded. "I know," he said again. "But you were still right." They lay quietly for several minutes as they wondered what life was now that their leader was dead; Newt breathing deeply as he held her, as she held him. "Thank you," he said disrupting the silence. "I know you were waiting for that bloody shank."

It used to confuse her to hear the sudden contempt in his voice when he spoke of the boy that lived in her mind, until Jeff had explained he was jealous. Now she stared at him wondering if he knew he did it, and if he knew how obvious it made him. "I don't think I was okay," she said trying to explain why she was waiting for this boy, but as always she couldn't just seem to come out and say it. "Before I came here," she clarified as she moved to look at him. "I think my mind was really bad."

He sat for a moment wondering what that had to do with what he'd said – Newt usually found himself having to think quietly to understand the way her mind worked. It was like there were pieces missing, and not just in her memory: she knew what he was talking about, a response would form in her mind, but something was missing between her thoughts and what she was able to say. "You want answers from him," he said realizing this whole time all she wanted from this boy was to talk to him, and he almost laughed in relief. "And I here I bloody thought," he stopped before he could finish the sentence, not believing how close he'd come to admitting it out loud.

"I liked someone other than you," she finished for him watching his eyes widen. She smiled as he tried to stumble out some sort of an answer, but he could barely get past how and shuck it all. "I'm crazy, not stupid," she reminded him. "It's okay, you give yourself away when you forget."

"Oh," he exclaimed lamely, caught between a blush and amazement at her smile. "Do you?" he asked suddenly, and without thought because she didn't know what he meant and now he had to explain further. If the sun had been out she would've seen just how red his face was. "Like anyone else?" he finished in an uncomfortable grumble.

Her brows furrowed at his question. "I like Gally," she said, though she knew that wasn't the answer he wanted.

He rolled on his back staring heatedly at the ceiling; she had a way of knotting his stomach that was infuriating and wonderful at the same time. "That is not what I meant and you bloody well know it," he said stubbornly, wanting to hear her say it – needing to hear those words.

She sat up on an elbow resting her chin on her hand and stared down at him with a teasing smile formed on her mouth. "What do I know?" she asked forcing him to answer his own question.

He scoffed not willing to give in; he was normally so calm, so in control of himself. She completely ruined any sense of control he had, and she did it all with the lowering of her lashes. "You know," he made the mistake of looking at her. Even in the dim light from the moon the shape of her face, the tip of her nose, the curve of her mouth, the gleam in her eye, it all made his bloody heart come to a stop. And so he grasped at whatever he could to prove she liked him more than she was saying. "You love your love with an H, because he's happy."

Her brows rose at his recalling two day old strange words. "I hate him with an H, because he's hideous," she said without answer anything. And then she laughed. "And I'm gonna feed you ham sandwiches."

Newt stared up at her so taken off guard by her words that he laid there not knowing what to say. "What's it like in your head?" he asked wishing for a moment he could see the span of her thoughts, and he wondered if they even made sense to her.

She looked down at him suddenly serious. "It's messy," she told him honestly. "My thoughts are strings and they're all tangled together." She sat up on her elbow staring hard at a spot above his shoulder, and then her mind stuck on a thought and she looked at him. "You untangle me."

Shocked was not an adequate word to describe the feelings that swarmed in his bloodstream. Nor was bewildered, amazed, surprised, astonished – none of those words described what he felt. Dazzled. Those three words filled him so full he couldn't see; she'd blinded him. And what made it all the more was the small smile that hid behind the hand that was pressed to her mouth. It was seeing that smile he knew meant she was blushing, that gave him the courage to say what he did. "You're a beautiful mess."

…

Newt stood against the wall the next morning watching Eleanor remove the clothes the runner's had given her to return later when they came back; and then as she sorted the rest of the clothes. "How do you remember who they belong to?" he asked hearing her soft voice saying different names as she folded.

She looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged. "I just do," she answered simply.

It didn't make much sense to him, though there was very little about her that did; it was the same with the number of days – which was one five three six, he'd asked her that morning. He could go an entire week without asking her, then he'd ask and without even pausing to think she gave him the answer. And yet at the sound of an alarm she was left catatonic; sometimes he wondered if there'd ever been a greater mystery than her.

He turned to Jeff. "You can go, I'm gonna walk her to the Gardens."

'Mmhm,' Jeff hummed in disbelief, still able to see the two of them fast asleep on the bed – Newt on his back with an arm wrapped possessively around her waist, and her curled against his side with her head on his chest. "I should separate you two," he threatened, seeing the chagrin in Newt's eyes, but Jeff left them alone.

Newt planned to tell her he wouldn't be working with her in the Gardens, that he probably wouldn't see her until lunch or dinner, but she felt his eyes and turned to look at him – and then she'd smiled and he was struck dumb. His eyes followed her movements, watching the curve of her spine as she bent down – she'd grown into a healthy weight, her hips widening her breasts growing fuller, her stomach stretching to its normal width; though she'd always be small.

Eleanor walked down the stairs with Newt trailing after her, waiting as she carved another small tally on the wall, before she stepped outside. "Well there goes walking you to the bloody Gardens," he mumbled standing against her back. He looked down at her to see her sweet face staring up at him curiously. "Got anything in that head of yours?"

She looked over at the boys who'd taken note of Newt and were walking over, planning to ask him their questions since Alby was giving Chuck a tour. And then she turned back to Newt. "This young lady loves you with an H," she told him, and then she bent closer to him. "The H is for happy."

Newt watched her go with a funny little smile on his face, watching as she stopped some of the Gladers to give them back what they asked her to fix before she continued on toward Alby's dark shape near the animal pens.

Alby almost smiled when he saw her, her armload now a single shirt as she'd passed all of the boys before reaching him. "Chuck, meet our only girl, Eleanor."

The boy's mouth formed an 'o' when he turned from the animals to see her face; regardless of having no memory of another girl Chuck knew this one was the prettiest of them all. She may have been a good five years older than him, a good three inches shorter than him, half as wide as him – but he loved her. And he knew it all at just the sight of her.

Alby bent his mouth to her ear. "I think that's the first time he's shut his shuck mouth," he said nearly laughing at the way Chuck stared at her. He looked down to the see the lone shirt in her hands. "That's not mine," he told her, wearing the shirt she'd fixed days ago.

"It's Nick's," she said so softly he almost didn't hear her. "I didn't know what to do with it." She held the fabric gingerly, as though it might fade away now that its wearer no longer existed. And she was almost reluctant to let it go as Alby reached for it, trying to hold onto to some semblance of normal – as though she knew the end was hurtling toward them with each passing day.

…

It was nearing dinner by the time Newt finally made his way back to Eleanor; he'd caught glimpses of her throughout the day, smiled at her from afar, but he hadn't actually been with her. He didn't even wanna talk to her – though he loved the sound of her voice – he didn't even wanna look at her – though he loved the sight of her warm face – he just wanted to stand near and feel her beating heart beside him.

He stopped though, at the sight of her standing beside Gally; Newt sometimes forgot how small she was, his own shoulders were quiet thin. But the top of her head barely reached Gally's shoulders, and if he wrapped his arms around her she might very well disappear.

"So no one's even gonna talk to him because you think he's annoying?" she asked clarifying all Gally and his friends had told her as they stared at the Greenie.

Gally shrugged unsympathetically. "Shuck-face doesn't know when to slim it," he said, laughing when someone said the boy was lucky they didn't throw him in the Maze. Gally knew she wasn't happy, she never was when he was mean – normally he didn't care, but looking at her kind face always had him feeling ashamed and he hated it. He watched her take a small flower she'd picked out of her shirt pocket before walking to the fat boy who sat alone. And then she did the most remarkable thing; she knelt beside him and placed the little wilting flower on his lap, and then she stood and left. That was it, no words exchanged, not even a look; and yet she left Chuck with a bright smile on his face as he held the stem between his chubby fingers.

She walked to where Newt stood and saw his small smile as he waited for her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His smile grew as he shook his head. From her face to her words to the things she did; "you're beautiful."

…

One month later

Chuck led the new Greenie, Thomas, to a spot by the Gardens to sleep. "Who's that?" Thomas asked at the sight of a small figure sitting quietly in front of them.

"That's Eleanor," Chuck told him already hearing Thomas' exclamation of what – the new kid had a lot of questions. "I don't know much, like I said I'm just a Newbie. She's the only girl here. They said she was like this every time the Box brought a Greenie, I didn't believe 'em. It's kind of awesome," he said poking her cheek.

Thomas waited for her to yell at him, or turn to him, or do anything more than blink – it was creepy how completely immobile she was. "What's wrong with her?" he asked not wanting to step any closer, half expecting her to suddenly whirl on them and start screaming; kind of like Ben, with his green veins lying on the bed in agony.

Chuck shrugged. "Don't know," he said already knowing she was weird. "She's the nicest shank in the whole world, she just goes a little mad sometimes."

…

Thomas woke to Newt shaking him, or rather Thomas woke and Newt clamped a hand over his mouth before he could yell his surprise; which only made Thomas want to yell more. "Shh, Greenie," Newt told him, seeing the recognition in Thomas' dark eyes, "don't wanna be waking Chuckie, now, do we?"

Thomas nodded and waited for Newt to remove his hand, though he watched the older boy look at the girl sitting just as quietly as she had all night. "Is that normal?" Thomas asked sitting up and looking at her, seeing she was in the same position she'd been in the night before.

Newt sighed shaking his head. "Give me a minute," he told Thomas before moving to where she sat. Thomas strained his ears to hear the other boy's soft words; "Gally was supposed to bring you a bloody blanket, I'll go get you one. Stay out of the Homestead for today, I know Jeff said he could use your help but I don't want you seeing Ben."

Thomas watched him kiss her cheek before he jogged back to the Homestead for something to wrap around her small shoulders. Unable to resist the curiosity Thomas stepped closer to the girl, seeing her for the first time in the faint light of the barely rising sun – she was prettier than she should be, considering she was completely crazy. There was something almost bird-like about her; the sharp features of her face, her narrow shoulders, her jagged elbows, the fact that she was just so small. He knelt in front of her wondering why Newt had talked to her like she could hear him, it was so obvious she wasn't in there.

And so Thomas nearly fell back in complete startlement when she suddenly turned her head to the side – he couldn't help but imagine a small bird with its head tilted as it looked at something. She almost looked confused as she stared at him, a crease just barely formed between her brows. And then she spoke.

"I've been waiting for you."