In which history repeats

AN: A general thank you to everyone who stops to read, favourite, alert and review this story! It is honestly amazing all the attention its gotten and all your thoughtful feedback as things progress is invaluable. Thank you :)

Here we go! Hope you enjoy it and on with the story! And maybe you've already done it, but I'd also deeply appreciate anyone who passes this on to their friends and so on, if you feel they'd enjoy it, too! Guest Review replies are at the end, due to length again :)

Chapter Warnings: Some upsetting scenes with dark tones thanks to the Banishing. Scenes depicting grieving.

-notes and teaser at the bottom-

By the following morning, I've not even really met Thomas properly, still.

Despite learning his name and being cheered at the Box Feast, the evening passed without him really talking to most of the boys, and definitely not me. He seemed preoccupied and daunted – perfectly normal reactions – but also strangely focused.

It wasn't difficult to see the way his eyes would stray from the Gladers to trace the towering shadow of the Walls.

So, though I've not spoken directly to him, I just get a slightly odd feeling, and I can't decide whether him being here is good, or really bad.

It dawns clear and bright, and by late morning when I get pulled up to the Gardens by Jack, the sun is beating down something fierce.

Rob accidentally split open his thumb on a pair of shears. His face looks a little white as he presses down on the wound, blood already drying on his skin in the heat.

So I sit down with him to sort him out.

"Its quiet here," I say as I clean up the blood with antiseptic. The allotments and wooden framework 'greenhouses' that support the creeping plants surround us, and they're all empty of Gladers.

"Corn field," Rob says, indicating with a tilt of his head. "Zart was checking it over, and it's not far off, so we're all out there watering because of the heat. That, and keeping snails off."

Behind the allotments the cornfield has grown taller than my shoulders. Some of the taller boys can be seen moving between the rows, but mostly the Track-Hoes are distinguishable only from the rustling paths they make.

"You keep the snails off by hand?" I ask, not even sure what I'd expected.

Rob smiles, "Well, kinda. We just watch to see they're not eating away at them, and if they are we have this repellent spray that Zart and Frypan made that they hate. You can't just throw them, because snails can just go straight back like a homing beacon unless you chuck them far enough, and the Glade isn't that big."

I finish wrapping his thumb with some tape to keep it safe while he works, and realise I'm staring at him.

"How on earth did you learn so much about snails?"

Rob shrugs, and I think his cheeks flush slightly, but that could easily be the heat. "Apparently one of the guys just knew some things, but he can't remember exactly what, or how, and the rest of it they just worked out by actually throwing snails. They marked them and everything to test. They started explaining it all to me along with the tools and when to pull up what."

Rob looks like this is just normal stuff – and I realise that to him, it probably is.

But I find I'm fascinated.

And amused. I can easily imagine the Track-Hoes drawing numbers or shapes onto snails and lobbing them across the field, just so they'd know if the same ones came back.

But on the whole, it just makes me think of how many lives are contained in this small space. Little things constantly bring this back to me.

I never became a Track-Hoe, so there's a lot of it I just don't know about, but it's a humbling feeling to know that while I was learning about poultices and feeding chickens, Rob would later learn about what makes a ripe carrot and how to keep snails off the crops.

"Am I good?" Rob asks, raising his thumb.

I nod, shaking myself. "Yeah, sorry. Just try not to use it too much, and if it bleeds through the tape, pressure, elevate and head to the Infirmary. Don't take it off."

"Sure thing," Rob agrees.

No sooner has he headed off, Zart and Jack both head towards me, ducking out of the corn field with huge, dented watering cans.

Zart's cheeks are flushed and Jack's shirt is stuffed in his pocket; his lightly built frame is bare and tanning across his shoulders.

Around them, other boys are starting to file out for the next lot of water. Some of them have ditched their shirts again, too.

"Is Rob okay?" Jack asks. Having dragged me up to see to him, Jack disappeared to get on with his own chores.

I nod, throwing my supplies back in my satchel. "He's patched up," I say. "Looks worse than it is."

Zart nods.

Then his eyes dart past me, and something of a wicked smirk appears on his face. "Ooh, here we go," he says.

I look over my shoulder.

Thomas is traipsing across the field with Stan. His brow is furrowed, and he looks a mix of confused and irritated as he keeps pace with the younger boy.

"Hey, Newt!" Zart yells out in the direction of the corn field.

I can't help looking up. I didn't even know he was up here.

Probably a good thing, too.

Newt stands up at the yell. He was leant over the water pump, filling cans. His blonde hair looks messier than usual and like Jack, he's cast off his shirt; the orange material is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he works.

He twists towards us. I may imagine it, but I think his gaze catches when he spots me, before sliding to Zart, and then straight in the direction he's nodding.

His expression morphs to one of mild exasperation and amusement when he spots Thomas, and he promptly turns back around to the pump. Newt has a lean, wiry frame and with his back to me, it's the long muscles either side of his spine that I can see stretching under his skin.

The warmth spreading up through my chest and pressing into the pulse in my wrists suddenly has very little to do with the sun. It's the same image that seared into my mind after I walked in on him following Chuck's shower prank.

I bite down on my lip, turning quickly back to Zart.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Zart is beaming one of his typical, face splitting smiles by now. "Newt ended up sort of in charge of the Greenie," he explains. "Dumped him with Fry in the Kitchens earlier to see how he'd get along while he came to lend a hand with the corn. Last I heard, he told Fry that if it didn't work out, to have someone bring him up here."

So I guess it didn't work out.

They've drawn closer; I can see now that Thomas looks to be talking. Judging by Stan's face – a little tuned out and a little overwhelmed – it seems like he may have been talking a while.

I feel myself smile faintly. Everyone struggles in their own way. Rob was a bit shy, Chuck was terrified to talk, Henry was a bit of an ass and I tried to impale someone. If Thomas' way of adjusting is to question everything, then it's not exactly the worst way of coping.

And yet, it's probably one of the best ways to send the older boys around the twist.

"Looks like we're sticking around," Newt says, suddenly right beside us.

He's pulling his shirt back on as he speaks, and lifting up his machete harness which was resting in an unused wheelbarrow.

"I'll find him something to do by the greenhouses," Zart says. He nods to Jack, handing over his can. "Can you organise them?"

Jack nods, jogging away to round up the rest of the team.

Stan stops in front of us. "All yours," he says cheerfully.

Thomas just gives him a bewildered look as the Cook hurries back to Homestead.

I bite down on a smile. Stan has quite clearly wiped his hands of the whole situation.

Thomas turns to Newt, who speaks before any more questions can come out.

"Time to see if the Gardens fit you, Greenie," Newt says, shrugging his shoulder to comfortably settle his harness in place again. "Come on."

Shooting me a fleeting look, Newt leads Thomas towards the allotments, and I stand up, brushing down my jeans.

"Well, I'm done here," I say. "I'm off. Good luck."

Zart chuckles as he heads off to find Thomas a task. "Ah," he says over his shoulder to me. "It can't go that bad."

…

I've learned that tempting fate with phrases like 'it can't go that bad' is very much not a good idea.

Despite the warmth, it seems to be developing into a normal day as I return to the Medi Tent. Despite my misgivings about Thomas, I can sort of believe that life will continue in that way; our little world, just as it always has been.

And then our world is shattered.

…

Ben is stung in broad daylight.

The good hearted boy who was Minho's friend and who taught me to punch.

Thomas runs from the Deadheads, screaming, with Ben right on his tail. It drags Gladers from all over. Jeff and Clint rush off ahead of me, but I can't make myself join them.

I linger further back, just behind the crowd, my heart like a lead weight in my chest.

Newt swings another shovel into Ben's face.

I feel sick.

The nausea claws at my stomach and closes up my throat.

My vision swims; my memories surging up to another bright day, another poisoned boy, another sickening crunch of metal to bone.

Justin stopped haunting me a long time ago, but now, what happened to him feels real and present all over again.

It's the same.

Almost exactly the same; Justin chasing me through the wood, Newt throwing aside the shovel, that bleary look of madness.

And it's a searing cold burn; like dry ice hollowing me out from the inside.

This has happened before.

It will happen again.

Ben blinks. There's blood on his temple, and his eyes are confused and terrified as Alby stands over him.

A web of poison pulses black under his skin.

My stomach ties in knots. I can't breathe around the pain of it.

I can't watch this again.

I'm not strong enough to watch this again.

I can see that same weight in Alby's face that was there the day Justin attacked me as he makes his call. The weight of doing unthinkable things because you have no better option.

Ben is carried off, his screams following him. He'll be banished at sundown. He'll be dead by sunrise.

Ben scratched Thomas – dug his fingers into his arm in crazed fury – so Jeff patches him up with a typical poultice and bandage.

Even more things the same.

The ending won't be any different.

…

Lunch is late and quiet. I'm picking at the food in my dish when Dan drops down next to me. He looks more understanding than I'm possibly comfortable with.

Before he can say anything, Chuck sits opposite us.

"Everyone's acting weird," he says. "What's going on?"

I bite my lip.

How can I explain to him what's going to happen?

Dan clasps my shoulder gently.

"Ben's been stung, Chuck," he says. His voice is low.

"Alby said that," Chuck says. "Thomas was asking about it. Alby said it was the Changing. That he's dangerous and getting worse."

Dan nods. "There's no cure. The infection will only spread. He's going to be banished tonight."

Chuck's eyes widen.

He wasn't told that part, I realise. I nudge Dan as quietly as I can manage. He seems to understand.

"Don't watch, Chuck," he says. His eyes are sad. "He can't stay in the Glade when he can hurt others. But you shouldn't have to watch."

But I do.

I can't just let myself walk away. I know Ben – knew him – better than I ever did Justin, and I try to brace myself for it hurting even more, but I can't just hide and pretend it isn't happening.

So as the sun falls and the other Runners make it back, The Keepers go to collect the posts from the Council Hall and assemble at the Doors.

The ritual is the same.

Minho looks a little broken as he has to walk Ben, still streaming apologies and begging wildly, through the others to the threshold of the Maze.

I'm already crying.

I can feel the tears running down my face, hot even in the warm weather. My throat has closed up completely. My chest is tight, and trying to breathe feels like a battle.

I see Thomas standing back from the rest, Chuck at his side.

And as the Maze roars, and the Doors begin to grind, Alby calls for the posts to be lowered.

Ben's face goes frantic; no longer himself, just an embodiment of desperation.

The madness is all that's left of the boy I knew.

Chuck turns and leaves, and the tiny part of me that has room for it is grateful. He doesn't need this to haunt him like it did for me.

Thomas stays. He never moves close, just as I keep back.

The sadness is crushing. I think, at least I've seen this before. I know it's for the best and that Ben – in his right mind – would rather be banished than hurt someone.

But it's new to Thomas.

And it feels even worse to see it through his eyes as he looks on in a mix of confusion, despair and complete horror.

We're not monsters. But maybe it looks that way.

…

The tears still course down my face long after the Doors still and the posts are set down.

I walk away, drop into the shadows behind the Butchery; silent while everyone gathers at Homestead. I lean my head back against the wall, stare into the sky and fight to breathe through the pressing tightness of my chest.

The rapid, shallow breaths catch in my throat for long minutes, and I watch the sky darken. The shadow around me stretches, and then lifts as the sun fades. I'm left in a blanket of twilight.

Ben's face flashes through my mind; the genuine little smile the first time I punched him properly. I grasp onto it tight. This is the memory I want; this is the one that will keep me sane.

Slowly, I find I'm breathing properly again.

I feel wrung out and shaken and still kind of hollow. Wrecked. I can feel the drying tracks of tears on my skin. I swipe at them haltingly.

But I slowly stand up.

There's no bonfire down by Homestead yet, but I can see the wavering torches, glowing like fireflies against the trees as the boys move about. I traipse over for the pump near the gardens, splashing water on my face and neck.

The cold chases away the demons.

Its hard to think that just this morning, I was up here talking to Rob about snails and very much trying to not stare at Newt without his shirt on.

I let out a long breath. Feeling a little better - if mainly due to exhaustion and my redirected thoughts - I head for the village and the others.

I duck into the Mess hall quietly, and a few faces turn to me, expressions relieved and concerned at once. Zart is sat at one of the tables with a jar of Gally's Brew and in the middle of what sounds like a wild story about Ben's first day, trialling a job as a Track-Hoe.

They did this for Justin, too, and probably all the others, but I never joined in.

"Eva!" Stan whisper-calls me when I pass his table. "Hey, you okay?"

I nod, only now realising that some time has passed and no one's seen me since the Doors closed. Knowing them, they probably worried. "I'm…okay," I say carefully. "Just…"

Stan nods, smiles, like he gets it.

I smile gratefully in return and move on.

I don't even realise I'm searching for Newt. Not until I drop into a space beside him and lean into his side. His arm curls around me in an almost subconscious motion and the pressure on my chest loosens. He pushes his jar of Brew across to me.

He doesn't speak, and nor do I.

I pick up the jar, gulp some down and slide it back. The burning, stinging sensation is doubly welcome right now; helping to replace what's left of the hollow feeling.

We share the jar, and the stories carry us into the night.

…

Ben's name is crossed out on the wall by the time the sun rises.

He belongs to the Maze now.

How many more boys will belong to it before we're done?

INFO

1. You're probably starting to see the parallel timeline come into play here. We're starting to see some of the scenes from the film, just from an alternate perspective, and interspersed with other occurences that are Eva's alone, rather than Thomas'. This is part of the fun I have with limited narratives, but hopefully its fairly clear where these scenes fit with the film for now.

2. Yes, a bit more shirtlessness. Just a bit. For funsies. And also because it is a little bit relevant - Yes, Eva does relate this scene with the moment she realised she had feelings for Newt, also thanks to a semi-dressed state. But here, though she makes the connection and reacts to it emotionally/physically, she can fairly easily put that aside to focus on the situation, which I feel is important. Despite attraction on both sides (there's hints of it from Newt before this), both of them are level headed people and will put more 'important' things first. Which is just one reason certain conversations haven't happened.

3. A bit of a downer end, but necessary, I think. Ben's scene in the movie is fairly striking, and I didn't want to detract from that, whilst at the same time focusing less on him and more on Eva's response. She knew Ben better than Justin, so that makes it worse. She also sees a lot of it playing out the same way, which makes it worse. She recognises how it can look to a newbie; the horror of it, and that makes it worse. And she doesn't want to burden anyone with her grief, prefering to handle it alone, which does make it worse. The only thing she improves at is dealing with the aftermath; it takes the first time, and the insomnia to recognise that she doesn't have to repeat history, even if things around her do. So she joins the others to mourn. This is a weird concept to try explaining, but I hope most of it came across.

4. Eva does get a proper conversation and meeting with Thomas next; no worries :)

5. I didn't make up the bit about snails. That's true.

6. Just out of curiosity, how many of you guys read my extra info/titbits?

Guest Replies

DoveLuxe: Thank you for your review, and I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so far! My Eva sort of named herself as it ties into the plot, but that's still pretty cool. And as for the story, it's just great to know you think I'm telling it well! I like it when all things have reason and meaning and tie together, so that's what I worked to write for myself.

Thea: First, thank you so much – I'm really glad you like the story (and wow, that's awesome! I've definitely been there, reading everything in one sitting and I'm thrilled you did that for this). You won't see this until I update, but for future reference, I post roughly twice a week, evenly spaced, depending on how hectic my life gets.

Secondly, ff. net automatically removes links – either URLs or emails, so it didn't appear. If you want to try sending it again, put brackets around any dots and 'at' instead of the 'a' symbol to help it get through the filtering.

So lastly, I don't really have the time available to read someone else's fanfiction when I barely have a chance to read for myself, but I am happy to attempt offering advice if you're struggling. Bear in mind that I am no expert and everything I know is what I've read about or learned myself and most writing is down to discretion and judgement, rather than solid facts. But if you do want to get some thoughts which I'm happy to do, feel free to try sending me your e-mail again (though I'd recommend pming me so your e-mail isn't publicly available :))

Loving it: Haha, that's good; I'm glad you're getting sucked in and invested in it! Sadly there does seem to be a limited fanfiction pool for Maze Runner at the moment. I'm hoping that with Scorch Trials in September a few more fans will take a stab at it. But in the meantime, it does mean there isn't a lot out there, and some of it I've found I just don't click with (which is originally why I wrote this; I wrote the story I wanted to read). It's just a case of continuing to look and dig until you find a good one :)

Guest: Thank you; glad you liked it! And haha, they will get there, but its best to keep in mind that both Newt and Eva are practical people, as well as very comfortable as friends. Eva simply doesn't want to shake that up at first, and then there are just bigger things to worry about. It was written this way on purpose, so hang in there! Glad you're enjoying their scenes, though!

As for the mistake…no, it isn't. It's a deliberate 'reverse telling'. Remember that this is a fairly informal narrative that is largely straight from Eva and the way she thinks. The way that last scene is crafted is her telling you his name, and then going on to explain how he remembered (think of it as you telling someone 'Did you hear that Gary got detention?' 'No; how?' 'Well, he was late for class and then…' This kind of discussion is very natural and common in real life, and it gives you a foregone conclusion, which is something else you'll see a fair bit of in this story now we've caught up to the film). I can see why you may think it's a mistake, but I did write it that way on purpose – I kind of like it as a tool in narration :)

StoryLover00: Thanks again! Updates tend to be twice a week, so that gives you a general timeframe to work with.

Chapter 22 - Teaser

My mind snaps awake in the next moment.

"You're going in," I say.

-To be posted at the weekend-