CHAPTER 25:

"Oi, shuckface!" Minho yelled, his eyes wide with panic as he distracted the monster in a last bid attempt to save her life. His heart was pounding with fear as he watched her leg give out and her entire body collapse onto the floor.

"Shuckface!" he yelled, his voice cracking with the intensity. It stopped. And it turned.

Unable to stop himself, he let a relieved smirk pass through, waving his arms at the gruesome creature and leading it away from her fragile body, taking on the burden himself. Weaving through the stone walls, he raced onwards, feeling the Griever's malicious intent instigate a new burst of adrenaline.

He led the creature further and further away, feeling his energy draining as he battled with his own exhaustion, eventually outsmarting the piece of klunk and losing it in the endless corridors. Panting as quietly as he could, he ran back to the junction where he'd seen her go down, hoping against hope that he'd be the first to find her and not another Griever.

"Come on." he muttered under his breath, panic increasing by the second. He'd never been like this, never gave into his fear so easily as he had when he'd seen her limp figure conquered by the metal beast.

The desire to see her face kept him running.

She didn't know that that was the sole reason that he ran back to the Glade every day.

To say she was confused would've been the understatement of the century. Her head was pounding lightly as she forced her bruised and battered body to get up from the floor of the Maze, unable to compute her surroundings.

Was she dead? Because if death was just her roaming the Maze, she wanted out.

The Griever had evidently left, but why? Shaking out her hands, she froze for a second as she remembered Newt's words that morning, relaying to her that Minho was running Section 2. Shoot. It must have found him and chased him instead.

The guilt that crushed her lungs forced her to stand and run to find the Keeper, to help him against the relentless creatures of the Maze. Her knee was, understandably, not at all on board with her decision, aching and groaning with every step she took, but she did not stop, not once.

There was a chance she could see him again and that alone spurred her forwards, ears sensitive to the noise around her, praying that she wouldn't hear screams.

Footsteps.

They were loud, increasing in volume as she ran forward and she sped up, practically hyperventilating with fear that the person wouldn't be him. Muscles aching, she looked up, slowing down as she saw his figure racing down the corridor, the familiar blue shirt, the Runner backpack with the special assortment of knives- it was him.

He had slowed too, watching her every movement with wide eyes as if he was seeing an apparition in front of him. The relief flowing through the both of them was immense, the understanding of their mutual fear and regret tethering them together.

"Min-ho." she called out, her voice breaking a little as she fought tears of relief and happiness.

His hands dropped down to his knees and she couldn't see his face as he panted for air, his back gently bobbing up and down. He got up again, his hands raised up on his head, the way scientists recommended when you had a stitch as he turned away from her, still breathing deeply. Finally, he turned around, opening up his arms for her and she ran into them without hesitation.

"I'm so shucking sorry." He mumbled into her hair, his voice audibly deeper than usual, arms tight around her, almost crushing her.

"No, I am." she responded, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Slim it." Minho said, "You didn't do anything wrong but I said a load of klunk to ya. You didn't deserve any of it."

She stayed quiet.

"I mean it." Minho said, sounding tired, "You can talk to me about the Maze and I'm sorry I said all that klunk, cos I didn't shucking mean any of it, yeah? You're my best friend, Ad and I'm sorry if I didn't treat you right."

"But you're right!" she burst, unable to hold her sentiment to herself, "You're shucking right! I always complain and overthink and worry!"

Minho crossed his arms, retreating from the hug as he narrowed his eyes at her, "I was talking a load of klunk and you know it, Ad."

"Minh-"

"Shucking hell woman, I'm sorry!" he groaned, walking towards her as she retreated from him. She could just about distinguish the slight hurt in his eyes and she couldn't help but laugh mentally- only they would argue again after a near death experience; then again, it was different, since they were airing the dirty laundry out now and pouring out their heated emotions until everything was normal again.

"Go away." she muttered hotly, mentally cursing as her back hit the concrete wall, "You always try and get me to listen to you.

"That's the point." Minho said, caging her against the Maze wall, "Cos if I don't catch you, you'll run away first."

"Not my fault you're a slow shuck." She mumbled, suddenly losing her ability to breathe as he leaned down closer to her face, his arms trapping her. It wasn't like her to get this hot and bothered by a boy, even if he was a good looking one and she pursed her lips in irritation as sparks ignited her skin when his arm brushed her shoulder.

"Wanna repeat that?" he murmured in her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

She glowered at him, trying hard to hold her stern expression as he implored her with his eyes, the very eyes she had seen before her would-have-been death.

"Slim it." she said, settling for a neutral response. Her breathing hitched as he leaned even closer, his infamous smirk plastered on his face and doing absolutely nothing to help her flushing face.

"Forgive me?" he asked, his voice low, face suddenly serious, "I don't know about you, but I've literally forgotten what we were arguing about."

"About how I was a shucking baby and how the Maze is a trap." she deadpanned and Minho gave her a dry look in return.

"Forgive me? Don't leave a man hanging." he asked, a little desperation in his tone.

"Yeah. Okay Min." she said quietly, deflating slightly.

He moved back from her, allowing her space as his eyes immediately scanned her face for injuries, losing their darkened state once the sunlight filtered through and brightened them, "Your leg gave out."

"My knee." she sighed, hoping that she wasn't red from the sudden close contact-(what was wrong with her!), "It's been dodgy ever since we ran to get Tristan, so it completely lost it when I was running from the Griever."

"Idiot." Minho mumbled as he gave her one of his knives, "You should have stayed back."

She shrugged, watching him as he pulled out the hem of her shirt and beckoned for the knife he had just given her. "What are you doing?"

He bent down, cutting the soft material off, grinning slightly, "We still need to run back home. And your knee ain't going to make it and I don't fancy carrying you, Ad."

She smiled as he wrapped the cotton around her knee, wincing on her behalf as his cold fingers grazed the reddened skin periodically.

"I ain't no Med Jack, but that isn't half bad." Minho said, sounding impressed at his own handiwork. She tested the support, bending her leg slightly, surprised that the material held well.

"Not bad." She commented and Minho chuckled at her verdict as if he'd known her answer all along.

"Head back?" Minho asked, holding her arm cautiously as she tried to walk around and get accustomed to her supported knee.

"Yeah. Let's go." she agreed, looking up at him.

Minho nodded, before his tongue darted out, wetting his lips- a nervous habit- "I-I properly shucked up yesterday. You're my best friend Ad, I-I'm sorry, man."

She gave him a soft smile, hoping it looked reassuring enough before laying a hand on his shoulder, "Stop apologising. I forgive you Min, but I can't lie, it'll take longer for me to forget the words. Still, I ain't mad at ya and we're not gonna suddenly hate each other, yeah? You're still a shuckface, but you're my shuckface."

And with one last fleeting smile, she started running ahead, her heart at peace as she detected his steady running behind her.

This was how they were meant to be.

Running alongside each other, picking each other up and being the reassuring support they needed in the unsteady life of the Glade.

And although the Griever had roughed her up, there was a small part of her that was glad it had intervened and ultimately brought them back together again.

"Bloody hell." Newt said, his foot tapping in a fast rhythm against the floor of the Med Hut, "I let you out of my sight for a minute and you've gone and bust that knee of yours. Seen a Griever. Had Death knocking on your bloody door. And then made up with that moron there."

Minho slapped a hand over his mouth as he tried to prevent Newt from seeing the smile that was threatening to show up on his face and Adira quickly looked away from him, her own laugh bubbling in her throat.

They'd both expected one of Newt's rants, chiding them for their recklessness and childishness, which admittedly, they had been, but the Mum of the Glade was not going to excuse their behaviour regardless of any sudden epiphanies of understanding and courteous apologies.

"Totally agree Newt." she said, nodding solemnly, "Except you let me out of sight for almost thirteen hours."

The blonde boy became the physical representation of rage as his face reddened, swelling up like an inflating balloon and Adira shrunk slightly, suddenly finding Clint's hair incredibly interesting.

"Take that attitude and put it somewhere else cos it's pissing me off." Newt said bluntly and Minho nodded sagely, urging Adira with his eyes to do the same.

"Sorry Newt." they mumbled, watching his red face transform into a more placated expression.

"Good. Now hurry up and meet the Greenie as soon as Clint's done with the bandages."

Adira face palmed, "I completely forgot about the Greenie!"

Newt shook his head, "You had a lot on your plate, don't worry 'bout it. Kid remembered his name, the moment the shank came up but…"

"What?" she asked, a little confused as Newt trailed off.

"You'll see." Newt said darkly, turning to Minho, "I'm assuming you're not coming."

"I'll be at the bonfire." Minho said dismissively, "Don't miss me too much."

"Trust me, we won't." Newt spat, his previous irritation coming forth again and Minho chuckled, raising his hands in surrender as he left the Med Hut, "Absolute twat."

"Done." Clint said, rising up from her knee. It was the first time he'd ever been so amused while wrapping a patient's leg up; who wouldn't be, when they were getting a first-hand insight to the hidden side of the leaders' friendship? Their relentless arguing was extremely entertaining and their ability to jump over any hurdles together was humbling to him.

"Thanks Clint." Adira said, "Much better than the shirt piece."

She pointed to the scrap of cloth while Clint picked the rag, surveying its grubby form with thinly veiled disparagement, "The wrapping wasn't too bad."

She stood up, shaking her head at Clint's compromising tone, "Feels good."

"That's my job." Clint nodded, "And now it's done, so shoo, get out."

She laughed, leaving the Med Hut with Newt by her side as they sought out the Greenie. It was wrong of her to completely forget him and she felt a little guilty as they asked Gally if he'd seen the boy anywhere.

"The kid?" Gally grunted, still sore over the past Gathering, "He's crying by the Deadheads. Little Greenie."

The pity in Gally's voice confused her- this Greenie must have been really sobbing his eyes out if he had converted Gally's ice heart into some semblance to a normal, feeling one. She felt the uncomfortable prickle of sadness in her throat and she cleared it roughly, thanking Gally and making their way to the treeline of the Deadheads.

Newt scoured the observable Glade from his ridiculous height, before his face softened a little and he guided Adira to the place where the Greenie supposedly was sitting, sniffling pitifully by himself.

"Oh." she said, her face blank as she caught sight of the child nestled at the bottom of a tree, curled into a ball like a cat, his sobs audible from their distance.

"A blooming kid." Newt said sharply, "Barely thirteen, I'd say."

She drew in a shocked breath, "Almost five whole years younger than me. Shank's even smaller than Nico."

"Five years? Nah, you don't look eighteen." Newt said casually, "Not even seventeen to be honest with ya."

"Really?" she asked, turning to the blonde. She had always assumed she was older but in retrospect, her image of herself was distorted with the huge weight of responsibility on her shoulders. "How old do you think I am?"

"Maybe halfway through sixteen, bordering seventeen." Newt said, smiling a little at her shock, "I think we all thought we were a lot older than we were."

"So I was what, thirteen when I came up here? " she asked incredulously, "How did we get thirteen wrong for fifteen? How the shuck did I survive as a thirteen year old?"

"Like I said, we felt a lot older. No shucking mirrors and a lot of responsibility does that to people, Ad. And you were probably fourteen when ya came up- your birthday isn't the day you came up here." Newt chuckled.

"How are you so calm?" she grumbled, "This has literally changed my life."

"That's cos I ain't a bloody drama queen." Newt said, his face turning grim as they approached the bundle of shivers at the bottom of the tree, "And I haven't changed just cos I found out I'm probably seventeen and not nineteen."

"I feel like I would be changed." Adira said fervently, "I mean, that's a massive jump. Nineteen to seventeen. Wow."

Newt shook his head at her, evidently finished with her nonsensical ramblings but he was spared the effort of formulating a response as they hovered over the Greenie. She gave Newt a glance, not particularly wanting to call him up by a label of status, hoping that Newt would take the lead for now. He rolled his eyes, but bent down, calling the Greenie's name.

"Chuck?" he coaxed softly and Adira felt out of place with her stiff posture and hard face. "Come on up, fella, you've cried enough."

The only response he got was a warbled apology and Newt sighed, "Come on, Chuckie, the Leader wants to meet ya."

The boy shot up from his pitiful position, almost comically fast as he stared at Newt with a horrified expression on his face. "He wants to see me?"

Newt chuckled a little and Adira decided to step in, having hid out in the shadows for long enough to mentally prepare herself for the tears and snot, "She does want to see you."

The child didn't reply, his eyes transfixed on her and his chubby, round cheeks reddening. Feeling slightly awkward, she spoke again, "Name's Adira, Leader of this shuck place. Welcome to the Glade, Greenie."

Newt leaned against the tree as Chuck ran his chubby hand across his face to dry up the remaining tears left behind.

"Nice to meet you." he mumbled, before turning to Newt in confusion, "She's a girl. You didn't tell me there were any girls here. Are there more? And you said she was the Leader, so what are you? I thought you were a Keeper? Am I going to get a job too, Newt? Can I go home?"

And then he promptly burst into tears again.

"Oh, slim it, Chuckie." Newt said, not unkindly, pulling down the boy, "She's the only girl here, and the Leader. First one up here."

Chuck paused his fit of tears, "That's so scary."

Adira kicked her foot into the soil, feeling uncomfortable talking about the solitary month she had spent, the experience that still plagued her with nightmares.

"Not that bad." she said, a little sharply, "Newt's given you the tour?"

Chuck nodded dolefully, not meeting her eye and she had the distinct feeling that he was scared of her.

"Good that." she nodded, before meeting Newt's deploring eyes and she sighed. "Don't cry, Chuck. It'll get better soon, I promise, once you get your job and make some friends. Good that?"

Chuck nodded, looking slightly dumbfounded that she had used his name.

"Get up, little guy." Newt said, heaving himself up to his feet, "There's a party on for ya tonight, and you can't look all mopey at your own bonfire."

"Own bonfire?" Chuck asked, his voice small and childlike.

"That's right." Newt grinned, "A bonfire in your honour."

Adira smiled at the confused but flattered expression on Chuck's face before showing him to the showers to freshen up before the bonfire, turning to Newt as soon as he had disappeared.

"He ain't lasting a day here, Newt." she said worriedly, "What job is he going to get?"

Newt shrugged, his warm eyes sad, "Probably a Slopper."

"Oh my god." She groaned, "The Creators are gonna drive me up the wall."

"Poor shank." Newt said quietly, "He'll get squashed by brutes like Gally."

"There isn't anyone his age group." Adira pointed out, "Nico's the youngest other than him, but he's got his own friends and he's shy anyway."

"Exactly." Newt said, "He'll have to fit in. Ain't no bloody choice."

The bonfire was being set up already, the huge pile of wood gathered in the middle of the Glade, Frypan bringing out pots and plates of food while Arden kept the boys away.

They could only hope that Chuck would survive the initiation process, which was normally targeted at older boys; boys who could drink and fight Gally. Poor Chuck.

"A shucking child."

That was the first thing out of Minho's mouth as soon as he saw the rotund thirteen year old among the boys.

"A child."

"I know." Newt said, tipping back Gally's brew, "The Creators went too far this time."

"They went too far the minute they put us in here." Minho spat, "How is the kid gonna survive?"

Adira shrugged, "He won't."

Newt shot her a glare, "We'll make sure he will. Stop being so bloody pessimistic, the two of ya."

"You act as if you're some ray of sunshine or something." Minho muttered and Adira chuckled quietly, unable to disagree with the Runner.

The trio were sat near the outskirts of the rave, their backs resting against a fallen log, all three facing the tall burning flame and the orangey red figures of the running, screaming and drunk boys. She could tell Chuck felt like an outsider by the way he kept grabbing the end of his grubby, thin brown overcoat with his pudgy hands, but Frypan was giving him good company and he looked slightly more at ease, smiling once in a while.

"Thirty fifth month now." Minho whistled loudly, drawing several glances towards them, "Thirty sixth for this ugly shank here, but it's been a long time shanks."

"Get used to it." Newt snorted as Adira rolled her eyes, "S'all you're seeing for the rest of your shuck life."

"Who's pessimistic now?" Minho shot back.

"It isn't pessimism when it's a fact." Newt replied, his eyebrow quirking upwards and Minho huffed sourly, drinking his brew in one gulp.

She wasn't feeling particularly party ready, her entire body lethargic as she lazed around by the edge of the fire with the other two men. She was content listening to them talk beside her.

"Chuck's about to be thrown into the Pit." Newt mumbled suddenly, "3…2…1"

Adira clenched her jaw as the boy was thrown like a missile into the Pit with Gally waiting for his next prey like a coiled up, tense snake. It would be bad, she could tell, the way Gally looked extra unpleasant that night with his fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically by his side. Intervening wouldn't help Chuck in any manner.

"What a slinthead." Minho said emphatically.

"Agreed." Adira said, and she was surprised by the venom in her voice.

"Brilliant." Newt said with a wary glance at the growing crowd, "Savages, the way they're going."

"Did you just use Lord of the Flies?" Minho asked incredulously.

"The what?"

"Nevermind." Minho said, an odd look passing his face as he sank back against the log, "It doesn't matter."

Soon enough, the trio had retreated into one of the more isolated and quieter regions of the Glade- the Map room- though they tried hard to stay put and "supervise" the Gladers through their drunken partying. But Frypan had urged them to go bond, claiming he had everything under control and they'd taken to the pitiful excuse immediately, bidding goodnight and fleeing from the scene. It wasn't like they were doing anything, anyway, sitting on the side lines.

"I hate this room." Minho said, glaring at the boxes of carefully compiled maps.

"Can't disagree with that." Newt said, laughing a little as his tipsiness began to show. Minho's unfocused gaze landed on Adira and he suddenly grinned wide, "You're so nice to me, Ad."

She chuckled, crossing her arms as she observed him watch a particle of dust descend while glowing under the light of the bulb. He transformed once under the influence of alcohol, no longer strict and stern, more childlike and inquisitive. It was a natural enhancement of his usual curiosity, but she couldn't deny that she found it endearing.

And that's how they spent the night, all three drinking Gally's brew in copious amounts- even Minho indulged in it- laughing and singing random songs in a drunken stupor.

Morning Adira completely regretted the tens of drinks she'd had the night before, the alcohol leaving her head pounding and aching as if a sledgehammer was banging against her skull repeatedly.

"Bloody hell." Newt groaned, heaving himself up from the floor of the Map Room. Adira rose up, realising too late that she'd been teetering on the edge of the Mapping table and immediately crashed onto the floor, landing on Minho's leg.

"Shuck-!"

"Shut it Minho!" Newt moaned, clamping his hands over his ears.

"Owww." Adira groaned, "Pretend that didn't just happen and we'll carry on with life."

"I want to sleep." Minho mumbled, "This floor is so comfy."

Newt let out a sound halfway between a groan of pain and a chuckle, before bending his head between his knees to shut out light and sound.

"Get up." Adira said tiredly, pushing herself off his Minho's leg, "Work time lads."

"I hate you." Minho grumbled, pulling himself up and giving Newt a hand, "I cannot run like this."

"Tough luck shank. What if an exit pops up?"

Minho shrugged, "Cry."

"As if." Adira snorted, "You'd have a full blown tantrum."

Minho pouted tiredly, before lacing his shoelaces up and heading out the door once he shrugged on his backpack, "See you guys later!"

"Be safe!" she said, unable to shout as Newt glared vehemently at the slightest sound she made. Hungover Newt was not the type of energy she had wanted that morning, but she'd take what she could get. The thirty fifth month. So long spent within the same four walls.

"We should get going." she sighed, rubbing her temples, "Otherwise no one will do anything."

"Yup." Newt said, rising to his feet, his voice barely audible, "Gotta show Chuckie to his jobs."

She shook her head at the reminder of the Greenie, hating the Creators for their incessant cruelty- the Glade sucked, but friends helped mask the pain slightly, but Chuck was young and she doubted any of the current boys would develop a bond with the innocent kid, whether they wanted to or not.

Adira made her way out of the Runners Hut, squinting against the harsh sunlight as Newt and she emerged from the dark depths of the Deadheads met with a pained chorus of mornings as the boys struggled against their heads to work.

Minho had left extremely quickly it seemed; she couldn't see him anywhere though he'd only left slightly before herself and she hoped he'd had breakfast before leaving the Glade.

"Clint, hey!" she called out, spotting the Med Jack coming out of the Med hut, "How's Cal?"

Clint looked slightly confused and distraught, "It was meant to be fine, Ad."

"Woah, slow down." she said, holding the Keeper's arms, "What's going on?"

Clint sighed deeply, the fight leaving his body, "There's an infection. I dunno if he'll make it through with this one. It's really bad."

She couldn't deny the sinking of her heart as she heard the news, but she concealed her pain with a stern face, "Clint, you did what you could. There's nothing more either I or Calvin would ask from you."

Clint shook his head before nodding and straightening, "I'll keep trying."

"He's still unconscious?"

Clint nodded in the affirmative, "Alright, well, busy yourself with other things, I'll get the herbs you needed; a few came up the Box."

"Thanks Ad." Clint breathed gratefully as Adira made her way to the Box where some supplies had not yet been organised, crates piled onto each other haphazardly. Sighing, she realised that she had to sort out supplies, send them off to the place they were stored, inform the Keeper corresponding to the new arrivals and then update the numbers that tracked how many of each supply they had.

It would be a long day.

By the time she was halfway done, it was lunchtime and Frypan had made a soup with a chunky, salty bread on the side, something Newt was very happy to see and something she could do without. Still, hunger and exhaustion coerced her to devour the meal, leaving not even a crumb behind.

"You've done all the supplies?" Newt asked.

"Yes." she replied, wiping her mouth to remove any leftover crumbs, "Just did them all."

"Brilliant." Newt commented, clapping his hands together, "I'll write up all the numbers then?"

"Yes please." she said, "The Keepers have the numbers already, we just need them for ourselves. Oh, and Clint transferred some of Fry's supplies, so that has to be subtracted. "

"Yessir." Newt replied, making a quick mental note, "I'll do that all first."

"Thank you so much." she groaned, stretching her arms, "It's such a hassle doing it all."

"You do all the work, gimme some next time, yeah? Shuck knows, you work too hard." Newt chided lightly, taking her empty bowl.

Smiling, she got up again, wiping down her front, before leaving to Gally- she'd promised to climb up trees to cut down the slim branches for a new project he had and the thicker branches to replenish the Glade's stores of wood. The bonfire had been bigger than usual, using up a significant portion of building stocks and Gally had immediately ordered for wood in the morning.

"Here, Gally." she said, buckling knives to her waist as she surveyed the height of the tree he was standing under.

"Let's get going then." Gally grumbled, "We'll have to do about five trees."

"Five?" Adira asked, "How much did you use for the Bonfire?"

Gally shrugged, "You took the numbers in this morning."

Suppressing irritation, she allowed Gally to give her a boost up, scaling the tree easily and making her way to the flimsier branches located high up, the air swaying her entire body. Clutching the trunk with one hand and positioning herself steadily on the branch, she used her other arm to loosen a knife and cut through the thin wood, pausing to steady her recently bandaged knee.

The sweat forming at the back of her neck did nothing to make her job easier, but she continued, ignoring Gally's bullying yells, pleading her to hurry up. Gritting her teeth together, she started to cut the thicker braches, knowing those ones would take far longer. Gally collected the thinner branches, taking them away to the wood stores, leaving her to her devices.

And she did it again and again and again, until Gally deemed the wood stocks as sufficient and until Adira looked sweaty, hot and annoyed. Because he gained a sick sense of satisfaction at her anger.

"That's all we need!" Gally hollered as she was cutting through the last branch- a thick, behemoth of pure, strong wood, "Finish that and come down."

Conveniently, the Maze Doors started closing and she saw Minho waving energetically at her. She responded with a smaller, more modest wave, feeling annoyed that Gally had kept her occupied so she couldn't give Minho his usual water.

"That's all we need!"

"Fine." she bit out, letting the branch fall as she cut away its connection to the main trunk. Gally glared at her for not giving him a warning but didn't say anything, equally as relieved that the day was over.

"Come down." He snapped. Adira rolled her eyes, bending down and crawling down the trunk. Until there was a problem.

"Shoot!" she cursed, as the seemingly strong branch that she had used earlier to jump up on and climb up the trunk, broke as she applied light pressure, leaving her with no way of getting down. The bark was smooth, and devoid of any other branches, and she couldn't jump- she was quite high up and her knee wouldn't take to the exertion well.

"Ha! Guess you're camping up there tonight, Adira." Gally guffawed, " Bye."

She rolled her eyes as the Builder walked away, waving over a boy- Ben, it seemed, to come help her down. She scoffed at his audacity, watching his broad back disappear, replaced with Ben's inquisitive face.

"Hey." He greeted, "Gally's such a slinthead."

"The most shuck faced shuck I've ever met." She spat and Ben raised his eyebrows, grinning at the swears.

"How are we getting you down?" Ben asked, looking slightly lost. She sighed.

"A ladder or something? Make one." she suggested, adjusting her grip around the trunk.

Ben looked contemplative," Just jump, I'll catch you."

Her eyes widened, "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Ben replied earnestly, "It isn't that high- you just can't jump down cos your knee won't survive."

"This is so embarrassing." she muttered, not expecting Ben to hear her and laugh, "Fine. But if you don't catch me…"

"Got it, boss." Ben said, steadying his legs and outstretching his arms, "Take your time."

Shooting a glare at him, she rose up to her feet, cringing at the height between her and Ben's arms. She really wasn't that high up, but it was still a significant distance and she regretted ever agreeing to help Gally out.

"What in the shuck is going on?"

She sighed, hating the fact that there were now more witnesses to her mortifying dilemma and she turned to see Minho's confused face and Newt's amused one. How the hell did they always manage to find her?

"I'm stuck." she said blandly.

"Oh." Minho replied, looking up to her.

"And Ben's about to catch me, so move." she ordered.

"This shank?" Minho asked incredulously, "Dude, no offence, but do you trust him?"

"Thanks Minho." Ben grumbled, before giving Adira a shrug, "Guess he'll be catching ya, won't let me hold your lifeline."

"Thanks Ben." she said, watching as the boy laughed a little and jogged out of the Deadheads.

"You didn't have to be so mean." she spat.

"He was going to catch you." Minho deadpanned, "Him."

"I really don't see the problem with that." Adira shot back. She swore there was a spark of jealousy in his expression.

"Have you see-"

"I really don't think she should be yelling at ya bloody face from the top of a tree, so how about we get her down, eh, Min?" Newt cut in, rolling his eyes.

"Fine," Minho assented, "And don't roll your eyes at me."

Newt muttered something Adira was too far away to hear and Minho stretched out his arms, waiting for her. Unlike Ben, he didn't look tense enough, simply standing there with his arms raised out in front of him. She gulped uncertainly.

"You trust me, right?" Minho asked, no hesitation on his face.

"Y-yeah."

"Then jump off shuckface." he grinned.

And she jumped, feeling the air run along her skin as she raced down to the earth, gravity greedily pulling her closer and closer until…

"Gotcha!"

She fell straight into Minho , her arms automatically curling around his neck, eyes squeezed shut, surprised she was even alive at that point. She could feel his steady breathing and the tight grip he had around her; the relief that coursed through her was sensational and she was glad he had scared off Ben. Despite it having been what felt like an age since Frank, she didn't like unfamiliar people touching her, and if Ben was the one who would have helped her, she'd have been more than just a little uncomfortable with the contact.

"You're all fine, girlie." Minho teased and she pried her eyes open, landing straight on his smirking face, silently laughing at her fear.

"Put me down. I need to feel the earth." she said shakily and Minho nodded, his hands gliding over her waist as he stood her upright. She smiled weakly, feeling the odd sparks light up her torso again, the same tingling, fiery sensation she'd felt out in the Maze. He thought she was still rattled by the jump she had just taken, but she knew better.

"Thanks guys." she breathed.

"I did all the work." Minho interrupted, "This shank did nothing."

"Actually, I got you two to stop arguing like two year olds, so she could jump." Newt pointed out, "So there's my contribution."

"I need to shower." Adira said, grimacing, "I'm so sweaty."

"Gross." Minho said, wrinkling his nose as she stuck her tongue out at him.

Her shower was long but uneventful, as she rubbed away the stresses of the day, washing them away with the water from the showerhead. Exhausted wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt with her back aching, muscles fatigued and a familiar pain building up in her lower stomach. So all she wanted at that moment was a quick, light dinner and sleep. But, alas, the Glade had differing plans to her.

Stepping out of the shower, steam clouding the room, she hadn't at first noticed the lack of clothes on the counter, too busy drying herself to observe. But once she had put aside her towel to dress, her hands reaching out in a practiced motion, she only felt air. Someone had stolen her clothes.

The irritation that swelled inside her was nothing like she'd ever felt before, an ugly beast rearing its head in her chest as it took control of her actions- in that moment, she sympathised with Minho more than ever. Rewrapping her towel around her body, she stormed out of the bathroom, eyes blazing as she looked for the thief. She wanted clothes, food and sleep and absolutely nothing would stop her from achieving that.

Minho and Newt had apparently not been far off, both coming out of the Deadheads laughing, their hair messier, their clothes stained with dirt suggesting that they'd been scuffling while she'd been gone. Newt did a double take once he saw her and Minho's laugh dropped off his face in order to be replaced by an amused frown. Newt said something in his ear and Minho was running over to her, eventually reaching directly in front of her, crossing his arms expectantly as she suddenly became aware of the thinness of the material around her.

"Someone took my clothes." she mumbled heatedly.

A spark of anger flared up in Minho's eyes as he took in her words and he gently guided her back to her bathrooms.

"Stay here, I'll find them." he reassured, before turning back and presumably finding Newt to help him out.

And that was how she found herself, silently fuming, cold and fed up, sitting in a towel as the sun fully set, leaving her in the dark. To say she was beyond livid was not an understatement.

"Got them." Minho shouted, throwing in her clothes as she rolled her eyes.

"Shucking finally!" she yelled back.

"Guess who stole them?" Minho asked, mirth in his voice.

"Gally?" she guessed, pulling on her shorts hurriedly as the goosebumps on her entire body intensified.

"Nope."

"I don't know, Luke? He's a bit of a slinthead."

"Yeah he is." Minho agreed, "But no."

"Tell me." Adira demanded impatiently as she stepped out of the bathroom, vigorously rubbing her arms, "I can't guess."

Minho smirked triumphantly, "Chuck."

"Chuck?" she gasped, eyes widening. "I can't yell at him!"

Minho scoffed, "Yeah, you could. You're just too nice."

"Whatever." Adira said, shivering lightly, "I guess dinner's finished?"

"Yeah." Minho answered, "But Fry saved us food."

She grinned, feeling slightly better, glad the day was over and she could return to the sweet embrace of her bed.