Water. Freezing cold water.

All around.

Her legs moved desperately trying to stay afloat.

She felt her hair sticking to her face . Her white dress floating around her form creating its own isolated waves.

And water, water everywhere.

She could see nothing but the dark blue waves crashing around her. The cold engulfing her, hurting her, like tiny needles burried deep inside her entire skin.

Suddenly, she wasn't floating anymore. Her vision became blurry as she drowned. The light growing further and further away.

Her lungs screamed for air until she no longer had the strengh to hold her breath.

She let the water in.

She felt nothing but cold. She saw nothing but darkness.

Cold. Dark. Cold. Dark. Cold.

Cold.

Cold.

Eleanor opened her eyes, gasping.

The bright sunlight hitting her eyes, spreading a burning feeling.

She didn't feel hot in one bit. She was quick to close her eyes again, the image of her dream still imprinted in her mind.

Groaning, she lifted her hand to her face.

She didn't know where that dream had come from. She felt incredibly cold and her head felt like it was about to explode.

She massaged her temples and stretched her toes, her body slowly starting to wake up.

She felt awful. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and disappear. She felt as if someone had run a screwdriver through her head.

The coldness made things even worse. Goosebumps ran through her entire skin making her shiver. She thought it was odd. She was usually cold in the early mornings but never that much. She was freezing.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep away the sunlight that didn't help her state at all.

She cursed her luck, she knew she had to get up.

As she lay there, trying to make the most of her remaining moments of inactivity, events of the previous night flooded her mind.

She felt numb.

She couldn't really decide what to make of things.

She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to hate Gally. She wanted to hate them all. But she just couldn't.

Sure, she was no longer the over-sensitive little girl she was when she had arrived, but that didn't make her a bitter person.

She desperately wanted to be furious but it was like she was incapable of it. Maybe it wasn't in her nature.

She wondered how she was going to face the gladers after everything that had happened. But she knew she couldn't avoid it. She had a job to do. She wasn't about to break the rules and get on their bad side even more.

Only one thing was clear, she had to apologize to Minho.

Making use of all her will-power she got out of her sleeping bag. She spotted a pile of her damp clothes from the previous night lying on the ground.

She groaned again. She had forgotten about those.

Why on earth had she thought taking a shower completely dressed in the middle of the night was a remotedly acceptable idea?

Of course, she hadn't been in her best state of mind to make decisions, but still, stupid.

Her clothes laid there, still wet, all tangled up. She felt like they were mocking her.

Eleanor sighed and grabbed a hold of them in her arms, the coldness hitting her bare arms and making her shiver even more.

As she made her way to the showers, she noticed she seemed to be attracting a lot of attention from the Gladers she crossed paths with. She simply kept her gaze fixated ahead and tried to ignore the pressing feeling on the pit of her stomach.

When she entered the showers, she made a beeline for the three sinks on the right side of the room. Luck seemed to be on her side as she found a bar of soap resting on one of them. One of the sloppers might have forgotten it there by accident, which wasn't exactly that surprising. The boys weren't exactly the neatest.

She grabbed a hold of it and proceeded to get to work. She knew she didn't have much time judging by the considerable amount of sunlight that was already reigning down on the Glade. She closed her eyes shortly trying to slightly supress her head ache.

When she opened them, a glint of white caught her eyes from within the pile of clothes.

How had she not noticed it before?

With one of her hands she lifted the light textile separating it from the rest and she examined it on the light filtering through the windows.

She furrowed her brows. She did not own a white shirt.

But then, like an elastic band, it came back to her.

It was Newt's.

She had forgotten she had kept his jacked the previous night.

She blushed, feeling her fingertips hot, as if the bit of cloth was burning her. She almost released it from her hold, but she didn't.

Stop being stupid, she told herself, It's just a jacket.

She grabbed the soap with her other hand and started scrubbing the white fabric. She focussed her attention on it, trying to ignore the throbbing feeling hammering her head.

Her thoughts drifted off to the fair-haired with the puppy dog eyes.

He confused her to no end. She just couldn't figure him out no matter how hard she tried, so she had stopped trying. And just when she thought she was done trying to understand him, he would waltz in with a self-made sandwich for her, or send grumpy Zart to check up on her. And in that moment there was that stupid jacket in her hands.

He had come looking for her at that very same spot just to find the sight of a sorry excuse for a girl with damp hair clinging to her face, reddened eyes and racked breaths. He should have laughed. He should have yelled at her for being so pathetic. He should have just left her alone, but he didn't.

He had to be all rightful and nice and take care of her. Why? Why did he do that? He had no reason to care for her. They weren't friends. She was sure he didn't even like her so, why would he do that? It frustrated her, the not-knowing. She felt like she owed him, like he was doing her a favour, but that was stupid. She hadn't asked him to do that.

She was furiously scrubbing the wet textile by then. When she realized, she quickly changed the preassure. The last thing she wanted was to ruin the jacket.

Why did he get her so worked up? Sure, he did some confusing things but why did it bother her so much?

Well, he seemed like a nice guy. Everyone liked him. Everyone was friends with him. He was kind and compasionate but strong and focused all the same. She simply wondered why it had to be so complicated between the two of them. Did it really make that much difference the fact that she was a girl? Because she couldn't think of any other reason to explain the situation. She couldn't think of any other reason why he would treat her so much differently to everyone else.

She finally stopped scrubbing and washed away the rest of soap on the jacket under the water stream. She let the jacket hang on one of the other sinks and switched to her own clothes, scrubbing once again. The round-eyed boy entirely populating her thoughts.

"Eleanor, please, just go to the med hut." Zart begged her for the fifth time.

His tone had acquired an angrier tone with each time he said it.

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head once more. Zart was convinced she was sick, but she insisted on keeping on working.

True, her head hurt like crazy and she was constantly shivering from the cold, even though the rest of the Track-hoes were all working on their under-shirts and sweating like it was the end of the world.

Eleanor knew Zart was right. She wasn't feeling well. But she simply refused to be sick. If she had been stupid enough to react that way last night, she should suffer the consecuences. Also, she just didn't like the thought of someone having to take care of her. And being momed by Jeff and Clint didn't appeal to her one bit. However, she could tell Zart was starting to lose his patience, which wasn't so rare, his patience was originally lacking.

Seeing she had no plans on following his orders, he rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Fine." He warned, "Then, I'm telling Alby."

He turned around and started walking.

Eleanor scoffed.

"So, you're going to tell on me?" She said disbelievingly, getting up from her crouched position.

"It's for your own good." Was his reply.

She looked up ahead to where he was going And found him walking towards Alby and Newt across the patch.

They sometimes helped the Track-hoes when the days were uneventful, which wasn't such a rare thing. So, she wasn't surprised they were there. But her eyes widened in alarm. Alby, she didn't mind, but Newt was another story.

She didn't really want Newt to know she was sick, and she didn't feel ready to face him just yet. She knew she had to give him back his jacket but she had pondered on leaving it on his room while he wasn't there. Real mature right? She knew she was being stupid, but when it came to the second-in-comand she didn't mind being a coward.

Hence why she quickly shot up behind Zart, running up ahead and trying to cut his path.

She knew they had caught the attention of the Track-hoes working around but she kept her eyes on the keeper.

Seeing no way out of it, she sighed, "Fine, I'll go."

Zart smiled in victory and she groaned.

She made her way to the Med-jack room, shoulders slumped. Stupid Zart.

She dragged her feet tracing patterns on the dirt, being in no hurry to get there. But inevitably, she arrived at the door.

She stood before it, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

She knocked softly on the door hoping they wouldn't hear it. She didn't know why she was being so childish but she knew she didn't like the situation. It was ridiculous. She didn't feel well, but she felt well enough to keep on doing her part and not giving the gladers any reason to antagonize her even more.

But agaisnt all her wishes, the door swung open.

"Eleanor, hey!" Clint said as soon as he came into view, "What are you doing here?"

"Zart sent me." From her tone of voice, Clint could tell she wasn't very happy about the idea.

She could feel his eyes travelling around her face, taking in the aspect of her face.

She felt incredibly tired and she was sure it showed. By the look on his face, she was sure she wasn't going to get out of this one. He stood aside, leaving room for Eleanor to pass through the open door.

"Come on in."

Giving a defeated sigh, she obligued.

She rolled around on the mattress once more. Well, mattress was an overstatement. It was more of a thick blanket than anything.

The sticks of the wooden base dug into her back and legs, and there was a strange pointy preassure on her hips that no matter which way she turned wouldn't go away. Still, it was the closest thing to a bed Eleanor remembered ever being in. It was most definetly an improvement from the ragged old sleeping bag she usually slept in.

Clint had ordered her to lay down for the remaining hours of the day, telling her he'd check up on her before dinner. He'd told her she had a fever.

At first he had simply brushed it all off as the effects of what they had been drinking the previous night. But, when he had taken her temperature, he had realized it was more than that.

So Eleanor had been forced to confess her late night shower and she had been sent to sleep. To her it seemed like such a ridiculous solution, but she had to admit she did feel a lot better lying down. And despite her pressing head-ache, she had drifted off to sleep a couple of times.

She felt extremely bored doing nothing, trying to pretend she was asleep and ignoring the pair of Med-jacks pacing around the room, organizing supplies.

She hadn't been able to sleep for a while and she couldn't stand just lying there doing nothing.

Plus, she really wanted to go for a run. Her daily runs had become the high-light of her day, which was kind of sad if she thought about it. She groaned inwardly and was determined tell Jeff or Clint or whoever was closer that she wasn't going to stay there any longer.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of the door was heard, making her sigh once again.

Maybe she could have convinced the younger boys but, if you threw another glader into the mix, she doubted she could get away with it.

"How is she doing?"

She heard someone ask. She knew that accent. What was Newt doing there?

She closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to stay still and pretend she was asleep. She heard the door again and someone walking out.

"She's resting."

She heard Jeff answer, so that meant Clint was the one who had left.

If she hadn't had her eyes closed, she would have rolled her eyes. She was fine. She just wanted to leave.

"But she'll be fine, right?"

The concern on his voice surprised Eleanor. It wasn't like he never showed concern, but it was a lot less obvious. It seemed like he wasn't trying to hide it. The only time she had heard him sound like that was when she had fainted on her very first day. It surprised her that she was the reason behind it.

Jeff laughed.

"Nothing food and water can't fix." He spoke, "She'll be perfect in a couple of days."

A couple of days?

She couldn't handle being there for an hour more, let alone two days.

She heard Newt sigh in relief.

Her whole body felt tense and she forced herself to relax it, otherwise she would blow up her cover.

"Zart said he had to practically beg her to come here." said Newt.

"Yeah?" Jeff was still moving around, organizing.

"She doesn't seem to have any bloody self care." He said. Eleanor's stomach clenched. "I'm worried one day she's going to do something crazy."

So that was what it was. He was worried something she did would get out of hand and he'd have to clean up her mess.

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions but it made sense.

She couldn't blame him for thinking that. She wasn't even sure why she did half the things she did. It seemed like she enjoyed torturing herself. She knew it probably wasn't advisable, her way of handling things, but she wasn't hurting anybody. She wished they would just get off her case.

"Cut her some slack." Jeff said, "Can you imagine what it would be like being the only boy with a bunch of shucking girls?"

Eleanor almost smiled. Exactly. She could've kissed Jeff right then.

"I know," He replied, "Are all girls that complicated?"

Jeff laughed, "How would I know?"

She heard Newt chuckle, "Right..."

Eleanor was getting sore from all the not moving, and she had started feeling a bit guilty from eavesdropping on their conversation, even if they were in fact talking about her.

She heard the door swung open and someone walking in.

What is this, a freaking museum? Eleanor thought.

"Jeff," Said the new comer, it sounded like Clint, "Can you help me out here? Ben sprained his ankle again?"

Eleanor would have laughed. Of course he had. Ben seemed to enjoy twisting his ankle at every chance he got. Minho would be so pissed he couldn't run, again. Eleanor looked forward to teasing them both to no end. But then, she remembered that Minho was probably mad at her and her face fell.

She heard them go out the door and close it. She could have jumped from joy.

Alone at last.

She turned around, finally, her muscles aching, to check that they were gone. She immediately regretted doing so.

Newt was still there.

He stood next to the door. His eyes moved to hers as she turned around.

She almost shut her eyes again, but she knew he had seen her. She couldn't pretend to be asleep. However, she wasn't about to admit she had been awake the whole time.

"Newt?" She asked, innocently.

The raspiness on her voice giving her an I-just-woke-up sound.

"Oh. Hey, Eleanor." He said, a nervous tone in his voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Umm,"

She still felt quite bad, though the resting had actually eased her pain a bit and she no longer felt as cold.

"I'm fine." She lied.

"Why are you lying?"

That took her by surprise and she was sure it showed in her face. She didn't think it was that obvious.

His tone wasn't angry but he sounded slightly annoyed.

"I'm not." It scaped her, suddenly defensive.

He gave her that look that read 'Seriously?'. But he didn't seemed fazed. He seemed to be expecting her to lie.

"You look like klunk." He said.

"Hey!" She was offended. "Well, you look like a griever's ass."

She knew she sounded like a child and hated herself for it.

A faint smile crossed his face, but he seemed to remember he had to be serious and repressed it.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, "We just want to help Eleanor. If you don't trust us, we can't help you"

So it was a 'we' now. 'They' wanted to help her.

Of course, how could she had thought he had been worried. It was all about the balance of the Glade. It was all about order, as always.

Somehow that annoyed her. She hated that mentality.

Well, she didn't hate it. She just didn't understand it. She wasn't part of their group and she was annoyed that she had thought Newt could simply care about her, when he didn't.

"I don't need help."

"Would you bloody stop that?" Newt said. He had raised his voice which was very rare coming from him.

"Stop what?" She raised her voice as well, out of reflex.

"Stop lying." He replied, "Why are you lying? Why-?"

He stopped. Silence followed. And then, realizing how loud he had spoken, he dropped his tone.

"What are you afraid of?"

Eleanor locked eyes with him, wondering where that question had come from.

It was true. She was afraid, constantly. But she had been so careful not to show it. She thought she had done a good job, but apparently she was wrong.

"I'm not afraid." She said, but she knew she didn't sound convincing.

She felt tired, and her head had started hurting even more under his gaze.

She noted she wasn't cold anymore, but that had probably nothing to do with the argument and more to do with Newt himself. She always wondered how he could irradiate so much warmth. It wasn't like they were standing close to each other.

She didn't have the energy to fight him and she was getting tired of it.

"I don't want to be." She whispered.

The room felt silent, she knew he had heard her.

She avoided his gaze, immediately regretting her confession. But, after a few moment in silence, she hoped he would say something.

She looked at him again. His face had changed. He looked a lot sadder, and lot younger.

She sighed, she didn't want his pity.

"I know how you feel." He finally spoke.

Eleanor quietly scoffed. She doubted he did.

He was Newt. He was the second-in-comand. He was more than a keeper, he was the best of the best. She doubted he understood how she was feeling but she didn't contradict him. Who was she to determine how he did or did not feel?

Maybe he did actually understand.

"You do?" She asked him, unsure.

He nodded, "It's like no matter what you do or who you're with there's this pressing feeling in your chest that won't go away."

She didn't take her eyes off of him as she nodded.

Newt sat down on her bed and she moved her legs to give him space.

She couldn't find her words, but she didn't have to.

He spoke again, "And that no matter how surrounded you are, the thoughts are always there. That you don't belong here. How can you shucking relax when you're trapped in a bloody maze? No matter how many twists and turns you take, hoping in the next one you'll see a way out, but there's never one."

His eyes were glazed over. He was staring off in the distance.

His words didn't make a lot of sense to Eleanor and she had a feeling they were no longer talking about her.

He seemed to be caught up and vulnerable. She didn't want to interrupt him, and she didn't have to.

Looking at him like that made her realise that he was just a kid, even if it sometimes didn't feel that way.

She felt bad about herself, but she couldn't imagine how hard it must have been to be there for as long as Newt and some of the other boys had. And to have as much responsibility as he did.

To watch kids die, to hope everyday for a way out that never comes.

But then he turned his head to look at her, and her breath caught up in her throat.

She felt as if his eyes were seeing a lot more into her. She felt something inside of stir.

"You can't give in to those thoughts, Eleanor." He said, "You can't."

The pain in his eyes scared her for a second.

Something must have happened to him. Something that justified that look on his face.

Eleanor's stomach twisted. She almost couldn't bear seeing him that way. But she didn't look away. She didn't know what to say. So, she did as she always did.

"I'm sorry." She said.

She wasn't sure why she felt sorry, but she did.

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. And without warning he shook his head and stood up.

And with nothing but a "Get some rest." He left the room.

Eleanor stared at the door for a while after he was gone, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened.