The rest of the day Eleanor was left to work on her own.

No one bothered her and she was extremely grateful they didn't. Even Zart didn't approach her and he went as far as taking the rakes himself.

Although, it made her feel bad, not following his orders; she couldn't bear going inside that place again. She knew her Keeper probably thought she was an emotional basket case. If she was being honest with herself, she knew she was. But she couldn't help feeling the way she was feeling.

She was sure her expresion was anything but approachable.

Anger, sadness, despair and everything else that came with a gut-wrenching feeling, was pulsating through her mind; blurring her thoughts together and making it hard to focus. She was more than certain it showed on her face, hence why no Track-hoe dared to go within five meters of her.

However, that didn't mean they didn't stare at her. She could feel the looks boring into her skin, conjuring up nerves and jumpiness inside of Eleanor.

After crossing looks with Zart's scrutinizing stare and Newt's concerned eyes that were observing her every move for the seventh time, She turned around, working on the other direction. Hoping, that way, that she could block out the world around her.

But even then, she could feel their gazes prickling on the back of her neck.

She started working more instensely, knife cutting through the plants, stronger, faster.

She focused her mind on the simple action, willing for the world around her to disappear.

She had actually had a conversation with him.

Cut. Her arm swinged, blade cutting through stems.

Well... If you could call it a conversation.

Cut.

Why had she backed down?

Cut.

Why hadn't she pressed him further?

Cut.

Why did she have to be so shucking emotional?

Cut.

He didn't deserve her tears.

Cut.

He hadn't given her any answers.

Cut.

Only more questions.

Cut.

More.

Cut.

Goddamn.

Cut.

Questions!

She gasped, as steel cut through something that wasn't a plant.

Blood started flowing, creating red patterns on her skin. She watched red drops painting the green. The leaves tinted with new dots of scarlett blood.

She gazed at the deep cut on the palm of her hand and quickly diverted her gaze.

Her stomach turned and a strange warmth started conquering her chest. The world swayed around her, her sight blurry, her dizzy thoughts entirely populated by red.

She closed her eyes trying to steady her breathing.

She knew she didn't like blood. She had found out that much as she had tried out to be a Med-jack. But her dizziness watching Jack's wound was nothing compared to what she was feeling then.

She knew she would be sick if she glimpsed her blood again. So, she kept her eyes closed, willing for her nausea to die down.

She cursed herself.

Why was it that she always let her emotions get the better of her?

She should've been paying more attention, actually focus on her job for once instead of always suffering and pitying herself. She had to learn how to control it. Somehow.

Her thoughts soon drifted away. The stinging in her hand demanding all her attention.

She kept breathing calmly.

Maybe it was the dizziness, but she actually felt a lot calmer. Her thoughts had died down, no longer screaming at her in an attempt to be heard over the rest.

For a short while, all she felt was physical pain and it felt oddly refreshing. She almost felt good, if it weren't for the sick feeling in her stomach.

She felt a soft pressure on her shoulders making her lids snap open.

She turned her head, her eyes locking with the dark walnut orbs whose visible concern could only belong to Newt.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her. Their proximity made her notice the creases in his forehead.

"Are you alright?" His accent mixed with her dizzy mind.

She made the mistake of staring down at her hand. Red still flowed down her palm lines.

Her gut clenched once again, rejecting the sight.

Her eyes moved upwards. She cursed her luck as she observed the blonde boy staring down at her bleeding hand.

His alarmed gaze snapped to hers, making her flinch.

"Bloody hell, Eleanor." He said, "You're bleeding!"

She bit her lip, teeth grazing her skin, hoping she wouldn't be sick right there.

Watching the glaced look in her eyes, he could probably tell what she was going through. He took her by her upper arms, helping her up.

"Here." He said as he started leading her away.

She didn't bother with putting up a fight, knowing it was a lost battle.

She knew she needed to get it cured, even though the thought of someone coming remotely close to her exposed wound made her anxious. She frowned slightly, thinking her reaction strange. She didn't know any other Glader that got so affected by blood. It made her feel embarrassed and ridiculous.

She barely even registered that they made their way across the Glade. All around eyes followed their path, as they neared the Med-jack hut. She was constantly aware of Newt's soft touch on her shoulder blade, everything else was blurred in the background.

"Hold on, we're almost there." He said into her ear.

She knew the door had opened when she heard it bang against the wall.

She fixated her gaze ahead as the world swinged around her and she was sat on a hard surface. Her eyes focused and unfocused on Jeff's face as she felt cold fingers on her hand.

Eleanor was certain then that she would be sick.

She toned down their conversation and forced herself to look away, her gaze settling onto the person who brought her there.

She willed herself to steady her breathing, trying to control her body.

As she felt Jeff work on her hand she kept her stare focused on Newt's. Said boy never left her side, with the concerned expression she had learnt to recognize still engraved on his face.

"Alright, you're all set." Jeff said, standing up. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." She said, and it wasn't a lie. "Thanks, Jeff."

The dizziness had faded almost completely and she only felt a small pang of instability on the pit of her stomach. She shot him the most genuine smile she could muster at that moment.

He nodded at her.

"Well, a couple of things." He said. "You can work tomorrow, but make sure not to make it worse. Also, try not to use you hand at all."

She nodded and sighed in relief, thankful she didn't have to spend another day off duty. After having been sick for three days, the last thing she needed was more free time.

Newt eyed her warily as they exited the hut.

She expected him to leave, but he didn't.

She was unsure of what to do, with the second in command watching her. She wished he would leave her be so she could maybe go for a run.

The rest of the gladers were finishing up their tasks and she knew it was around the time when she usually went to the woods. She hadn't been able to exercise for days and her body was, weridly enough, craving the strange burn it brought her.

"Try not to do too much activity today, alright?" Newt's voice dragged her out of her inner thoughts.

He hadn't stopped staring at her and she got the feeling he could see right through her.

She didn't like it.

She almost felt annoyed at him but she forced herself not to be. It wasn't Newt's fault she had cut her hand open and couldn't run because of her own stupidity.

She scoffed at him.

"What do you suppose I do, then? I won't sit still for hours, specially now that I've been released from prision." She tried to keep her tone neutral, but still managed to come across slightly annoyed.

"You're such a drama queen." He said, laughing lightly. "You were sick, Eleanor. You were resting, not imprisioned. You need to start taking care of yourself."

"Oh. C'mon, Newt." She replied, rolling her eyes. "The slicers cut themselves up worse and you don't tell them to take it easy."

She gazed at him, eyebrows shot up, and for the first time, he diverted his stare.

He started walking.

She followed, curious as to what his response would be.

"It's different."

"How is it different?" Eleanor asked.

"I just don't want you to make it worse. That's all." He said stopping and turning to gaze down at her once again.

He stood, considerably taller than her, staring.

Eleanor thought that a month ago she would have been intimidated by his presence, but then, she was almost comforted.

She didn't understand why he worried, why he cared. And, althought it still made her nervous, she had started to grow accustomed to said nervousness.

She smiled up at him, hoping to come across as challenging.

"What do you suggest I do then, oh mighty Second in Command?"

The blonde boy laughed but didn't seem faced by her sarcasm. He looked around at her question, his eyes stopping somewhere after a few seconds.

"Come with me, love." He said. His accent all the more noticeable.

He started walking away, leaving her to follow. Her eyes widened slightly, processing his thoughts.

She almost gasped.

"Did you just call me love?"

"So you, Alby, Gally, Minho and Frypan were the first ones here?" Eleanor said making Newt look at her.

Their feet dangled on the edge as they watched the night come to life below them.

It was almost dinner time and most of the colours had already drained from the sky.

Despite the sun being gone, a red glimmer still reigned where they sat, lighting Newt's hair on fire; red mixing with gold.

She wondered why she hadn't decided to come up that racked tree house sooner. She hadn't thought it could hold any more weight than its own. Also, she didn't know much about her life before the Glade but she didn't think she liked heights very much. But there she was, several feet above the ground.

Newt didn't seem to enjoy heights either, and despite all that, there they were.

She thought perhaps he believed the best way to tell her their story was where they could see most of their home; at least, as much of the story as he remembered. S

he couldn't recall how they had reached that topic but she didn't mind it one bit.

"Well, yeah." He said, answering her question. "And a bunch of others."

He sat, propped up on his hands; his feet swaying over the edge, back and forth. It wasn't a nervous gesture. She knew Newt rarely got nervous. It was more of a monotone action, comforting.

"What happened to them?" She asked but she could soon tell it was the wrong question to ask. So she spoke again. "Sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Things weren't always as they are now." He said.

He didn't sound too emotional. She guessed he had told that same story several times and it no longer affected him as much.

"It took a long time to establish order."

"How did you do it?" She asked, her eyes searching for his face, trying to decipher the enigma that was the boy sitting next to her.

She mimicked his posture as she waited for his answer, leaning back onto her good hand. Her bandaged palm rested carefully on her lap.

"It wasn't easy. Nick did so much." Newt replied. And before she could ask any further, he added, "He was the leader before Alby."

"Oh..." It escaped her.

She wasn't sure how to react to that. She knew something bad had probably happened to 'Nick'. She didn't dare ask. It was certainly a subject neither of them wanted to get into.

So she settled for the only thing that seemed appropriate to retort. "I'm sorry."

His eyes flew to hers, lips curving vaguely into a faint smile that lasted long enough for her to know he appreciated it. His eyes moved away then, but hers stayed glued on him.

"How could you handle it?" She asked.

Her voice sounded small and she hoped he had heard her because she didn't feel brave enough to ask again.

It took him a while to answer.

"I didn't... not always." He answered. He seemed to understand where her thoughts had drifted without her having to elaborate any further.

"At first it was chaotic." He added. "But we had hope, hope that we would get out. But as time passed it became harder. I mean, we were finally organized but we also realized we would be here for longer than we thought."

His gaze stayed fixated ahead and without having to look, she knew he was staring at the Maze walls.

They were silent for a while. Eleanor listened to the sounds of the Glade as she watched the boys milling around, getting ready for dinner.

When she thought he had moved on from her question, he spoke again.

"That was almost three bloody years ago."

His voice sounded sad but he managed to hide it well enough.

Neither of them said anything as they continued watching the world below them.

Eleanor couldn't even begin to imagine how it must've been like for the orginial group of Gladers; being trapped in there for so long, watching death come an take away their friends.

She wished with all her heart she wouldn't experience what that was like. But she knew she might. This was her reality.

She tried not to dwell on it for long, knowing it didn't do her any good.

Eleanor stayed silent, aware that Newt wouldn't apreciate her pity.

After a while, she willed herself to pluck up the courage to ask the question running through her mind.

"Do you still have hope? Even after all this time?" She spoke, consciously avoiding his gaze, scared of what his answer might be.

"I do." She heard him said. She could feel his eyes on her. "Without hope, we're nothing."

She turned to look at him.

She didn't know why, but that was not the answer she had been expecting.

Maybe he was lying to her and, if that was the case, she was glad. She desperately needed to hear there was a way out of there. If Newt believed so, she might make herself able to do it too.

She kept her eyes on him, trying to imagine what it must be like inside his head.

It was a tough thing to do. She had never been able to understand him, not fully. He was constantly surprising her.

She observed as his eyes moved around, watching the gladers walk about, talking and laughing.

"You really care about them, huh?" She asked, trying to change the conversation.

She watched as his eyes didn't shift from his friends down on the ground.

"They're all I have." He said. "They might be a bunch of Klunk-heads, but they're family."

Eleanor couldn't hide her smile as she watched the glint in his eye.

She knew he was being truthful and it warmed up her heart.

Eleanor wished she could be more like Newt, more like the kind boy who took care of them all; and even after all they had been through, his good heart prevailed.

"They're lucky to have you." She said, trying to sound as honest as possible hoping he wouldn't think she was joking.

However, she wasn't surprised when he snorted.

"You know." He said, not really paying mind to what she had said. "You're family too, whether you like it or not."

From the way he stared at her she could tell he wasn't lying.

She looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Maybe they were family, but it sure didn't feel that way for her.

She smirked at him, trying not to seem unapreciative. But the intimate look in his eye made her nervous and she was sure she didn't want to go down that path.

"Not." She mocked, making him laugh.

Her stomach grumbled loudly as she waited for two particular Runners to exit the Map room.

She had grown tired of pacing and had sat on the grass, leaning against a large tree stump, playing with the hem of her slightly bloodied shirt.

She felt dirty but she just told herself she would clean it in the morning. She was too hungry to do it then and was starting to think she might just head out to the kitchens without them.

It wasn't like they had been inside the room for a long time. She just really wanted to eat something.

After the scene in the Tool-shed she hadn't really been able to choke down more than three spoonfuls of mashed potatoes for lunch. But her stomach had finally settled, mostly thanks to her time with Newt; though, she would never admit that outloud; and she felt ready to eat whatever crossed her way.

If only those stupid Runners would come out already and join her.

At first, she had thought about avoiding the Runners completely and having dinner on her own as she was used to doing. However, even though it made her feel uneasy, she was forcing herself to stop being childish and face her friend.

She dreaded seeing Minho. After her dream that morning she had found herself thinking about the Runner at random moments as she was working.

Of course, being trapped with Gally and injuring herself had easily taken her mind off such trivial teenage thoughts.

But, she knew she had to see the Keeper of the Runners sooner or later. She valued their friendship too much to avoid him because of some stupidly wonderful imaginary kiss that she wished she could just erase completely from her mind.

She was determined to not let herself feel differently towards her friend. So, she had decided to come looking for Minho and Ben. She also knew Ben had started running again that day after he had injured his ankle and she wanted to know how he was doing.

However, that didn't mean she didn't feel incredibly nervous and embarrased, and it didn't stop her mind from visualizing the pathetic imaginary outcome in which Minho would just find out about her dream simply by the look on her face.

To say she was a tiny bit paranoid was an understatement.

Finally, the metal door opened and the last two runners exited the room looking tired. Minho was laughing loudly at something Ben had said, but she could still notice the look his eyes adopted after a long day running.

Eleanor willed herself not to blush upon seeing him. She had promised herself she wouldn't act like a stupid teenager. Although, she was positive she did not succeed.

They closed the door behind them like they always did so she could never see the inside of the room, which usually made her roll her eyes.

They only noticed her presence when she stood up from her sitting spot, making herself visible. The faint light that came from the torches of the Glade barely illuminated the three of them.

She had been stiting out there long enough for her eyes to get accustomed to the lack of light. The Runners on the other hand... She could see it took them a few seconds to realize who she was.

"Hey, Eleanor." Said Ben.

Then they shared a look.

Eleanor frowned.

When smiles slowly grew on their faces she thought she didn't like the michievous glint that took over their eyes.

They slowly turned back to stare at her and took a small step towards her.

"Guys..." She started, panicking slightly.

She didn't trust the look on their faces, not one bit.

Before she barely had time to take a step backwards, they were on her, tackling her to the ground, two different arms grabbing her by the waist.

She could do nothing but close her eyes, bracing herself for the fall, as she let herself fall on the ground; knowing if she had tried to fight it it would have been worse. At least, she had remembered to keep her wounded hand up, knowing Jeff would probably kill her if she had to pay him another visit.

The blow on her back wasn't as strong as she had expected it to be and she realised they had been a lot gentler than she thought they would.

The gasp that escaped her lips was a mixture of shock and laughter.

They laughed, watching the expresion on her face and rolled off on their backs, releasing her from their hold.

"Ugh." She groaned in protest. She proceeded to smack both boys as they laughed at her expense, "I hate you."

That only made them laugh harder.

She scoffed and sat up, rolling her eyes. She couldn't stop a small smile from overtaking her lips. She quickly supressed it.

Blood flooded her cheeks once again as she felt Minho's leg against hers.

She shiftly stood up, making use of her good hand, and stared at both boys sitting on the ground, waiting for her reaction.

She shook her head at their raised eyebrows and chuckled.

Eleanor extended her hand towards Ben because she really didn't feel ready to touch Minho just yet.

The blonde runner stared at her hand confused, as if no one had ever offered him help standing up before.

When he didn't take her hand, she scoffed again.

"C'mon." She said, "I'm hungry!"

Minho laughed and stood up himself. Ben finally took her hand and she pulled him up, mentally thanking him for making most of the effort because she wouldn't have been able to pull him up herself with only one hand.

She stared at them both and shook her head at them once again.

"Next time, I'm not waiting for any of you."

"Oh, come on El." Minho said, drapping his arm around her shoulder as they started walking towards the clearing.

She tried to supress the nervous feeling in her stomach.

"You know you love us."

She rolled her eyes which caught Ben's eye, making him wink exaggeratedly at her.

She couldn't help but laugh.

As they reached the open space, the kitchens coming into view, she grabbed Minho's hand and took his arm off her shoulder, ducking her head.

She watched as he set his face in a fake hurt expression that unwillingly made her stomach turn. But soon enough, his smirk was back at full force.

"Don't tackle me again," She threatened. When she watched their amused faces, she added. "Don't forget I know where you sleep."

She tried her best not to laugh at the slightly panicked look on both their faces, but she wasn't strong enought to cover her faint smirk.

With that, she walked ahead of them, eager to finally have something to eat.