Author's note ~ I hope you enjoy.

Newt threw one last worried glance at the forest over his shoulder, looking back the way that the man had gone. Then, shaking himself, he trudged off to meet up with the rest of the guys and do his duty.

At dinnertime in the Glade there was still no sign of Adrian. After spending all afternoon sorting through boxes of supplies, debating with Alby over what should go where, checking old stocks and rotating the new to the back, Newt was feeling more than a little drained. He wasn't particularly fond of spending his time folding clothes and coiling rope, arranging barrels and stacking crates, but either Alby or Newt were always present when the supplies were tucked away; the sloppers were usually charged with the task, but God knew they could hardly find their asses with their own two hands. Without the supervision of at least one of the more responsible boys, the precious supplies would more likely as not end up either tossed in the corner of the Homestead in a rough jumble, get spilled all over the place, or end up going mysteriously "missing".

Newt joined the queue by the cook hut, unease growing in his guts as he scanned the area and caught no sight of the man. Shaking his head slightly, he received his portion of dinner and hurriedly ate it standing up, anxiety growing by the minute. He'd tried to keep Adrian and his utter desolation out of his mind while he worked but had only half succeeded; he had been rather short with the sloppers, barking orders and speaking sharply to those who dallied in an uncharacteristic way. It was apparently bad enough that Alby had asked him what crawled up his ass, causing him to all but snarl at his best friend and leaving him even more irritated and agitated.

Hastily swallowing his last bite, Newt went back to Frypan to get a portion to take to Adrian. Once Frypan had filled the bowl, he pulled a long white cardboard box from beneath the rough table his pot was resting on and offered it to the blonde boy.

"This was in my supplies, no idea what the hell it is. Nothing I can cook, anyway."

Newt accepted the box, tucking it under his arm and picking up the bowl of steaming food. "Ta Frypan."

The cook nodded acknowledgement, turning back to his pot, and the line up of boys looking for second helpings. Newt carefully carried the bowl in front of him, making his way slowly to the woods, and through the trees towards where he had last seen the greenie. He wasn't particularly surprised to find the man right where he'd left him; sitting hunched over with his back to the large old tree. Wordlessly, Newt made his way over to the man, silently turning and leaning against the tree, sliding down until he was sitting on Adrian's left side.

"Adrian?"

Silence, no response. His head was buried in his arms, his knees drawn up to his chest. Newt's anxiety bubbled higher. He tried to force a little cheer into his voice.

"Brought you dinner, greenie."

Still no response. Patience, Newt chanted in his head, patience. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a newbie have a bit of a breakdown, it probably wouldn't be the last. Patience. He set the bowl beside the man, reclining slightly against the tree, making himself comfortable, watching Adrian from the corner of his eyes.

"Well, it's there when you want it. It's a nice night, for what it's worth; I think I'll just sit here with you for a bit."

While he still didn't move, Adrian finally responded. His voice was hoarse, scratchy, and utterly deadpan.

"I'm fine. Just leave me be."

"Never said otherwise," Newt remarked, deliberately casual. "I'm just here to enjoy the quiet, the night air."

"Feel free to do that, anywhere but here."

"Don't think so," Newt said as he slumped even further, stretching and making exaggerated grunts of satisfaction, "I'm comfy here. If you don't like it, you can piss off back to the med-hut; I'm perfectly content to laze here all bloody night."

Adrian grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; something that would have been decidedly scathing had the words actually reached Newt's ears. Not bothering to respond, Newt pondered what step to take next. Suddenly remembering the box under his arm, he offered it to Adrian's still form, tapping it twice against the man's crossed arms.

"Did have a question, dunno if you've got an answer. This came up with the supplies, the kitchen stuff. Any idea what it is?"

Adrian heaved a deep, irritated sigh and raised his head a fraction, eyeing the white cardboard box. He took the box, finally straightening out of his hunch to lean back on the trunk beside Newt, studying the foreign container. Without a word, he popped the tape on one side, taking out one of the smaller packages inside.

"There were two of those boxes sent up. What are they? What are they for?"

By way of answering, Adrian ripped a little flap off the bottom of the box, opening it to reveal a number of flimsy paper matches. Pulling a slender white tube from the package with the ease of experience, he placed it between his lips and, with a quick strike of a match, lit the cigarette. He took a deep drag, holding it for a long moment in his lungs before exhaling a cloud of blue tinged smoke.

"Best guess is they're for me. I doubt any of you kids smoke."

Newt made a face and used his hand to waft the smoke away from him, the sharp and mildly unpleasant odor not at all appealing to him. While Newt watched him, Adrian leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, the glowing cigarette briefly illuminating his face with an eerie red glow as he drew in another lungful of smoke. The boy couldn't help but notice that even though his body was starting to relax, the man's face looked pale, exhausted, and utterly wrung out.

"You gonna tell me what's going on? What that message meant?"

Motionless except for the hand with the cigarette, Adrian wouldn't even open his eyes. "Nothing to tell. Personal message, personal issue. Won't affect you guys."

"But it did affect you. Gladers stick together," Newt said softly, taking a chance and laying a tentative hand on Adrian's shoulder. "Whether you're one of us or not, you're here now. We can help you. Let me help you." He didn't know why he felt so strongly about helping the shank, but remembering the devastation on the man's face, he just couldn't refuse the pressing need to reach out.

Adrian laid his hand over Newts briefly, giving it a quick, grateful squeeze, as he huffed out a miserable, defeated sigh, grinding the cigarette out beside him with quick jerky motions. "You can't help with this, kid. Nothing you can do. 'Preciate the offer, though."

"How do you know I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong?"

"Because there's nothing anyone can do. We're trapped, stuck in here, and everyone I...forget it." Adrian snapped. "There's no point in thinking about it."

"You have someone...out there?" Newt all but whispered, eyes wide at the idea.

"I did." Adrian turned to Newt, a bitter parody of a smile on his face. "It must be so much easier for you guys, memories wiped before you're sent up. No old ghosts to haunt you."

"I'd give anything to be able to fucking remember!" Newt growled, angrily.

Adrian just tilted his head back against the tree, closing his eyes, misery painted across his face. His words came out in a broken whisper.

"I'd give anything to forget."

Neither spoke for a long time after those painful words. The light grew dimmer, the first stars beginning to wink on above them, and still neither broke the silence. Each lost in their own thoughts, sitting with barely a foot of space between them, they might as well have been a thousand miles apart. The strain of the past few days combined with a couple restless nights had Newt drooping against the bark, struggling to stay awake. Even fighting as hard as he could, the boy dropped like a stone before the sky could transition to full darkness, his body leaning drunkenly and his head lolling to one side.

Truly alone now, Adrian pulled the small device from the envelope out of his pocket. Plugging the headphones into the jack, he shoved one of the ear buds in his right ear, rubbing the familiar on switch with his thumb. He knew this device; it had been with him, all but a part of him for so long. He remembered finding it during a research run to a derelict library in the far north, so many years ago. He recalled his puzzlement at the strange little box, smiling a little as he thought about his excitement, the thrill when one of the tech nerds back home had managed to jury rig the ancient technology to run on modern battery caps. And his complete disbelief and joy at hearing the music flow through the headphones and into his ears, his head, his heart. He'd searched fanatically for years afterwards, rounding up every broken old computer he could find, hauling them all home. With no little help from the more tech-savvy members of the community, he'd amassed an enormous and diverse collection of music; he'd rarely gone anywhere without his faithful little player.

Knowing full well the limitations of the little machine, he flicked it on, wondering which section of his musical library was currently loaded into its memory. Okay, old friend, he thought, what comfort can you give me tonight?

A deceptively simplistic thrumming piano melded with the sharper tones of a violin filled his head; an ironic smile crossed his face in the dark.

Hold your Grandma's Bible to your breast

Gonna put it to the test

You wanted it to be blessed

And in your heart, you know it to be true

You know what you've gotta do

They all depend on you

And you already know

Yes, you already know

How this will end

How incredibly fitting, he thought with just a whiff of bitterness. I do indeed know how this ends.

Small snuffling noises to his left saved him from further thoughts into the irony of that particular song being the first he'd hear up here in the Glade. Looking over at his dogged and persistent 'companion', there was just enough light left to make out the blonde boy's face. For all that he appeared to be deeply asleep, his brow was furrowed, his muscles tense, his breath quick and shallow. He'd somehow shifted until there was barely an inch between them. Bad dream, Adrian shrugged and thought to himself, it'll pass. Then Newt whimpered in his sleep, and Adrian ran his hand through his hair, irritated with his soft heart, the shitty circumstances, and the world in general. Fighting not to mutter under his breath, he shifted and gently laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, speaking in a low, soothing voice.

"It's okay, kid. It's alright, Newt. It's just a dream."

With no warning, Newt reacted to Adrian's gentle touch and soft words by twisting his body and latching onto the man; his head burrowed into his shoulder and his hand found a death-grip on the front of Adrian's tshirt. Face hidden, Newt muttered something unintelligible into the man's skin, snuggling in for what was, by all appearances, the long haul. Adrian sat, frozen, his left arm sticking straight out to the side and trapped against the tree by Newt's body. He raised his right hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off an impending headache.

Really? Prickly bastard when he's awake, clingy when he's out? Do I look like a fuckin' teddy bear?

Resigned, he brought his left arm up and looped it around the boy's waist, managing to ever so slightly reposition him so that they were both in a more comfortable position. The sleeping blonde was out hard, and didn't protest to the movement. He just tightened his grip on the shirt and inched even closer to the man. Determined to just relax and enjoy his music, Adrian was just about to close his own eyes when he caught the faintest flicker of candle light, heard the mostly muffled footsteps on soft moss. Trying not to groan out loud in frustration, Adrian paused the player and watched the glade med-jack hesitantly make his way towards them. When he was about six feet away, he held up his free hand, stopping the boy. Jeff's eyebrows quirked upwards at the unusual visual before him.

"I appreciate you checking on me, " Adrian whispered, just loud enough to be heard, but not enough to wake the sleeper, "But I'm fine. Your cuddly buddy here came to check on me, then somehow managed to fall asleep on me. The shank's got a grip like iron, so I won't be going anywhere at the moment. I'll see you back at the med-hut in the morning."

"You sure?" Jeff whispered back. "It's gotta to be uncomfortable as hell, leaning on that tree; you probably won't be getting any sleep, propped up like that. He's out now, but we could wake him, drag him back and dump him in his own bunk, so you can both get some sleep."

"Thanks. Honestly, thanks, but I seriously doubt I'll be getting any sleep tonight, Jeff, regardless of where I am." Adrian smiled wanly, then pointed to Newt with his eyes. "And he's totally conked out. He's been looking a bit ragged himself, so I might as well just leave him, let him get some rest. Least I can do, after he's been babysitting me the last few days. Head to bed, Jeff. We've got a full day ahead of us tomorrow. "

Jeff nodded, an though he still looked unconvinced, he turned and left without protesting. The med-jack cast one quick glance back at the clearing before the brush swallowed him, and caught a sassy little two finger salute from Adrian. Grinning, he returned the gesture before slipping off into the woods, and disappearing from sight.

Sighing in relief at finally, finally being alone again, Adrian hit the resume button on his player, letting the familiar tones, words, feeling flow into him. Eyes closed against the dark, the cathartic tones of well loved songs filled his head. The boy at his side anchored him in place, his heart beating strongly against the man's in a soothing way. Giving himself over to the moment, Adrian emptied his head as best he could and tried to find a bit of peace.

Author's note~ Music is a big part of my life, it'll also play a significant role in Adrian's life in the glade. The song in this chapter is Devotchka's "How it Ends".

~Ruby