The next day was quiet. A Greenie day. Normal. Average. She'd done this so many times she'd lost count. Slowly, it became more difficult to get to know each person individually. Once, last month, she'd been speaking to a Newbie and had utterly forgotten the poor boy's name. It had been insufferably awkward, and she'd been rescued by Saph, who had a knack for handling situations like that. Sometimes she felt guilty for the way she treated the Keeper. Any work Hedy couldn't do, or didn't want to, or thought prudent to avoid, she handed to Newt. He did the same to Saph. Saph always handled it, and it usually had something to do with Newbies. She often assured Hedy that she never minded, that it wasn't a bother, but Hedy sometimes mused that Saph would have been a far better Leader.

Hedy and Newt waited patiently for the elevator to finish its ascent, listening to the tiresome, excited chattering of the others. It had been a long week. It had been a long life, and they were all tired. They were nearly three years full of life and experience and memories, and they felt three hundred. Minho was out again, despite the scare from yesterday. She'd disapproved, and told him so, and he'd merely rolled his eyes and ignored her, as he was wont to do.

Stepping down, Hedy forced a small smile. "Hi there," she said gently. "Are you alright?"

Hidden in shadows, a new girl exhaled before stepping into the light that streamed into the Box, her features alight. "Yes," she answered, bold in a way nobody coming up alone from the Box had ever been.

"Buggin' hell," Newt breathed in appreciation as the new girl stepped up to grab Hedy's hand, as beautiful, or even moreso than Laverne, and in an utterly different way. While Laverne was dark and athletic, the image of health and strength and sunshine, "molten gold" Saph called her, in one of her bouts of poetry, this girl was a living picture of a storybook princess. A fleeting name came to her, but no associated memories, no plot, no story times of yore. Snow White. This girl's complexion was snowy and perfect, unblemished by the sun or acne or even slightly imperfect features. She was slender and soft, with miles of black hair that was in stark contrast to the purity of her skin. Even Hedy, usually unbothered by such trivial things, was silenced momentarily, awed by such physical glory. It was a privilege to see her, to occupy space with her. Her beauty was entirely the gift of genetics.

The gazed around shyly with intensely blue eyes, framed by curly lashes . Hedy saw Gally walk away, hurriedly, silent, in strange opposition to his usual heckling with Jeff and Rosie. Nobody else seemed to notice.

"Welcome to the Glade," Hedy said, finally coming back to herself. "This probably seems overwhelming."

In response, the girl uncurled her hand. Even her fingers were delicate and perfect, the nails filed and neat, a testament to good health. A note rested in her palm and Hedy, unable to control herself, snatched it from the girl's hand, hungry for a clue, a key. Newt stood over her shoulder and read it aloud for the rest of the Gladers.

"She's the last one… ever."

Meg broke through the silence. "Uh... What does that mean?"

"Yeah, that's pretty ominous," Tim frowned.

"Well, in a good way or a bad way?" Rosie shouted from the back of the burgeoning crowd. People were chattering loudly, the Greenie forgotten, all focus on the note and its meaning and implications.

"A girl… and then a girl?" Hedy whispered at Newt. "The pattern has changed."

Nobody noticed Gally walking away, a strange expression on his face.

Saph stepped forward. "Howdy darlin'," she grinned engagingly. "M' name's Saph. Nice to meetcha. You remember a name, honey?"

Ignoring Saph and staring piercingly around the Glade, the girl dropped like a pile of rocks.

"Oh shit!" Jeff shouted, breaking through the crowd just as all hell broke loose. "Lemme get to her! Clint!"

"We've never seen that before," Hedy looked up into Newt's shadowed eyes. "What does it mean?"

"Nothing good," he said grimly. "Oi! All of you slim it and get out of their way!"

Clint, Jeff, and Eddie, a new Builder, were attempting to carry her to the Med Tent when Minho came tearing out of the Wall, half dragging a sorry-looking Ben. To his credit, he was still half-running, even if he looked like hell.

"He's been stung!" Minho shouted, and Clint and Newt bolted over to him, the beautiful greenie utterly forgotten, left to relax in the grass by the Med-tent as Jeff hurriedly searched for the serum. Ben, to his credit, despite his terrified wheezing, was still standing upright, clinging to Minho and Newt, answering Clint's questions. His face had turned purple and his veins began to stick out from his temple and his forearms, but he managed to stumble to the Med-tent.

"Hedy!" Minho shouted, jogging over to here, staring at her. "You and Newt have got to see this."

She frowned. "We both can't go-"

"Okay, well you have to come! Laverne and Jack will be back any minute, but we have to go out there, I can't explain!"

His frantic explanation made no sense, but she understood the need. It was written in every line of his sweaty, terrified face; something new had happened. Again. And it was important.

x

They jogged around the final turn and it was there, collapsed. "I told you." Minho puffed, slowing down and pulling out his water, offering some to her.

A Griever, stuck in one of the columns that moved at night, trapped. It was disgusting up close, but sort of pathetic. It was definitely genetically engineered, a strange robot meant to terrify with its unnatural deadliness. Now, it just looked odd.

She drank deeply, relishing the cool feeling of the liquid down her throat. It was down the hall, at a dead end. Or what should've been a dead end, if the Wall had been able to shift fully. "I feel like if we get near it, it'll come back to life," she admitted nervously, feeling the paranoia grip her spine.

"I got pretty close to it earlier. I don't think it's a trap." Minho stared it down and checked his watch. They still had over an hour until the Maze would close. It still felt like cutting it close, though, but Hedy needed to see it. They'd need a Gathering.

"Should we?" she asked, feeling her brows knit together. He stepped forward easily and she grabbed his arm, feeling the slickness of his sweat. "Wait. More slowly."

"Feeling chicken?" he teased her, to help him swallow the lump of fear in his throat.

"You need to be more careful," she scolded him, not taking the bait today.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I told you, I got up close to it earlier. I think it's dead. Or drained of juice, or something. Not sure if it's a robot or a cyborg or what."

She released his arm reluctantly and stepped forward. The two walked slowly. Even if he wasn't going to admit it, she felt his fear as clearly as she felt her own. This was a Griever, dead or not, and when it came down to it, this was a creature that had killed before, that was capable of unimaginable power and cruelty. With every step, the detached fascination disappeared, replaced by anxiety.

It did not twitch as they neared, and when they were three feet from one of its legs, Hedy felt more at ease. "I think it really is dead. I wonder what happened?"

A good deal of the moist skin had begun to dry as it sat in the sunlight. Peering more closely at the spider-like appendages, Hedy knelt down and saw something flash. As she leaned down to grab it, the silence in the hall was broken by a sudden shrieking of whirring machinery.

There was no dramatic warcry, no heroic sacrifice, no amazing feat of strength. Just Minho panickedly hauling her by the back of her shirt and yanking her back, and in his instinctive reaction, accidentally slamming her head against the wall with a force that blinded her for a long moment as the whirring grew slower and slower until it ceased.

"Holy shit." Minho said, and she looked up at him, his face white, his cheek scraped from where he'd stumbled against the harsh stone and his arm dripping blood from a slice. "Mother shucker didn't even sting us or attack."

Loosely dropping whatever cylinder she grabbed, she clutched her head, hardly noticing its smooth roll from her grip, unable to notice or comprehend anything other than the sheer pain that rang through her skull like a bell. Struggling to sit up with the agony going off in her head, she realized he was right. It hadn't even attacked, really – neither of them had been stung. It had just made a noise and swatted blindly, like a wounded animal in a trap. She felt a wetness trickle down her neck – it wasn't sweat, either. "I think I almost pissed my pants," she admitted shakily, only half kidding. Not from fear; if Minho hadn't been there, perhaps she would've been stung. The pain. Even something as automatic as holding her bladder felt difficult as the pressure grew within her head and her ability to concentrate slipped. She closed her eyes, gently. Even her eyelids touching one another sent a blooming ache through her brain.

"That thing is jacked." Minho shook his head, kneeling and cradling her head between his fingers. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to throw you like that. I just reacted. Earlier, it was wiggling, but I think stinging Ben took all the juice out of it." He was eerily calm for what had just happened. Despite his bravado, Minho was emotional. Even if that emotion was primarily snarkiness and anger, he lacked the same levelheadedness that she tried to embody.

She, however, felt sick to her stomach. "Honestly… I think I'm going to throw up."

She couldn't move, though, and when she did throw up, some of it got into her hair, spilling onto her neck and shoulder, dripping onto his fingers.

"I'll tell Saph she needs to change her breakfast recipes," he tried to joke, but Hedy couldn't concentrate on anything but the pain in her skull. "Crap! Are you okay?"

"It hurts," Hedy answered hollowly, resting her head. The wetness had spread to the entire back of her head, but she wasn't sure if it was the vomit or the blood or the sweat or if she was lying in a puddle of her own piss after all. "Grab the... thing."

Minho swore again and reached for it, tucking it into his knapsack. "This is my entire freaking fault. I never should've—" He put his fingers around her neck, gently feeling for a place to hold and help her sit up. "You're good and shucked up, huh?"

Desperately wanting to assure him that she wasn't mad, that it wasn't his fault, that if she'd found it, she'd have immediately done what he had, Hedy struggled to sit up. She felt like her muscles would never again move of their own volition. They slung about sluggishly, hardly following her command, her bones turned to gelatin and her muscles into water.

When he had her sitting up, he hauled her up by the armpits, sweaty though they were. "You can't run like this."

"How much time do we have left until the walls close?" she leaned heavily against the wall. Even holding her head up felt like too much effort. She threw up again, feeling dizzy, and would've fallen if Minho hadn't held her. She had a vaguely apologetic notion that she'd been dripping vomit on his hands, but couldn't hold the thought.

He checked his watch, awkwardly beneath her armpit. "Forty-five minutes."

How had so much time passed? Just a second ago they'd had an hour. Had she been knocked out cold? Or had they sat here longer than it felt, waiting for her to recover? "I... I won't make it."

"Can you walk?" His face getting red with panic as he calculated their distance. Ever math-minded, able to see things straight and calculate them. Not only was he the best Runner, he was the best artist. His mind was much sharper than hers, especially now. He needed to face the reality of the situation. "I'll carry you."

"You won't make it if you carry me." She didn't mind, really. She'd just fall asleep. If she never woke up, that wouldn't bother her much either. She was already dead. Clearly, she had brain damage. Words were difficult to force out, and she was so tired.

"Don't be a slinthead. You're Leader. You're my friend. Can you get on my back?"

She couldn't shake her head. The pain was too much. "I don't think you understand how much I can't move." Her knees buckled as he attempted to force her into a standing position, and she fell over, collapsing against the wall, bruising her knee with a pain that barely registered.

"We don't have any shucking time for this!" Minho yelled, frustrated. The noise sent tears to her eyes.

"Don't yell." It was embarrassing, but she begged him, whispering to him like an upset child, burying her head against his chest. Even the light hurt to look at.

With that, he adjusted his hold on her, picking her up bridal-style. "Hold on to your panties, slinthead. You're gonna make it."

The up and down thumping of Minho's body as he ran made her dizzy and sick, so she threw up again. There was no place for it to go, though, and she heaved the last little bit of liquid on to her chest, soaking Minho's in the bile.

"I'm sorry!" she wanted to cry out. Never had she felt so embarrassed and helpless in her life. Especially not in front of Minho, who always kept going, who never let anything get to him. He was a survivor to his very core.

He didn't answer, but ran more quickly, the jarring hurting her so desperately that she wondered if her skull was cracked and if her brain would be exposed to the world, rushing out from the crevice like an underground waterfall. His arm was hurt too, she could vaguely recall, and she was probably causing him immense pain. His blood seeped into her pant leg. Or perhaps she had peed herself.

Each turn and motion of his body, she felt. The steady thrum of his heartbeat was quicker than the blood rushing through her ears. He jostled her sometimes, adjusting her, and she gripped his shirt, not caring that she was stretching the material or soaking her fingers in bile. Her fingers were chapped and the acid burned them. But still, Minho ran. She tried to concentrate on checking the time on her watch. Ten minutes. She had no idea where they were, or how close they were.

"Minho, drop me and get back there," she ordered him, her voice small. He was the Keeper of the Runners, one of the most important people in the Glade. His life was above hers right now. She had Newt to take over. But they needed him. What had once been ominous now felt to her like destiny. They had to leave! The Maze was built for a reason, and they needed their best to figure out an escape route.

"Shuck that." he answered easily, as if it would be nothing to give up his entire life for the sake of a girl who was dead anyway. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm dead," she remembered Alice's words. "I'm dead. You gotta go."

His grip on her only tightened, and she felt more tears slip through her swollen eyelids as her throat closed.

There was a cry in the distance – not a cry of a Griever, but a whoop. A cheer "There they are!" It was Saph's voice, tight and shrill with excitement. "Newt! Zora! Laverne! They're here!"

The voices were high pitched and painful, and she pressed her forehead into Minho's chest, trying to rid herself of the pain, trying to burrow into him and block out all of the noise and the light that was suddenly pouring into her eyes.

"It's Leader!"

"Leader's dead?"

"She's been stung!" someone else yelled in a panic. There was a thrum of noise, and Hedy thought it might actually kill her.

Then the doors began creaking shut. The sound, which hadn't bothered her in months, echoed and vibrated in her skull. She was pretty sure she died and had gone to hell, because the suffering seemed to be eternal.

Minho had slowed down considerably. They were safe. Somehow, miraculously, they were safe. He made it. They'd made it. Tears burned her eyes, really burned them as she cried. He'd saved her life. He'd gotten them both back safe, somehow, miraculously, with seconds to spare. They could've run that in minutes, but he'd carried her, as gently and carefully as he dared, wasting precious seconds. He did it for her.

"All right, get out of the buggin' way!" Newt's voice broke through the crowd, loud and filled with authority. Hedy did not open her eyes, but assumed the crowd had split "Minho, get her to the Med-Jacks, now!"

"Let me walk in front of them," she begged him, face still hidden. There was more jogging, and she was outright crying in her relief. They were home. They'd made it. Minho dropped her feet and she hugged him, trying to catch her balance. Her feet felt like the end of a needle, small and impossible to balance on.

Somehow, Newt was keeping up as Minho basically dragged her to the Homestead. "What the bloody hell happened out there?"

"Grievers are really good at playing dead." Minho answered grimly.

"Has she been stung?"

"Not sure." Minho's voice was clipped, and she was being deposited onto a bed, and felt new, cool hands touching her. Clint, she knew instinctively. His hands were always cooler than Jeff's. Jeff sweated a lot. Not the most comforting feeling when you needed him to administer first-aid.

"Okay, Hedy, I'm gonna flash this light in your eyes." Clint said cautiously.

It blinded her, but she made no noise. It hurt so badly that she went a little numb. Besides, Newt and Minho were still there – it wouldn't do to bawl like a baby. She'd already cried in front of Minho. Newt didn't need to see it.

Clint continued to check her, while Minho and Newt spoke, quietly, above the hum of Gladers gossiping outside. She fell asleep, limp body on the medical bed.

"She has a concussion." Clint said. Jeff entered with some supplies, and together, they carefully bound the back of her head, cutting some of her hair to get to the wound. "A bad one, but still, not that big of a deal. Mostly, it's a pain in the klunk hole."

"You next, Min." Jeff had his stitching kit out. Minho blinked, not even realizing he'd been injured. "Arm."

Sticking out his left arm, Jeff shook his head.

"Come on, slinthead. Right arm."

Jeff made quick work of it, and Minho didn't have it in him to tease him about becoming the Glader's personal tailor, since Clint hated doing the tiny stitches. It didn't feel worth the energy right now.

"I'll be back in two hours to wake her up, but other than that, she's fine. Just a heavy duty head smash." Clint clicked his tongue. "I'll bring you some water, Minho."

He left, leaving Minho and Newt alone. Newt was as patient as ever, quietly waiting for the answers. It wasn't that Minho owed him an explanation as much as their mutual concern. Newt knew what went down in there.

"It's my fault, dude." Minho's voice was choked. "She got near it and the thing went psycho. Just started rolling, fast as it could, like a beetle blade. I pulled her out of the way, but it's my fault. I smacked her head against the wall, trying to yank her out of there. It didn't even move, except for one arm."

"You should go get something to eat." Newt said quietly, but Minho only watched the sleeping girl. Even with her head bandaged up and covered in various bodily fluids, she was beautiful. It was stupid. Her face was usually softer in sleep, but now it was sharper, drawn with pain.

He didn't want to see Saph right now. She'd make him feel better, and he didn't feel like he deserved that. At least, not right now. For now, he'd sit with Hedy, and with Newt by proxy. "Nah. I'm not budging until she gets up and reams me out."

That's how he had known it was bad. She hadn't yelled at him for endangering their lives, for grabbing her.

She'd asked him to leave her.

For whatever reason, Hedy had thought she was going to die, and Minho wasn't going to move until she'd been proved wrong. One of his favorite things in the world was Hedy when he'd proved her wrong. The dark complexion would redden a little, her soft lips quirking as she fought laughter, her lashes at half-mast, avoiding his gaze as she bit back whatever she was feeling. He hated when she did that – hid herself away. Maybe it made him feel bigger to see her lose control, or maybe he was genuinely concerned about her emotional well-being, or maybe both.

"It's not your fault, Min." Newt said it quietly. "She's alright."

"She asked me to leave her." Minho looked up at him, eyes pleading for something, whether it be condemnation or praise. "And I almost shucking did. She used her shucking prissy, bossy Leader tone and I almost put her down and left her to die out there."

"You were scared." Newt said in a hard, deep voice, thinking of things he wouldn't share with the other boy. "You weren't thinkin' straight. Can't say I would've done any bloody different out there."

Minho buried his face in his dirty hands, exhaling, and sitting up straight, facing the larger boy. "She was scared too. She was scared when Alice died or when you got hurt or when we Banished Gloria and Stan and when Nick died and yesterday at the Cliff. But she always stepped up to the plate. She makes me feel like a... shucking wimp sometimes."

Newt would never be able to describe what he'd felt all day. He'd been utterly useless to the finally awake Greenie, worrying over the pair of them. While Ben had been screaming from the hallucinations, just a few feet away from the unconscious Newbie, he'd felt himself lose every bit of blood in his body.

Wondering if Ben would die, if they'd gotten to him in time. Wondering about Hedy's well-being, if she was waltzing with Minho into a trap. Then, the sight of Minho, blood leaking from a gash in his forearm, with Hedy in his arms.

Newt had automatically assumed she was dead. He had been silent while Saph whooped and shouted with victory. Minho's face had been impassive as he walked, looking like hell and smelling worse. There were stains all over his shirt and Hedy's hair had been a mess, wet with blood in some places and crusted in others.

First, he'd wanted to kill Minho, to rip him apart for letting her get hurt. The walls had closed mere after they'd made it in, which was far too close for comfort. But up close, the expression on Minho's face, as if he'd carried the world across his shoulders, silenced him.

"She almost died because of me, and then I almost left her."

"But you didn't," Newt contradicted him, against his instinctual anger. "She's not stung, you're alive and well. You did everything you could've done." And that was true. He was being irrational. Really, he was grateful for Minho. But the feeling would not pass until he was able to speak to her again, to listen to her, to look her in the eye.

Rubbing a hand through his dirty hair, Minho looked up. "I feel like a coward slinthead."

Newt was silent, wondering how Minho would feel if he knew the truth about his ankle, how much he suspected. If he wondered why Newt was so hesitant to be a Runner full time. What he would think of him.

Instead of mentioning it, he said: "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. You look as bad as she does."

"I told you, I'm staying put." Minho said stubbornly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to bloody well suck it up," Newt said irritably. "Because I've called a Gathering."

x

Finally, he was able to silence everyone. "This buggin' public Gathering's begun." Newt said tetchily, his expression daring anyone to whisper or interrupt. "I've called this today for two reasons – one, because Hedy's temporarily out of commission, and two, because of the Griever out there. I want Minho here to tell us everything that happened out there today. We've had two Grievers out in daylight in the past week, and that worries the bloody hell out of me."

Minho felt the faces on him – some disgruntled, some worried. He'd taken Newt's advice and washed his face and changed his shirt, but the stitches were still prominent on his arm, which he crossed in front of him.

"As some of you know, me and Hedy went out today to go see a Griever Ben and I found. I thought it was shuckin' dead, after it pooped itself out nearly killing Ben, but live and learn." His voice was heavily sarcastic. "So we took a nice nature walk down there and don't you know it, Hedy touches it and brings it to life like some kind of freaking green thumb. In the process of getting her the hell out of the way, she hit her head and I carried her back. Ben was stung in daylight." Minho crossed his arms. "There's been no change in patterns, no differences within the Maze. I can't tell what's so different."

"What's different? What's different from me and Ben gettin' stung?" Gally demanded. "The accident with Hedy doesn't seem related. It's an accident all its own. We don't need to worry about Ben, except to make sure he gets well."

"Except for the fact that this is two Griever sightings in two days," Rosie piped up, looking around.

"That's so scary," Meg contributed lamely.

Gally's lips tightened and he did not continue, obviously not wanting to say anything else. Blowing out a sigh, Newt rubbed his forehead and his chin, where stubble was coming in, blond and peachy.

"What I'm asking, is do we want to continue to send Runners out?" Newt asked bluntly.

"This isn't a meeting I want to have without Hedy." Minho crossed his arms obstinately.

Agreeing, Saph looked up at Newt apologetically. "She's Leader, and she'll want to be involved in that decision."

"I don't mean bloody permanently. I mean until we get into better shape. We lost Ben for now, Minho, you're injured, whether you buggin' admit it or not, you shuckface, and Hedy's half dead up in there."

"I agree." Everyone looked over to Clint, who rarely spoke in these meetings. "Minho, you were pumped up on adrenaline and couldn't tell, but the two of you looked like klunk. Half the kids here thought she was dead, she looked so jacked up. I'm all for Running – I know what you do is important. But you all need a shuckin' vacation, at least until Ben is back and we can figure out what's going on out there. I don't think you guys should just blatantly endanger yourselves."

"So do we vote?" Tim blinked around. "This was an awfully short meeting. Don't we wanna hear from all the Runners?"

"We agree unanimously," Laverne put in drily. "We're all for not dying. Surprisingly, we're even all for Minho not dying."

"This is a meeting to give these dongs a day off tomorrow." Newt sent a scowl to his friend. "Watching you kill yourself isn't quite at the top of my bloody to-do list. All shanks here for it?"

Saph, who'd remained uncharacteristically silent, only nodded. Meg and Rosie and Cliff agreed, and Gally scowled. It was Gally and Minho against the rest of them, and it was decided. The Keeper of the Runners was going to get a day off, whether he liked it or not.

x

Hedy woke up, a few hours later, and Minho's face was there, floating above her.

"Dude, she's awake!" Minho shouted, his voice yelping in excitement. "You freakin' shank, you're alive! How do you feel, glorious leader?"

"Like shit. Get out of my face."

She wanted to move away from him, but even sitting up felt like an effort that her body wasn't ready for. She shut her eyes again, more tightly this time.

Minho whooped again and the heavy beat of footsteps against wood got closer. "She's awake? How do you feel, Hedy?" Clint looked at her carefully. "Do your stitches feel okay? Do you need any water?

"Like I just had an out-of-body experience," she snapped. "Where's Newt?" Even talking hurt her throat, and she felt thirsty. "I'll take some water, though, thanks, Clint."

He helped her sit up and she drank deeply, but Minho knocked the can from her lips.

"I thought you were shucking dead, Hedy!" Minho yelled. "You shank! You… ugh! I don't even have words! You pissed me off so bad! Don't ask me where Newt is… tell me how you freaking feel?"

Hedy blinked at Minho's attitude, scowling. "As your Leader…"

"I don't know how the hell you carried Newt back. We almost didn't make it with just us." He shook his head. "That was the scariest moment of my life, dude. I thought I freaking killed you."

"Shut up, Min," Jeff broke in. "Hedy, do you remember what happened? I'm only asking 'cause concussions can mess with your memory."

Annoyed, she relented, and recounted the scenario. She did not see Jeff's satisfied nod to Clint.

"'Kay. Well, it doesn't seem to be as bad as we thought. But you have to relax. Gotta let that brain heal. Also, the stitches were kind of awkward to put in, so if you're too reckless and move too much, they might come out."

"You suck," she sighed. "Thanks, guys."

Clint and Jeff left, and she opened her eyes. There were a few painkillers next to her water. Later, she decided. The pain had already subsided quite a bit, though that was probably due to the dimness of the evening.

"Here ya are, gorgeous. Got you a nice bowl of soup. Just a li'l sumthin' to put in yer belly."

As if beckoned, her stomach growled. She sat up, with Saph's help, and the tiny Keeper dismissed Minho, and began her usual chattering. Hedy was accustomed to listening for long stretches of time, and settled comfortable so that Saph could fit on the edge of the bed. "So, Newt called a public Gatherin', and it was decided that none of the Runners'll be goin' outside the Wall for a li'l, just 'till you and Ben get back on yer feet. Between the potential Griever encounter from yesterday - yes, of course Minho told us all about it, drawin' himself as a hero through the whole encounter, too, I'll have'ya know, which I didn't hardly believe for a single second, he's so dramatic - anyhow, so between that and today, it just seemed too dangerous to keep sendin' y'all out there. 'Sides, I like havin' 'Verne in the Kitchen with me, she keeps Zora chipper, 'n you already know how rare that is."

Hedy nodded at the appropriate moments, appreciating how low and soothing Saph kept her usually loud tone. She'd never fully appreciated just how melodic Saph's voice could be, rising and falling gently and with exuberance and goodness and lighthearted humor. Relaxing, Hedy closed her eyes, listening to Saph go on, wishing she wasn't so sleepy, wishing she could just listen to Saph go on forever.

"But as for you, you're on bed rest. I'd say some relaxin' in the sunshine'll do ya good, anyhow, since you've got a brain injury 'n all, 'n those can be brutal. Minho's a lucky shank bastard I didn't strangle him for puttin' that pretty face'a yours in danger, 'cause if anythin' had happened to it, there would've been way too little beauty in this ole place, and you do know I love Laverne, I truly do, with my whole soul, but sometimes one pretty face just ain't enough to see. Though," Saph paused her stream of consciousness for a moment. "That new girl sure does give y'all a run for your money. Never have I seen eyes so deadly blue, I swear it's like takin' a swim in the ocean. Seems like she's made more of air and dreams than earth and skin. I almost found m'self tongue-tied 'round her, 'n we all know how rare that is," her eyes twinkled at her self-deprecating humor. "Now, anyhow, that's all the news that matters, I really came here just to tell you how pretty you look tonight, bandages or naw, how big 'n brown those eyes of yours look, 'n I'd love to give ya a haircut as soon as you're all better, it's gettin' a li'l long, 'n I know you like to keep it all short-"