~Sighing, I slowed to a walk, trying to remind myself why I had agreed to helping with Ben's changing…~
It was the eyes… Or maybe it was the accent… Yeah, Definitely the accent. Why did he have to be so fricking cute?
I took a deep breath, making my way up the stairs as another blood-curdling cry wreaked havoc on the Glade. Making my way to the room in which Ben was being treated I realized I was in for quite a night. Slowly, I opened the door, and walked on in, closing it carefully behind me.
Newt and Alby were holding the poor idiotic boy down as Clint and Jeff, the two Med-Jacks tried to force some food down his throat. I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.
The kid had always been pale, but not like this. It was an unnatural color, almost white, as if the life was being drained from his body little by little. Veins were popping out all over his body, looking discolored and green. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging as he fought the boys. His reddish hair was soaked with seat, sticking to his forehead even as the sweat beaded and ran down the side of his face. He thrashed about, nearly knocking Alby upside the head as he writhed in agony underneath them.
I made my way across the room where the supplies were being kept. I gathered up a few towels and poured a small bucket of water from the larger supply.
The door creaked, drawing my attention as well as the others. No one was expected, no one was relieving us until dawn. And other than that, no one else was allowed! Why would anybody even want to come up here, especially with the screaming that's been going on? I suppose morbid curiosity was a valid explanation, though that's not what I saw on the newbie's face when he pushed the door open.
He looked utterly horrified, scared out of his wits, and utterly surprised. The color drained out of his face the moment he could see inside the room. Oh you poor stupid idiot of a shank… The boy in question lost whatever nerve had brough him up here in the first place as he shrunk back against the wall, murmuring a just barely loud enough explanation that really didn't explain much at all. "I… uh… want some answers…"
"Get your runtcheeks down those stairs, right now," Alby all but flat out ordered. I was slightly concerned about the possibility of his vocal cords ripping out. "Chuck'll help you. If I see you again before tomorrow morning, you ain't reaching another one alive. I'll throw you off the Cliff myself, you get me?" The scary thing was, I couldn't tell if he meant it or not. Alby was most definitely one to make threats, but not idle ones. If he said he'd do it, he bloody well would… though he threatened me all the time and never did a thing. Maybe I was just special.
Anyways, after Alby's scary display of vocal supremacy the boy closed the door, disappearing behind it with an expression between utter humiliation, embarrassment and fear. Take care of him, Chuckie…
Tearing my gaze away from the door, I continued my trudge over to the boys where I knelt beside Newt. Our eyes met for a moment before Ben let out yet another sound, the likes of which I had ceased to call screams. It's too small a words for such a chillingly powerful sound. Ben was well into the third 'stage' of the changing. The first, beginning when stung and lasting until the serum was administered. The second, began when administered, the victim usually becoming unnaturally still for a time. The amount of time each stage lasts is seemingly different depending on the victim, but the third stage begins as the thrashing starts and the screaming begins. This stage usually lasts the longest. The fourth stage marks the victims start to recovery in which there is an awful lot of deep sleeping and just barely conscious moments. When the victim regains their consciousness for good, the changing has been completed, though the person is never the same. We'll just say the name fits.
Ben had been stung just outside the doors. He shouldn't have been there in the first place, it's one of three rules we actually do have here, but no matter. He should be moving into the fourth stage anytime now, but Ben hadn't calmed much at all. I was hoping I could lull him into a sort of sleep before morning, the others at least could get a few hours sleep before the fits began again.
So, I maneuvered my way around the array of limb holding the boy down and gently washed his faces, cleaning off the sweat and grime that covered him. Clint and Jeff pulled away in order to let me work, one of them muttering about a waste of soup rather bitterly. Ignoring the both of them, I eased the boy's head into my lap and continued with my work even as his brow twitched and he mumbled a mess of words I could not make out. His eyes soon fell closed, his body releasing its tension.
Newt and Alby sat back, the both of them releasing huge sighs of relief. They looked exhausted and I told them as such. Newt, to his credit laughed breathily, while Alby on the other hand glared tiredly.
"See you can't even glare at me properly."
He rolled his eyes at me, but there was a slight upturn to his lips. We fought, constantly, but we knew each other very well and despite the arguments, were close. I'd trust him with just about anything, and though he'd call me a few choice words, whatever I needed he'd help with and if he did by any chance need something, I'd help in a heartbeat even if I did hold it over his head for a bit.
"You're a pain, you know that?" Alby muttered, getting to his feet.
"So I've been told," I replied.
He rolled his eyes again. "You can deal with this right?"
"You're leaving me in charge of Ben here?"
He made a face, but nodded, holding his head as if he had a great headache. I wondered for a moment if it was just me. He told me on many occasions I was the reason for many of them, though I thought Ben might be the cause of this one.
Even as he left, Newt stayed behind to talk to me…
"Don't you have to show the newbie the Grievers in the mornin'?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder, we'd moved away from Ben's cot ages and had settled comfortably on the floor against the wall.
He sighed, nodding, "Gotta get up before dawn…"
"Want me to come with?"
There was no response. Confused, I glanced up at him only to be met with blank eyes staring into space. "Yoo-hoo… Shuckface, come back to me, will ya? I'm trying to have a conversation here." I said with a smirk in an effort to regain his attention which worked marvelously.
He smiled slightly, turning his head to press his lips to the top of my head. "Sorry, what?"
"Do you want me to go with ya?"
He shrugged, "Med-Jacks might want ya, but…" He trailed off, looking over to Ben's cot briefly.
"Well, too bad for them," I began, throwing a leg over Newt's so I sat straddling him. He smirked slightly, trailing his hands up from the top of my thighs to my waist where they stayed. "I'm all yours," I murmured leaning in closer to him, my hands on his shoulders, twirling the ends of his hair around my fingers. He grinned, closing the distance between our lips and kissing me, wrapping his arms around my waist and managing to pull me even closer. Smiling into the kiss, I wrapped my arms around his neck, I wasn't quite I'd ee want to let go, to be truthful. But there was that pesky need for air, which broke out kiss, leaving the both of us breathing rather heavily. Suddenly it felt much hotter in the room and I was thankful for the light t-shirt (even if it was boy's and much too large) and shorts (which I suspect were an actual girls cut as they actually did fit).
Smirking in that strange little way of his that seemed to coe out more often when were alone, he moved us away from the wall and rolled us, so I was laying on my back and he was hovering over me with a smile. I rolled my eyes at the goofy grin, but couldn't hold back the small upturn to my lips. Wiping that grin off his face, he kissed me again, but this time it was quick, short and sweet. And the he pulled away, pressing his forehead to mine. "You should get some sleep…"
"Me?" I laughed, pushing him down next to me and playing wit the collar of his short, "You're the one that has to show the newbie a griever before wake-up!"
He smirked all lopsidedly, "Good that," he paused a moment. "Minho probably thinks-"
"Minho has an overactive imagination," I finished with a grin. Minho was a great friend. My best friend other than Newt, but the guy really did have a knack for annoying the hell out of us. What are friends for I suppose?
He laughed, rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around me, pulling my back to his chest suddenly. "G'night, MaC," He whispered sleepily into my ear even as he buried his face in my hair.