"So," and there was an awkward pause as Thomas narrowed his eyes after Tasha disappeared into the forest. She seemed cheerier that morning than he had seen her previously. Newt raised an eyebrow at Thomas, crossed his arms and shifted his weight, favouring his injured leg. Zart, from where he was digging up weeds from the edge of the vine, looked up and sighed as Thomas unsuccessfully, well, no-one was quite sure what he tried to do. Zart walked over, slapping Thomas's hands away from the vine, handing the Greenie a shovel, stabbing the ground in an absent-minded manner.
"So, what?" Newt asked, ignoring the Keeper of the Track Hoes. Thomas shifted nervously and went back to his work, half-heartedly spearing the dirt in front of him.
"What is up with you two?" He asked, the whole sentence spilling out, as if he didn't mean it to. He snapped his mouth shut, refusing to look at anything but the ground. The thought had been plaguing him ever since his first afternoon, Tasha and Newt always side-by-side, how relaxed they always looked around each other, the casual way Newt joked with her where others would be oddly distant. He chanced a look up. Newt surveyed Thomas with an evaluative stare, a low hum of consideration in his throat. He didn't look angry or even displeased, just thoughtful.
"She's the fastest runner we have." He said, his gaze slipping from Thomas to the forest. Thomas frowned at the rather cryptic response, his mind full of questions. "Ran just like you did, her first day here. Straight through that forest," Newt gestured over to the Deadheads where Tasha had disappeared, chuckling to himself, a low, warm sound, "face first into a wall." He's caught in a swirl of memories, the wind rushing by him as he ran, the exasperation he felt at Tasha as she kept trying to run, the implicit trust she bestowed upon him upon their first meeting.
"That doesn't answer my question." Thomas snapped; it was the first time someone had really addressed any of his questions and although he was rather disappointed that the first real answers he received were about this girl, he was thirsty for any information about Runners. he took a deep breath, and continued. "How did she become a runner? I thought people couldn't just become Runners."
"It was a time before Keepers and second-in-commands-" pain flashed across Newt's face, and he rubbed his injured leg subconsciously, "Alby was the only real authority we had and he… he said alright." Thomas processed what Newt had said, before he squinted at the blonde, who was looking off into the woods, eyes glazed over, lost in his memories. Newt shook himself out of it and looked directly back at Thomas. "Look, it's complicated. We're complicated." He sighed, but his voice was fond and there was a small smile on his lips, "But I trust her."
"And she trusts you." Thomas finished, slowly. Newt nodded, once. Zart snorted from where he was crouching in the dirt, smirking up at Newt.
"If that's true, if there's nothing going on there," Zart clicked his tongue, thoughtfully and shrugged, "don't go around telling the others. They all keep away because they think you've got dibs." He raised his eyebrows at Newt who rolled his eyes, the warm tones of his voice quickly melting into his usual skepticism.
"Tasha could kick your ass any day of the week." Newt told him, as Thomas swayed from one foot to the other, leaning his hands against his shovel.
"There's that I guess." Zart shrugged. Newt laughed, grinning, seemingly unperturbed by Zart's statements.
"How long… how long has she been here?" Thomas broke through the surface of his own thoughts to voice his own pressing question. Zart and Newt talked as if-
"Two years." Newt smirked at the Greenie, "Minho, the Keeper of the Runners," he explained "is the only other one who's lasted that long and kept at it." He cleared his throat, his face falling. "Running, that is."
"And she hasn't been stuck in the maze?" Newt's expression darkened and for a moment, Thomas thought that just maybe there was something more to it, but then Newt went back to his own work, scowl on his face. Zart frowned at the development, watching Newt intently, but Thomas sighed at Newt's sudden silence. He went back to looking around the Glade, eyes ghosting up the sides of the walls, poking uselessly at the dirt with his shovel.
"Has anyone tried climbing all the way to the top?" He asked, his attention pulled away from the blonde to the thick ropes of ivy scaling the walls.
"Tried it. The ivy doesn't go all the way to the top... " Newt made a face. "And besides, where are you going to go from there?" He asked, his voice, not incredibly serious, but not light-hearted and jovial as it had been earlier.
Thomas leaned forward, "Well what about the box, next time it comes up you just -" He was cut off halfway through by Newt's answer.
"No, we tried that." Newt didn't take his eyes off where he was threading the vines through the structure, securing it, "The box won't go down with someone in it." Zart shook his head from where he crouched.
Thomas persisted, leaning forward on his shovel, "Well what if we-"
"No, we tried it, alright? Twice." Newt seemed annoyed, leaning against the structure wrapped with vines, his arms crossed over his chest, looking directly at Thomas now, "Trust me, anything you think of, we've already tried." He paused. "The only way out of here is through the maze." There was a weighted silence as Thomas considered this. It took Newt a moment to relax, "Listen, if you want to be helpful, here, take this and dig us up some more fertilizer." Newt threw a wicker basket at him, smirking at Thomas as Zart snorted with laughter. Thomas huffed, annoyed, taking the basket and stomping into the forest, basket in one hand, shovel in the other.
"You mean you've never-" Zart made a crude gesture, thrusting his hips, once Thomas was out of earshot. Newt's brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side, looking at the Keeper.
"What?" He huffed.
"Tasha." Zart's answer was simple, the smirk on his lips speaking volumes and causing a faint blush to rise on Newt's cheeks at the implications of the gesture.
"No. What made you think I had?" He spluttered, to which Zart chuckled.
"You guys alway act like you're in love." He reasoned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Newt huffed out a sigh and Zart went back to his gardening.
"So you think we're shucking?" Newt scoffed after a moment. Zart shrugged, head bowed to hide the smile on his face, not missing Newt's lack of denial in regards to actually being in love.
"Would you?" Newt didn't answer and Zart snorted. "If not, I can think of ten guys who would." He told Newt, who bristled at the statement, straightening his back and glaring at the Keeper.
"Don't you go near her, shank." Newt told him calmly, hands curled into white-knuckled fists. Zart's eyebrows show up and Newt huffed out a sigh, "Besides, She doesn't like people." He added, quietly.
"She likes you well enough." Zart rolled his eyes.
"That's different." Newt dismissed the claim with a wave of his hand.
"What about Minho?" Zart's voice was quiet and he watched Newt for any sign of a change, to gauge his reaction. It didn't even phase the second in command, who huffed.
"That's different." Newt insisted.
"What about Gally?" Zart raised his eyebrows as Newt's automatic reaction was to snort out a laugh.
"He's a slinthead to Tasha." He said.
"She broke his nose." Zart emphasised. Seeing the tiny brunette slamming her fist into Gally's face, blood gushing from his nose as he stumbled back, curse words spilling from his lips. Tasha shook her hand out, as if trying to rid it of the pain, weight almost tipping her over as she tried to keep off her foot where the beam Gally had been holding slammed into it. It was bandaged, but she wasn't wearing shoes and the Med-Jacks were yelling after her.
"He broke her foot." Newt reasoned. There was silence before Zart shrugged.
"Whatever, I'm just sayin', is all." He went back to his work, resignation in his voice at Newt's denial.
"Yeah, well, slim it." Newt huffed, going back to his work. His fingers worked steadily to thread the vine through the support structure, allowing him to almost zone out completely, if not for a snide remark.
"You love her." Zart muttered under his breath. Newt frowned, poised to snap at the Keeper, but a cry for help brought his attention to the forest, which Thomas then burst out of pursued by Ben. The two raced through the field, faster than Newt had ever seen, fear clear on Thomas's face as he ran. They were the only two to crash from the forest before Thomas slammed into the ground, followed by Ben who clawed at his ankles. Newt ran, almost seeming to forget his limp, shovel in hand.
"I'll kill you!" Ben's screams brought the entire glade running as he squirmed on top of Thomas, his hands around the Greenie's neck, digging his nails into his flesh. Thomas screamed for help and Newt slammed his shovel into Ben's temple, sending Ben rolling away from Thomas, blood dripping from his temple, limbs flailing and teeth gnashing.
"Hold him down!" Newt ordered, dropping his shovel and straddling Ben, keeping his weight firmly on top of the deranged Runner. Gally, Frypan and Zart ran to hold Ben's limbs as Newt looked down upon him. "What are you doing?" Newt hissed, the others trying to wrestle Ben into stasis.
"Calm down, Ben." Gally growled, trying to press Ben's arm into the dirt.
"What the hell happened?" Cried Frypan, turning to face the Greenie, to which Thomas shouted.
"He just attacked me!" The greenie stumbled to his feet, brushing himself off and looking down on Ben with distrust in his eyes. He doubled over, hands on his knees as he watched the scene before him.
"You OK?" Chuck asked at Thomas' elbow, looking with concern between Ben and Thomas. Thomas nodded, panting roughly, to which Chuck nodded uncertainly, unconvinced.
"Calm down, Ben." Newt's voice was quieter, hands resting on his own knees as Ben's struggling ceased and he bared his teeth to the others, spitting nonsensical words of anger at them. Alby made his way through the crowd to the scene, stepping through as the others parted before him, shoving at each other to get a better look. Upon seeing his leader, fear became clear in Ben's eyes as he chanted the word 'no' over and over again, barely more than a frightened whisper, redoubling his efforts to escape as the boys held him down.
"Alright, lift his shirt." Alby commanded. Newt, with shaking fingers but no hesitation, lifted Ben's shirt, a blood stain clear over his stomach making it evident that he had not changed since the previous day. Blue veins spread from the wound on his squirming stomach, which was bruised dark red and purple, telltale mark of a griever sting. Ben's breathing was erratic, interspersed with whimpered pleas for them not to do it.
"He's been stung." Gally addressed the group, questions filling his mind as he looked from Thomas to Ably. "In the middle of the day?" No-one spoke, but the mass confusion the group felt was clear. Alby stood with a sigh from where he was crouched beside Ben.
"Please, just let me help." Ben whimpered out, his eyes shifting from Newt to Alby, pleading.
"Put him in the pit." There was a resignation in Alby's voice that made Thomas feel as though he had just been punched in the gut. A moment of silence followed when nobody moved and Alby raised his voice, commanding those around him, a new intensity in his words. "Come on everybody, put him in the pit!" At this, Ben began struggling again, his limbs thrashing wildly in the grip of his fellow gladers.
"No! Don't do it! Don't do this to me!" Ben grunted through gritted teeth.
"Med-Jacks!" Newt ordered, stepping off of Ben's body and directing the two Med-Jacks to help the boys lifting Ben. He waved the other Gladers off, to which they went reluctantly, except for Thomas, who seemed lost and uncertain.
"Calm down, Ben!" Gally huffed, struggling to keep a hold of Ben's flailing arm, Ben became increasingly difficult to control as he thrashed around. Newt clapped a hand on Gally's shoulder and fell into step beside him, Thomas only half a step behind. Newt shook his head at the Greenie who was obviously looking for answers. It wasn't safe to have him around Ben, not with Ben so agitated and erratic. Thomas's face fell, but he went back to hovering about the vines, picking up Newt's fallen shovel and digging into the dirt.
"Listen to me, please! Please stop!" Ben's cries echoed around the Glade. Newt walked with Med-Jacks, Gally and Zart, watching as Ben was shoved in the pit and locked up. His screams to be released bounced around in Newt's head, but Newt didn't feel even slightly inclined to help him, he felt anxious. He had ever since Ben had burst from the forest, for obvious reason of course, but there was something else, something missing. It took a moment for him to pinpoint the off feeling he was having. Tasha.
"Ben." Newt turned suddenly, crouching down to look into the cage. Ben's arms were reaching out and he was moaning to be released from his prison. "Where's Tasha?" He asked, slowly and calmly, though the Runner did not seem to listen, only reached out with his hands curled into needy shapes, trying to snag Newt's clothes.
"Let me go! I'm helping! No! No! NO!" Ben wailed and Newt gritted his teeth. Something had happened to Tasha and it was Ben's fault. He knew it. Newt huffed out a sigh and stood, making his way across the field to the deadheads, past Thomas who looked up, expectantly, and Zart, who just seemed rather put out.
"Newt, what happened-" Thomas followed quickly behind Newt, into the forest. Newt scowled.
"Not now, Greenie." He snapped, limping through the underbrush, his gaze darting around as he looked for some sign of Tasha. Thomas followed, hot on his heels like a curious puppy.
"Newt what are you-" Thomas began, but was cut off abruptly.
"Slim it." Newt turned and glared at Thomas, who closed his mouth, pressing down whatever questions had bubbled to his lips. Newt felt a twinge of guilt, it wasn't the Greenie's fault, it was Ben's.
"This is about Tasha." The Greenie's voice was quiet with recognition but his eyes were wide as his thoughts snapped to the conversation earlier today. Newt didn't seem like the type to be easily agitated and Thomas realised that his connection with Tasha was much closer than he would admit.
"Greenie, I'm warning you-" Newt growled, but cut off, his eyes catching sight of Tasha's body slumped on the ground. The two got closer, as if walking on eggshells, Thomas felt bile rise in his throat at the sight. Pale as a ghost with clear bruises on her shoulders, painting the white skin purple and blue, faint tear tracks on her cheeks, the back of her hair matted with blood. "Shuck." Hissed Newt, his stomach turning. "Tommy, get a Med-Jack." Newt kneeled on the ground, scooping up Tasha into his arms. Thomas was transfixed at sight of the frail form of Tasha, lifted so easily, it was if she could break at any moment. "Now!" Newt cried, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts and sent him speeding back to the Glade. "Tasha, please." Newt whispered, holding the girl close as he limped through the forest.
"Newt, Thomas told me-" Clint's voice was frantic, meeting Newt at the edge of the forest. "Tasha." He breathed, before anger filling his voice. "Shuck. Shuck!" He spat and turned over his shoulder, calling out to Jeff, who was walking away from Ben in the pit. "Jeff! Get some warm water and stitching gear!" The figure in the distance nodded and headed swiftly back to the Med-Jack hut. "This is my fault." Clint murmured.
"What?" Newt asked, dismayed and almost stopping completely, but he continued along, Clint by his side, Thomas somewhere near Zart, probably informing him of what happened.
"I sent her in there. I asked her to find Ben." The Med-Jack swallowed thickly, pushing open the door to the hut and setting Tasha down on the bed, laying her on her side and facing the wall, to give access to what Newt suspected was a cut or scrape on the back of her head. He turned on Clint. Jeff simply ignored the two of them, busying himself with supplies.
"Did you know he was stung?" Jeff asked, his voice calm as he fetched a bowl of warm water and a set of cloths. He wasn't the one who had seen to Ben that morning or the night before as one of the slicers had almost lost a finger and was busy helping him.
"I… had an inkling." Clint admitted, avoiding Newt's gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, as if it was some mild slip up compared to a Glader being attacked. Newt stood, rising to his full height as Thomas burst into the room. Clint let out a small sigh of relief that went unnoticed by Newt, who had directed his attention to Thomas in the doorframe. He was panting, looking from Newt to Clint to Tasha and Jeff.
"Is she OK?" Thomas asked, "What happened?" Newt clenched his jaw, eyes flashing dangerously. Clint shrunk down, wilting like a flower beside Jeff who was cleaning Tasha's head wound.
"A concussion at worst." Jeff remarked, mildly, ignoring Newt and Clint beside him. Newt turned, tension draining a moment at the news. He seemed to relax, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
"Thanks." He said, smiling at the Med-Jack, who waved a hand, acknowledging that he'd heard Newt, but remaining focused on Tasha. Clint sagged down beside Jeff now that Newt's attention had turned from him, accepting the cloth and cleaning the wound as Jeff sterilized his needle.
"Ben attacked Tash." Newt told Thomas, whose eyes went wide.
"What? What happened to him! They were friends!" Cried Thomas, his thoughts drifting to his first encounter with Tasha, her running out beside Ben, seemingly content with his companionship in a way she only was with other Runners - and Newt. Newt sighed deeply, striding across the small room and wrapping his hand around Thomas's wrist, leading him from the room as the Med-Jacks worked.
"Look, Tommy," Newt's voice was quiet once they had left the Med-Jack hut, his fingers still curled around the Greenie's wrist, "I've gotta talk to Alby, but he'll tell you everything you need to know once I'm done." Newt promised him quietly. Thomas huffed out a sigh at being put off again, but nodded in understanding, and followed Newt to Alby, leaving Tasha to be attended to by the Med-Jacks.