In which there is a discovery and other stuff
Chapter Warnings: Mentions of and situation around the female menstrual cycle. No explicit details but a heads up in case it makes anyone uncomfortable.
AN: That 'time of the month' is either completely avoided in fanfiction (and general fiction, honestly) or handled in ways that make me cringe (the stereotypes around it; don't get me started). I wanted to try - as I have been so far with other aspects - handling the reality of it. That said, the topic is dealt with in this chapter only, in a way I hope doesn't bother anyone too much.
To Guest, who reviewed Ch.8: Thanks for reviewing! And there's no worry it'll be given up on; it was explained in the notes at the start, but its all written already; I just need to find time to post chapters, and I tweak bits as I go if I feel the need. With regards to Eva being stung...its an interesting idea, but right now there's no cure in the Glade, so that would pretty much spell disaster. Answers will come in other ways eventually...Glad you're enjoying it!
To Storylover00: Thanks for leaving reviews on this story! I can't respond via pms, as you seem to have that locked off, but I appreciate your comments and I'm glad you're following it on!
And since I won't update now until next week, HAPPY EASTER, Guys!
Dimitri learns about the Maze.
Zart says Rob is a natural with runner beans.
I register that something is off about me.
Nothing sinister. Just off.
I've been here months; three now. And I realise one early morning in the showers that I haven't had a single menstrual cycle.
The thought stops me dead under the tepid stream.
I could be barren, I guess. But somehow I don't think that's right. And that's when I process that my legs have no hair at all, despite the fact that I've not used a knife to shave them.
I was sent here, I know that much, and whoever did it treated me in some way to achieve this.
I don't understand the purpose. Or maybe I don't want to understand it.
And yet, not having to scrape myself with a knife is nice, so I decide to let this one go.
I finish in the shower, re-dress in fresh clothes and make my way to Homestead for breakfast.
Its two days later when I bash my upper arm on one of the animal pens that I dig deeper.
I'm throwing food out for the geese when I spot a primary flight feather on the ground. They're not all that common, unless one of the birds has been plucked for supper, and my mind leaps back to the branch under my hammock.
The arrows will need feathers to guide their flight.
So I get down and half crawl under their nesting box to pick it up, which is when I whack my arm.
A bruise forms within a couple of hours, and Frankie laughs when I tell him I walked into a nesting box. It's a fleeting injury, and I can even convince Newt that I'm fine – because I really am.
But just before supper, I drop back into the Medi Tent to put a salve on it, and as I'm rubbing it in, my fingers brush the inside of my arm.
It's an unusual spot, not one that would ordinarily get paid much attention, which might explain why I haven't before felt the thing that sits just under my skin.
My heart thuds painfully.
Fear lances up my spine.
There's something under my skin.
…
I'm back in the Medi Tent after turn in time that night.
A single torch is enough light for me to see so that I can pull down what I need from the shelves and get to work.
I have a weird feeling about this and I don't want to tell anyone yet.
Clint's been working on a type of ointment with anaesthetic properties, made from berries in the woods. It's worked once, when he tested it on his own arm, so I'm willing to chance it on mine.
I rub some into the skin above the area I can feel the odd capsule. I flick my fingers at myself periodically until I can't feel it smarting anymore.
I pick up a small knife and cut.
It bleeds a bit, which makes my head swim a little. Apparently, when it's my blood it's different. But the cut isn't deep and it's quickly dabbed with poultice and bandaged.
I pick up the small silver capsule that came out of my arm.
It's barely an inch long. The ends are copper coloured and stamped down the side is 'CONTRACEPTIVE'.
I know what that word means.
I keep the capsule, hide it beneath my hammock with the knife I still have from my arrival, the silver birch branch I'm slowly whittling down and my growing collection of white feathers.
…
Within three days, my lower abdomen is in knots and it's painful to stand, let alone walk.
Jeff and Clint make me stay in the Medi Tent, laying hot cloths on the base of my spine – which does help a little. I plead with them not to tell anyone, and they agree, so long as it doesn't get worse and I feel better within the next couple of days.
So when I discover I'm bleeding – which I knew was coming – I rush to the showers to clean up. No one notices. Jeff brings me supper, saying to the others I'm just feeling a little under the weather.
Newt drops by but I don't want to explain this to him, so I pretend to be asleep.
He's done it to me before.
I don't open my eyes while he's there, and despite my lack of response, he stays a while. The faint sound of a soft scratching seeps into my consciousness and I must actually fall asleep, because when I next think about it, I realise that both the noise and Newt are gone.
That night, thankfully the bleeding stops and the cramps are tapering off. I figure after three months – maybe longer – of having no menstrual cycle, my body isn't sure how to react, so this one was shortened.
I'm not sure I can handle this again, though, so I light another torch and sneak to the Medi tent after dark once more.
I scour the shelves for ideas and dig through the supply crates.
I've been looking for over an hour, I estimate, when I find a small tin in the bottom of a crate that was sent with medical supplies at least two months ago. Maybe three. The same day I arrived.
It's sealed up, but I prise the lid open with a knife.
Inside is a small syringe gun. I pick it up, and the weight rests in my hands in a way that echoes with familiarity. The cartridge in it is loaded with a silver capsule that I recognise.
The bastards who put us here must have known I'd eventually find the contraceptive, freak out and remove it.
And then want it back.
I grit my teeth, press the tiny barrel to the skin on the underside of my arm and pull the trigger.
It hurts like hell, and I nearly split my lip from biting into it.
I throw the gun back in the tin and slam the lid on, burying it in the bottom of the crate.
By the time I go to bed, my arm is only tingling. The new capsule sits just under my skin, where the old one used to be.
My lip throbs; swollen but undamaged.
The rest of me feels a lot better.
…
Thanks to spending a couple of days in fear and intense pain, not wanting to tell anyone exactly what I was going through, I feel like I've missed out on a lot when I rejoin typical life at breakfast the next morning.
It's nice to laugh with the boys and get back into volleying between the Medi Tent and the animal pens.
Thankfully, everyone seems to accept that I just succumbed to some kind of bug.
Everyone except Clint and Jeff, who know I had some kind of stomach pain, and Newt, who knows I'm not telling him something.
…
"You're not telling me something," he says that evening.
Lee and Frankie are starting the fire in the pit in front of us. The sky is dark blue above and the woods a solid shadow behind Homestead.
The dishes are washed up from supper but most of the boys are off across the field, playing games. It looks like another bout of Squares, if all the staggering pile ups of Gladers are anything to go by. They're waiting for the fire to light and Gally's brew to appear.
I look up, my eyes following Newt as he sinks to the ground beside me, leaning back against the log and resting his wrists on his drawn up knees as he often does.
"What?" I ask, mainly to stall.
Newt doesn't speak for a moment, and then he reaches out, gently lifts my arm and turns it over.
His fingers trace the faint white marks on my skin. Even those white marks will soon be gone. My eyes stay riveted on the shadows that dance up my arm with the light touch.
"Thanks," I feel compelled to say, out of nowhere. "For hitting him."
Newt's fingers go still, gently holding my wrist.
I remember looking at him for the first time, and knowing instantly that he would use the machete on his back on me if he had to. The Gladers are his family. I was the danger that day.
Today I know with an unerring certainty that he'd use that blade, or any other to keep me safe, too. I don't want him to have to – I can still remember the damage the shovel did to Justin's jaw – but I know he would. Before the Glade, I have no memories of being part of a family.
Now, I feel like I've found one.
Newt's eyes are soft as he nods.
A beat passes.
The fire flares to life, already licking at the dry hay under the cone of twigs. Frypan and Stan toast with jars of Gally's Brew and a few of the Builders jog across to the wrestling ring.
"Are you going to tell me, then?" Newt asks.
"You don't want to know," I say, but he just gives me a 'start talking' look.
I wondered how long it would be before he asked me outright, so I'm prepared, even though I don't really want to have this conversation. I dig in my pocket and pull out the silver capsule that I cut out of my arm four days ago.
I drop it into his open palm and sit forward, biting my lip as he turns it over, brow furrowed.
I can pinpoint the second he realises what it is, the way his eyes widen and flash with surprise. He knows what a contraceptive is.
He looks up at me.
He might be blushing the smallest bit, but I can't really tell in the flickering light.
"I found it, by accident, in my arm," I whisper. I'm a little too aware that more of the Gladers are making their way over. "Four nights ago, I cut it out."
The whole line of his shoulders tenses. I see his jaw flex.
I gently nudge him.
"It's okay," I say. I take back the capsule and pocket it. "I used an anaesthetic mix. I cleaned the cut and it's already healed. It was just under the skin."
"How did you find it?" Newt asks. His eyes are calculating.
"Accident," I repeat. "I hit myself on the nesting box with the geese, and I was just putting a salve on the bruise when I felt it. Whoever switched me with this Adam guy, they injected me with that before I came here."
Don't ask me why. I don't want to go there.
"So it's out now?" he asks.
"That one is," I say.
Alarm flares up in his expression.
"Shhh," I mutter. "When I cut it out, it stopped counteracting my…cycle, and it hurt. A lot." I don't have to look at his face to know he's remembering the 'bug' I had. "So I dug through some old supplies and found an injector gun with another one. I guess the Creators knew I'd find it eventually and my first thought would be to remove it. They sent up a replacement with me."
Newt lets out his breath in a long exhalation.
"And that's it; honestly," I say, my voice deliberately lighter. I'm done with the conversation now. "Told you, you didn't want to know."
I'm too busy looking straight ahead into the fire, and at first I don't register it when I feel his fingers lace through mine and squeeze. As soon as I do realise, he's retracting his hand. He looks forward, too.
"I did want to know," he says. "Come on. Let's get some of the Brew. And I'm going to take a turn in the Ring."
My gaze snaps to him as he stands.
Its not often Newt joins in with that.
"Against who?" I ask.
"I owe Minho a match," he smirks.
Newt smirks even less than he smiles, and there's a kind of playfulness in it that I like.
Suddenly thinking this evening will be a blast, I accept his hand up. I don't pay much attention when his arm settles over my shoulders. We aim straight for the jars on the table.
…
"It's entirely your own fault," I say the next morning, sliding a dish of scrambled eggs across to Newt.
He rolls his neck, wincing at the stiffness he woke up with.
"What's up with him?" Zart asks, sitting opposite us.
Rob follows him, setting down his own dish and smiling shyly. Jeff, Winston and Dan shuffle up to make space.
"Ring match," I say.
Zart's smile stretches into something mischievous. "Who won?"
"I did," Newt says. He winces again. "Not sure it was worth it, though."
I snort, quickly spooning up my eggs as I'm given a look.
"How are you doing, Greenie?" Newt asks instead. He's put on his second-in-command hat, though even without it, I don't think he ever stops feeling responsible for these boys.
Rob shrugs. "I'm good," he says slowly. "I like the gardens."
Zart claps him on the back. "And we're happy to have you," he says. "Better you than Evie, here. On her first day she hacked up half the vegetables."
"It was one rhubarb," I say patently. "Don't listen to him."
Rob looks up. His eyes are a muddied hazel colour and I smile at him.
"So…" he starts, sounding very uncertain. "I don't want to be rude, but I feel like I haven't really met you and, well…"
You're a girl.
He doesn't need to finish that part.
It's believable, though, given I spent his first week in the Glade in pain and hiding.
"I'm Eva," I start with.
He nods. His cheeks colour a little. "I know that. You're mentioned a fair bit – part of being the only girl, I guess?"
"Or maybe I'm just the most fun to be around," I say. He's being nice, but I've never felt singled out for being a girl – not since my first day. And I like it like that.
Zart snickers at my words and Rob's colour deepens.
Lee drops onto the bench next to me. Apparently he's heard the conversation.
"She is a blast," he says, leaning in. "Threw a spike and nearly impaled Alby to a tree within two hours of being here."
I turn and gape at him. For starters, how does he know? And secondly – I'd rather he didn't make out like I'm some kind of loose cannon.
I've finished my dish, and I don't really think as I lift it and thwack Lee over the back of the head.
Maybe I am a loose cannon.
He pitches forwards, just catching himself before face-planting his own breakfast. The dish makes a dull clanging sound off of his skull.
Zart drops his spoon. It hits the side of his dish at an angle and the egg on it goes flying. It slaps Jeff in the face and he topples backwards. Rob's face drains of colour.
Lee, Dan and Newt burst out laughing, and it takes me a second before I realise I've started, too. These moments are too rare.
"Oi," I say, calming down. "People are going to think I'm a lunatic."
Lee throws an arm around me, still cackling.
"You're the best, Eva," he says. "First person to hit me with a dish."
I'm not certain it's a title I'd have wanted for myself, but I could have been given worse ones.
I shake my head, smiling, as he lets me go and returns to his breakfast, snickering.
Zart, trying to breathe as he clutches his stomach, his spoon lying on the table, looks up at me.
"I kinda love you, Evie," he says.
And I don't have to look around the table at them, warmth flooding through my chest, to know I kinda love all of them, too.
…
The next week passes quickly.
I usually don't cross paths with Gally and the Builders, but for an entire afternoon the whole team as well as the Bricknicks can be seen on the field, trying to construct something that repeatedly collapses.
Half the Cooks including Stan sit outside the kitchen as they prepare vegetables for dinner, just so they can watch.
Jack arrives in the Medi Tent one morning with a nasty bruise on his leg – apparently from tripping over a rake.
Jeff gives him a salve while Clint insists it will need to be amputated.
The following day, one of the Bricknicks falls from their unstable contraption in the field and I have to make them stay on one of the pallets for the day. His name is Joe, and he hit his head hard enough that he's still seeing double by dinner time.
By the following morning he's back to work.
Things are quiet enough that I can escape to the Bloodhouse to feed all the animals, collect the eggs and milk the goats. I drop by the kitchens on the way back to hand the eggs and milk over to Frypan.
That evening, I join in on Field Games again.
I don't join in often. Newt doesn't, much, and I find I prefer to sit with him, or hang out with Frypan around Homestead than rush about on the field, but Zart drags me out to the others saying they're playing a game of Drop ball, and I need to have a go.
It was apparently designed by Alby and Nick, over two years ago.
Four hoops made from woven branches are dragged to four points of the game field and we split into four teams.
The aim, oddly, seems to be to drop the ball through your own team's hoop, and the other teams have to intercept and get the ball through their own. Which really means the whole game is a high speed, chaotic thing and you rarely know where the ball is, or where it's going, since no one wears team colours.
And I can't reach the hoops, so even if I am fast enough to outmanoeuvre the boys at times, I can't score points, because throwing it in doesn't count; you have to be touching it as it goes through.
Its fun; watching everyone run about, trying to duck and dive past the others and half the time forgetting who's on their team and who isn't. And in the end, Eric stands by our team hoop so he can lift me up high enough that I'm able to score one goal.
Because you essentially have three teams guarding each hoop, the game is rather more awkward to bring to an end, and the winning number of scores is just five.
Jackson scores through his team's hoop to close the game, and that's enough to exhaust everyone.
I feel a bit like I've been caught in the middle of a stampede as I drop down next to the fire and accept a jar of Brew from Newt – who looks just a bit too amused.
"Not doing that again," I mutter, letting the burn of the amber liquid chase away the aching.
Newt's expression cracks into one of mischief as he says wryly, "It's entirely your own fault."
And I feel a laugh burst out of me, recognising my own words from just days before. "I could go off you," I say, even as I smile into my jar.
"Nah," Newt says, and there's a strange softness to his voice that makes me look over at him. "You couldn't."
And he's right. But I don't tell him that. I ignore the fact that he knows it anyway.
INFO
1. Okay, I want to just go over the idea of the contraceptive quickly. As, obviously, there were no girls in Maze Runner, and Teresa certainly didn't mention anything, all of this is more of my theories. The books/film are set in the future, and with the outrageously advanced technology at WICKED's (WCKD's) disposal, implanting a contraceptive device that controls a menstrual cycle (eliminating it) into the girls doesn't seem that far fetched (since we're not far off currently). In fact, I kind of think it makes the most sense. It means less need for supplies, less stress and hygeine concerns (thinking of the sheer number of girls in Group B) Sending up crate loads of tampons and such is good for humour, but probably not practical. In Eva's case, it would also have been a precaution (make of that what you will, but I figure some of you know what I mean. If you don't, feel free to ask and I can respond in a pm). I hope this makes sense and is believable for you.
Here's also hoping the way it was handled read okay, too.
2. There's a few reasons that I quite like this chapter, and I won't go into all of them. One thing I did want to briefly mention was the evolving relationships. I'm sure many of you can see Eva and Newt's connection progressing, but I wanted to draw some attention to the very real friendship she has with him before that, and the friendships she has with the other boys. Whatever else is going on, I feel like the passing of time and the character dynamics are at the centre of this. I like that Eva can't pinpoint a time when the boys became her family, but there is this moment when she realises its already happened.
Maybe you see it differently? I always like hearing how others interpret things.
3. Drop ball is another of my wacky inventions. Don't ask me where I get this crap.
Chapter 11 - Teaser
My eyes lift across the darkening field to the Council Hall. There's a faint, flickering golden glow, just visible at the distance, between the branch walls.
I hope again that nothing's gone wrong.
-To be posted next week-