In which there is waiting and contemplating

AN: Guest replies at the end, folks.

And just to make it clear, as I'm still prompted about updates: I try to make them twice a week, evenly spaced. Lately it's Wednesday and Sunday, but this can change depending on other commitments. This at least gives you an idea of when to expect new chapters.

Enjoy!

-notes and teaser at the end-

As it happens, I'm awake before the sun is the morning after Ben. I had trouble finding sleep, despite my exhaustion, but I'm just thankful I was able to.

I lay quietly for a moment, letting the new day seep into my skin as though it will help.

I can hear both Newt and Alby muttering between themselves through the wooden partition. There's light outside, but it's that washed out blue kind of light that comes before the sun is actually in the sky.

I swing myself out of my hammock and tiptoe barefoot in my oversized sleep shirt to the doorway.

"What's going on?" I ask. My voice is full of sleep and I realise belatedly that my hair is also a tousled mess around my shoulders.

Newt and Alby both look over at me.

It takes me a second to realise that Alby's wearing a leather harness.

My mind snaps awake in the next moment.

"You're going in," I say.

Alby nods. "Minho knows where he and Ben got split up. He's going to take me there, and we're going to see what we can find, if anything."

I can see from the conflicted look on Newt's face that he thinks it's a good idea, but he's not all that happy about the execution.

His two best friends, back in the Maze, right after it's claimed another of our own.

Yeah, I can see that.

"Be careful," I say.

Alby nods. Newt claps him on the shoulder.

"You should go back to bed, Eva," Alby says. "Breakfast isn't for a while."

But my mind goes to the bow in the sack beneath my hammock, and the flint knapped arrowheads, yet to be attached to the shafts.

"I'm good," I tell him instead. "I think I'll go for a walk."

My eyes catch Newt's, and I think I see understanding pass through them.

"Let's go," Newt says to Alby, his voice heavy. Then back to me, "I'll see you later."

They both leave, quiet muttering resumed, and I rush back to my section of the hut.

I throw off my sleep clothes and pull on my jeans, camisole and sweater. I step into my boots, lace them up and snatch up the bow and arrows.

I'm alone in the Deadheads at this time of the morning.

I sit at the base of a tree and use my knife to cut notches into the spiked heads of the arrows. Then, one by one, I set the flint arrowheads into the notches and use thin strips of leather to seat them in tightly. Eric knapped little grooves into the sides so I can twist the leather laces around them and by the time I tie them off with one of the knots he once showed me, I have seven arrows, each with a firmly attached flint head. One is bluish, one pale pink, one with a green and lilac marbling. The rest are pale grey.

I'm glad that the cut on my hand doesn't really react with more than a faint tingle as I grip the bow and fire an arrow. I've not tried to use it since the injury.

I feel a strange kind of elation when the arrow spears into a tree, the flint head holding fast in a way the wooden tip wouldn't.

I'm reminded that I need to get something to cover my arm, though – it stings again with the snap of elastic. I'll have to ask Minho about that, when he makes it back – the runners have access to different kinds of arm guards.

If he makes it back.

I push the thought away as I gather my things.

They have to make it back.

…

It's after lunch that day when I officially meet Thomas.

Newt's getting worried, though holding it together well for now.

There's no sign of Alby or Minho and they should have been back by noon. It wasn't far, Minho said, and I've run into the Middle Ring with him in just a couple of hours.

The rain doesn't help.

It starts mid morning, and only gets heavier with the passing minutes until all the Gladers are huddled in their huts or the Mess Hall, with nothing good enough to keep their minds occupied away from the Doors.

I sit in one of the huts, watching the rain sheet down just beyond the overhang and feeling the damp seep into my clothes. My fingers stay busy, twisting and tying off leather straps to repair handles on a pile of tools, but my attention is on the others.

I see Thomas walk to Newt. Their exchange is brief and tense. And then Thomas strides in my direction, though I don't think he's aiming for me. His expression is a mix of frustrated and determined. If Newt won't talk to him, he'll find answers somewhere else.

I know what its like to search for answers.

Everyone here does.

"Hey," I call him softly, as he steps within easy hearing range. "Sit."

I jab the knife in my hand to a stool nearby.

Thomas looks towards the Doors again, throws a glance back at Newt, and then drops onto the stool.

Its only when he sits down, he seems to let go of his agitation for the moment – like it's a choice he's made.

"So, you're Eva, right?" He's a little cautious as he asks.

I nod.

"How long you been here?"

"Five months, now," I say. I yank fiercely at a half hitch knot in the leather trace, making sure its tight over the handle of the trowel, and then use the knife to cut away the excess.

"Chuck said you wouldn't trade your friends here for your memories."

He says it like he's asking a question and yes, I did say that, and I meant it, too, but I suddenly feel like Thomas is challenging it.

"I wouldn't," I say, staring straight at him. "I don't know who I was before, but there's things that tell me I might not like what I find."

"Like what?" He asks. He looks lost.

"Like the fact I've had a liking for knives of all kinds since the day I arrived. Like the fact that I could use a syringe gun without ever seeing one before. That I like making things, know exactly how to break hinges, or put fletching on an arrow – and that I know the word fletching," I add, realising suddenly it's the first time I've said it. It's the word for the goose feathers on the arrows.

Thomas looks at me in silence for a drawn out moment before he says, "Weapons."

I frown. "What?"

"Knives, guns and arrows – they're weapons. You think you had some weapons training?"

I feel my eyes widen.

This never occurred to me, but I realise it probably should have. Someone might have taught me to hold and use weapons. Not just one, but many. Probably more than I've so far discovered.

Not that it changes my point.

"My point still stands, though," I tell him. "If someone taught me to use guns and knives, I don't think I want to know. Do you remember anything, other than your name?"

Thomas seems lost in thought, but just when I'm about to continue, he says, like he's still trapped in a memory, "Wicked is good. Everything is going to change."

I go still.

Wicked is good.

I remember those words.

Just once. So long ago. The night I remembered my name, I had the nightmare and the voice in it…

"Wicked is good?" I ask, and my voice comes out strangely.

Thomas nods. "Someone says it, over and over, in my head. But I can't…"

He can't remember.

"How do you know those things about yourself?" he asks suddenly. "Do you get, like, flashbacks?"

I shake my head. "I've never had a flashback. I had one nightmare but it didn't tell me anything. Everything I know, I worked out for myself." I remember a conversation I had with Newt, so long ago and I sigh as my thumb runs along the side of the knife in my hand. "I said, a long time ago, that these people have taken our memories, but you can't really erase who someone is. The boys here, they don't remember anything, same as you, but they've learned things about themselves without those memories. You will, too."

Thomas looks doubtful.

"What do they mean?" he asks instead. "Everything's going to change."

"It's already started," I say. My eyes drop back to the next tool in my lap; a small, hand-held spade. I hate the irony. "No one's been stung during the day before."

"And it started with me." He states it. I get the feeling he's condemning himself. "He said this was my fault."

I look up. Thomas' expression has moved into something guilty and weighted.

"Ben," he clarifies. His voice is quiet. The other boys bustle around us, getting on with small chores in between watching the Doors. I can see Newt, near the entrance standing vigil, but somehow I can tell he keeps looking my way. "Ben said that he saw me and that it's all my fault."

I know from Justin, and from what Newt said about Stephen that the sting brings back fragments of memory and truth, all tied up in the madness. But I don't know if that's something it's wise to tell Thomas.

"It does that," I say, trying to pick my words carefully. I don't want to add to this feeling of guilt he's taken on, but I won't lie to him either. "The sting; whatever's in it, it can take pieces of your memory and give them back, but they're not complete, and with the poison, I don't think they make sense."

Thomas' eyes spark as he looks up at me. There's a kind of recognition there.

"You knew someone," he murmurs. "Someone who got stung?"

I feel the long gone scratches on my wrist tingle and don't reply. But I don't need to. Thomas nods.

"What happens if they don't make it?"

We move away from the topic and I take in a breath. I can feel Newt looking our way again.

There's something frustrated in his voice, though it's hidden behind the concern, and I glance up. It's the same frustration that was in his expression as he walked away from Newt.

I know what their tense conversation was about.

"What did Newt say?"

Thomas looks like he wants to scowl, but it comes out as a quiet huff.

"That they're going to make it."

I half smile. It's not really funny, but it's predictable.

"Alby and Minho are Newt's oldest friends," I say. "And if Alby isn't around, Newt takes command. He's more worried than he can let on. Them not getting back isn't an option for him."

Thomas rubs at the bandage on his wrist. "But you have to have thought about it, right?"

I give him a serious look and say, very quietly. "If they don't make it back, they're dead or worse. And Minho is too good to get lost, so they're only this late because that's already happened. That's what they're thinking."

Thomas' expression drops.

I guess he wasn't expecting a blunt answer.

But all he's been looking for are answers, so I figure he can start taking them.

"Newt won't be the same," and even just whispering this aloud makes something in my chest break because I'm facing, for the first time, that he really won't. "He'll have to lead. We'll have lost a Runner - the best one - and we'll still be trapped."

I stand up. Nervous energy is snapping through my veins.

"So," I say, as gently as I can. "Maybe you can understand why Newt can't talk about it."

Thomas nods. I gently squeeze his shoulder as I pass him.

The other Runners are out themselves, as normal. There's no one for me to go into the Maze with, and even if there was, I don't know my way alone. And even if I knew my way, I don't know where Minho had been headed. I'd never make it back by sundown. Losing two is going to be hard enough, but losing three would be worse. Newt would never forgive me if I tried to go after them.

It hurts to know everything is going to change all over again, and all I can do is watch.

…

The downpour keeps us all in the huts as the afternoon drags on, slower with each passing minute.

The field seems just as grey as the sky, and the expressions on everyone's faces even bleaker.

Newt doesn't talk much, and no one really pushes him to. Frypan looks grave stirring something in a bowl without even looking at it in the Kitchen doorway. Gally scowls out of the Mess hall, but behind the folded arms, he emanates something more troubled.

I finish repairing the tools and find myself sitting with Eric, Clint, Henry and Tim. We try to play a betting game to pass the time, but it's clear no one's mind is in it.

Everyone thinks the worst, but no one wants to say it.

It's a long afternoon.

…

The shucking idiot is in the Maze.

I think he's broken the record for shortest lasting Greenie.

The rain let up as the sun went down – not that it was easy to tell with the grey clouds forming a solid blanket overhead.

And Minho appeared, but he was out of time, dragging Alby's dead weight with him.

And Thomas threw himself away from everyone gathered at the threshold. He forced his way through the rapidly narrowing space until the Doors pressed together with their usual noise and everyone in the Glade were left to stare at the space where he'd been.

No one survives a night in the Maze.

Not a rule we live by, but a truth those lives are built around.

Supper is served up in the Mess hall, but a bunch of us never leave the Doors. Frypan and Stan bring us ration packs – the ones we don't need to use up so much since Frypan assembled his team of the culinary gifted.

I'm more scared than I care to admit at the fragmented look that's taken hold of Newt.

We pick at the tasteless ration packs, and conversation is reduced to short exchanges that trail off into the pressing silence. Words, food and even the company in the shadow of the Wall are not enough to push back the crushing weight on everyone's shoulders.

Alby is gone; the boy who came here first, three years ago, and gave everyone someone to look up to.

Minho is gone; the boy who led others out into the Maze with his drive and determination alone.

And Thomas. A boy who has been in the Glade for barely three days, already questioning the rules and the system.

We sit up all through the night.

We fall asleep periodically and in short bursts, the grinding noises of change and the hisses of danger starting us from sleep. Zart's eyes are wide in the gloom; Jeff rocks slowly in the grass; Winston shifts restlessly in his sleep, head pillowed on his arm.

Newt barely moves the entire night. There's too much stirring behind his eyes to allow him to sleep at all.

I drift off at one point, only to startle awake not long after with what sounds like a scream.

Chuck hasn't left us. In just two days, he's become a bit of a shadow to Thomas – someone newer to this than he is, older, and who seems to actually want to talk and listen to him where everyone else is often too busy during the day. Chuck whittles on a piece of wood until he shakes too much to continue. His eyes fill with tears that he doesn't cry and he stays nearly as silent as Newt.

We're all wrung out when it's finally light enough the following morning for the Doors to groan apart.

And yet, there's that last, desperate surge of hope in my chest as Chuck calls us all to the widening gap.

The Maze is a shadow beyond. The tunnel into it is empty.

No bodies – but no one breathing either.

I watch Chuck's face fall. I see Jeff, Zart and Winston's shoulders sink.

"I told you, Chuck," Newt says. His voice is solid – he exhausted all his fears and grief during the night. Now he has to be a leader. "No coming back."

Chuck looks back at him, and I can see the sympathy in Newt's expression. His eyes linger on the younger boy as everyone slowly turns away.

Somehow, we have to get on with our lives.

"No way."

Zart's stopped, and his voice is numb disbelief.

I stop and look around. I feel the slow procession falter behind me.

There's a shape forming from the darkness at the end of the tunnel; something hobbling and unsteady.

"Yeah!" Chuck cheers, his cheeks flushing with some kind of second-hand triumph.

Thomas and Minho stagger towards the Doors. Both are exhausted, scratched and grimy, and struggling beneath the weight of a still unconscious Alby.

But they're alive.

And that puts another crack through everything we've been taught to believe.

No one survives a night in the Maze.

Until now.

…

Thomas killed a Griever, so, naturally, Gally's not happy.

Not that he usually is, but as he calls everyone for a mass meeting in the Council Hall, he looks very much not happy.

There's a whole lot of posturing as he rallies the Gladers with just his fierce belief in his words, and then Newt cuts across him.

Newt has looked worlds better since Thomas and Minho carried Alby back through the Doors. Alby is out of action; he sort of regained consciousness and has been kept down with strong bindings and sedative mixes as the Changing takes hold, but he's alive. Having two of his oldest friends still breathing – even if one is in a dire condition – has meant Newt can actually take the position he's been thrust into with a lot more focus than he might have.

"Minho," he says, arms crossing across his body as he leans back on the rail. "You were there with him, what do you think?"

Minho takes his time replying, and when he does, everyone goes quiet to listen. "I think…in all the time we've been here… no one's ever killed a Griever before.

"When I turned tail and ran, this dumb Shank stayed behind to help Alby. I don't know if he's brave or stupid…But whatever it is, we need more of it."

I snort internally. I can't help it.

Minho pauses for a beat, looks steadily at Newt and says – with total conviction, "I say we make him a Runner."

Instant uproar.

Oh heck.

Thomas' head snaps up, eyes stunned as he looks at Minho. There's something like gravity in them. He started trying to run into the Maze on his first day; this is what he wants. That's easy to see.

And as Newt said to me a long time ago; we sort of need anyone prepared to do it.

The boys all around me break into whispers and chatter, some disbelieving, some supportive. Chuck tries and fails to begin a chant. Winston, stood one side of Minho just raises his eyebrows. Zart does one of his full-face beaming smiles and doesn't say a word.

Newt lifts himself off of the rail, a smile breaking across his face that's a touch incredulous, though also a little approving.

"A Runner? What?" Frypan asks. "Minho, let's not jump the gun here, alright?"

And then Gally strides forward, hand held up in the air for silence, which falls with his first words. "Look, if you wanna throw the newbie a parade that's fine. Go ahead." He lets this sink in, expression still tight. "But if there's one thing that I know about the Maze, it's that you do not-"

And then even Gally stops talking. A loud cranking noise fills in where his voice used to be.

A very familiar alarm resonates through the Glade, seeping through the walls and into the Council Hall.

The Box Alarm.

INFO

1. Eva and Thomas do get to have a face-to-face conversation here, but its not really about getting to know each other in the typical sense. Thomas, from what we see of him in canon, is very focused on the puzzle of the Maze, escaping and (maybe to a lesser extent) discovering who he is. His friendship with Minho comes about almost unintentionally, simply as a result of their night in the Maze, and the ones with Newt, Chuck and Alby follow a little of that pattern. Teresa is the only one he seems to deliberately approach, trying to connect to, and that's because she knew his name. This is the way I interpreted it; its not fact. But his first meeting with Eva is based on this. He's not really looking to make friends; he's looking for answers. Newt won't give them, but Eva does, and that is the root of the conversation, rather than friendship. Maybe that comes across, but this is the reasoning behind why it may feel a little less personal. It's meant that way.

2. There is a little bit of a time skip. I imagine Eva was gathered at the Doors with the others, but I'm not intending to rehash all the scenes you already know. That moment Thomas decides to run in is very well known, and its more action than thought, so I'd just be describing what you see. Other times, I feel there's more benefit in including movie scenes - the Meeting at the end here, for instance. There's a lot going on with a lot of people and a lot of conflicting opinions and that's more fun to play with.

3. A little unrelated, but I'll also just point out that actually, Eva spoke directly to Thomas sooner than she ever spoke to Rob. He'd been in the Glade nearly a week before she really talked to him at supper. Thomas is on his third day when this conversation happens. The difference is just to do with the pace of the story.

Guest Reviews!

Nutmeg: Just proof that Teasers can be misleading XD And that's okay – I appreciate the reviews more than you know, but your life has to come first :) As for the last chapter…it was actually just a bit shorter, but only by maybe half a page. As you say, hectic events and things moving quickly can feel that way (and being able to speed up a narrative so that people read faster is a tool of writing which I have tried to employ in more than a few places; just the same as slowing down a narrative to encourage slower reading).

As for Thomas…this is a little complex, so bear with me. Thomas is observant, but it's more situational than emotional. He's very wrapped up in the Maze, the puzzles and escaping (less so with the friendships, hierarchy and forming his own bonds – becoming Minho's friend sort of just happened rather than him trying to encourage it, in my eyes). So I'm not sure Thomas would take a lot of time to question the relationship between two people given he has bigger questions. Additionally, the others know something's brewing between them because they have months of witnessing it with a rather quieter life. With the chaos in the Maze, and how short a time Thomas is there, it's not unrealistic that he wouldn't notice anything in the first place.

But, assuming he does, which is also a possibility, I don't think he's likely to ask Eva about it. Maybe not even Newt. It's more likely that he'd just quietly ask Chuck as they settle for the night, or query it to Frypan in passing. And if he does any of those things, the chances of either of them then passing it on are slim. So even if he does ask (and bearing in mind, this is just how I interpreted the character), I didn't think it too likely Eva would ever be the one questioned, or hear about it, either. So it wouldn't appear in the story. That said, there's no reason such a passing conversation couldn't end up in the companion series as a deleted scene :)

And again, thank you so much for such high praise on this story. It really makes my day. I know what you mean about a lot of fics moving too quickly, or getting unrealistic among other things, and just one of the reasons for this story was to fix some of the pet peeves I see in others. I'm glad it's going that for you so far!

As for your other question…I feel like this has a longer answer but in trying to shorten it: Eva is clearly not emotionally ready to be a part of a Banishing, even if she is physically capable. In the movie, the Keepers all have a pole and there's a handful more of the boys who stand to the sides with the spears, but if they're saying there's 50 or so boys in the Glade, clearly not every single one of them could take an active part in this. Keepers are elected into a position of responsibility because they have the strength of character for it; and they'd know this is one of their duties, should it be necessary. The other boys, I assume, are ones who step up to help because someone has to. There are probably still a lot of people who don't take part for any number of reasons. Chuck walks away from the scene, Thomas watches (the same way Eva did when it was Justin's turn; learning and getting that first experience). In this instance, Eva watches because she won't let herself hide from it and pretend its not happening, but she can't make herself actively push Ben out…I kind of hope that makes sense…?

Athio: First, thank you for such wonderful praise on this story! I'm thrilled that you like it and think so highly of it; writing and content. And I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that you've gotten so attached to the characters who were peripheral in the film (and books), and that you're seeing more in it than a story about your favourite character.

Honestly, this is exactly what I was aiming for. I wanted to write something very visceral and grounded that dealt with very real themes and issues – things like finding your own family, what makes a person who they are, how you handle fear or anger, how you cope with grief and loss… I know most fiction out there (published, too) will focus on a core cast of characters that they flesh out, but you will always have those that exist on the sidelines, purely for plot, and I very deliberately didn't want to do that. I wanted to build a story that made you care about everyone in it; partly so that it invoked this reaction should anything happen to them. Ben is effectively a tool in the movie, and while the Banishing was a striking scene, I didn't feel any real grief that the person was gone. So the fact that you didn't either, and reading this has really made you feel his loss means I'm doing something right :) (Sad as that is).

And I don't think there's any such thing as late to the party in fanfic! I'm just glad you found it now and are keen to stick around for more. Thanks again for your amazing review and kind words!

(As for that PS…I imagine that could be a touch awkward. Maybe watching the movie again will help? Good luck there!)

Guest: The answer to that will come, but its not a priority for either Eva or Newt right now, which is why its not been brought up. Hang in there!

Chapter 23 - Teaser

"I think he was frustrated that you couldn't give him a straight answer," I say, shrugging. "So I gave him one."

-To be posted next week-