In which there are whispers and heartbeats
AN: This is it, folks. The end. Its been a crazy journey and thank you to everyone who's stuck it through. I will be posting a chapter after this as an afterword and acknowledgements and I'll also answer any anonymous reviews and extra questions there, too. Expect that in a few days.
ALSO: The first chapter of the Companion Series has been posted! You can find it through my profile as 'The Eden Switch Companion Series' (original, I know) so please check it out if you're interested (as it's me, there are some preliminary notes, too) and do follow that if you want to get alerts for further one shots :)
I start awake when the sky is barely light. It's still dark outside; there's no light filtering in through the drawn curtains.
My heart slows down as I sit under the warm blankets but I can't settle again, and it's not the flash of the Griever's wide mouth or the dead bodies in the W.C.K.D compound that morph into Newt, Frypan, Dan and the others that are responsible.
My bed doesn't move.
I miss the swaying motion of the hammock. I miss the sound of the leaves rustling just through the branch walls. I even miss the sound of distant groaning from the Maze, though I choose to put this down to missing what is familiar, rather than any of those things themselves.
With the windows dark and all the lights off, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust enough to pick out shapes in the room around me. I can hear the rustling of the stiff sheets from more than a few beds; boys sleeping fitfully, probably plagued with memories and nightmares that bleed into one another.
Opposite my bunk, one of the beds standing down the centre of the huge room, I can see the dark shadow of Minho's running harness resting on the floor. One of his arms is flung over the edge of the mattress, twitching like he's dreaming of still running.
Sitting up, I can see that the bunk neighbouring mine – they're lined head to foot down the wall – is where Newt sleeps. His wiry arms cradle the pillow and shadows slide between his shoulder blades, the sheets low across his back.
I'm so used to coping alone – I prefer it that way – but a part of me that I'm not prepared for wants to go to him. I want to press into his warmth, like an echo of the past night in the hammock.
But more than that, I don't want to wake him. None of us have slept well lately.
I throw aside the blankets, grab my satchel and tiptoe out of the room.
The hall beyond is much darker, but I just sneak down to the end where there's a large window.
It isn't locked.
No one is around, so I push over the catch and slide it up.
A rush of warm air blows in and I feel something settle within me.
Somehow I think my liking for the outdoors isn't just about my time in the Glade. I was raised in the country. I think that's what my file back at the compound said. Maybe this is a whisper of who I used to be.
I sink to the floor where I can feel the breeze drift across me, and absently open my satchel. The things I packed are still there, and I'm glad they weren't needed. Bandages, needles in packets, gauze pads and Clint's anaesthetic mix are all pulled out.
We should probably compile all our supplies in the morning; see what we have and sort it all. Heck knows what's coming next.
But there's still a shape in the bag, and as soon as I tug out the supple leather book, I know what it is.
Newt must have put it in there early in the morning before I woke up.
It's bound closed with the leather strap, but the pencil is pressed between the pages, marking one of them off with an open teardrop shape.
I don't know if I should, but he showed it to me before, and the curiosity burns.
I unwind the strap and let the book fall open.
I stop breathing.
That's me.
The sketch is made with soft strokes, my loose hair rendered in a dark spill across the blankets, body curved in the cradle of the hammock. And though the fabric folded in where Newt had been there's an echo of him in the way he's drawn the shadows in the space beside me.
Written in the corner, slanted and light, are words.
I couldn't let this be forgotten, either.
My breath rushes out with the ghost of a laugh.
I think, from the words he wrote on the page, that he meant me to see it, but there's a strange feeling that comes with seeing yourself through someone else's eyes.
I remember what he said when he first showed me the book; he only ever drew the people who were lost in the Glade, so they wouldn't be forgotten.
Quickly, before I can rethink it, I pick up the pencil. I can't remember writing anything before. The tip scratches gently on the paper, the words coming out loopy.
It won't be. I'm still here.
I drop the pencil back into the seam and press the book closed, wind it shut and bury it back in the bag.
As I do, my fingers brush across something cold.
My mind freezes. My heart pounds. The book is pushed to the back of my thoughts in the place of this new, overwhelming one.
I yank out the shallow tin, suddenly short of breath – though this is nothing like in the helicopter.
I'd never had a panic attack before; that I remember, anyway. I hadn't even realised I'd worked myself into one until it was too late. I feel a little guilty that Newt ended up having to calm me down, when I knew he'd lost so much more in the Maze.
But I push the thought aside as I force open the tin.
There, sitting inside it, is the syringe gun I used on myself months ago. It's a little silver thing with a stubby barrel and dimpled handle, with the empty cartridge still loaded just above the trigger.
And I'm seeing it with new eyes as my mind reels back to Newt's file on the computer.
Compromised.
This gun won't work; the syringe isn't right, nor is the needle, and you couldn't really use a gun anyway, but it doesn't need to work. It just needed to give me the idea.
A blood transfusion.
That's how to turn Compromised into Immune.
The hope burns fierce and strong in my chest.
Right now, hope is all I need. I'll take it.
And I'm a universal donor.
…
"Eva?"
I look up, nearly dropping the gun in my hands. It feels like such a long time since I've heard anyone say my name and they weren't shouting it in terror.
Newt stands just outside the door of the dormitory. He's in long cotton pants and a loose t-shirt, too – though both of his fit better – and his hair is back to its light, honey blonde shade now that most of the grime and blood has been washed out.
He's always been a good looking guy, but the way I feel about him isn't really about that. It's always been about who he is; the good and the bad, and right now, that he came after me, my name sounding intimate in a way I'm not used to when he whispers it into the night.
My heart skips.
"Hey," I say quietly.
He ambles down the hall towards me, the limp more severe than I've seen it before. It alarms me more than I'd have been able to admit back in the Glade. But out here…it feels a little safer to feel for him so much.
Not that I ever really had a say in it.
My heart started to care before I could think to protect it.
"Are you okay?" I can't help the question spilling out.
He frowns in confusion, then his eyes clear. He knows what I'm worried about. "Oh. Yeah. It's a bit worse when I'm tired or when I've been running on it. It'll be…well, back to normal in a day or so."
I nod, lost for words.
I slide the gun back into its tin and shut it before Newt reaches me. I will have to tell him about what I think I know, and how I think I can fix it, but it can wait for now. We're both still tired.
"What are you doing out here?" he asks. But before I can answer, his eyes skip to the satchel at my side; the supplies I've been organising. "Are you leaving?"
There's suddenly an odd mix in his voice of something broken and furious.
I feel my eyes widen.
"No!" I say, and the hushed exclamation echoes in the hallway.
I watch the breath rush out of him. After all this time, it's easy to see the relief for what it is.
In the interest of honesty, though…"I've thought about it," I say. And it's true. In the helicopter, coming back from the panic attack, it did cross my mind.
"Why?" there's something hard and wrecked in the single word.
Newt rarely gets worked up. He's always been the level headed one, but right now he sounds annoyed. Upset. Confused.
I can't really blame him. It was just this morning that I told him I wanted to keep him with me.
"It was just one of those crazy things that crosses your mind," I try to reassure him, shrugging helplessly. "Because I was switched over. I was never meant to be a part of this group. I don't even think I was meant to survive. I found my file, Newt; when you were watching that video. But don't worry…it was a crazy thought anyway, and I was freaking out. Where the hell would I even go?"
He sighs, and then drops down next to me. He patiently puts all the supplies back in the satchel and then moves it out of my reach.
"Bloody hell," he mutters. He picks up my hand; threads our fingers together. "Nowhere," he says. "Don't go anywhere."
The words feel weighted. Like they've been substituted for something else, and it feels like a knot forms deep inside me – one I can't undo that will keep me tethered to him from this moment forwards.
It's a comforting feeling; not one that makes me anxious or scared. And it's a fleeting sensation; a tie that I know is there but is freeing in its nature.
I lean into him, and his arm curls around me. Automatic. Easy.
Warmth pulses through my veins. I can feel his heart beating under my cheek; fast and sure.
"Not planning on it," I say. My voice is soft, the words heavy. "This is where I want to be."
And it's truer than even I'd been prepared for.
Newt's breath catches. I think I feel the faintest of smiles as he breathes a gentle kiss onto my hair.
There's bound to be places that are safer or happier; places that have answers or cures. Somewhere out there, we may have families still. But I don't know anything but this, and the only family I remember is the one I have now.
And I'm not willing to trade any of them away for something I might have had before.
The silence of the very early hours is like a blanket. It keeps away the fears, the worries and the troubles and just leaves us in the shadows under the window where even nightmares can't follow.
Newt turns our hands over, and the faint, waning moonlight catches the pale scar line across my palm.
Ironic. The wound that would help me discover a possible solution to Newt's non-immunity would heal as a clean, silvery scar right through the life line of my hand.
Maybe that's a good thing.
It has to be.
Because I'm realising that it doesn't matter who I might have been before; or that I have no memories of that person. I made my own memories, as the person I am now.
And I do have a home.
Sometimes a home isn't four walls; sometimes its laughter, and tears and heartbeats.
I laughed, cried, celebrated and suffered with the Gladers. I made friendships that couldn't be touched by death. Zart, Frypan, Dan, Clint, Jeff, Chuck – all of them. Those were my choices.
The Glade wasn't home. It's the people that make the home.
Newt.
Finding a home in someone is a choice.
And I made mine a long time ago.
Curious Questions
1. What was your favourite chapter/moment of the whole story (and why?)
2. What was your favourite chapter title (and why?)
INFO
1. I feel it's important here that Eva realises and accepts there are things about the Glade that she misses. I guess you can see it as a form of stockholm. She's very aware she was forced to be there, that she had no choice, that there was no escape and that it was a prison. And yet, especially given that it was all she ever knew, just the lifestyle of it (which is a main element to this story as a whole) becomes what is familiar. So while she wouldn't miss being imprisoned and observed, its easy to miss the sensations of the hammock, the smell of the woods, the way the light filters through the huts, and so much more. It's human nature to cling to what you know.
2. Newt's book. I always knew he was going to put it in Eva's bag. And about halfway through the story, I thought he might spend the morning, before she woke up, drawing her. Maybe afraid she would die, or that he would - you can interpret that how you like. But I love this idea that Eva would find it after the fact. The drawings were something close to Newt, and as Eva recognises, I think there's something strange and intimate in seeing yourself the way someone else does.
3. A Blood transfusion. Someone actually commented on this in a review, but all I can say is this was planned this way from near the start (and yes, she will tell him. That's not even a question for her). Its one of the most realistic, logical explanations, and also one of the most doable ones, considering the world is basically post-apocalyptic at this point. So lots of little bits had to occur just to plant this idea for Eva - the syringe gun, Newt's head wound, her own hand injury, her mother being a doctor, her blood type, and Newt being compromised. And if the sequel pans out, as I hope it will, a blood transfusion, immunity, and her past life all have some major roles and themes.
4. The abandoned hotel. This is a lot of creative licence. I remember skim reading this part of the book ages ago, but that's all. Obviously the film ends without showing you where they land the chopper, so I just went with my first general impression. So the girls aren't split from the boys, and it's described a little differently. The second movie - based on the trailer - looks like it might be a bit different from the book version again, so all I can say is I will be working to tie it all together neatly if more comes :)
5. Okay, something that's really important for me. There are no 'I love you's in this story. There is one, said in a very platonic, open way, by Zart, a long way back. But none in terms of romantic attachment and that was a very deliberate choice on my part. I feel like its a phrase and a notion that is thrown about an awful lot and way too easily in fiction. I personally believe that its far better to show and imply love with actions and choices that a character makes, rather than avid declarations. Words can lie, actions often do not. I think that if you, as a reader, need an 'I love you' to know that yes, in fact, these two characters love each other, you've done something wrong as an author. Personal opinion.
So, I wanted to write a story that has none of that. And not just because I feel that they're words too easily used. Also because I feel like neither Eva or Newt would say it - at least not now. Both of them are still worried about tomorrow, scared for each other and new to being in a relationship. They're new to feeling this way and have no reference for it, either. I think, for them, the bigger declarations come in saying other things - like their conversation in the hut before all this. Wanting each other indefinitely, I think, is a bigger deal for them than words that they don't truly understand.
Are they in love? Maybe. Yes. No. I kind of want to leave this up to you until the sequel (should it happen). However you want to view it is fine and I'd love to hear your thoughts. I know how I personally view it, and I'll share that if you're interested :)
6. Finally, then, the open ending. I recognise that the very open feeling to this (also, possibly, the lack of love declarations) may hit wrong with some of you, but again, this was a deliberate choice. Even if I don't write a sequel and this is all there ever is, Eva's life doesn't finish with this story. I like epilogues and I love ones that jump ahead to the future to close things up, but that's not possible right now. Because there's so much story left to tell, the only way to really end this was openly. That said, its just Eva's life that's still open and unknown. The main themes and plot elements that carried this story have concluded and tied up, so while this ending is ready to pick up again, another story will start with a new plot, new focus and new themes.
Its an open end, but I hope you have all the answers you wanted. And any left, feel free to ask me! Any niggly bits left unanswered is one of the reasons I'll be posting an afterword next week.
And now I'm shutting up before I get sentimental. Final word on the story next week. Thanks to everyone for sticking with this, hope you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you stick around for the Afterword :)