The Med Jacks were quick and efficient.

After Clint had peeled Gally off of Eve and pushed both him and Newt back, Jeff moved in to assess the situation.

The knife in Eve's chest was buried to the hilt; there was no blood coming out. If they moved it without proper preparation, Eve could die right then and there from blood loss. But moving her to the Med Jack Hut with the knife in her chest would be dangerous. After careful assessment with nimble fingers, Jeff was able to determine that the knife had not hit her heart, but it had punctured her left lung, posing yet another problem. If they were not careful removing the knife, Eve could suffocate when air entered the chest cavity.

Gally was beside himself, pacing back and forth around the Med Jack's, flexing his fists over and over again.

Alby had disappeared, enlisting Minho and his team to take Michael away from the garden. The diseased boy's cries echoed faintly from the direction of the Deadheads. Black, slimy blood covered the ground, staining Eve's skin. Gally had it on his clothes and Newt's face was spattered with drops of the stuff.

Jeff ducked back, allowing Clint to take his place beside Eve's body. The Keeper took a careful assessment of the wound and then began to put gentle pressure around the blade. Jeff turned to Newt and Gally, ready to deal with them now.

Newt's eyes were wide and hollow, his mouth in a tight line. Gally was shaking, anger vibrating through his body; Jeff could see the malice in his eyes. Gally was retreating behind his mask, doing what he knew best to do.

"Well?" His voice was taut, hard as flint. "Why haven't we moved her?"

Jeff sat on his knees, his hands pressed into his thighs. He bit his lip, debating how to word his thoughts. After a moment, he took a deep breath and faced the big Builder.

"The knife is too close to her heart for us to just pick her up and carry her. Any sudden movement could cause more damage," Jeff bit his lip again before continuing. "We can't move her until we know it'll be safe,"

Gally stared at him, his face expressionless.

"So what do we do?" Gally's voice had faded.

Newt looked lost, like a child.

"Can we build something for her? Pull her to the hut?"

Jeff rolled it over in his mind.

"We could, but...," He looked back at Eve, the rise and fall of her chest seeming to get smaller and smaller. "I don't know how long Eve will last like this," He felt a lump rise in his throat. Eve was his friend too, it killed him to see her like this. She was hanging on by a thread and there wasn't much hope. He looked up at Newt, his eyes damp from tears.

"She could die,"

Newt bowed his head, nodding, his fingers curling into fists. Gally dragged his gaze to Eve, who lay still on the ground. Clint leaned over her, checking her face.

"We need to work fast then," Gally's voice was tense, barely contained. "We'll build a stretcher and pull her to the Med Jack Hut. If we're careful, we can pick it up and put her on the bed. She'll be alright once she's there, right?"

Jeff opened his mouth, unsure of what to say to the Builder. Gally seemed to believe that if he worked fast enough, that Eve could be saved.

It was the only reality he was willing to see.

"We can try," Jeff's voice cracked and he swallowed heavily.

Gally didn't need any more than that. With one more look at Eve, he turned and was gone.

Newt closed his eyes, tears falling onto his cheek.

"How did this happen?" His voice was ghostly.

Jeff didn't answer, glancing back to Eve. Her face was pale, the colour draining. She was withering away before them.

"I don't know. I don't know what we're going to do Newt, I don't know if we have what she needs. I've never had to deal with anything like this before. If we pull that knife out...," Jeff breathed in a ragged breath. "I don't know what will happen,"

Newt let out a short exhale and looked down at the ground.

Jeff frowned.

"You alright, Newt?"

Newt shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I should have gotten her somewhere safe,"

Jeff raised an eyebrow.

"How do you mean?"

Newt rubbed his face with a hand, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I left her," Newt's voice was riddled with guilt. "We were in the garden when I heard the commotion at the Door. I told her... I told her not to move. I... I told her to stay here until we knew it was safe. She trusted me and I left her alone. She was all alone!" Newt's voice rose in waver and he buried his face in his hands. "I should have done more!" He sobbed through his fingers.

Jeff watched him, his mouth open, unsure of what he could do. Newt was his superior.

"You can't blame yourself," Jeff's voice was rough and he knew his words did not sound sincere. In some ways, Newt had failed. Under Alby's protocol, Newt should have moved Eve into the dugout or the Deadheads.

But Michael had been wild, who could say if he would've found Eve anyway? Found some of the other Glader's?

No one could have predicted it.

Jeff turned back to Eve. Her breathing was barely recognizable. Clint was keeping pressure over the wound. He tapped on Eve's sternum, maintaining a steady, rhythmic percussion, encouraging her heartbeat.

He looked worried.

Jeff turned back to Newt.

"Newt?" If they were going to try to save Eve, they had to do the best they could. Jeff couldn't give up yet, he took an oath.

The second stirred but didn't lift his head. Jeff swallowed hard; he wasn't accustomed to having to be the authority.

"Newt, I need you to do something for me,"

Newt lifted his head. He waited for instruction.

"I need you to go to the hut. Lay down some clean sheets on the big bed. Pull out as many buckets and bowls as you can find in there. Fill them with warm water. Get out as much linen as you can. If Clint takes that knife out, we'll have to control the blood flow,"

Newt nodded furiously, relieved to have something to do. Jeff had never seen him look so unsure, so without a plan. Newt usually knew how to keep his calm.

The second jumped to his feet and was gone within a second.

Jeff scouted back toward Eve, attempting to wipe the black slime off her arms and legs. He looked at Clint, who did not meet his eye.

"Do you think you can do this?"

Clint didn't answer.

Gally cursed under his breath, shoving his thumb in his mouth. That was the third time he had nicked it. His hands were shaking so badly, he could barely hold the knife steady.

All he could see was Eve, laying on the ground, a knife in her chest.

It had all happened so fast. Michael had been unpredictable and out of his mind. Why he had picked up that knife, why he had gone after Eve...

Gally hated the Runner. Hated that he had touched Eve.

Hated that he hadn't been able to stop it.

Gally threw his finished branch to Eric, who sat to his left, tying the branches together into a skeleton. Ham sat not far off from Eric, stretching out a sheet of animal sinew, preparing it to fit over the makeshift stretcher. They worked without question, the look in Gally's eyes did not welcome discussion.

Gally didn't talk, he only worked at a feverishly fast pace. His eyes glazed and his face frozen, expressionless.

Eve was going to die.

She was going to die if he didn't finish this god damn stretcher.

He threw down another branch, picked up another and set in. Eric was almost finished and Ham was waiting for the skeleton to be finished.

Gally barely dared to breathe as he worked.

This had to work. It simply had to. They would bring Eve to the hut and Clint would take care of everything. The knife would be pulled out, the bleeding got under control and Eve would begin to heal. In no time at all, she would be back in the Deadheads, picking branches for the Homestead.

He just had to finish the stretcher. That's all he had to do.

"Gally?" Ham's voice interrupted Gally's thoughts.

Gally didn't react at first. Ham called again and Gally started.

Eric and Ham held up the stretcher.

"It's done,"

Gally didn't even look at it.

"Get it to the garden,"

Gally felt bile in his throat when he saw Eve. Her face had turned white, her skin looked clammy and cold. His hands were shaking as he kneeled in the grass beside her.

"I'm back, Eve, I'm here," He touched the back of his hand to her cheek. Eve's eyelids fluttered, but she didn't move.

Jeff cleared his throat.

"We need to move, quickly," His voice was husky.

Gally nodded, slowly, not taking his eyes off Eve.

"How do we get her on?" His voice was breathy, his eyes misting over.

Clint beckoned for everyone to step away from Eve.

"We're going to slide it under her. We'll lift her head and you're going to push it under her. Go slowly, the grass is going to catch. It'll take some time to get it where we need it,"

Gally nodded again, swallowing hard.

Alby reappeared on the scene soon after Eve had been placed, painstakingly, unto the Med Jack's largest bed.

Newt stood in the garden, at a loss at what to do. He saw Alby approaching.

"She's in the Med Jack Hut," Newt's voice was tired, heavy.

Alby put his hands on his hips, seemingly just as lost.

"She's... uh, is she -,"

"We don't know,"

Alby nodded, absent.

"Where is Michael?" Newt couldn't honestly say it had been on his mind, but he didn't like the silence.

Alby didn't look at him.

Gone,"

Newt stared.

"Gone...?"

"The Runners are burying him,"

Newt swallowed and looked back at the grass.

"Gally went with them, I don't think he's left her side since,"

Alby nodded again, still not looking at anything in particular. But Newt could see he was shaken.

"After... after we... know. After we know how Eve...," He stopped to take a deep, rattling breath. "We'll have a meeting. You, Minho, Gally. We'll talk this through. After... after... this,"

Newt nodded again.

Clint's hand was still on Eve's chest, keeping pressure on the wound.

"She's down to 58 a minute," His voice, although clinical, was wavering. Her heartbeat was irregular, unsteady and fading fast. He was struggling to remain calm; nothing like this had ever happened before.

Jeff, who had just convinced Gally to leave the hut, approached the bedside. He took a deep breath and refocused his attention.

Clint spoke over his shoulder.

"I'm going to take the knife out now. Gather the linen and place it on her chest. When I take it out, you'll need to stay the blood while I take out the air. Do you understand?"

Jeff nodded, feeling himself grow faint.

"I understand,"

Clint allowed Jeff to take his place, moved away and quickly washed his hands. His hands shook as he cleaned them. But he grit his teeth, staying the tremors with force of will.

He had to remain strong. He was the only one who could.

Gally was stomping back and forth in front of the Med Jack Hut when Alby and Newt arrived. His anger was coming off in great waves.

"Gally-," Alby started.

"Who does Jeff think he is?" Gally steamed. "He kicked me out! I don't want to leave her! I can't keep leaving her," His voice was betraying his emotions, but his anger triumphed.

Newt swallowed hard. He had been the one to leave Eve.

Alby grabbed Gally by the shoulder, forcing the brute to face him.

"Jeff is only doing what he thinks is best; they need space! If anyone can save Eve, it's going to be him and Clint. Have faith Gally,"

Gally scowled roughly and shook Alby off.

"I don't want to leave her,"

"You're not leaving her, Gally. She's in Clint's hands now. If he saves her-,"

"If? IF? He has to save her. He has to!"

Alby's smile disappeared. He raised his hand and slapped Gally across the face.

Gally reeled back, stunned. Alby's eyes were narrowed.

"You listen to me Gally," The leader's voice was dangerously low. "Do you think for one moment that Clint and Jeff aren't going to do everything humanly possible to save Eve? Don't you think they're just as scared as you and I are? Have you ever saved a life? Have you ever been put in that situation?"

Gally stood, cowering, before Alby. His hand covered his stinging cheek. Alby leaned away, heaving a great breath.

"Now you stay out of their way. If Eve doesn't live... if she doesn't make it. Clint will be the last person you will lay any blame upon, do you understand me?"

Tears ran down Gally's face, he looked shocked.

"Yes," He whispered.

"What?"

"Yes, Alby,"

Alby huffed and turned away. Folding his arms across his chest, he addressed the two without looking at them.

"There is work to be done. Michael ruined some of our crops and we have to remove the pollution from the healthy roots. The other Gladers are scattered and scared," Alby turned to Newt. "Have Zart and Wintson help clean up the garden, throw everything into the Deadheads. And Gally?" He turned to the Builder, who was sullenly staring at the ground. "You're a Keeper, you have responsibilities. Your team will be looking for leadership, I expect you to take charge,"

Gally nodded, barely registering the words being.

Alby nodded and tilted his chin forward.

"Get to it then,"

Newt alerted smartly and was off in a jog. Gally took one more moment to gaze forlornly at the Med Jack Hut before he turned away and trod toward the Builder's ground.

Alby took another deep breath, he could feel his body beginning to shake. He could hardly bear the thought of losing yet another Glader.

But Eve was in the Med Jack's hands now.

Jeff was covered in blood, up to his elbows, all over his hands, splattered across his face. Rag after rag was being tossed aside, soaked in Eve's blood. The bleeding was slowing, yes, but Eve was losing more than Jeff knew was safe.

He glanced up at Clint, who was thoroughly sanitizing a metal syringe that he had found in one of the WCKD medical supply boxes. The knife Michael had used was in a bowl of water.

It didn't look particularly evil to Jeff.

He gulped a deep breath and looked back at her.

She was incredibly pale, the loss of blood draining the life from her. But Jeff, despite it all, felt a glimmer of hope. She was fighting, he could feel it. Her heartbeat, although lower than safe, was staying steady. She was fighting from wherever her soul had landed, desperately trying to get back to her body. Jeff kept the pressure on and mopped up all the blood he could.

Clint finished prepping and approached the bedside.

"Hold the towel beside the wound. I'm going to take out the air. Once I do that, her lunge will relax," His eyes were alight. "She'll have a chance, she's going to have a chance here,"

Jeff did as he was told. He moved the towel just enough so that Clint could insert the syringe into the wound. He pulled up on the plunger and a sucking sound filled the air. It only took a minute and then there was nothing.

Jeff felt a release in Eve's chest.

He pulled the needle out and Jeff put the pressure back on; he was beyond needing instruction. Hope was fluttering in his chest and the nerves had left him.

Eve was fighting and so were they.

Alby was standing not far off from the hut when Jeff exploded out the door and nearly bowled into him.

Alby steadied him and backed away.

"What the shuck is going on?"

Jeff was shaking. But he also looked... hopeful?

Alby grabbed hold of Jeff's shoulders.

"Jeff, what's going on? Is it Eve?"

"Blood," The Med Jack shouted back. "She needs blood. We need- we need blood!"

Alby wasn't quite sure he understood.

"They don't send us blood-,"

Jeff ripped himself away, shaking his head.

"We need someone with the same blood type as Eve. She lost too much, we need more!"

Alby gained clarity faster than his body could keep up. He was running, running toward the garden. His feet flew through the grass and he nearly crashed through the stalks of tomatoes and carrots in his hurry.

Newt heard him coming and his eyes widened as Alby rounded the bend.

"What are you-?"

"Blood. Eve needs blood," Alby gasped and made a circular motion with his hands. "We need to round up all the Gladers. Jeff needs to find a match for Eve,"

Zart was up on his feet in a minute, running toward the Builder's ground. Winston didn't waste time zipping toward the kitchen to collect Fry Pan. Alby looked around for a minute.

"Where is Minho and the Runners?"

Newt pointed toward the meeting place.

"He was waiting for you, to give his report," the second got to his feet, his face brightening. "I'll get them,"

Jeff wasted no time in lining up the Gladers and taking a sample of their blood. He knew they had no fancy equipment to compare the types, but he understood how the science worked. The WCKD boxes, although scant, contained staple medical supplies and Jeff had found reagent cards soon after Clint had joined the Gladers. There were enough cards to test everyone and since he had an abundant supply of Eve's blood he just needed to wait it out.

Gally had begged to see Eve, while they waited for the blood to react with the chemicals on the cards. But Jeff was firm, taking on a whole new persona with the stress of life.

"You will see her later,"

Gally didn't quite know how to take that tone and seemed ready to knock him out. But Alby intervened just in time.

Twenty minutes later, Jeff checked the samples.

Ham's was the only blood that matched. The Med Jack felt a weight lift off his shoulders; their chances were growing still.

Ham was more than a willing participant. He sat down where the Med Jack's indicated and Jeff set up the tube over the syringe in Ham's arm. Soon enough, they had a large, plastic bag filled with Ham's blood.

Clint stood over Eve, wrapping up her wound carefully. They were still not able to sit her up to dress around her back, but the fact that the bleeding had stopped was welcome enough.

Ham was taken off the syringe and Jeff gave him a warm smile.

"Thank you, Ham. Please tell Alby that we got what we needed. You did well, Eve will thank you,"

Ham nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Anything to save a life,"

Jeff saw him out and then quickly took the bag of blood off the hook he had used to hold it. He sanitized the end of the tube and pulled a new one. He attached it quickly to another hook closer to Eve's bed and held up her arm.

It was limp, almost lifeless.

He swallowed and manually activated her muscles. Her vein was not as prominent as Ham's had been, but Jeff was able to pinpoint it. He eased in the syringe and gently released the nozzle on the bag.

The blood began to slowly flow into Eve's body.

Clint sat down beside the bed, Jeff followed suit.

The Keeper rubbed his temples with his hand.

"Now... we wait,"