Irelyn had been very wrong—the calm had lasted barely three days before her peace came crashing down. The Med-jack tent was unusually crowded that afternoon, with Gladers filing in for everything from splinters to sprained ankles. Supplies were scattered everywhere, and Irelyn found herself weaving around her fellow Med-jacks, her patience wearing thin as she tried to keep up.
She'd already dropped two jars of herbs that morning, splattering a carefully made paste all over the floor. Since then, it seemed as though everything was going wrong. People kept pouring in, cluttering the already packed tent, and she was constantly bumping into others and tripping over loose supplies.
In the midst of the chaos, Jackson appeared in the doorway, limping slightly, his lower leg smeared with dirt and blood. She sighed, her frustration momentarily easing as she waved him over.
"Oh, Jackson! What happened?" she asked, moving toward him.
Jackson flashed her a sheepish grin, his cheeks flushed. "It was kinda stupid. I was helping Zart with shoveling, and I didn't see the root—bam! Tripped right over it."
She chuckled softly, relieved to see him in good spirits. "Roots really do have it out for us," she teased, patting the cot next to her. "Come on, sit down. Let's see the damage."
He hopped up onto the cot, swinging his legs with a faintly exaggerated wince. "So, you're like, the doctor here, right? If anyone gets hurt, they come to you?"
"Something like that," Irelyn replied, smiling as she dabbed a cloth in water and began cleaning around the wound. "I'm learning, but Clint's the expert. I'm just the one who'll patch you up today."
"Ow!" Jackson yelped dramatically, scrunching up his face. "That stings, Irelyn!"
She rolled her eyes, unable to keep from laughing. "Oh, come on, tough guy. I'll go easy on you."
Jackson grinned, looking every bit the picture of a sweet, slightly clumsy kid. 'Maybe he's just young and a little awkward, trying to find his place,' she thought, reassured by his natural responses.
But as she worked, something shifted. When she glanced up, she caught a glimpse of Jackson's face in the periphery. The boyish innocence had slipped away, replaced by a colder, detached look as his gaze scanned the tent. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the cot, and there was a weight to his expression that felt… off. It was subtle, but it struck her as so unlike the sweet kid she'd been talking to.
Her hands stilled for a moment, a flicker of unease prickling her instincts. 'What is that?' she wondered, her heart picking up speed. 'It's like he… slipped out of character.'
She forced herself to keep working, her tone light. "So, Jackson, I hear Zart's been keeping you busy in the Gardens. How's that going?"
Jackson's face softened instantly, and he offered her a grin that looked a little too practiced. "Oh, it's good! I mean, Zart's nice and all, but it's hard work. I'm always so tired after."
Irelyn nodded, pretending not to notice the rehearsed quality of his response. "You must be strong to keep up with him."
Jackson chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah, I guess so! But, um… do you think you could maybe tell Zart I need to rest today? Just to be safe?"
She raised an eyebrow, studying him as she finished cleaning his wound. "Your leg's not that bad, Jackson. Just a scrape. You'll be fine to head back to the Track-hoes."
Jackson's expression flickered with something she couldn't quite place, but he quickly replaced it with a grin. "Alright, if you say so. Thanks, Irelyn," he said, though his tone sounded oddly flat, almost disinterested, as if he were just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
'There it is again,' she thought, unsettled. 'Like he's following some script, just keeping up appearances.'
"Alright, you're all patched up," she said, stepping back with a forced smile. "Just be careful out there. Those roots are sneaky."
Jackson nodded, his face brightening again as if he'd slipped back into his kid-like persona. "Thanks, Irelyn! You're the best."
But as he hopped down and turned to leave, she saw that blank look flicker across his face one more time. He flashed her one last smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "See ya around," he said, his voice light but distant.
"See you," she replied, her own smile fading as he left. 'There's something not right about him,' she thought, a prickle of unease lingering.
But before she could dwell on it, Clint's voice rang out from across the tent, snapping her back to reality. "Irelyn! I need that antiseptic paste! You did make more yesterday, right?"
She blinked, shaking off her thoughts about Jackson as she turned to the shelves. "I did! I know I did—I just used it on Jackson." She scanned the shelves, eyes darting over the counters and every possible spot she might have set it down. But it wasn't there.
Clint's voice was sharper now. "Then where is it?"
Her frown deepened, glancing toward the empty spot on the shelf. The paste had been there this morning, she was certain.
Clint's jaw clenched as he turned to her, his patience clearly at its breaking point. "Look, I don't care if you made it yesterday or if you're just saying that to save face. I need it now, Irelyn. And if you can't find it, you're going to stay and remake it before you leave tonight, or I'll have to go to Alby. We can't run out of antiseptic."
She'd done her best to keep her composure, working efficiently beside Clint, but it was no use. By mid-afternoon, tempers were running thin, and everyone was on edge. His words stung, and Irelyn had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping back. She wasn't lying, and she was sure she'd made the paste, but the missing jar felt like another hit in an already rough day. She took a steadying breath, resolving to stay late and remake the paste, even if it meant missing dinner—and Jackson's celebration after being voted into the Track-hoes.
As the others finally cleared out for the evening, Irelyn gathered the supplies to start from scratch, glancing toward the door where she could already hear faint sounds of laughter and celebration from the bonfire. She pushed the sounds aside, focusing on the tedious work of grinding and mixing the herbs again. She'd only just finished preparing the base when Gally slipped into the tent, his tall frame silhouetted against the fading light.
"There you are," he said, walking over and setting down a wrapped sandwich beside her. "Thought you'd be out celebrating, but Jack said you were still working."
She gave him a small, weary smile. "Just… a rough day, I guess. Had to redo the antiseptic paste because it went missing. Don't know where it disappeared to, but I didn't want Clint going to Alby about it."
Gally reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering at her cheek. "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, her voice soft. She leaned in for a quick kiss, hoping it might lift her spirits a bit, but the stress of the day weighed her down like a stone.
Gally studied her face for a moment, a frown tugging at his lips. "Well, don't work too late. We'll be out there if you need anything." He gave her another longer kiss before slipping out the door.
Left alone in the quiet tent, Irelyn resumed her work, the herbal scent of the paste filling the air as she crushed and mixed each ingredient carefully. Her head ached, a dull throb at her temples, and by the time she finally finished, the celebration was well underway. She could hear laughter and singing, the crackling of the bonfire carrying through the Glade.
She looked down at her work, the newly made jar of paste gleaming in the soft light of the lantern, but instead of relief, she just felt... exhausted. She didn't want to go out and join the noise and excitement; a part of her even felt hurt that Newt and Gally hadn't offered to come sit with her, though she knew she was being irrational. They'd assumed she'd come find them, and maybe she would have if she'd been in a better mood.
After cleaning up the tent and setting the paste back on the shelf, Irelyn stepped outside, rubbing her temples as she took a deep breath of the cool night air. The day had drained her—Jackson's strange behavior, the crowded Med-jack tent, and the nagging sense that something was off. She looked over at the bonfire, where her usual group was gathered, laughing and sharing stories, their faces warm in the glow of the fire.
Her heart tugged as she watched Newt and Gally among the others. There was a comfortable ease in their smiles, a lightness that made her chest ache just a little. 'I want to be there with them,' she thought, 'but I don't want to bring this heaviness with me.'
As if sensing her presence, Newt looked up, his face brightening as he waved her over. "There you are, Sunshine! Thought you'd be stuck in there all night."
The warmth in his voice brought a flicker of a smile to her face, though she felt it falter as exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders. She walked closer, managing a small wave.
Gally's gaze lifted, his eyes softening as he took her in. He raised his drink in a mock toast, the usual edge in his smirk gentled. "Look who finally made it," he drawled, patting the empty spot beside him. "Come sit. You need it more than any of us, I bet."
The offer tempted her, and for a brief moment, she considered sinking down next to them, letting their laughter wash over her, letting herself relax. But the day had worn her thin, and the weight of everything still felt heavy on her mind. 'I just don't have it in me tonight,' she thought, glancing between their hopeful faces.
"Actually…" she began, her voice faltering as the words felt harder to say out loud. "I think I'm just going to head to bed. It's been… it's just been a long day."
There was a moment of silence before Frypan spoke up, waving a roasted marshmallow on a stick. "Aw, come on, Irelyn! We saved you a spot. And there's plenty of burnt marshmallows for you."
Zart leaned over, patting the log next to him. "Yeah, you've earned a little time to unwind. Just for a bit?"
Newt gave her a gentle, understanding look, though his eyes were hopeful. "Just stay for a while, love," he coaxed softly, his hand reaching out to gently tug her closer. "Let us take your mind off things, yeah?"
Irelyn hesitated, the warmth of his hand a steadying comfort. But even as she leaned in, she could feel the day's weight pulling her back. She forced a smile, a small apology in her eyes. "I appreciate it, really. But if I stay, I'll probably just pass out right here."
Newt's face softened with concern as he wrapped her in a warm hug, pulling her close against his chest. His hand found the back of her head, his thumb gently stroking her hair, and she let herself melt into the embrace, savoring the quiet strength he offered. She could feel him wanting to ask her something—his breath catching slightly as he held her, as if he was weighing his words—but he seemed to think better of it, instead pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Alright, love," he whispered, his voice tender. "Go get some rest. We'll be here if you need anything."
She looked up at him, managing a grateful smile, and turned to Gally, who had shifted to sit on the edge of the log, his face a mixture of teasing and worry. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, his usual smirk replaced by something gentler.
"Sweet dreams, Red," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on her shoulder. "And try not to let the Med-jack madness follow you to bed."
She laughed, though the sound came out softer, quieter than usual. "I'll do my best. Goodnight, you two."
The quiet of the Glade surrounded her, and as she slipped inside her hut, a pang of loneliness settled over her. She'd wanted them to follow her, to insist on coming with her to talk or just be there, but she pushed the thought away. She was just being sensitive, she told herself, the headache and the stress from the day amplifying everything. They were having fun and she didn't want to interrupt that just so she could have someone with her while she laid in bed.
She changed into Newt's shirt, the worn fabric soft against her skin as she climbed into bed. She tried to close her eyes, letting the quiet settle over her, but the feeling of emptiness lingered, a small ache that wouldn't quite go away.
As she lay there, listening to the distant sounds of the bonfire and laughter, she thought to herself that maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe this was just one of those days where everything felt heavier than it actually was.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, letting sleep take over, hoping the morning would bring a better day..
—
Irelyn woke up with a determination to leave yesterday's frustrations behind. She'd had a restless sleep, tossing and turning, her mind replaying the small disasters in the Med-jack tent on a loop. But as she pulled on her clothes and brushed her fingers through her hair, she told herself firmly, 'Today will be better.' Yesterday had to be just an off day. She couldn't afford to let it get to her.
Stepping outside her hut, she breathed in the cool morning air, letting the quiet of the Glade settle over her. The sun was barely rising, casting a soft glow over the familiar scene. She looked toward the Maze doors, which were still sealed shut, and then out across the rows of Gladers already stirring awake. The early peace of the Glade always felt comforting, like a rare moment where everything was in its place.
As she walked over to the breakfast tables, she spotted Newt and Gally waiting for her. Newt's face lit up with his usual warm smile when he saw her approaching, and he held out his hand to her. She slipped her fingers into his, feeling the immediate comfort of his touch.
"Good morning, Sunshine," Newt murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Gally, sitting beside him with his typical smirk, reached over to tug her close for a kiss of his own, his hand resting at the back of her neck. "There's my favorite Med-jack. Got your smile back today, yeah?"
She chuckled, feeling some of yesterday's weight begin to lift. "Trying to."
They settled at the table together, the warmth of their affection pulling her out of her lingering gloom. She could feel the tension melting away as they teased each other about their plans for the day—Gally grumbling about yet another window they had to replace, Newt rolling his eyes at one of Minho's endless challenges to beat him in a race.
But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Frypan, hands on his hips, pacing beside the kitchen and talking to Alby. His voice was rising, his tone sharper than usual. Curiosity got the better of her, and she tuned in just as Frypan's words became more pointed.
"—I'm telling you, Alby, it's not just one or two things going missing. We're talking a whole knife set, bread, dried fruit, some of the potatoes I'd set aside for tomorrow's stew… I don't know who's taking it, but this shuckin' nonsense is throwing off all my plans."
Alby frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Calm down, Frypan. We'll figure it out, but we can't go accusing people without any proof."
Frypan threw up his hands. "Fine, but someone's been sneaking around. It's too much to be an accident, and now I'm short on half the things I need."
A heavy silence settled over the breakfast tables as everyone listened, their murmurs fading into quiet tension. Irelyn glanced over at Gally, who raised an eyebrow at her, clearly sharing her surprise. It was strange—food theft wasn't exactly common in the Glade. Everyone understood how vital their resources were; no one wanted to mess with Frypan's careful rationing.
Newt leaned closer to Irelyn, his voice low. "Looks like you're not the only one having a rough week." He shot her a small, wry smile, trying to lighten the mood.
Irelyn smiled back, though a niggling unease began to creep into her mind. As much as she wanted to brush it off, something about Frypan's frustration felt… off, as if it were the start of a larger problem she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Breakfast resumed after a bit, with the boys around her gradually returning to their usual chatter. Gally's arm rested casually over the back of her chair, his thumb tracing slow circles on her shoulder. Irelyn leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his presence ease some of her tension.
But as the meal wrapped up, she found her eyes drifting back to Frypan, who was still talking to Alby, shaking his head as he pointed toward the kitchen.
"Guess we'll see what Alby makes of it," she muttered to herself.
As Gally got up to head back to the Builders for his mid-morning shift, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Try not to let Frypan's drama add to your bad week, alright? And if anyone gives you trouble, let me know." He winked, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading off.
Irelyn watched him go, feeling a pang of gratitude for his steady presence. She looked over at Newt, who was gathering his things to go talk to Alby himself, likely about the missing supplies.
"See you at lunch?" he asked, his expression soft.
She nodded, offering him a small smile. "Yeah. Don't let Alby give you too much work."
Newt smirked. "Oh, I'm sure he will, but I can handle it." He gave her hand a final squeeze before heading off in Alby's direction, leaving Irelyn to gather her thoughts before making her way to the Med-jack tent.
As she walked, a strange unease lingered at the back of her mind. Yesterday's frustrations, Frypan's complaints, the missing supplies… they all felt like small pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite see. She pushed the thought away, hoping today would bring fewer problems and maybe a bit more clarity.
But even as she tried to shake off her concerns, the feeling that something was just slightly off in the Glade stayed with her.