*~* In which OC witnesses Ben's banishment *~* 

Escape - Part 2

Angst Rating: 💔💔💔

NEWT X LILY

Word Count: 3,439

The next day, everyone continues their work like nothing ever happened. It makes me feel a little obnoxious that everyone has just grown used to the monsters roaming outside the Glade every night, waiting for those doors to malfunction and leave us vulnerable. Newt tells me not to worry about it, that the Creators wouldn't just shove us in a Maze to kill us. But I still can't help it.

"You sure you don't want to sleep in?" Newt asks me, staring at me while I slip on my shoes. "I can talk to Alby and he can let you sleep in, ya know?"

"No." I shake the tiredness from my eyes and stand up with Newt, rolling my shoulders and shaking the ache out of my leg. "I don't wanna get any special treatment. I just wanna work."

Newt stares at me, eyes ticking back and forth over my face, then just sighs and agrees. "Okay. Let's go get some breakfast."

I lock my hut behind me and head to Fry's hut, where the familiar line of gladers has formed for Fry's mushy breakfast. I let Newt go on ahead to the gardens without me, knowing Alby must need him for last night's clean-up crew. Usually, the Glade after a greenie party is trashed with jars scattered around, excess food, or vomit from hangovers. I don't envy the job of Second in Command. 

I wait for Newt to return from his duties and eat with him in the vineyard as we check our tomatoes, using his little dirt-trick to see if they need watering. The day drags on like normal for a while; examining the garden plots and seeing if anything needed to be harvested, weeded, or watered. 

Around noon, Zart heads to the vineyard with Thomas in tow, looking around the Glade with his curious eyes and probably aching from his fight with Gally. I can only tell him I understood what that felt like. 

"The greenie is staying with us for the rest of the day," Zart reports, slapping Thomas on the shoulder.

"Alright, you can start by taking that shovel and digging up some soil." Newt nods to one of the poles, where some tufts of grass were bulging.

Thomas nods and picks up the shovel with a not-so-excited attitude. No greenie wants to be forced to work after a day of questions and adrenaline. I was more annoyed that these random strangers were forcing me to work in their 'Glade' than answer my questions.

 I smile at him when he nears and bid him good morning. "How'd you sleep?" I try to break the ice between us, being I've only talked to him once or twice.

He shrugs, "Um, fine I guess."

"It gets some time getting used to. I find it helpful if you ask Jeff for some tissues and crumple them up to put in your ears. Blocks out the Maze and the Grievers."

"Thanks," His black eyes peek at my tank top and then stares. I frown at him for a moment until I realize the bandages he's staring at. "What ... what happened to your ... " Thomas points to his shoulders. 

"Oh, I just fell off the Watchtower." I nod to the tower across the glade. "I was a builder and Gally told me to replace a board. But in the process, the platform was kinda rotted so it snapped off and I fell with it."

"Oh," Thomas turns to the tower with an uneasy look.

"Don't worry, it's fixed now. It's okay to go up there just ... be careful." I warn, grabbing a few things of barely and using them to tie off some leaves. 

Thomas begins shoveling the ground, pounding it, and using minimal effort, looking as if he had a lot on his mind. Every greenie has questions and thoughts bouncing in their head, ready to go off like a volcano. I don't blame him. 

"Has anyone tried climbing to the top?" Thomas asks suddenly.

Newt sighs and gives me a look: here we go ... "Tried it. The ivy doesn't go all the way to the top. And besides, where are you gonna go from there?"

"Well, what about the Box?" Thomas turns to the Box sitting in the middle of the Glade, where Gally and a few builders were hoisting up the new supplies from below. "You know, next time it comes up - "

"No, we tried that." Newt keeps tying the vines, "The Box won't go back down with someone in it." His voice is firm and quick. As with all the greenies when they demand questions from him. Newt is the kind of person you can just walk up to and ask, being he's Second in Command and it's his job to get the greenies settled in. 

"Okay, well, what if we - ?"

"We tried it, alright?" Newt scoffs, giving up on tying the leaves and leaning against the vineyard poles. "Twice. Alright, trust me, anything you can think of, we've already tried. The only way out is through the Maze."

"What about a ladder?" I tease, "We've never tried that."

Newt rolls his eyes at me and gives me a tired look. "Because we don't have enough supplies and we need to keep the Glade going. And where are you gonna go from there? We'd have to wait every month for new supplies and even then if they knew we were escaping they may never send the Box up again. We can't risk it."

"Just saying ... " 

Newt scoffs at me and bends down, "Look, you wanna be helpful? Here," he tosses the empty basket of fertilizer to Thomas, who catches it clumsily and drops his shovel with it. "Go fetch us some more fertilizer, yeah?"

Zart snorts as Thomas reluctantly heads into the forest, tripping over the support beams and stumbling along with the tufts of wild grass. 

I turn back to Newt and give him a look. "What?" he grumbles.

"Nothing, I just think your job is finally gettin' to you." I tease, "Being Second in Command, being the first thing greenies demands questions from? I would think it gets to your head and 

"Hey," Newt points a finger at me, "You were the exact same way when you came up. At least you were polite about it and asked sensible questions like, 'when is dinner ready' or 'what things we've tried' or 'how can I help'."

I scoff at him. Poor greenie me, always scared of the Glade and being petrified when the doors closed or opened in the morning. The only thing - or person - that could calm me down was Newt. He always said the right things to help me process what was happening, always going above and beyond to make sure I - the only woman among a sea of hormonal boys - was safe and comfortable. He was the one that even gave the idea to Alby for my own hut or room in the Homestead. I still remember the look on his face when I gave him a spare key to my shack. He was so surprised and honored to have it. I sometimes still see the small leather cord around his neck that holds the key, right over his heart.

We move from the vineyard to the plots of vegetables and carrots. I kneel with Newt to start weeding and pulling up any healthy ones to wash in the river to give to Fry. He told me earlier that he planned on trying a new recipe that involved many carrots. When I asked him why he only smirked and walked away.

I swear that boy is gonna poison us all one day.

"He said he needed how many?" Newt exclaimed after I told him.

"I dunno, he told me at least ... a dozen or so?"

Zart starts chuckling behind me and Newt stares in disgust at the carrots. "Why would he need so many?"

"Maybe he's making a new stew or - "

"HEY!"

Someone's shriek echoes around the Glade, making everyone stop their chores. I flinch in the dirt and look back to Newt, who was staring at the forest. He slowly began to stand and turn to Zart, who gave him an equally confusing stare.

"Newt ... ? What was - "

"HELP!"

I follow Newt's stare at gape at what I see: Thomas, the Greenie, bursting from the treeline in a full desperate sprint (almost like the one from yesterday). His arms were flying everywhere as he scrambled from the tree line, screaming and shouting for everyone to hear. What makes Newt sprint forward was a familiar runner chasing after him - and then tackling him to the floor in an almost animalistic way. 

What the hell?

"Ben?" I race after Newt, who has grabbed one of the gardening hoes. "Wait - !"

"Hey!" Newt swings the hoe back far and smacks it hard on Ben's face, knocking him off Thomas and into the grass. He drops the hoe and pins one of his arms down, so do Gally and Zart. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouts to the runner.

"Calm down, Ben," Gally tries to help, using his Builder muscles to pin down his arms.

"Yo! What the hell happened?" Frypan is down by Ben's legs, using all his body weight to stop his squirming ankles and knees. 

"He just attacked me!" Thomas exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and breathing heavily beside Chuck. 

Everyone is gathering around Ben and the others, mumbling things and staring in shock at Ben's bleeding face and squirming body. What the hell is wrong with him? I move forward and try to help to pin Ben down, being it was taking more than three Gladers to do it. A hand catches my wrist and pulls me back. I look up to Minho, who is breathing hard from his run and shaking his head at me.

"Get back, Lily!" Newt shouts, "Keep her there!"

"Is he okay?" I exclaim.

The crowd doesn't calm until Alby slowly walks through, parting the sea of boys and staring down at Ben with a look that could only mean trouble. Everyone stares at him, waiting for orders and answers. Minho keeps me behind everyone, a hand encircling my wrist and keeping me away from Ben wriggling and squirming on the ground.

"Alright, lift his shirt," Alby commands. "Lift his shirt."

Ben shouts things that could only mean disagreement as Gally and Newt grab his shirt and lift it over his runner vest. The crowd of Gladers gasp and back away at what they see, but with my view with Minho, it's hard to tell what they're staring at.

"He's been stung," Gally announces. "In the middle of the day?"

What? Stung? As in ... A griever stung him? It was the middle of the day! Weren't Grievers only supposed to come out at night while the Maze changed? I turn back to Minho and tug on his sleeve, "Did you know about this?"

He doesn't answer or even shake his head, just stares at his partner in a way I can only see as denial or fear.

Alby stands up from kneeling beside Newt and Gally and rubs his face, "Put him in the pit." Alby orders, "Alright come everybody help, put him in the pit!"

"Medjack!" Newt commands.

Suddenly, Ben is a desperate body of flinging arms and tugging limbs, doing literally whatever it took to get out of their grip and go god knows where. Minho pulls me back as Gladers begin shoving Ben across the Glade to the pits. I watch from the safety of Minho as they make their way, keeping an eye on Newt's rusty tank top in the process. 

"Did you see that?" Chuck comes up beside me, eyes wide and open. "Ben's out of his mind."

"He is?"

"You didn't see it?"

"Apparently not." I throw a glare to Minho. He only scoffs and walks away from me, heading to the others for assistance. "Was it bad?"

"It was all purple-y and veiny and ... kinda gross." Chuck informs, "He attacked you like that?" his attention turns back to Thomas, still gathering his thoughts and staring at Ben wriggling and screaming across the Glade.

"Y - yeah, he just ... came at me." 

 "You okay?" 

Thomas nods, "Yeah ... "

"Thomas," Alby comes forward through the dispersing crowd of Gladers. "You alright?"

Thomas nods again.

"C'mon, Clint will get you checked out." He puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him away from me to one of the structures in the shade. My feet stay firmly on the ground as I watch them walk over. I stand where I stood, arms around my body and processing the events that took place.

How did Ben get stung? In broad daylight? How was that possible? I never got any good information about the Maze in my entire two years of being here, only a few rumors or snippets of conversation from Minho at bonfires (and one very desperate time that I overheard Minho and Ben in the runner hut by the Deadheads. Guy still holds a grudge about it to this day.) Even Newt shuts down any question I still had about the Maze; only giving me the info he gave to greenies: what happens when someone does go into the Maze. Alby told me about something called 'the changing' in which when someone - like Ben - gets stung, they go crazy. They become murderous, brainwashed, psychos that only want to kill and destroy.

There was a moment in the Glade that one of the past runners got stung. It was a while ago, when I was still a new greenie. No one knew about him being stung until that night's bonfire. Nobody saw him until that night, and that's when he lost control. I remember being with Minho and Newt, talking over dinner and Gally's drink when one of the fires lost control. Newt had gone running to investigate, but that's when he began attacking people. He took one of his knives in his runner's vest and killed a Glader in his brainwashed rage. I only remember that night in memories of hot fire, screams, and hiding in the Runner's Shack with Minho.

"Lily."

I snap my head up from the ground, fire and screams fading from my ears as I grasp reality. Newt is standing beside me, his brown eyes furrowed and filled with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Newt doesn't believe me and frowns. "Are you okay, love?"

My body steps back from his hand. Something about hands touching me right now made my brain churn and scream.

"Lily. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just ... " I bite my lip and take a few even breaths. "I'm fine. How was ... how was Ben?"

Newt's face still looks like he won't give in, but I'm relieved when he puffs a breath and rubs his neck, a sign I knew throughout the years was a bad one. "Um ... Alby and I talked about it and ..." he drops his hand and shakes his head. It's best for everyone that he ... he goes."

"So ... ?"

"Yeah."

I nod slowly and hug myself a little tighter. "Yeah, that makes sense ... " 

Newt stares at me through the dusk and pulls me back into his chest. His body is damp with sweat and his skin feels slick, but it's a smell that brings me comfort. "That won't happen again." He says as if reading my mind. "He didn't hurt Thomas. He just ... scared him, is all. We'll take care of him, yeah?"

My voice feels weak and dry and all I can do is nod.

"Hey," he pulls back and cups my cheeks. "Promise me you won't watch."

I almost want to complain, tell him I won't watch anyway. Then he raises his pinky between us, eyes still calm and controlled. I slowly untuck my hand and wrap my pinky around his. I watch him bring his first close and kiss my knuckles, and I slowly do the same.

"Can you do me a favor, love?" Newt asks, soft and gentle, "Fry is gonna be with me, so he asked me if you could start peeling some potatoes we grew for tonight." He cocks his head down, "Can you do that?"

I take my hand back and wrap it around myself, my arms suddenly feeling cold and prickly. "Yeah."

"Do you want your sweater?"

I nod.

"I'll go get it. Did you leave it in your shack?"

I nod.

"Okay. I'll go get it. Stay right here." He tips my head down and I let him kiss my dirty forehead before he limps off toward the tree-line. 

I watch him go and trudge through the grass toward Fry's 'kitchen'. Everyone is slowly walking toward the Eastern doors. I can see their shirts and towering poles in the distance, even Thomas' a few yards away beside another smaller orange figure.

Promise me you won't watch. 

I turn away from the doors and take Fry's knife he uses to hang on the wall. His 'kitchen' was nothing but a few pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, today's harvest in baskets on the table, and a basket of potatoes by another empty bucket, a knife on the chair waiting to be peeled. 

Newt hands me my sweater without a word, just a small smile and another kiss on the forehead, before limping toward the doors. 

Promise me you won't watch.

I plop down on the chair and take the knife, sitting over the bucket and starting my work on peeling the potatoes. 

Someone grunts from outside.

There's noise.

"Minho, please ... "

I can hear the fumbled steps, the pleads, the hollow gasps from his infected mouth.

"Alby ... !"

There's shouting.

"Poles!"

I can hear his cries. His pleas to his friends. Those pale veiny arms helplessly fighting the poles held by the Keepers. Their faces emotionless and strained.

"No, please!"

The boom of the doors. 

The gears groaning and pushing as they turn behind the ivy.

"No ... !"

One last desperate wail echoes through your head and through the Glade, scaring a few birds from the forest.

The knife in my hand slips and knicks my palm, making me flinch out of the darkness of my thoughts. I glance down at the blood, slowly forming on my hand like a puddle in the rain. The pain is oddly satisfying in bringing my thoughts, twisted and dark, back to reality of the gas lamps hanging in Fry's kitchen. I look up from my work and find the sun slipping behind the maze walls.

I hope Ben follows it willingly.

* * * *

Everyone is quiet when night falls. No one's thoughts are in the right headspace for moonshine, drums, or wrestling. All we can do is light the bonfire, raise our jars to Ben's legacy, and sit in our own places of darkness. 

Newt and I sit in our own light by a smaller fire he made for us. Empty tins of food sit beside us in the dirt, along with half-empty jars beside them. His arms have me engulfed in the flickering light, entrapped between his knees as we stare up at the stars. He kisses my cheek and whispers comfort and love into my ear, holding me tight and playing with my fingers; a bandage wrapped around my palm because of my accidental cut. His kisses keep my thoughts attached to the ground and not to what we lost beyond the walls.

It was hard for everyone; to ignore that day's events, especially with Gally's chisel in the darkness.

*~* I know people warn you to not script anything traumatic in your scripts/DRs, but I can't help but write this part of the series this way. As a very emotional person, I would probably act this way if I were present in the moment. I have cried at a stranger's funeral and have cried when burying an unknown dead bird I found in my yard. I try to be very realistic when I script my OC's in my DRs: how my OG-Self would act in these situations. I hate lying. Even when it's not really lying in itself. *~*