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.*･｡. FLARES! .*･｡.
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015.
KEEPING THE PECKING ORDER.

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   Squinted eyes, Kennedy observed the girl as she slept. She had remained unconscious for a while, but the occasional mumbling was enough to give the med-jack hope that she would be alright; it was as though she was dreaming, stuck in a restless one, but there was no doubting that she would soon wake up. This girl would be alright.

Unlike Alby.

With pursed lips and a shake of her head, Kennedy took the dry cloth from her forehead and replaced it was a damp one, watching the girl shover under her touch.

She was pretty. Dainty features, doe eyes. Her hair was darker than that of the girl tending to her, and her teeth were not quite as straight. From what Kennedy could tell, her voice was deeper — a bit more rustic, less soft than Kennedy's, and each mumble came louder than the last. Amongst them sat Thomas' name, followed by the words not good, when referring to something unintelligible; perhaps Kennedy would have heard what wasn't good, had it not been for the loudness of her envy. Hearing that she knew Thomas made Kennedy's stomach churn and her eyes turn green.

Kennedy had no right to feel bitter, or envious, and she wasn't sure why she felt such a way. Assumably because she had no other memories of her old life than her name and age, certainly not of a glader, yet this girl did.

Whoever she was, she had known Thomas in whatever life had come before this one, while Kennedy would likely never know.

She wanted to know, very badly.

However, even with past memories sounding tempting, Kennedy knee it was wrong of her to wish to have known. Her old life was dead and it was gone, and everything that the glade was had been what had shaped her into the person she was today. Each glader, each task, each hardship — all of it. Kennedy would have been a very different person without the glade, and she liked who she was right now. She loved the people she was with. Despite wanting to know of she had a family out there, wanting to know why they had been out there and by who, Kennedy wouldn't have traded the life she had gotten in return; she wouldn't have lost those boys in that glade for anything. They were her boys, and they had all kept each other alive. Nothing could have been better, than that.

As much as Kennedy wanted those memories, she wouldn't have taken them — not if it meant losing the ones she had made. She didn't know who she had been outside of the glade, and a minuet part of Kennedy wondered whether she would have wanted to. It was dead, and gone.

Sighing, she ran a gentle hand through the girl's hair.

It was tangled, and knotty, and Kennedy wondered how curly it could have gotten if it was washed clean. Then again, it was a lot cleaner than hers, or any of the hair on the other glader's heads.

Eyes flickering to the two silhouettes moving past the window, a vague bicker passing her ears, Kennedy cinched her brows. Hand stopping, she pushed back her hair and stood to see who the two silhouettes belonged to. Really she should have expected it, and a light groan tumbled from her throat before she could have stopped it. Who else would have been, than the two biggest trouble-makers in the glade? She should have known.

"Hey— Clint?"

Said boy's head popped out of Alby's room, "Yeah, Ken?"

"Watch over her for me, alright?" She said, already moving to the door of the hut.

"Sure," Clint nodded, "Where you headed?"

"Gotta sort out some shanks before they do something stupid," Kennedy muttered, then added on, "Again." With another sigh, as well as a glance at the girl, she continued towards the exit. "I won't be gone too long, should be back before she wakes up."

"She's in good hands," smiling softly, he assured of that all the worries she felt were unnecessary anxieties. This girl would be fine, and she would be fine in the hands of Clint — and Jeff, when the latter got back from seeing if anything else had come in the box other than the new greenie. Gally had asked for his help, "Go."

She smiled, "Thanks, Clint."

"Always, Kennedy."

With the sweet promise in her mind, Kennedy bid him a final farewell as she left the hut and made for the troublesome shanks.

It took only thirty seconds to reach them, but by that time of them had nodded and left the conversation, headed towards the deadheads. Meanwhile, the remaining boy rolled his shoulders as he readied himself to leave in the opposite direction. Kennedy frowned, hurrying her steps a little in order to catch up with the latter, her eyes briefly after following the one who had already left for the woods. Was it her imagination, or did he always end up in the deadheads? Did he have an affinity for them, or what? There wasn't a day that he hadn't been there.

Turning back to the other boy, Kennedy slowed down and she cleared her throat. It was a bit theatrical, but he was the one that was sneaking around.

    "And, you are going where...?"

   Minho cringed, booted feet pulling to a stop. Klunk.

He clearly hadn't wanted to be caught him in the act. If he had, then he wouldn't have been trying to go unnoticed. Minho's intent was to some volunteers, and go. But, as always, Kennedy had been the one to find him in a scheme. She caught him red-handed.

Then again, she knew his tells.

Usually, she was sneaking around with him.

Kennedy and Minho got into trouble, every now and then. He wasn't around often, most days spent inside the maze, but when he was granted a day off, he spent it with Kennedy.

They were good at being assholes. Sitting around the glade and making comments that weren't wanted. Sometimes they made fun of Gally, and they always picked at Newt until he got irritated to the point of sending them away. When Minho planned something to do with the maze without telling Alby, he always told Kennedy. — that, or she found out for herself. She knew Minho, and she had every idea that he was up to something.

If he hadn't wanted to get caught, then he should have bickered more quietly as he passed the med-jack hut. Kennedy hadn't been able to hear exactly what he had been saying, but everything had been suspicious from the moment he had left after Thomas' exit from the hut, and told Newt and Kennedy that he'd sort him out.

   Since showing up in the glade, Thomas hadn't proved reliable.

From running into the maze, asking a million questions at the speed of light, and the new girl knowing his name, he had failed to worm his way into many of their good books. So, when she had seen him and Minho sneaking around, it had been obvious to her that they were up to something. Of anyone to sneak around with, Thomas was probably Minho's worst choice — shank was wanted by Gally as soon as possible, and he was under the accusing eye of most gladers. But, then again, Thomas was willing to do anything right now. He was reckless, and crazy, and the biggest red flag that there could have been. Gally was convinced that Thomas was up to the worst of things, and Kennedy was torn.

   She didn't believe Thomas had an ulterior motive, but she wasn't sure why terrible things had started happening since his arrival.

Perhaps it was just an awful coincidence, and the poor shank really had come at the worst of times. Nonetheless, Kennedy had been fighting his corner the whole time that he had been there.

   Kennedy would continue to do it, too. Even though the new girl knowing his name had unsettled her, and did seem the strangest of them all, she wouldn't let it stop her. Thomas was innocent until proven guilty.

    "Well...?" she crossed her arms, "Minho?"

   He turned to face her with a sweet smile. Minho always smiled like that when he was guilty, "Look, Kennedy—"

    "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he defended, "I'm not doing anything."

"Oh— really?" Vaguely amused, Kennedy said. "Then, you can help me. You're not going back into the maze today, and I need you to do something for me."

Minho seemed hesitant, "Uh—"

"That's okay, right?" She tested, "I mean— you aren't up to anything else, are you?"

When his face grew guilty, Kennedy rolled her eyes.

"Just tell me, what you're doing." She said, watching the cogs turn in his head as he tried to think of a convincing lie. "Come on, Minho. Do I need to remind you who's in charge, here?" Perhaps it was wrong to use it against him, but it wasn't a real threat, even if her eyes shone with smugness. The two were close friends, but if she had to hold it against him in order to get answers, then she would. "Where are you going?"

"Dammit, Ken—" Minho grunted, "—seriously?"

She nodded, and he sighed. Minho couldn't believe that she was actually holding the fact against him — well, actually, Minho could believe it. It wasn't as if he hadn't hold things against her, when he had the upper hand; like the time he blackmailed her into stealing Newt's clothes while he washed, with threat to tell the others about when she had fallen into the fertiliser, during her first week in the glade.

   They treated each other like that, often.

But that was what friends did— right? He was like her brother.

    "We're going back into the maze," Minho eventually sighed in defeat, wincing a bit when Kennedy's eyes flared with blazing fire.

"Back into the maze? Really?" The girl seethed. Something told him the question was rhetorical and so he didn't answer, he didn't want to annoy her more. "What is with you two? Does Thomas have a death wish, or something? And, you— are you plain stupid, Minho? It's already past midday! You know the rules!"

"I know, I know—" he paused, "—y'know, he totally does..." she shot him a look, "But there's a dead griever, in that maze! I know he's already broken rules, but can't we just break one more? We got a griever, Ken! This might lead us, somewhere."

Kennedy puckered her lips, pushing her tongue against the inner of her cheek as she mulled over it. He did have a point. Even if she refused to admit it, out of stubbornness and pride.

It could be a way of getting out of there, or at least something to steer them in the right direction. They had never killed a griever before, so who knew what it would bring their way? And seeing as their flares were yet to bring good karma, having no idea if any outside had seen them, this could have been an opportunity to find a PLAN B. It was past midday, but Minho was good at his job. He would bring them back in time, and Thomas wasn't a runner but he had already broken that rule — he'd been inside the maze, and Gally wanted him punished. What difference would it make, if he broke it again? Too late, now. Shank was already in the deep end.

Kennedy didn't want to risk losing them, not gain. That was the only ounce of hesitance in the back of her mind.

She pushed it, aside.

    "Fine."

Minho raised his brows, he hadn't expected that.

"We can go?"

"You can go," she repeated.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Kennedy rolled her eyes at his words. Deep down, he had known that she would give in. "You have my permission, on one condition."

He watched suspiciously, "And, what's that?"

"I go with you."

   Minho was ready to object immediately, but he was interrupted by the third to their usual trio. The blonde strode to where the two were stood, and failed to notice the redness to Minho's face that matched the curl of his lip.

    "Where you shanks going?" Newt asked.

   Spinning to face him, Kennedy flashed him a smiled so sweet it made his teeth ache.

    "To try Fry's new recipe," her lie was smooth; smooth, as velvety chocolate, satin. It wasn't a shock when Newt fell for it, not when considering he would fall for her charm at any time. That was his major flaw, in his relationship with Kennedy. Newt was smart, but he slipped through the cracks each and every time. He always fell for it — hell, the dumb shank toppled headfirst!

   "Ah—" he nodded, "Good that. I'm gonna see if I can talk Gally around, get him to lighten up on Tommy. See you, later— yeah?"

Kennedy nodded, shuffling back and elbowing Minho to do the same. He did, less convincingly, but Newt didn't seem to notice it much. The blonde walked away, and Kennedy hoped that he didn't succeed in talking Gally around. Thomas was only going to break the rules again, and the builder would get angrier.

   When Newt was gone, the runner grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him. She was taken aback, and tried to wriggle away, but he didn't care. Minho wasn't hurting her.

What Minho actually cared about was Kennedy putting her own health at risk. She wasn't going in that maze, he'd make sure of it.

    "Who's stupid, now?" He said, "You're not going."

   Kennedy stopped struggling, "My hips will be fine, Minho—"

    "No. You aren't coming— no way." Minho was defiant, words headstrong. As much as it bugged her, Kennedy knew there was no chance of him budging. Even if she begged, Minho wasn't going to change his mind. He had seen the state she had been in, in that maze. The agony and the pain. He would be damned if he ever let that happen, again. "Like you said, it's midday. We won't be any good if you go in there, and collapse. Would we? Huh?" When she didn't say anything, he continued; "I'm not stupid, Ken! You're hips are getting worse, I can see it. You're in pain—"

"Don't use that, against me!" She squinted.

"I don't need to," he shrugged. "You might be leader right now, but I'm still keeper of the runners. I don't think it's safe for you to go in there, Ken, so you won't. My rules. End of conversation."

   With another yank, Minho let go of her wrist. Kennedy scowled up at him. It wasn't the first time they had bickered; the two would often clash, just as well as they could get along. It had never put a dent in their friendship though, and never would — Minho and Kennedy only clashed because they cared too much, and had their best interests at heart. That's what Minho was doing, now. Even if she hadn't ask him to.

"Alright, whatever..." she muttered, "But you better come back with something, Minho. Or, people are gonna start kicking off. I don't know how long we can keep them, back."

Sharing a look, simultaneously averting their eyes to builders' station. Many of them looked rather narked, complaining about another meeting cancelled and Thomas getting off, scott-free. At the middle of it stood Gally, who was no longer with Jeff and now talking with Newt. His face was red, and he looked vexed.

   It was only a matter of time, before it all got out of hand.

"Take Fry, he's the strongest we have other than Gally." After looking away, Kennedy started to list people for him to take into the maze. "I know the runner's quit, but Winston's pretty fast. He was close to qualifying, and so was Zart. He'll be good. Tell him to say that I want him, for something— tell him just to make up a lie, the gardens will be fine."

Minho nodded, eyes questioning.

"Don't worry," she said, "I can deal with Newt."

————

Newt glared, "You knew about this?"

When Kennedy had said that she could deal with Newt, she had said it with the impression that he wouldn't find out until they had gotten back. Clearly she had thought that trackhoes could keep all their mouths shut better than they actually could.

It hadn't taken long for one of them to ask where Zart had gone, and Newt had grown suspicious.

He hadn't known that Zart was anywhere other than doing his job in the gardens, but under closer inspection, he wasn't there at all. Come to mention it, neither were Frypan or Winston. Then he realised that Minho was nowhere to be seen, despite his day in the maze being cancelled after the night prior, and the glade was too quiet for Thomas to have been around. Trouble seemed to follow him — where the bloody hell was everyone? Where'd they all go?

Questioning gladers hadn't taken long, and a slicer by the name of James had quickly squealed that Winston had left him in charge while he had gone into the maze with Minho.

   Then, they all started squealing like pigs.

    "You let them go? When did you get so bloody stupid, Ken?"

"Don't blow your top, Newt." Rolling her eyes, Kennedy sighed through her nose. She turned to look at him, briefly, and noticed he still looked angry. "I didn't get stupid— I was being smart. Now sit down, shank. You're going red, and you won't be any good in the gardens if ya head explodes!"

   Clint snickered in the corner, and Newt shot him a glare. He cleared his throat, continuing to route through supplies for Alby.

Kennedy liked that someone had appreciated her sense of humour around here, in the tense air, but her mind raced as she thought of all the possible consequences to her decision. Despite looking calm on the outside, Kennedy was terrified. She was terrified that she'd made a mistake in letting them go. She was terrified to lose either of them again, and that it would be her fault if five gladers didn't come back. Kennedy had let them go into the maze, and it would be her fault if anything happened to them. Of course the girl was scared, of course she was! They were out there, and the thought of losing them was daunting. Kennedy hadn't even said goodbye to Thomas, when they had left. Once again, he was just gone. Like last time, Thomas had disappeared into those walls.

But Kennedy trusted Minho; she had faith in him. He was smart and wise, more than people tended to give him credit for. Minho knew what he was doing, and she trusted him with the lives of five other gladers.

   She trusted Thomas, too.

At the thought of him, Kennedy's eyes flickered down to look at the new girl. She was still unconscious, yet to awake, and still very much mumbling. Kennedy continued gently play the girl's hair, as a sister or mother would do, carefully braiding parts. With a cold cloth, she wiper away the beads of sweat on her forehead. Both of the gestured were sweet, and caring. In the time that Kennedy had been looking after this girl, which truthfully hadn't been very long, Kennedy had decided that she was going to be her best friend. It wasn't a good thing to do against her will, but she had decided it; she already cared for this girl.

   Even if she was envious of her, Kennedy cared for her. Girls had to stick together — Kennedy hadn't another girl when she arrived, so she was going to be there for the new girl, the best she could.

   Girls supported girls. Girls looked after girls.

   Kennedy hadn't been sent up with another girl, and she would make sure that this girl's experience was different.

   She wouldn't feel alone.

    "Clint—" she looked at him, "—can you give us, a minute?"

   He glanced between them and nodded, stepping into the other room with some items in his hands. They weren't much, but he'd hoped they be enough to help Alby and relieve his pain at least a little. Jeff was already in there, and together they started to redo Alby's bandages and zoned out off the conversation between the two leaders.

"Kennedy, it's half-way through the day!" Newt protested, but he moved to sit down anyway. She had given him instruction, even if it had been with an insult. "Do you really think it's a good idea, for them to be out there? Safe? With a group of non-runners?"

"No," the girl deadpanned, "I don't. But what choice do we have, Newt? They might find something; they seemed pretty confident, about it."

Newt shook his head, "We can't keep twisting rules."

    "They went in there with my permission," Kennedy said, "I'm in charge, around here. While Alby's out, they do what I say and I say they could go. No one's getting in trouble for it — not on my watch. I said it was fine."

    "Ya think Gally's gonna settle for that?" He scoffed.

    "Talking to him didn't go well?" She assumed and he nodded his head.

    "Hardly."

    "What'd he say?"

    "Nothing he hasn't already said, before..." Newt muttered, "I don't think he'll hold back. When they come back, Gally'll have Thomas' neck." A stressed sigh passed his lips, "His boys are all starting to listen to him, as well. Bleedin' sods! Don't think with their own braincells, unless he condones it! They're gonna go for Tommy with flaming torches and pitchforks, one day."

    "Not on my watch," Kennedy grumbled.

    "We can't keep changing rules, Ken." Tone softer, Newt ran a hand over his face. "Tommy isn't a bad kid, but we can't. If he goes out there again, it'll go south. People won't like it."

   She didn't say anything, to that. It was true. They couldn't keep making excuses for Thomas every time he did something wrong; it wasn't fair on others, and it wasn't fair on Alby. It was their jobs to keep this place together, and they couldn't let him down. Alby had made those rules and put them in place to save them from chaos, and he had done it for a good reason. Alby had seen a lot over his days in the glade, and he refused to let it get that bad again. He'd done it for them. Kennedy and Newt owed it to him.

    "I'm not mad," Newt said, after a silence. "I just don't wanna lose them. We can't lose anyone else, we're already losing Alby..."

It tugged at her heart strings, truthfully, and Kennedy couldn't ignore the guilt twisting in her stomach. That guilt had been there, making her feel sick since they had slipped through the walls and into the maze. There were a lot of boys out there, good boys, ones that didn't deserve the risk of death.

   But they had been picked and had had accepted it willingly, for Kennedy wouldn't have forced them. Those boys had been brave and willing to follow Thomas and Minho, willing yo to see what they could find. To find something, anything. They wanted to help.

"I know..." her voice was a whisper.

   When Newt looked at her, he realised how broken she looked; peering at him through glassy eyes. Kennedy didn't want this, she didn't want to loss anyone.

She didn't want to be leader. Kennedy didn't want to experience what Alby experienced everyday, not if it all felt like this. This was something she hadn't asked for — the risk of losing their own, in turn of the decision she had to make. She didn't want Alby to die; she wanted him to live and take his role back, and be his slinthead-self. Newt needed a better first-in-command, whether Alby would have wanted her to be that person, or not. Someone else could've done a better job, Newt should have taken it; he was better at this than she was, and he would have known what Alby would have done. She really, really didn't want this. Kennedy didn't want the responsibility of calling the shots. She couldn't do it.

   Right now, all Kennedy wanted was for those boys to come back out of the maze in one piece, with hopefully with some slither of a clue how to leave this place; this hell that they had been living in.

Kennedy wanted to get out, and perhaps that was selfish.

   At that moment in time, however, she didn't care.

Noticing the distress that she was showing him, Newt stood and didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms. This time, it didn't comfort her as much as it usually would. Nothing could comfort her at that moment, nothing could fix the broken heart she held deep inside; it did help a bit, though.

"It'll be fine," he assured, "It'll all be fine."

Newt wasn't sure who he was trying to convince; her, or himself.

    "Guys!"

   Chuck barged into the med-jack hut, causing the pair to part ways and stare at him as though he had two heads. But his next words change their expressions, "They're back!"

Neither leader had ever been so thankful to hear those two words, in their lives. Newt shot out first, ruffling Chuck's mop of curls as he passed. Less quickly, Kennedy followed and swung an arm over the younger kid's shoulders.

   Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up.

   Them being alive was a damn good start.

    "Come on, Chuckie." Kennedy pulled him with her, "Let's go see what they found, yeah?"

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