FOUR
「a warm
welcome」
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

   SYLVIA AWOKE THE next morning after a fitful sleep. She tossed and turned all night, images of the accident flooding her mind. She didn't think she'd be this affected by it.

   So, due to the lack of sleep, she was feeling grumpier than usual.

   It was pretty early in the morning when she decided that she'd had enough of trying to sleep and untangled her blanket from her body. The Runners wouldn't have left for the Maze yet.

   Sylvia contemplated whether she should use the crutches or not, and ultimately decided that she would use them. She was sure she'd be scolded by one of the boys if she didn't, whether it be Nick or one of the Med-jacks.

   Sylvia discontentedly wobbled down the hall. She maneuvered the crutches awkwardly, still unsure about how to properly use them. Once she reached the staircase, she paused. She hadn't thought this far.

   How the hell was she supposed to get down the stairs with crutches?

   She came up with an idea. To be fair, it was a pretty bad idea, but at the moment she really had no other options.

   Sylvia grabbed the railing for support and threw her crutches down the stairs. She grimaced at the ruckus it had created. Surely the commotion had awoken the others in the Homestead, and she should care...but she really didn't.

   She started hopping down the stairs on one foot, using the railing on the stairs to hold on to while she made her descent. The stairs creaked each time she moved down one.

   As Sylvia was about halfway down the steps she heard a door slam open from above. Angry footsteps pounded in the hallway and Gally appeared at the top of the stairs — hair disheveled and one leg of his sweatpants rolled up on his calf.

   He looked about ready to have her head.

   "What the hell are you doing?" He practically shouted. If Sylvia didn't wake everyone up with the noise she was making, then Gally just finished the job for her.

   She gestured vaguely to the stairs, "Going downstairs."

   He guffawed, "Well, do you have to be so loud?"

   She pretended to ponder for a moment before answering, "Yes."

   Gally started stomping down the steps towards her and she turned and jumped on the railing, hoping for the best. She slid down the railing and hopped off of it quickly, landing on her right foot and her momentum causing her to crash into the wall. She almost fell over, only using one leg to stand.

   Sylvia abandoned the crutches completely and hobbled along the wall as she made her escape from Gally, forcing her to put weight on her left leg. He had just made it off the steps when someone had stepped out of the bathroom.

   Thank God!

   "Cole, save me!" Sylvia grabbed his shoulders and hid behind him. Gally sneered at her over the boy's shoulders and she taunted him, "You wouldn't want to hurt poor little Cole, would you?"

   Cole smiled timidly at Gally.

   "Slintheads." Gally muttered, smacking Cole lightly upside the head before walking off to the kitchens, no doubt to complain to Frypan about Sylvia's antics.

   Once the hall had been cleared of Gally, Cole turned and gave her a sheepish smile, "You feeling better?"

   "Yeah." Sylvia lied through her teeth.

   She couldn't tell him about the sleeplessness, the aching in her leg, the soreness of her muscles. It was better to lie. And Cole was just too sweet, if he knew how she really felt he'd be worrying like a mother.

  "That's good!" He replied, "You wanna grab something to eat?"

   "Yeah, let's go."

   Cole was about to start walking when he noticed Sylvia's crutches were sprawled on the floor near the stairs. He stooped to grab the crutches and handed them over to her.

   She gave him a small smile in return, "Thanks."

   Cole was probably the only person in the Glade that she was actively nice to. Never once had anyone seen her scold or yell at him, even when she was in one of her moods. He was the eighth Glader to come up in the Box and Sylvia had trained him to become a Runner. Though, Cole only looked to be around fifteen years old.

   He had blonde hair that fell into his eyes and freckled cheeks. He would also probably cut off his own arm if you told him it would help someone else.

   They walked into the kitchen, Sylvia trailing behind Cole. As soon as they walked up to the counter, Fry pushed two plates of eggs towards them, "Two sunny side ups for my favorite Runners." As he looked at her, a smidge of pity became apparent in his eyes.

   Sylvia ignored the look and raised a brow at him, "Come on Fry. You don't have to lie to me."

   Frypan shrugged, "You're right. Only Cole's my favorite."

   Cole grinned broadly in response.

   They made quick work of their meals and Sylvia headed to the Map Room with Cole. She needed to tell the Runners to look out for the crawl space and any other ones they could find. She needed to catch up on things she'd missed and work she had to analyze.

   She stumbled along somewhat awkwardly with the crutches, the wooden things still a new sensation to her. The handles were uncomfortable under her armpits and created a reddish irritation on her skin. The uneven grounds and rocks of the Deadheads didn't help the situation either.

   She wore a gray long sleeve t-shirt that covered the bruises and bandages along her arms in order to prevent pitying glares. Her regular boots had been thrown out due to the blood-covered, torn state of them, so she'd worn a pair of dirtied old sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, baby hairs unable to be tamed sticking out every so often. It was simple; back to normal.

   Cole turned the submarine-like handle to the Map Room and thrusted open the heavy metal door. He propped the door open to let the cool morning air into the stuffy room. The bustling chatter and laughter of teenage boys rushed into her ears and made her feel as if she'd picked up where she left off and nothing had happened at all.

   When a couple of the Runners turned to see who had entered, their faces lit up at the discovery. A chorus of 'Syl!' and 'She's back!' and a singular 'The resurrected one!' was enough to make her want to smile. The boys crowded around her, patting her back or sarcastically hugging her from the side.

   "Get off me, you animals!" Sylvia yelled with a smile on her face, pushing them off her and she made her way to her chair at the table. Minho looked up at her from his spot but said nothing, and she said nothing in return.

   There were no greetings between them. Only fighting and anger and hurt.

   Sylvia placed the crutches aside and remained standing, hands gripping the table for support. The boys around her were preparing to leave for the Maze, hands fumbling with leather straps around muscled shoulders and chests.

   "Alright, listen up!" she said, "Before you all go out today, I need to tell you all that I found something."

   The room quieted and stilled. She had gotten their attention.

   "I found a crawl space hidden by ivy in Section Four. When I looked inside, there was blood and torn clothes." Sylvia paused, not wanting to say what came next. Not wanting to ruin the mood and see their faces drop. But it had to be done. It was something they deserved to know. "It was Ronan."

   At this, Minho's head snapped up to her, eyes low and dark. She met his gaze. He had stopped writing down whatever he was writing.

   "Ronan?" he posed the dead boy's name as a question. "How do you know?"

   She didn't try to explain with words. Sylvia pulled the necklace out of her pocket and placed it in the center of the table. Subconsciously, each of the Runners moved an inch closer to get a better look. It was indeed the necklace he would refuse to take off. A sullen mood moved over the group.

   "That's not all." she continued, "He left some sort of message. I wrote it down but the Sloppers threw my shit away and I can't remember what it was. Who's doing Section Four today?"

   Cole raised his hand solitarily.

   Sylvia's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes darted to Minho, "Didn't you change it?"

   "No need." responded a voice that was not Minho's, but Nick's. The tall boy walked through the open door, having overheard the conversation. "I volunteered."

   "Nick-" she began before being cut off by the boy in question.

   "We don't have enough Runners. Not with you and Derek injured. Not with everything else that's happened." he said in his convincing and authoritative tone that was hard not to listen to. Sylvia really did not want to have this conversation in front of all the others. "Someone had to."

   In the beginning weeks of the Glade, Nick would run the Maze with Sylvia and the others. He was just as determined to find a way out as they were, but when the other Gladers started looking up to him as a leader of sorts, he figured it would be better to stay back. Whenever it was needed, or when Nick felt like it, he would occasionally run the Maze. When Nick ran the Maze it made her anxious, worried that he'd be stung, like George was.

   Sylvia shook her head, about to try and talk him out of it, but Nick cut her off, "I'm not going to change my mind. I'm doing it."

  Her features hardened at once. She wouldn't argue with him in front of all the Runners. "Make sure you're looking for it. And the message."

   Nick nodded once.

   The Runners stood unsurely for a second, looking to one another before filing out of the room. Nick stayed in place, across the other side of the table from Sylvia and being held by her gaze. Minho placed his hand on Nick's shoulder as he passed.

   Once they were all out of the room Sylvia grabbed her crutches and walked over to Nick as fast as she could manage. She lowered her head a bit, so that she wasn't looking at his face. "Just...promise me you'll be careful." Her gaze slid back up to him once the words were out of her mouth.

   He held her gaze, "I promise."

   SYLVIA TRIED DISTRACTING herself from thinking about Nick. One thing about her was that when she was worried about something, it was all she could think about. She knew her worrying was unnecessary. Nick was a good Runner. He knew how to fight. He could handle almost anything thrown at him.

   But she couldn't control it.

   Also considering her recent encounter with a Griever, she was more on edge about Nick running the Maze than she usually would be. Her gut was twisting painfully.

   As much as she tried telling herself that she didn't care about Nick, that he was just a common friend stuck with her in the Maze, she knew it was useless. She did care about him. Too much. She didn't want to lose anyone else like she lost George. Sylvia put up her defenses but George managed to walk right through them, and she couldn't stop him. She had become so close to him and then he died.

   Gone. Just like that.

   So she put up her defenses again, building them higher. Nick crawled right through the cracks in the mortar. She kept pushing him back, pushing him away from her, but all with no luck. And without any warning, she started caring for him, and she couldn't get herself to stop. Worrying about his safety, looking for him in a crowd, wanting to talk to him. She was sure that some of the Gladers had speculated that they were together, but it would never be like that. He was her closest friend. He was the only person she had.

   So, in order to divert her thoughts, Sylvia had been keeping busy all day. She sat in the Med-jack room with Clint and Jeff, helping them with whatever they needed. She assisted Frypan with making lunch. She watched as Ben and Gally bickered for close to ten minutes about what type of nails they should be using for their current project. She didn't even know there was more than one type of nail.

   Now, she was on her way towards the Map Room, hoping to sort out some of the maps. With the boys, they didn't always put things away neatly. She was either yelling at them to organize or doing it herself if she got annoyed enough. Just as she was about to enter the Deadheads, Newt jogged up to her, his limp pronounced as he did. She couldn't help but wonder if that was what she'd look like when her ankle healed.

   He stood in front of her so that she didn't continue walking into the Deadheads, "Woah, woah, Sylvia. You're doing way too much. You need to rest."

   "Newt, I'm fine." She huffed and tried to push past him but he stopped her.

   "You need to rest." He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child, "You've been on your leg all bloody day."

   "Get out of my way. I have things to do."

   He kept his gaze steady on her, "And they can wait."

   She pushed past him again, "No, they can't."

   Newt didn't try to stop her this time. He only sighed and started walking back towards the gardens.

   Sylvia didn't know why any of them tried to stop her from doing something she was set on doing anymore. Almost two years of knowing her should've led them to believe that she wouldn't listen to what anyone told her to do.

   She continued on to the Map Room, which she hoped would grant her some peace and quiet. The Runners weren't supposed to be back for another hour, so she would have plenty of time.

   Once Sylvia got there, she sorted through some of the latest maps, analyzed them to look for any differences, organized them into neat piles, and put them back into the chests which were sprawled randomly throughout the room.

   Just as she'd finished, she heard the loud metal door creaking open. She didn't turn around to check who it was, figuring it was Minho or one of the other Runners. She secured the locks on the chest containing the maps. When she heard her name whispered behind her, she furrowed her brows and turned.

   The door to the Map Room was ajar. Someone was walking out of the room. Their face turned towards her at the last second before they disappeared out of the room.

   There was no way...it wasn't possible.

   Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. It must've been a Glader but for a split second she swore she saw George. "Hey!" She yelled after the boy and picked up her crutches, rushing out of the room. Only the Runners and Keepers were allowed in the Map Room. She was ready to scold whoever tried to peek inside.

   Though, when she emerged from the hut, there was no one in sight. She pushed farther into the Deadheads, determined to find this boy. She looked around frantically.

   Was she going insane?

   A figure materialized from in between the trees. For half a second she thought it was whoever she'd been chasing and relief almost flooded her, before she realized who it was. It was Minho. He was giving her a weird stare. She was sure he had seen her spinning in circles like a lunatic. Was he the one who came into the Map Room?

   "What the klunk are you doing?" He walked towards her.

   "Was that you?" She accused, pointing a finger at him.

   "Was what me?"

   "Whoever just came into the Map Room and ran out!"

   He furrowed his brows at her, "What the hell are you talking about? Who came into the Map Room?"

   "You! You were trying to fucking mess with me or something."

   "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I wasn't in the Map Room."

   Sylvia huffed in frustration. Her fingers twitched with the need to reach out and wring his neck. "I know it was you."

   He pushed past her, heading to the Map Room and muttering under his breath, "You are so jacked."

   She restrained herself from turning and bashing his head in, closing her eyes to take a minute and regain her composure. It had to have been him. No one else was in the Deadheads.

   Sylvia pushed the encounter out of her mind. She checked her watch and realized that the Runners would be back any minute now. She readjusted her crutches and quickly made her way to the East entrance, where Nick had left this morning.

   She stood by the entrance and waited, staring into the corridor and willing him to appear. She dug her fingernails into the scar on her left hand, creating tiny crescent moons on her palm.

   Sylvia checked her watch again and adjusted her shirt. Tapped her finger against the crutches. Clenched her jaw. Unclenched her jaw. Bit into her cheeks.

   She was so put off by having seen George's face, even though it was just Minho trying to scare her. She didn't know why her mind did that...why it warped him to look like George. Maybe it was just from the concussion. She hoped it was.

   Sylvia watched an ant crawl across the toe of her sneaker. She looked back up to the entrance and Nick was running towards her, his pack slung over his shoulders. The tension in her muscles eased. Her breath came easier.

   She kept her face neutral once he slowed down in front of her. They stared at one another for a moment, waiting to see if the other would speak. Neither of them did. Sylvia handed him the canteen of water she was holding and promptly started walking back to the Homestead. She knew his canteen would be empty.

   Nick didn't comment on the fact that his handkerchief was hanging out her back pocket.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

happy holidays! doing a double update for the special occasion 😉 hope you all have a good winter break!