"You—you remembered," Newt said, surprised.

Sara's lips curved into a smile. "No, I already knew it." She lowered her voice as he gave her a confused look. "I just wanted you to be the first to know." She was carefully wrapping his ankle in new gauze.

He raised his eyebrows and blinked a couple of times. "Why me, though?"

"Because... I don't know—I just... trust you more," she replied, and it sounded more like a question.

Newt frowned again. "Greenie, you barely—"

"No, no. Sara." She wagged her finger at his face. He managed to let out a small laugh, which lifted Sara's heart up a bit.

"Fine," he dragged the word teasingly, with that lovely accent she was so glad to hear again. She couldn't get over it. In fact, she could hear him talk all day long and wouldn't get bored. "Sara," he emphasized, and she gave him an approving nod and toothy grin.

The moment was brief, however, because his face morphed back from the smile to his typical, emotionless expression. Sara debated whether to say something that had clawed at her mind ever since the morning of the day before.

"I was worried about you, you know..." Sara trailed off, nervously looking down at her lap to avoid his gaze.

When she looked up, his face displayed an odd mixture of disbelief and confusion. It seemed like everything she said caused him to make that face and only that face.

"Don't be." He shook his head. "Why do you worry so much about me?" he asked, somewhat uncomfortable.

It was that last thing he said that angered her. "Well, I saw you. It's not easy to suddenly enter a place you're not familiar with, and then see someone in that much pain. It's not easy seeing a huge group of teenage guys living this kind of nightmare."

She felt idiotic. Had she really just told him that it wasn't easy to see him suffer? She couldn't compete with what Newt already had to endure.

"This is already too much for me," said Newt, passing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry you had to see all that. The last thing I wanted was to have someone feel bad for me. Don't waste your time on someone like me." He narrowed his eyes as they bore into hers.

Sara suddenly grew irritated, probably more than she should've been. "You need to stop thinking like that! You're worth so much more. No one deserves this kind of life, so we can't lose hope that we'll get out of here!"

Newt's voice quickly rose in volume at her outburst. "You already know my opinion on that! But you don't know me. If you're waiting for me to 'share my feelings and concerns' with you, then you're shucking jacked in the head. I don't need you to worry about me. It's not gonna change or fix anything. You're a bloody Greenie—you'll understand soon."

"Calm down," she said, frowning at him, but that only made it worse.

Newt shook his head. "Don't tell me to calm down. You did your job—I'm all good now. This buggin' foot better start healing on its own. I can't miss that many days of work here."

"Why? You can't even walk," she said, gesturing to his foot.

"'Cause there's no room for loafers here," he replied abruptly. Sara was stunned at how much fury emerged from him, which shouldn't have surprised her since she sparked it.

A growing feeling of constrained anger boiled inside of her as she turned to leave the hut. "Fine! You don't want help?" She nodded her head sarcastically. "Perfect! I'm out. So sorry to bother you. You're right, what do I know?" She placed a hand on her chest in mock apology.

Newt's irritated expression faltered. "That's not the problem, I—" he began.

But Sara wouldn't let him have it this time. "The problem is, that you don't want to be helped when there are people willing to be there for you. You're not giving yourself an opportunity to overcome all the... klunk that goes on in here." She made a ridiculous attempt to use their slang, and it felt unfamiliar rolling out of her tongue. "You could've died, and even if that's what you wanted, you don't understand the magnitude of your actions."

"I'm the one who doesn't understand?" He raised his eyebrows.

Sara ignored his rebuke. "Your life's not over. I get it that you went through a lot, but if there's one thing I noticed is that all these boys rely on you. You're important to them. You keep their hopes up. So stop ruining the good things you do for others by doing this to yourself! You're just as important as they are!"

At the sound of Sara's hollering, Clint and Jeff poked their heads into the room. They were supposed to be doing a check-up on other sick boys, but the constant bickering wasn't allowing them to.

"What's going on in 'ere?" asked Jeff.

Sara sighed, feeling exasperated.

"I'm done!" She shouted, turning to leave the hut, but Clint's voice stopped her short.

"Greenie, you don't decide that. Alby was clear—"

"I'm Sara," she interrupted him, saying her name slowly, emphasizing each syllable with annoyance. "And I'm gonna talk to Alby. He'd better let me do something different, or else..." She was already out the door before she could finish the sentence.

How can he act like that? After all I worry about him, she thought, furiously making her way to find Alby.

She felt selfish for getting mad at him. He had a valid reason to feel the way he did, but Sara just couldn't accept that he was giving up so easily.

For two years, she'd been worrying about him and desperately wanting to see him, but he'd never cared half as much. They weren't even as much as close friends.

Sara felt she was mindlessly following a back-and-forth pattern. Her feelings ranged between profuse irritation and an inexplicable sympathy when it came to Newt. She hated him for making her question herself like that.

They were both replicas of the Maze. The patterns changed all of a sudden, and she didn't have a reasonable explanation for that, which altogether added to her frustration.

~Newt~

He flinched when he heard the door shut rather harshly, leaving a startled Clint and Jeff standing there, gawking back at him. They didn't take their eyes from Newt, as if he had an explanation to whatever just happened.

"Did the shucking Greenie just—" Clint began.

"It's Sara," Newt corrected him. They gave him an annoyed look, but he simply raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm just warning you, shuck-face. In the future, you don't want her bloody yelling at you for that, trust me."

"Not even Alby's that terrifying," Jeff snorted and laughed.

"Or the Grievers," added Clint as he giggled.

As amusing as it was to watch Sara leave so angrily, Newt didn't want to make fun of her. 

"Alright, slintheads, that's enough. I need to talk to her." He tried rising from his confining bed, but he couldn't even walk yet. He let out a frustrated groan as he slumped back down on the bed.

Jeff shook his head in disapproval. "And I think you best be lying your shuck butt back down, Newt. Ain't no way you're leaving until you can put pressure on it. Besides, you don't wanna talk to that girl while she's steaming like Frypan's chicken."

Newt rolled his eyes. Jeff came up to Newt and took a closer look at his ankle. Even with the gauze wrapped around it, the ankle was severely swollen. Jeff pursed his lips and glanced back at Clint, who shook his head slightly. Newt's insides were churning while dread coursed through his body, traveling through his bloodstream. He didn't even want to ask about what they were thinking.

"Newt..." Jeff timidly started. He gazed down at Newt with regret, "...You can't be a Runner anymore. We don't think it's a good idea. You gotta find yourself another job."

To their surprise, Newt relaxed. "Well, that's no big deal, I don't even want to go back in there anyway. I think I'll settle for being a Track-hoe. It's what I did best besides running."

He had his mind set. For once, he was willing to take some advice and not let his injury interfere with his normal life. It was even good now that he would have a switch of atmospheres. As a matter of fact, he'd grown tired of staring at the Maze walls. Every corridor was a reminder that he was a prisoner for people he didn't even know. The dull, gray color of the walls was even worse; it drove him insane.

Again, both Med-jacks shared a worried look, and suddenly, the brief calm in Newt's chest turned into a suffocating cloud of anxiety.

"It's—it's not... just that," Jeff informed, hesitantly.

A frown crept up onto Newt's face. "What do you mean?"

Jeff looked at Clint for help, but Clint was never the guy that delivered the bad news. Begrudgingly, Jeff sighed. 

"Listen, shank," he said, facing Newt. "I hate to be the one to tell you this but... you busted your ankle badly. We don't really have the proper materials and procedures to treat it right. You'll walk again, but..." He paused, fear covering all his features as he stared at Newt.

"But...?" Newt urged Jeff to continue. He needed to hear the words already, whatever they would be; the anticipation was making him nervous.

Jeff pursed his lips tightly. "But you'll most likely end up with a permanent limp." He took a deep breath and sighed loudly as if it were his own fault that this was happening to Newt.

As soon as the words left Jeff's mouth, Newt was once again left to succumb to the darkness of his thoughts. Clint and Jeff both stood there, looking at him with high concern. He hated how they would never look at him the same way anymore. It made him feel weak, but he didn't even have the strength to try to act brave about it either.

"You need anything, Newt?" Clint finally asked.

"I need to be left alone," Newt replied, his voice beginning to quiver. "Please," he whispered, bowing his head to hide his face.

They both nodded and quickly left the room, tending to other sick boys nearby. When Newt heard the sound of the door indicating he was finally alone, he let the tears begin to fall and drip onto his hoodie.

The hoodie.

That hoodie was another strange aspect of his previous life. He didn't know the history behind the scent he noticed the day he woke up in the box. Although the scent faded over the last two years, he could still remember the sweet aroma of some sort of plant that engulfed his nostrils that first time he opened his eyes to the world of the Glade.

The scent was like a reassurance that things couldn't be that bad. It symbolized the presence of hope in the middle of all the confusion of being stuck in the Glade. A foolish belief that vanished long since. Only a simple reminder of what he once hoped would be true. It didn't matter anymore. The scent faded along with the false hope. As bizarre as it sounded, however... The smell reminded him of her.

Sara.

Why did she care about someone like him? He felt broken and only wished to disappear. He was sick of being observed by whoever the 'creators' were. The people who thought it would be a brilliant idea to ruin his life. Being treated like an experiment, deprived of his previous life, without a guarantee that he was better before the Maze, he was sentenced to play a little survival game for some purpose his mind couldn't grasp.

He furiously turned to his left side to try to fall asleep, struggling to find the right position that wouldn't inflict too much pain on his foot overnight. The abrupt movement made him grunt and complain. He was growing exasperated at the realization that he had a whole one or two weeks of long, sleepless nights ahead of him.

To make matters worse, Sara didn't leave his mind. She was the last thing he wanted to think about at that moment. He didn't want to ignore the fact that things were obviously changing since her arrival, but he simply didn't want to have anything to do with her.

I don't need to be helped. I don't need anyone's attention, he thought to himself. Much less hers.

She was so confusing, and it was hard to tell what she really wanted. He was angry at himself for feeling the slightest bit of flattery, so he quickly shook the thought away.

The stabbing pain on his foot was becoming unbearable, and sleep seemed a distant luxury. Med-jacks always talked about recovery, but Newt didn't understand how he was supposed to do that when he felt that miserable.

❀❀❀

Newt squirmed in bed, all drenched in sweat as his mind created a series of images and scenarios that were peculiarly familiar.

He saw a family, the parents with their two children; a boy and a girl. He was certain that he knew them, but was unable to recognize them by face.

The father was writhing in pain, lying in bed and strapped to it with ropes. The mother held onto her little boy and girl as close to body as possible. The three of them were in tears as they watched the father struggle in such a maniacal condition. His eyes were bulging and bloodshot while his body was covered in green, sickly-looking veins. He looked... animalistic.

Without warning, one of the ropes snapped, giving the man access to lunge forward and reach down and under the bed. He reached just far enough as the other ropes constrained him, and he pulled out a dagger he'd kept hidden under the bed.

Before anything else could happen, the woman rushed her children out of the room. In case something occurred to her, she begged her little boy to watch over his sister.

As the woman returned to her husband, she was too startled by his savage behavior that she simply stood there, gaping in utter terror as the man stared at her with an insane look in his eyes.

She broke out of her daze as soon as he tried to slash his own throat, but when she reached him she was stopped by a brash, jabbing sensation in her stomach. Gasping for air, her body collapsed to the floor.

When the focus of the scene switched back to the man, he was lying on the bed with the dagger plunged into his own chest.

Newt sat up on the bed with a start, screaming and hyperventilating. His eyes widened and his clothes were entirely soaked in sweat.

The Med-jacks were in the room in an instant, and so were Alby, Minho, Sara, and a few others who heard him from across the Glade.

"Hey, shank, it's alright. It was just a dream," Jeff reassured him.

Minho, of course, wasn't much help. "Newt, you sounded like the shucking Grievers, man. You good?"

"Are you alright?" This time it was Sara who asked. Once again, she was showing her concern for Newt, which startled him, given that their last conversation wasn't all that splendid.

"No... no—you guys don't understand," said Newt, panting. "Something tells me it wasn't just a bloody dream—I... It felt so real," he whispered, completely mortified. Shaking his head, he said, "I'm sorry for waking you guys up." It was already embarrassing to be crippled. How could he also let anyone see how he feared the world behind his eyelids?

"Maybe we can—" Alby began.

But Newt didn't want any suggestions. "No! It's fine, I... it's probably nothing. You guys are right." He bowed his head, only wishing to be alone. "Just go back to sleep. I'll... try not to wake you again."

Newt didn't quite understand what he would obtain out of solitude—why he craved it so much. He didn't want the others to see him, this was true, but solitude always came with a price. The more solitude he got, the more time he had for sadness. More time to think.

Then he was surprised when Sara took a step forward to argue against his wishes. "Let me stay for a bit, and you can tell me about the dream."

Newt couldn't believe it. "Why would I do that? I thought you were done here, didn't you say?" he asked, quite annoyed. "Go back to sleep, Greenie. We all need to." He tried repositioning himself so that his foot felt comfortable.

But the girl crossed her arms. "Well, I don't think you'll get any more sleep if we all leave like nothing happened. I understand, I've had nightmares too; those that feel super real," Sara confessed to him.

Alby glared at her. "We've all had 'em. What makes ya think you're special, Greenie?"

Newt couldn't agree more.

"That's not what I meant," she replied through gritted teeth. "What Newt hasn't mentioned is that it was like watching a screen of a real life event that ended in murder. You'd all be freaked out if you saw that, trust me."

Minho and Alby shared a strange look. She was probably needing some attention—her being the Greenie and all.

"And ya bring that up just now?" Alby folded his arms, reprimanding the girl.

She sheepishly looked back at Alby. "I didn't think much of it until... well, I guess until Newt saw it too." She glanced back at Newt, knowing full well the meaning of the haunting look in his eyes.

"Wow." Minho snorted. "I guess that's one thing couples have in common," he laughed, earning a light punch on the arm from Sara.

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm dramatically, as if it'd actually hurt him. He was so tough as a Runner, but he was nothing more than a baby when putting up with someone with his type of character.

Alby sighed, then he forced everyone out of the room and back to bed, leaving only Sara and Newt. He couldn't understand how easily Alby gave in to Sara's suggestions, but it was also fair to assume Alby prefered that over losing his sleep.

Once Newt watched the door close, he turned to Sara. They were staring at each other, each with a daring expression on their face.

Round Two.