~Sara~

Sara was waking up, instantly regretting it as the pain spreading all over her body came rushing back to her. She almost panicked until she remembered she didn't sleep in her own hammock the night before.

Faint snoring came from her right, so she slightly turned her head to see Newt lying on his med-bed, snuggled in a blanket, with his back facing her. A small smile made its way onto her lips.

At least he can't be grouchy when he sleeps.

It was the only time she could appreciate the sight of him. The only time when looking at him didn't make her want to punch him in the face. The only way he remained silent, without yelling at her for whatever reason. The only time he looked remotely happy and at peace.

She turned back around and lay on her left side to try to fall back asleep, not wanting to wake him up, and especially to ignore the aching sensation that tormented every fiber of her body. The pain, however, was inevitable. She was still so exhausted that it didn't even take five minutes before she fell back asleep.

~Newt~

Newt woke up to the numbing sensation on his right leg, the usual indication that he needed to find a more comfortable position to sleep.

As he shifted on the bed to make himself more comfortable, he saw Sara on the bed next to his. He'd forgotten she spent the night in the Med-jack hut after such a sequence of terrible days on her job tryouts.

They weren't on the best terms, but it wasn't that he ever wished for this to happen to her. Gally was a slinthead. Everyone knew that—Newt always knew that. But Gally proved that even further with Sara.

As he finally found a decent position on the bed, Newt's eyes wandered around the hut until they came across a folded piece of paper on the floor. It was right next to the entrance of the room. Newt wouldn't normally care to find something like that anywhere in the Glade, but knowing Clint and Jeff, they were crazy about keeping their rooms spotless. They said it was all about hygiene and stuff.

He sat up, then swerved his feet over the edge of the bed. He had an incredible urge to see what it was, since—who knew—it might've been one of the Runners' maps that accidentally got left behind. Newt set his healthy left leg down on the floor while he bent his right knee up to keep his injured ankle elevated. It would only take a couple of steps from his bed to the paper; he'd just have to hop his way there and back.

Those being his very first steps since that day in the Maze, he nearly lost his balance. And he had to grab onto the edge of the bed or the chair the whole time he was trying to move. The position of his foot suspended in the air caused an unbelievable amount of pain to jolt up his leg at every hop. Pain that nearly made him cry out and collapse to the floor. Luckily, he stopped himself before he risked waking the girl up.

He acknowledged his own stubbornness. It wasn't worth putting himself under those levels of pain for an old piece of paper that was probably nothing important—a waste of time. But curiosity got the best of him.

After finally making it back to his bed, he flopped down, keeping his aching foot resting on a pillow to ease the pain.

Newt began unfolding the piece of paper. He could tell it'd been wet and wrinkled quite a bit, so the ink for most of the words had faded or smeared into huge, black blotches.

All he could make out of what was written on the mysterious paper was:

"—wt... remember... everything... you... cl—st... family... kindn— ... a lot... life... past... painful... hope... miss— ... gone... laughed... became... mem—... took... goal... safety... world... home—"

Just random words scattered about, from what seemed to be a long letter. Everything else was completely splotched up, but it was definitely a letter. Now the questions were: who wrote it? Why was it there? Who was it for?

Newt's eyes bounced back to the first word—at least the first legible one, since the very first word, which was right before, was smeared entirely. He eyed the semi-word carefully.

"—wt."

No, could it be?

It had to be too much of a coincidence otherwise. Only the first letters looked blotched, but there shouldn't have been a doubt it was his name. If this paper was a letter, and the first word—which was not legible—could've been 'dear', then that word should be a name. And if the letter was there in the Glade, it had to be for someone who lived there. To make it even more obvious, nobody's name could match except his. No other person had a name ending with those two letters.

The letter had to be meant for him. It was all a matter of deductive reasoning.

Who would write me a bloody letter?

He'd never felt more confused. He had nothing to refer back from his memory—much less having someone that could remember him. His first instinct was to think it was probably Sara's letter based on the odd details of her arrival. However, that seemed strange since the person who wrote it seemed to know a lot more than anyone else in the Glade. Unless...

No. He'd rather not think about that. He couldn't just blame her like Gally and the others did all the time. It could've been anyone. All he wished was to know exactly what the letter said in its entirety and find a way to discover who wrote it without exposing them directly. Newt didn't want to risk that person denying they wrote it, whoever it was. He would look like he'd gone insane, asking around about some stupid letter.

Newt heard shuffling to his left, and when he turned, he saw Sara stirring on her bed. She was probably waking up for good now.

If she weren't such a difficult shank, I'd say she even looks adorable when she sleeps.

Feeling ashamed of his own thoughts, he shook his head as if that would erase them.

Turning to Sara once again, he saw her rubbing her eyes. Meanwhile, he quickly folded the piece of paper and shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie before she noticed anything. Then, he lay flat on the bed, pretending to be asleep.

~Sara~

She groaned as she woke up for the second time today. Her thigh felt much better since it was her oldest injury—at least a week old. The pain on the side of her head, however, felt like somebody was crushing her head to the ground with a large rock. Everything else was simply the stinging jolts of pain she felt in her fresh cuts and her burn.

She casually looked over at Newt once again, her eyes wandering over to his ankle, making her wonder when he'd be able to walk again.

Clint and Jeff came into the med-room to check up on both of them. They even brought food that Frypan so generously prepared for Newt and Sara before anyone else went to have breakfast. As Newt woke up, Clint tended to his foot and began massaging it carefully.

Jeff changed the gauze around Sara's head and her other cuts as she anxiously awaited to gobble up the delicious food.

"Careful! Shuck, Sara. You're gonna choke if you keep eating like that!" Jeff warned her while holding back a laugh.

"Shut up, I'm starving," she said, in between bites.

The door swung open, and Alby decided to join the party—or better, interrupt it.

"Glad to see you're awake," he chirped, unusually kind today. Something wasn't right; she had to fix that.

"Look, shuck-face, if you came to tell me that I've got my next job waiting for me, then you can go ahead and turn back around, 'cause as you can see, I'll pass." She fake-smiled at him.

As soon as everyone saw Alby's face change, they started laughing. Even Newt smiled. Sara could swear she saw his lip barely inch upward as he bowed his head to hide it.

Alby, however, went back to his good-old self. She fixed him. "No, shuck-face. I ain't the kind of klunk-head ya think I am."

Sara smirked. "So, you're a different kind of klunk-head?" she retorted, maintaining the most serious expression she could manage.

More laughter came from the Med-jacks, and she thought she even heard a giggle coming from Newt. It was a strangely beautiful sound coming from his throat that it made her think he really needed to let himself loose more; it could make wonders.

Alby wasn't amused, however. "Shut your hole this instant," he hissed at Sara. "I'll tell you what I came to tell you, then I'll leave before I hear any more of your klunk."

She shrugged with a nonchalant posture. "Good that. I need to rest anyway," she said.

He glared at her before he started talking. "Once you're healed, we'll discuss your job, which is pretty much clear by now, I suppose... since you flunked the other ones." The way he said it offended her deeply, and she was regretting being willing to be on peaceful terms with the leader, who also happened to be Newt's friend.

"Hey!" she complained. "It was only my fault in the blood house. The others were your little friends who took it out on me. Except Frypan. That was an accident," she defended him. "Can I just work with Frypan?"

Alby's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "You're not gonna work in the kitchen."

"Why not?"

He promised something but always had to accommodate it to fit his way.

Alby shook his head. "You'll burn yourself whole one day if we let that happen. Ya ain't useful if you're crisp."

She placed a hand on her chest. "How considerate."

Clearly frustrated with her difficult attitude, something of which she was well aware, Alby pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Greenie, you're worse than Minho," he mumbled. "One of you is enough."

Funny. That was certainly a compliment. When Minho felt like being a difficult shank, there was usually no one able to beat him on that.

She smiled, at least to lessen the tension. "It was only an accident. I bet by the time I get to cook you a proper meal, you'll change your mind."

"Fine," he said, accepting the challenge. "So, do you want this job, or do you still wanna consider the other one?"

Sara rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. "Uh... I'm gonna need some time to think about it." As soon as she said that, she peered an eye open to see his reaction.

To her surprise, he wasn't angry. "Well, some shanks work more than one job. It depends. You can do the other job, and then whenever Frypan could need you in the kitchen, then you help him. Good that? Oh—and one more nasty response, and I won't think twice before throwing you in the pit overnight," he said, pointing a warning finger at her.

The accusations were legitimate so she could only nod and say, "Good that."

Soon enough, Alby finally left along with the Med-jacks, who finished tending to Newt and Sara's injuries.

Now it was just the two of them in the room.

"Please don't kill each other," Clint called out, just as he was shutting the door. "We have enough injuries to worry about with the two of you."

Sara laughed and raised her voice so Clint could hear from the other side of the door. "If that happens, then it's the Baggers' job. Don't worry," she finished as the door shut completely. They must have not heard her, because no one came stomping back into the room after her comment...

But then she looked over at Newt who was staring back at her, horrified.

"Calm down. It was a joke," she huffed as she rolled her eyes. She had to admit it was a terrible one, given that she felt a shiver down her spine once Zart had finally told her what the Baggers did.

"Yah, real sweet joking about that, Sara," he said with a stern look on his face.

She could argue all day long with Alby, with Minho, Gally—pretty much anybody, regardless of how annoyed they got. Yet somehow, when Newt was furious at her, it hurt like getting whipped on the back.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, bowing her head and completely lying back on the bed. "I mean..." she started once again, "you laughed before."

Expecting a response from him, she slightly turned around to take a peek at his face.

He looked over at her. "That was just 'cause only Minho gets to talk to Alby like that. But you talk back to Alby and he doesn't do a thing to you, which is the funny part."

He was so confusing sometimes, and Sara was exhausted from all his lecturing. "And what's the problem?" she asked.

Newt swerved his mouth to the side and shook his head at her. "This isn't a joke. Finding humor in the serious klunk that goes around in this place, like the Baggers and the fact that people die here... I won't have it."

Another whip on the back.

"Don't you think I know that?" she raised her voice. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

He blinked back and scoffed. "Then just don't forget to be mindful," he said, averting his eyes.

She had to remind herself that he was actually the Second-in-Command in the Glade. Regardless if Alby was the only person above him, there was a certain respect people just had to have for Newt. Respect that not all of them had for Alby, even though the leader was actually a scary guy. Newt was just naturally respected somehow.

It hurt, but she had to admit he was right.

"I'm really sorry. I seriously need to know when to stop." Her eyes were shifty, and she was embarrassed to even look at him.

When she did, his frown softened slightly. "It's okay. You're a good person. I'm sure you don't mean to be disrespectful... that much," he added with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sara wasn't sure she believed that. Was she a good person? She knew what she was talking about—that's for sure, but she always had to open her mouth in the worst moments.

"Well... thanks, Newt." She gave him a small smile, hoping that for once, things between the two of them could change for the better.

He nodded, then turned away from her on the bed, resting his head on the pillow. "Now, go to sleep, shank. We both need it."

Sara rolled her eyes. They'd practically been in bed since the day before, and for him, it had actually been a week. She was aware of her impatience to be up and going, but she couldn't believe Newt had been confined to the bed and he was okay with that.

"I'm only gonna listen to you just because there's absolutely nothing better to do," she blurted out, something she knew she shouldn't have done.

He turned around once again, despite the pain in his foot. It almost seemed like he enjoyed arguing with her—to go through any kind of pain to be able to yell at her. "No, you're gonna listen to me because I said so. I'm the Sec—"

"I know," she mockingly whispered at him. "Second-in-Command. Doesn't make a difference." She crossed her arms and shrugged like a little kid confronting her parents.

Anger suddenly surged upon his features, and he began to raise his voice. "It will once I tell Alby to bloody punish you. Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Me?" She raised her voice at equal volume. If he wanted to light that fire, she was more than willing to give it to him. "I try to be nice to you, and that only lasts a couple seconds before you get mad at me. You get mad at everything and everyone. That's not gonna take you anywhere, Newt!" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "If only you knew how much I understand you, and how much I want to help you. But you always push me away." She pursed her lips together, frowning at him.

His mouth twitched, and he gritted his teeth as if the anger could help him articulate a proper response.

His voice got quieter as he gradually calmed down. "Why do you insist on that?"

She tore her eyes away from him and focused them on the ceiling as she lay there. "You wouldn't understand," she whispered softly, unsure if he actually heard her or not.

"...I understand I'll never be able to bloody walk normal again. That every wobbly step I take from now on is a constant reminder that my life's so shucked up I'm not even allowed to bloody end it," he muttered knowingly.

That felt like another whip. This time, it wasn't because he was yelling at her; it just brought to her memory the moment she saw him fall. It was hard to assimilate, but she knew she had to accept the truth.

Newt wanted to die.

And she wasn't sure his mind had changed at all.

She stayed put on the bed, staring at Newt's wrapped-up ankle, her eyes lingering on it for a good couple of seconds. If this was him now, she couldn't even imagine how he'd feel if he remembered.

But now it was her turn to have a say.

"And what if I told you... that there's still more to this. I'm not gonna give up on you. I won't let you stop right here. There's hope—that's all we've got—but there's hope... for us. All of us. And believe me—I know that you've gone through the worst. You're stuck, you don't see an exit, you're desperate. You've reached rock bottom, Newt." She looked over at him, to see if he was even listening. His face was void of emotion, but he was listening to every word.

"Are you done?" he asked, probably angry that she was bringing to his memory everything he wanted to forget.

Sara shook her head. "And you know what that means? You can only rise from here. The lower you are, the higher you can reach." As she said the last sentence, she looked back at the boring ceiling to wait for his response, if he had one. It felt embarrassing to finally express how deep her concern for him went, and she'd rather not see his discomfort over it.

For a moment, the feeling of his stare felt slightly different, however, so she turned to him once again.

With an eyebrow raised, a suspicious frown crept onto his face. His eyes lost focus on her, and he seemed completely lost in his own thoughts. Then he stuck both hands into his pockets as if searching for something. Her eyes followed the movement of his hands and she watched as he finally retracted himself.

"Newt, are you okay?" she asked, wondering what he was looking for but afraid to ask directly.

"No—I mean... yes? I don't even know." She looked at him in confusion. "Goodnight, Sara," he finally said, to her disappointment.

She didn't know if she was being ignorant by hoping to get a different reaction from Newt. It seemed like every time he gave her a chance to break through the walls he built around himself, he'd build another barricade right after.

"Goodnight."

He had already turned his back to her, so she did the same, closing her eyes, and wishing he would someday understand that he could heal.