One day, Sara woke up to see Newt's bed was empty next to hers. 

Clint and Jeff came in from other med-rooms and stopped by to check up on her. As they did so, she could no longer fight the urge to ask.

"Hey Jeff, has Newt's foot healed completely? Where is he?"

He pursed his lips. "Well, not exactly. He's able to walk on it, but not on his own. We asked some of the Builders to make him some crutches. He won't start to work full-time until he can walk without them."

That didn't seem safe. "So, you just... let him out? What's he doing out there if he can't work?" she asked.

"Well, he hasn't stopped being Alby's right hand," Clint answered. "He'll start working, but he'll just have to take it easy. Besides, Alby could really use his help, at least with supervising the Glade. He'll be fine. These things take time," he finished.

"But don't worry," Jeff added. "You're getting much better too. We actually came to tell you that you're able to go back to work today."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. Finally, some good news. "So, I'll be able to sleep in my hammock tonight?"

They both nodded, amused at her reaction.

She couldn't wait. It'd taken longer since only a few Builders didn't actually hate her and had offered to build her a separate hut for the sake of privacy.

Immediately after breakfast, she headed straight to find Alby now that Clint and Jeff confirmed her second initiation in the Glade workforce. She only hoped nothing would happen to her on the job she actually intended to keep.

"Good luck today," Alby told her with a mischievous smile planted on his face. Sara felt stupid since she wasn't sure if he was just being a shuck-face, or if there was any double meaning intended.

Either way, she was anxiously walking toward the gardens to begin her Track-hoe duties with Zart once again.

However, her fast-moving legs made a halting jolt as she saw who was speaking to Zart.

No, no, no, no.

Her blood began to boil as everything fell into place in her mind, including the reason everyone was laughing at her without telling her why.

Was he always a Track-hoe? Possibly. Had she known, she would've stayed with Clint and Jeff as a Med-jack.

Newt raised his head, and he turned to see Sara approaching the gardens. His shocked expression matched hers before he managed to turn it into a frown—as usual.

"So, this was the job you chose?" he asked.

Sara couldn't believe this was happening to her. "Well... I'm just as surprised as you." She attempted a smile, although she only wished to disappear. Maybe she would start working in the kitchen more often.

"Lucky me," Newt said with a slightly annoyed expression. Sara took offense to that, and she scrunched her eyebrows at him.

Then she heard Zart snickering right behind Newt, and she turned to glare at him.

"Guys, just... you know, do the job, and try not to hate on each other that much, good that? I don't feel like dealing with you two," he said as he regained his seriousness.

"Oh, don't worry, Zart. We'll be just fine..." she dragged her last words.

"You're quite right on that, Greenie," Newt told her, to her surprise. "My bloody shift here is over. I'm gonna go find Alby." Then he turned to Zart. "He probably needs me more than you do anyway—sorry, shank."

It'd been a while since he'd called her a Greenie. Sara rolled her eyes as she watched him. He gripped the handles of his crutches and moved past her, forcing her to move out of his way without warning.

She scoffed at him. "Good that, Newt. More peace and quiet once you're gone."

He ignored her without looking back as he slowly continued his walk with the crutches. It was as though he weren't even listening—as if he were unaffected by anything she would tell him. It made her angry; she was always the one who ended up feeling too much—caring too much.

❀❀❀

The day dragged on, and Sara worked her butt off in the gardens, much more to prove that she could do at least one job well, rather than actually contribute. That encounter with Newt was much too unpleasant, taking all her motivation away.

A shadow suddenly cast over her work area, and she looked up to see a tall, red-haired boy who was smirking devilishly at her. She remembered seeing him there the other day, when she first worked as a Track-hoe.

"You'd better be careful, Greenbean. You don't wanna screw this job up too," he laughed at her.

Sara sighed and plastered a snarky smile on her face. "Far be it from me to do that. This job is already screwed up because you work here. Unless that's what you meant, then I don't know what you're on about." As soon as the words confidently slipped out of her mouth, the others started making fun of him.

His taunting smile faded immediately as he leaned over, closer to her. "Bold of you to assume a little she-bean like you has the right to talk to me like that." He lowered his voice.

"Hey, Chris," Zart called to him nearby. "Slim it and get back to work, shank."

The red-haired boy, Chris, took one glance at Zart, then faced Sara again, his expression idle. 

Suddenly, his features contorted into a mixture of horror and disgust as his eyes tried to stare behind Sara.

"Greenie, watch out!" he shouted as he pointed behind her. As soon as she turned to see what he was pointing at, she was pushed forward in that direction, into a patch of mud.

She was too taken aback to say anything as she stood up and slowly stared down at her muddy self. Then she heard Chris's insane laughter, followed by a couple of snorts and snickers from other Track-hoes and other Gladers nearby.

"I guess you did end up screwing up, huh?" he mocked her. Sara shot a scornful stare at him. What was wrong with those kids? He had to be best friends with Gally—she bet her life on it.

With an apologetic look on his face, Zart excused her to go to the showers and then change clothes.

Sara was so angry she could cry, but she knew she had to be stronger than that, and she wasn't about to break just yet.

After letting all her anger out in the shower, the poor loofah taking all the beatings it could get, she looked into the mirror. Her expression mirrored more exhaustion, and she'd only been in the Glade for about half a month. It was insane what a couple of weeks could do to someone.

It might've sounded like she was complaining too much, but it was different for her. Her horrible life didn't begin in a Box on its way to the Glade like for the others. She had much more to go back and recall, people to remember and miss, and things she wished to forget but couldn't. And all of it was weighing down on her, pushing her to her limit.

❀❀❀

Sara was breathing heavily as she forced her legs to carry her faster across the Glade, and into the secluded atmosphere of the deadheads. The Maze doors had closed for the night, and the light she always appreciated from the sky was fading away.

She ran straight into the darkness, and once she found a comfortable spot to sit against a thick tree trunk, she plopped down. Hugging her knees tightly to her chest, she fixed her eyes to the ground, furiously staring at it. The fallen dead leaves on the ground accurately reflected how she felt at the moment.

Purposeless. Someone could step on it and it was over. A wind could decide to blow and carry it away with ease.

Even then, no tears came.

She was sitting quietly in her misery until she heard the rustling of dead leaves, and the sound of uneven footsteps approaching her, followed by rhythmic clicking sounds. 

Sara raised her head to see Newt struggling to get to her, trying not to trip on the crutches from the bumpy ground.

She gave him an annoyed, weary look. "I don't have the time nor the energy to put up with you too. I've had enough of everyone's bull crap," she muttered before he could even say a word.

"I don't intend to make you put up with me," he responded softly.

"Then, what are you doing here?" she asked, her tone still harsh.

Newt raised his eyebrows. "I saw everything, Sara."

She sighed. It had been such an embarrassing day for her, and she didn't need Newt to remind her of it. 

"Yeah? Well, I don't need your pity." She raised her voice. When she saw the look on his face, she softened her tone. "I'm fine—I just... I need some time to get away from everyone, you know? That included you too."

He raised his palms in defense, although he barely could while having to hold himself onto his crutches. "I'm not trying to give you any pity. And yes, I know that too. I've experienced the feeling of wanting to be alone firsthand," he answered as he managed to crouch down next to her.

His features twisted in uncomfortable pain while trying not to force his foot to bend where it couldn't. Once he sat down, he threw the crutches to the side and let out a long breath.

"Clearly you don't get it, then," Sara continued. "I stand my case, Newt. Why are you here?" she insisted. "I don't need you."

He pursed his lips. "If you'd bloody let me talk, maybe I can explain myself." Sara rolled her eyes, and after he checked that she had nothing else to say, he continued. "Just wanted to help you a bit. To let you know Chris is in the slammer now. And Alby said he'll make any shank that bothers you again, pay for whatever they do. Gally got released today, but the warning goes to him also."

She laughed humorlessly, staring at the ground. Somehow, she already expected Gally's early release; it was only a matter of time. "You guys got too much klunk in your head if you think any of them will stop."

"I know a lot of shanks made your life impossible today," he said, and she shot her head up to look at him; he had a grim look. "And I saw how you did nothing to stand up for yourself like you usually do."

She raised her arms in defense. "Well, what was I supposed to do? I'm the person no one trusts. If I'd lifted a single finger against any of those slintheads, I would be the first one sent to the slammer—for longer, even. And believe me, I'd never hesitate to beat the klunk out of them in other circumstances."

"I know, I know," he pressed. "Trust me, I do. What I mean is that you chose to isolate yourself before retaliating, and that takes a lot of courage to do."

Sara shook her head, growing tired of this conversation alone. "But it hasn't even been a month since I got here. I knew from the start that it wasn't gonna be easy, 'cause everything about me is just odd. And it's not anyone's fault. Their reasons are understandable. I'm just tired."

Newt nodded in agreement. "That's valid—I get it."

Sara looked at him suspiciously. "How'd you know where I was?"

He averted his gaze. "I followed you when you ran, but it obviously took me more time." He chuckled, gesturing to the crutches on the ground.

Sara scoffed. "Yeah, you've always been the stalker type," she muttered between her teeth.

"What?"

Realizing her mistake, she shrugged it off. 

"Nothing." He eyed her suspiciously, but she ignored him for a few seconds before she said, "No but seriously, why do you care?" she finally asked.

Newt took a deep breath, as if he had already prepared to answer that question. "Look, I've just been thinking and... you know, I—uh... thought maybe I could make things at least a little better by not being so rude anymore," he replied as he ruffled his hair.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You think?"

"Sara, I've tried to be nice before," he tried defending himself. "But you seem to hate me anyway. Why?" his voice lowered to a whisper.

She was taken by surprise with the sudden question. She squinted her eyes in thought for a few moments while his expectant eyes darted across her face, searching for some answer that she clearly didn't have.

"I don't hate you," she mumbled finally. He raised both eyebrows, a hint of unexpectedness briefly crossing his face. "No, I'm serious. We've all been through a lot. And sometimes, all of this klunk just gets to your head, you know?" She faced him, and he slowly nodded in agreement. "So, what I mean is... I'm truly sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." He smiled warmly at her, then lowered his head. "I wasn't the most encouraging person."

Sara chuckled humorlessly. "Neither was I. I didn't stop to put myself in your shoes first before I tried forcing you to stop thinking a certain way—as if it were that easy." She shrugged.

He raised his head, and she caught a glimpse of a certain glimmer in his eyes, but he still wore his signature little frown.

"Well, you are now. I appreciate it," he said softly. He studied her face, and she noticed how sweet he could be when good communication finally occurred. "I'm still learning how to deal with things too."

Nodding, she continued. "Yeah, I mean... I think it just makes me mad coming to terms with the fact that we're a bunch of traumatized children with barely anything to hold on to."

"When you put it that way... yah." He stared at the ground, the slight gleam in his features fading away.

She didn't know whether that was offense, or just a tired response.

Did I say anything wrong?

It wasn't like she really cared if her words came out wrong, but she didn't want to just leave things the same way as before. They always argued, and she was growing tired of that.

"Newt?" she called to him, reaching out to touch his forearm, then quickly retracting it before he could move his arm away.

"Huh?" He stared at her, startled for a moment. "No—I mean, I know exactly what you're talking about. I couldn't have said it better myself." Sara watched him go poker-faced.

"You sure? I thought you got mad again," she said, almost wanting to laugh. "I mean, I don't blame you," she added, causing them both to chuckle.

He smiled. "No, it was nothing. I just... zoned out."

Sara noticed the brown band of fabric on his right wrist. She'd seen it before, but never bothered to ask about it. He never took it off.

"What's that on your wrist?"

Newt grabbed that wrist with his left hand, looking like he wanted to hide it from view. 

"Nothing—just... I use it to wipe off my sweat during work," he said, averting his eyes.

Seeing as it made him uncomfortable, she decided it was best to drop the subject.

After a few moments of neither of them speaking, Sara stood up. "It's kind of getting late. We should probably go back and get some sleep," she told him.

"Yah, I suppose." He grunted as he tried to stand up, supporting his bodyweight against the tree trunk.

"Here," she said, grabbing his crutches from the ground, "let me help you." She lent her hand and Newt took it, and then she carefully helped him pull himself to his feet.

"Thanks." He sent her a grateful smile, and she returned it. Sara couldn't express enough how gratifying it was to see that soft smile of his, which she didn't see too often and wished she did.

As they slowly made their way back to the Glade, Sara turned to look at him.

"Hey—uh... thank you for coming to talk to me, it really helped," she said, her eyes shifting with embarrassment.

"Yah, don't worry about it. I really liked talking to you... it's more fun when you're not yelling at me." He smirked.

Her eyes went big and she cleared her throat, but then she waved goodbye at him before they parted ways.