Everywhere, Everything ◆ Thomas ◆ TMR

007 - Saving Ben (Or Not)

As it turned out, Ari did get her wish. She stood anxiously in the room where gatherings were held. She'd been kind of curious as to what it looked like, and how the whole thing worked, but it was really not that special. It was kind of a let-down, if she was honest. Anti-climactic.

She simply had to sit and keep quiet as everyone stated their opinions at what job she should have and be told to shut up when she gave Frypan shit for giving her shit. He really did not want her in his kitchen.

She would be offended, but she didn't really mind. The other job Keepers had seemed pretty neutral, and apparently, Newt had indeed talked to Winston, because he'd very obviously been teasing when he said he wanted her in the bloodhouse. She'd almost stuck her tongue out at the second in command, but the setting felt a little too professional for that.

She stood peacefully in the storage room in the Med-hut, humming to herself as she worked. The day had been slow and quiet, bringing only one builder with an injured hand that Clint volunteered to take care of. Jeff was out somewhere in the Glade, doing another job.

If Newt or Alby thought they'd been doing nothing in the hut while everyone else were working themselves to the bone, there would be hell to pay. Newt may be gentle and kind, but he was a leader at his core, and he did not care for slackers.

She was carefully sorting through their medical supplies. The disorganized manner of which everything had been stored had given her a headache when her coworkers had first shown her, and she thought the place might need a loving hand.

And since it was such a quiet day, it seemed a perfect opportunity to get it done.

Or so she thought.

Her peace was broken suddenly, when Jeff's voice screamed for Clint outside, panic stricken. Startled, she crashed into a nearby table, ignoring the sharp pain in her side in favor of finding out what had the Med-jack so distressed.

The sight made her nauseous.

Ben was hanging unconsciously between Jeff and Alby, Newt following behind with wild eyes. Ben looked sick. Deathly sick. He was pale and his veins were dark, almost green. His shirt was ripped and stained with dirt and sweat, his skin flushed red. And his eyes – his eyes were far away and full of madness as he moaned in pain.

Clint burst out from a door. His gaze barely passed over her before he rushed to the other's aid.

Newt was panting harshly, and his face – his face had never looked like that. Weary and thin. His lips were turned in determination, but his eyes were haunted. "He's been stung," he said, exhaustion clouding his voice.

The world seemed to freeze.

The dragged Ben straight past her, like she wasn't even there. His feet were slack and dragged along the floor like he was a doll. They were pulling him to the nearest room. Of course, it was just her luck that the second she'd been made a part of the Med-jacks, something really terrible happened.

She got out to follow, but Newt stopped her, his hands on her shoulders. She'd never seen him look so serious. "Stay."

"But I wanna help. What can I do?" She croaked. Newt's hands were shaking her bones with their tremors. She could tell he was trying his best to hold his composure and she remembered what they'd said about getting stung. This was Ben's last night in the glade, and the thought struck her like a lightning bolt.

He would never again go running in the maze. He would never eat another of Frypan's meals, laugh with Minho. He would just be gone.

Despite knowing him so little, it shattered something very deep inside her.