The First Glader

25

Ada stiffened. "I'm working."

"That's the problem," Alby said.

Newt nodded. "You're running yourself ragged."

Ada stood abruptly. "I don't have a choice."

Alby straightened. "Yes, you do. You could ask for help."

Newt tilted his head. "We're literally right here."

Ada exhaled through her nose, rubbing her hands together. "I know. I just... thinking helps."

"But thinking all alone in that bloody map room doesn't," Newt said softly.

Ada didn't respond.

Newt's voice gentled even more. "You scared us last night, you know."

Ada flinched. "I wasn't—"

"You were," Alby cut in. He stepped closer until he was beside her, not intimidating, just present. Solid. "Nick told us. You froze when the walls moved."

Ada closed her eyes. "It was nothing."

Alby shook his head. "No, it wasn't."

Newt leaned forward. "Ada... yeah, you're strong. Stronger than all of us. But you don't have to hold everything in."

Her chest tightened painfully.

"I'm fine," she whispered, but the lie trembled.

Newt placed a hand over hers—gentle, warm, steady despite the bandages wrapping his wrist. "You don't have to be."

Alby's voice was firmer. "We're a team. A real one. You don't carry this alone."

Ada swallowed hard. "If I fall apart—"

"We won't let you," Alby said simply.

Newt nodded. "That's what we're here for."

Ada looked between them—Alby with his jaw set in fierce loyalty, Newt with soft understanding painted across his tired features—and for a moment, she felt something unclench inside her.

Not healed.
But held.

She exhaled slowly. "Okay."

Newt smiled gently. Alby nodded once, satisfied.

The three of them stayed there in the warm afternoon sun—Ada between them, Newt on the crate, Alby leaning close enough to touch but not pressuring her. A small circle of quiet safety in the middle of a world that refused to give them any.

When Chuck came jogging over a few minutes later, breathless and excited about a worm he'd found, he stopped short at the sight of the three leaders sitting together.

He looked between them, unsure if he was intruding.

Ada lifted her hand and motioned him closer. "Come here, Chuck."

Newt smiled warmly at him. Alby stepped aside so the boy could squeeze in next to Ada.

And for the first time in a very long time, the Glade felt... peaceful.

Even if only for a moment.

Chuck found Ada before breakfast.

He always seemed to, now—like some internal compass in him pointed straight toward her the moment he opened his eyes. He trotted across the clearing, hair sticking straight up on one side, shirt twisted, bare feet slapping against the packed dirt.

"Ada!" he called, too loud for how early it was.

Ada turned from the water barrel, one hand already on the ladle. "Morning, Chuck."