ACT II  SCENE XLVI
IPHIGENIA IN AULIS

   CASSANDRA DIDN'T think she had missed the Glade that much when she found herself back there. It was so familiar and it felt like home. She could see Newt in the distance, his blonde hair sparkling underneath the warm sun, as he bent over a square of potatoes. He was laughing at something Ed had said.

On the other side, she could see Gally fixing up the door to the Homestead. His eyebrows furrowed with concentration as he hammered away at the hinges. The furious knocks of the dense metal against the head of the nail seemed to echo throughout the entire field. She missed the sight of green after just two weeks spent in a boundless desert. The cool breeze brought the calming smell of chlorophyll and earth.

Minho wasn't around, not even in the kitchen where Frypan was prepping his infamous bacon. The med-bay was empty, save for Clint and Jeff, who weirdly enough greeted her when they saw her before going back to arranging the medical supplies. That was weird. She remembered her one time acting as Med-jack and all the boys had somehow managed to get injuries on the same day.

She guessed that Minho must be in the Maze and she yearned to run those empty endless corridors with him again. Maybe she would meet him halfway. She was about to head in the direction of their usual Door when she spotted someone waving to her from the Gardens. Cassandra cocked her head to the side, squinting to focus her vision, then frowned when she recognised his familiar figure.

Thomas cupped his hands over his mouth and hollered, "Hey, dumb shank!"

"Oh, he didn't..." she gasped before sprinting in his direction.

He grinned widely to greet her, faltering when he realised that she wasn't slowing down. The boy started to back away nervously when she came flying towards him, slamming against his chest and sending them both toppling to the ground.

"What the hell, Cass..." he groaned, face scrunched up in apparent pain.

"That's for calling me a dumb shank." She picked herself up. "And for generally existing."

Thomas rolled his eyes before accepting her outstretched hand to haul himself up. He patted the dirt off his clothes before looking around the Glade, his eyes settling on her when he was done.

"You're the only one that can see me so far," he said.

"Are you dead too?" She arched an eyebrow. "Figures."

"How do you know you're dead?" he asked.

"This crazy girl slit my throat," she told him with a shrug. "I'd say I was pretty dead."

"Teresa smashed my head in before leaving me in a room to die," he responded.

"That's rough, buddy."

"I really hope the afterlife isn't this," he said drily. "Being stuck in the Glade with only you to talk to. Now I know what hell is really like."

"Hey, that's my line!" she exclaimed in outrage. He grinned at her before taking a seat on the bench behind them. They watched the others milling about in companionable silence. There hadn't been a time where she could remember doing this with him back in the Glade. She mostly resented him for breathing the same air that she did. How the times have changed.

"I feel sorry for Minho," he said after a while.

She frowned. "Why?"

"I didn't leave anyone behind." He shrugged. "But you did. You left him. He must be really broken up about it."

"You left him behind too, and Newt," she said.

He shook his head. "Not the same thing."

Cassandra sighed. "I guess you're right. He'll get over it, I know he will. Maybe not right away, or whenever, but he will. He's a survivor."

"You're being way too optimistic for the recently departed," he told her wryly.

"Well, I don't see you breaking down on the grass with tears and snot streaming down your face!"

"Ew, I'm too classy for that." Thomas made a disapproving face and a poor attempt at flicking his hair.

"You're a shuck-face, that's what you are." She swatted the back of his head.

The all too familiar rumble of the Doors closing caught their attention and they looked up. Most of the Gladers had packed up their tools, returning to the Homestead for dinner. Zart and Winston passed by and gave them a cheery wave before resuming their conversation. Newt wholly ignored them as he made his way to the rickety building.

"I've been wondering about that," Cassandra thought out loud. "It's really weird how some of them see us and others don't."

"It's because the ones who can see us are dead too," Thomas replied, looking at her like she was stupid.

"Oh."

Then Minho ran past, sweat drenching his entire body as usual. He caught up to Newt and they started talking amongst each other. At least he didn't see them, which probably meant he was still in the land of the living. She continued to watch him until they ducked out of sight behind the kitchen.

"He's cute, I'll give you that." Thomas snickered beside her.

"You haven't seen his abs." She turned back to him with a lazy smirk. "Sculpted by the hands of God himself."

"You ruined it."

"I'm going to ruin your face," she threatened.

Suddenly, he stood up and there was a shocked expression marking his features. Thomas turned back to her with wide eyes and she frowned at his unusual behaviour.

"What?" she snapped.

"It's not our time yet," he told her. "Well, it's not mine."

"Congratulations, you get to suffer a little longer," she said sweetly. "I'll just go and catch up with Ben then."

"No, wait—" He leaned forwards to grab her arm but his hand went right through her skin and bones. They stared in disbelief.

"I am freaking out right now," she stated.

"Cass." He frowned, looking at her earnestly. There was anxiety in his eyes now, replacing the easy nonchalance that they both held earlier. "I don't want to leave you here."

"Look after Minho for me." She smiled sadly. "Tell him..."

But in a blink of an eye, he was already gone and she was talking to thin air. The Glade was quiet now, all the boys had gone inside and she was the only one still left in the open. She sat there in the waning light, watching the empty field change colours until night settled overhead and shadows laid down in a heavy cover.

So many thoughts ran through her mind as she stayed there, most of them sending an aching feeling of regret through her chest. She hoped Thomas was okay and would catch up with the others. Was this just another dream that she was having? Had she just imagined Thomas being here or was it a part of their telepathic connection?

A rustle startled her from her long reverie and she looked up, feeling her heart skip a beat. Her lips formed his name before she was even aware of it and she softly called out to him. Minho walked passed her before stopping, then turned to face her. Her eyes widened and a hand flew up to her mouth from shock. No, he shouldn't be able to see her.

And he hadn't. He merely twitched his nose, his eyes seeing right through her with a confused frown. "Weird," he muttered. "I thought I..."

He turned around and started off in the direction of the Map Room. She watched him cross the field halfway, then his body went completely rigid as he stopped before turning back sharply. Recognition took root in his eyes and he ran back towards her. Cassandra gasped when his hands grabbed hold of hers as he fell to his knees at her feet and she stared down at him with wide-eyed incredulity.

His smile lit up his entire face. "Cassie, you're back."

And she felt the warmth of his fingertips on her skin, the contact making her hands burn with longing. She smelt copper in the air, the lingering traces of grass fading away as if she was waking from a dream. He stroked her cheek and there was a streak of crimson staining the places he touched.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling his arms wrapped around her. The Glade melted into fragments of an indiscernible memory and she felt a rush of cold air blowing against her face. When Cassandra opened her eyes, the ichor had stopped flowing.

Someone brushed her hair from her eyes and she blinked in a mild stupor.

Minho, dirty, scratched up, looking worse for wear, with tears and blood staining his handsome face. His eyes gazed down at her with immeasurable relief and happiness, a look that she had seen him wear countless of times before. But most of all, it was Minho and she could touch him again, call his name hoarsely, feel his lips on hers. The knowledge of that alone brought indescribable emotions rushing through her veins.

Then he whispered to her, "You're alive."