Newt was about to give up his search when he finally found Elizabeth at the West Wall. She was curled up in a ball with her face towards the ground, most likely huddling with the cold. As he got nearer to her, however, he realized that her whole body was trembling and every so often she emitted a fragile whimpering sound.

"Elizabeth?" he kept his voice low, so not to startle her. She made no immediate response, but her body stiffened when he stood over her. He tentatively reached a hand down to touch her shoulder, but when she flinched, he drew away and crouched beside her instead.

"Elizabeth are you okay?" No response. Newt took the blanket from his shoulders and draped it around her and she sat up and pulled the corners of the blanket closer. It was dark enough so he couldn't see her features, but he realized that she'd been crying. He felt a sharp pang in his heart; perky, joyful Elizabeth was crying. He hadn't seen her cry before, and watching her now--with her shoulders shaking and the little hiccups she made--he decided that he never wanted to see her cry again.

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around Elizabeth's frame, pulling her closer to him. With the blanket around her, she leaned in and leaned her forehead into his chest. They sat like that for several, terrible seconds until she sat up in his arms and stopped sniffling. His arms were long enough that she remained trapped in his embrace, but instead of trying to break away, she sat there defeated. Newt hated to be the first to break the silence by talking, but he had to say something.

"What happened?" he asked. Elizabeth sighed, and he half-expected her to avoid the question, but she answered it.

"I feel really lonely," she said. Not a true explanation, but it was something to go off.

"I understand, I get that way too," he said truthfully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head and Newt let his arms fall. He lay his back on the grass so that he was staring up at the night sky. After a pause, she joined him, and offered him half of the blanket. It was warm from her skin and damp from her tears and the dewy grass. They lay so close that their sides were pressed together. Newt felt that strange ache in his stomach again, and was overcome with the urge to take her in his arms again. The need to feel her closeness, to smell the perfume of her skin and the soap from her hair. To feel his skin on his and the weight of her body...

He was thinking irrationally, of course, but bloody hell if he couldn't stop thinking about her. Every time he closed her eyes she was there. Damn, when had he turned into such a sap? He knew the reason, but it was too hard to admit. She was his friend, for klunks sake, and friends didn't go around professing love to each other.

"Newt?" her voice broke his focus on her proximity. If she wasn't such a girl, he would probably be feeling tired again by now.

"What?"

"How did you know I was out here?"

Newt laughed weakly and brought his hands behind his head. She had to shift away so his elbow wouldn't hit her face.

"That shank Minho woke me up. Apparantly he and Zart saw you running and got concerned."

"That was nice of them," she said. She turned her face to look at him, aware of how close their bodies were. His skin was pale against the grass, and he stared upwards, his eyelashes silhouetted against the night sky. Those boyish freckles dotting from his neck to his ear. She remembered the sticky feeling of Chris's tongue on her eye and that spark of loneliness hit her again, tainted with terror and disgust.

"It's so hard being the only girl here," she said. Newt looked at her and she went on. "Girls need other girls so much, just like men need other men. I can live without them, but it's so hard. A girl would understand me on a deeper, more emotional level than the guys here, and a girl would be able to help sort out feelings and rant about menstrual angst. I hate that it's so messy and inconvenient here." Elizabeth's nose wrinkled. "Sorry," she apologized, as if remembering her present company.

"Let's not go there," Newt agreed, but he didn't dwell on the subject.

"I can't talk about boys with other boys," Elizabeth continued. "It's just so difficult not being able to talk for hours at a time or being able to show vulnerability."

"I'm sure we could let you be vulnerable?" Newt's statement came out sounding more like a question. Elizabeth smiled.

"Maybe, but I think it would make everyone really uncomfortable. No offense, but I don't think men can offer me as much comfort and understanding as another woman could."

"You're right," Newt said, and he took one of his hands from behind his head. "I guess in a lot of ways you're even more lonely than I am."

They both stared up at the stars, and Newt grabbed Elizabeth's hand and sqeeezed it.

"Remember what you told me before?" he asked. "You said that I'm never alone, and you were right. I'm not alone, but I still can't help but feel like I am. When they put me in the Maze, I lost my family, my friends...my whole life. Even if I was sent back today, I wouldn't be the same person that I was before I was taken. Whether I'm here in the Glade, or back home, I don't think I'll ever feel completely whole again."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand back, still staring at the sky. A star shot across the sky and she smiled sadly. "Maybe neither of us were whole to begin with," she said.

---

Elizabeth woke up to the sound of birds. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Newt's face only inches from hers. His hair was messy with sleep, and the blanket they shared was hanging lazily over the shoulder that was facing her direction. He hadn't woken up yet, his chest rose and fall with the gentle rhythm of sleep. She suddenly became aware of how their legs were tangled together underneath the blanket, and the heat emanating from his body. No wonder it was so warm--they must have fallen asleep sometime last night after talking. If someone caught them, who knows what would happen.

Elizabeth's cheeks flared and her heartbeat increased, but she didn't move away. Instead, she watched Newt sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His features looked so boyish in sleep, with his eyelashes fanning his cheeks and his lips without an expression. He murmured something and snuggled his face into the ground, and Elizabeth was hit with an overwhelming amount of fondness for him. He was so safe. So comfortable and warm. She bit her lip to fight the urge to touch his hair. It looked so soft, which was strange because nothing in the Glade should be soft. Everything was so dirty and filled with grime it was hard to feel clean. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, recalling the details of the night before when Chris had touched her without her consent. Thank the stars it was Newt who had found her instead of someone else.

"...'Lizbeth..." Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. Was he awake? She opened her eyes, but his were still closed. He smelled warm and familiar; almost spicy. She felt herself leaning in despite herself. So comfortable, she thought. And then...

"What time is it?"

Elizabeth jumped back, her face burning and her heart pounding loudly. What the hell was that?

"Um, I have no idea. Morning?" Elizabeth guessed, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.

Newt opened his eyes and blinked them into focus. When he saw Elizabeth his eyebrows furrowed. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.

Something in Elizabeth's stomach twisted. When had Newt become so painfully attractive? Had he always been that way? Her nose wrinkled as she thought about it. His hair was still a sandy blonde, his eyes the same cinnamon brown. Her eyes darted to his parted lips. When he smiled his dimples formed and made him look younger than he actually was. He hadn't changed, but something inside her had. Compared to the others, she had to reluctantly confess that Chris was the most aesthetically pleasing. Still, she had never been drawn to Chris the way that she was drawn to Newt. That alone counted for something, right? That alone made her feel better about Chris's dark good looks and the way he tried to use them against her.

"Newt..." she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him about Ben's confession. She wanted to tell him how Chris had touched her without permission. She wanted to tell him how she just stood there and let him do it--the way she had simply watched him and felt powerless.

"I'd better get some breakfast," Newt said, "The Runners will be heading out, soon."

The moment was broken when he stretched and the blanket was tugged away. Elizabeth rolled away and sat up to run a hand through her hair.

"You're right," she said, her voice unsteady. "I need to take a shower."

Newt gathered the blanket in his hands and the two of them started making the long track to the Homestead. They didn't speak, and Elizabeth felt her chest constrict, wishing that she was different, and realizing that she had always been this way. She had always been this scared, lonely person who never stood up for herself. She had always been this ugly, disgusting coward--gullible and easily manipulated. She didn't know the full reason sneaking into the Maze, but now she understood that it was in part, a way for her to escape from everything.

---

Chris was acting weird again. Gally frowned at his hut-mate's back. The other boy was humming and sauntering around like he owned the place. The stupid Gladers didn't seem to be half as annoyed with him as they should be. They actually seemed to like the shank--flighty attitude and all. In his opinion, Ric had been a better hut-mate.

"Is something wrong, Gally?" Hank asked.

"No," Gally responded.

"Good, that." Hank resumed his work and Gally took another look in Chris's direction. The Bricnic was helping them out today, and Gally admitted that he did a good job, but the slinthead wouldn't shut up. Worst of all he'd taken off his shirt like some damn prick. What, was he too good for a shirt? Gally shook his head and went back to work. No matter how much he disliked Chris, he couldn't let it bother him. Besides, he got along with everybody else and at least he didn't slack off and didn't snore at night. That, at least, was one redeeming quality.

"What the shuck?" Hank cursed beside him, and when Gally looked up to see why, his ears were immediately pricked. The Box was coming up.

"The month isn't even up, yet!" Doug was already running towards the sound, and the others followed. Gally dropped the nails in his hand and put his hands on his pocket. He walked more casually than some of the others and Minho caught up with him.

"What's the matter Gally, too tired to run?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Gally scowled and the other boy shrugged as if he'd expected as much. The other Gladers were surrounding the Box with mixed emotions.

"What are those shanks doing!"

"What is going on?"

"Who is it this time?"

Nick cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down the hole after opening the doors: "HEY! DID YOU SLINTHEADS LOSE TRACK OF TIME?"

Alby pushed him out of the way, "Don't shout, you crazy klunk! There's a Greenie in there!"

But there wasn't. When Alby and Nick jumped down, there was no signs of another human being inside. No food, no animals, no tools, no nothing. All that was in the Box was a lone crate in the center.

"Man, they probably sent this up as a mistake!" Will suggested.

"Idiot. Nothing gets sent here by mistake," Zart retorted, and then added: "Except maybe Elizabeth."

As if on cue, Elizabeth and Newt appeared. Newt was holding a blanket and Elizabeth's hair was in tangles. They weren't holding hands, but they might as well have been. Gally was smart enough to realize they'd been together all night, and for a second the Box was forgotten as the idea registered in the minds of the others. But then Nick and Alby came up with the crate, and Elizabeth and Newt didn't matter. Gally snorted--it wasn't as if anything happened anyway, they were two of the bloodiest, most oblivious pansies in the whole Glade.

"What's in it?" Clint asked. He surprised Gally by asking him instead of someone else. Clint was usually so quiet and skittish around him. Gally shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

The Glade was strangely silent as Alby and Nick pried the top of the crate off. Alby took one look inside and blinked. Nick's face became angry as he studied the contents.

"What the hell is this?" He pulled out a frilly piece of cloth that had been ripped up. It took several beats for the others to realize what it was. Newt dropped his blanket and strode forward to grab it out of Nick's hand.

"Is that a dress?" Minho asked.

"Not anymore, anyway," Will said, eyeing the tattered thing.

"What kind of klunk message is this?" Gally could hear the anger and frusteration in Hank's voice.

"Let's just say they've finally decided to acknowledge the foreign presence in their precious Maze," Nick spat, taking something else from the crate and holding it up. It was a creamy envelope with a name written on it in elegant handwriting.

"It's for you, Elizabeth."