( o4. ben )

─────────── ୨ৎ────────────

THE MORNING sun filtered through the Medjack hut's windows, casting a soft glow within. Ellie sighed, watching as Clint and Jeff counted bandages for what felt like the hundredth time, their voices blending into a monotone lull.

"Thirty-four, thirty-five..." Clint's voice trailed off as he yawned, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at Ellie with a look of shared misery. The quiet days were always the hardest—nothing but inventory, folding linens, and organizing supplies while the Glade beyond the hut buzzed with activity.

"You know what?" Jeff finally muttered, tossing a roll of gauze back into its box. "This is ridiculous. We've counted these three times already."

Clint nodded toward the window, barely masking his own relief. "Why don't you go gather more herbs, Ellie? We're running low on yarrow, and that feverfew patch should be ready for harvesting."

"Anything's better than watching you two count bandages all day." Ellie grabbed her gathering bag from its hook on the wall, her fingers brushing against the worn canvas with a sense of familiarity. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

She stepped outside, breathing in the crisp morning air, savoring the break from the stifling quiet of the Medjack hut. The woods were cooler than the main Glade, with shadows dancing across the forest floor as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Ellie worked methodically, crouching down to harvest the yarrow first, her fingers expertly picking through the plants. As she moved between patches, she kept a mental inventory of what would be ready next week, already planning her next trip out.

She was reaching for a particularly stubborn yarrow plant, her fingers working to loosen its roots, when a voice broke through the quiet.

"Just get the fertilizer, Thomas. Are you sure, guys? I can't help in any other way? No, just get the fertilizer," came a mutter from nearby, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

Ellie's ears perked up, and she crept closer, her steps light. She grinned to herself as she spotted Thomas, who was muttering to himself, clearly annoyed. He was holding a bucket and shovel, looking around as if he were lost. Unable to resist, she stepped out from behind a tree, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, you know."

Thomas jumped, his grip loosening on his equipment as he nearly dropped it. "Jesus! Don't do that!" He placed a hand over his chest, trying to steady his breathing.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, barely holding back her laughter. "Not my fault you scare easily, Greenie."

"It's Thomas, actually," he corrected, his face flushing slightly. "And what are you doing out here?"

"Actually gathering important herbs." She held up a handful of plants, her lips quirking into a smug smile. "Unlike someone who got stuck with fertilizer duty."

Thomas's face scrunched up in mock irritation, but his gaze lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

Ellie tilted her head, noticing his lingering stare. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Uh, nothing." He cleared his throat, shifting his grip on the bucket. "Do you think... you could show me where to get the fertilizer?"

"Sure, follow me." She started walking, glancing back with a smirk. "Though fair warning—it's exactly what you think it is."

They walked in silence, winding their way through the woods toward the compost area. Thomas kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as if he had a question on the tip of his tongue but wasn't sure how to ask.

"So, uh," he finally ventured, "how long have you been here?"

Ellie ducked under a low-hanging branch, her face unreadable. "Long enough, about 2 years." She paused, studying a nearby patch of plants, then turned back to him. "How are you settling in?"

"Chuck's been helping a lot," he replied with a small smile. "One of the only nice ones here, actually."

Ellie's face softened at the mention of Chuck, a fond smile breaking through her usual expression. "He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Love that kid."

Thomas looked at her thoughtfully. "You seem really protective of him."

"He's my brother—of course I am." Her voice was quiet, as if the words held a weight she didn't often share.

Thomas stopped walking, his brow furrowing. "Wait, what? You remember that?"

Ellie shrugged, her gaze distant as she tried to ignore the familiar ache that always surfaced when she pushed herself to remember anything from before the Glade. "I don't, not really." She gave a small, almost sad smile. "It's just... one of the only things I knew when I came up. Like how you remembered your name last night."

Thomas opened his mouth to ask more, but a rustling in the nearby trees made them both tense, turning toward the noise. Ben stood there, half-hidden in the shadows, his face illuminated just enough for them to see his sickly pallor and the dark, pulsing veins snaking across his skin. His eyes were hollow, wild, as if he were seeing something that wasn't there.

"Oh!" Thomas startled, taking a step back. "Uh... You're Ben, right? I don't know if we ever... Are you okay?"

Ellie's hand shot out, gripping Thomas's arm tightly, her instincts screaming that something was horribly wrong. She took a careful step forward, her voice low and soothing. "Ben? What's wrong? Can you hear me?"

But Ben didn't seem to recognize her. His eyes darted around wildly, his breathing ragged, before finally settling on Thomas with a look of pure, unhinged fury.

Without warning, Ben lunged forward, tackling Thomas to the ground. "It's your fault!" he screamed, his hands clawing at Thomas's face with a frenzied strength. His voice was twisted, raw with rage, and laced with a madness that sent a chill down Ellie's spine.

Ellie acted on instinct, throwing herself at Ben and managing to knock him off Thomas. She grabbed hold of Ben's shoulders, struggling to restrain him, but his strength was unnatural, almost monstrous. He twisted around, his grip latching onto her arm, and his nails dug deep, raking down her skin and leaving angry, bloody gouges in their wake making her scream in pain.

"Get off her!" Thomas shouted, grabbing his nearby shovel and swinging it, the metal catching Ben's shoulder with a heavy thud. "Run!" he yelled, reaching for Ellie's uninjured arm and pulling her to her feet.

They sprinted through the trees, branches and leaves whipping at their faces as they ran. Ellie's heart pounded wildly, the pain in her arm radiating up to her shoulder, but she forced herself to keep moving. Behind them, Ben's footsteps thundered, faster and more relentless than they should have been. She glanced over her shoulder, a jolt of horror sparking through her as she saw him closing in, his expression twisted and consumed by rage.

Just as they reached the tree line, Ben caught up, grabbing Ellie from behind and dragging her down to the ground. His breath was hot and ragged against her ear as he snarled, "you were their little nurse," he seethed with a madness that made her blood run cold. "you helped them break us!"

Before Ellie could make sense of his words, he hurled her toward a nearby tree near the opening. Her head collided with the trunk, and pain exploded through her skull. The world around her blurred, the edges of her vision darkening as she struggled to stay conscious.

With Ellie down, Ben turned his focus back to Thomas, shoving him to the ground and pinning him there, his grip vice-like. "I saw you!" he spat, his face mere inches from Thomas's. "This is all your fault!"

"Help! Somebody help!" Thomas's shouts rang through the air, finally drawing attention from the Gladers near the Homestead.

Out of nowhere, the shovel came down again, connecting with Ben's head in a sickening thud. Thomas felt Ben's grip loosen just as Newt appeared, his expression a mix of shock and determination as he barked, "Hold him down!"

A few more Gladers rushed forward, tackling Ben and wrestling him to the ground as he thrashed and clawed, his face twisted in fury. It took three boys to restrain him, their combined strength barely enough to keep him pinned.

Thomas scrambled over to where Ellie lay slumped against the tree, her face ghostly pale. Blood matted her dark hair where it had hit the trunk, and angry red scratches marked her arm, blood trickling down in thin rivulets. He knelt beside her, carefully gathering her into his arms, his heart hammering with fear.

"Give her to me." Minho's voice came from behind, it was sharp, and commanding.

Thomas hesitated, his arms instinctively tightening around her still form.

"I said give her to me!" Minho snapped, his tone brooking no argument as he reached for her. "Now, Thomas!"

Something in Minho's voice broke through Thomas's shock. He let go, watching helplessly as Minho lifted Ellie, her dark hair spilling over his arm like a banner. Minho moved quickly, carrying her toward the Medjack hut, Clint close behind, his face pale with worry.

When Thomas turned back to the others he noticed Ben's shirt had been lifted. Revealing a dark sickening spread of lines, with a gaping hole, as if he'd been stung. This would definitely give him nightmares.

A bit later, after Chuck had been to visit Ellie, he, Thomas, and Alby found themselves sitting down in the Homestead, the tension palpable. Thomas couldn't shake the image of Ben's twisted face, his eyes filled with hatred and pain. The memory gnawed at him, leaving him on edge.

Chuck was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" he asked, his voice small and worried as he looked between Thomas and Alby.

Thomas exhaled shakily, his hands still trembling. "He just attacked me," he managed, his gaze drifting toward the direction where they had taken Ellie.

Alby's expression was grim as he looked down, his voice thick with gravity. "It's called the Changing. It's what happens when someone gets stung. They start losing control, and the infection... it spreads. We haven't been able to get a clear word out of Ben since it happened. He's not making any sense. And it's only gonna get worse. The pain drives them mad."

Thomas swallowed, the weight of Alby's words settling heavily on him. "He kept saying it was my fault... like he saw me do something. How could any of this be my fault?"

Alby's jaw clenched, his gaze hard and unreadable. "You remember anything before coming here?"

"No," Thomas admitted, frustration flaring up. "Nothing."

"Then don't assume you know everything," Alby replied, his tone blunt. "Get some rest. Things only get worse from here."

Thomas looked down, his mind reeling with questions he couldn't answer. "Alby?"

"Yeah?"

"What's gonna happen to him? To Ben?"

Alby's gaze turned distant, but he didn't respond, only walked away leaving Chuck and Thomas in silence.

─────────── ୨ৎ────────────