( o9. through the cracks )

trigger warning: panic attacks
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THE MED-jack hut felt too small, too close, as they gathered around Alby's bed. Ellie stood near the foot, watching Teresa prepare the syringe with steady hands. The blue liquid caught the lantern light, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"We don't even know what this stuff is," Newt said, his voice tight with concern. "We don't know who sent it. Or why it came up here with you. For all we know, this thing could kill him."

Thomas stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Alby's pale form. "He's already dying. Look at him. How could this possibly make it any worse? Come on, it's worth a try."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Finally, Newt nodded. "All right. Do it."

Teresa moved forward with the syringe, but before she could reach Alby, his eyes snapped open. In one fluid motion, he lunged forward and grabbed Ellie. His fingers dug into her arms as he yanked her closer, his eyes wild and unfocused.

"You shouldn't be here!" he screamed, his grip bruising. "Why didn't you stop it? You knew! You knew what they'd do!"

"Alby, let go!" Thomas tried to pull them apart while Minho went for Alby's hands.

"You let them do this to us!" Alby's words cut through her like knives. Something about them felt terrifyingly familiar. Her eyes were wide as she tried to pry herself off him, but his grab was too strong.

"Use the syringe!" someone shouted, but Ellie could barely hear over the roaring in her ears. Her chest felt too tight, her vision narrowing to pinpoints.

Teresa managed to plunge the needle into Alby's arm, and his grip finally loosened. Ellie stumbled backward, gasping for air that wouldn't come. She saw everyones eyes but she didnt acknowledge them. She turned and fled, pushing past concerned faces, needing to get out, get away.

She made it to the back of the building before her legs gave out. Her back hit the rough wood as she slid down, drawing her knees to her chest. The world spun sickeningly around her as she tried to remember how to breathe.

"Ellie?" Thomas's voice seemed to come from far away. "Ellie, look at me."

She felt him kneel in front of her, his hands gentle on her shoulders.

"Focus on my voice, okay? Breathe with me. In... and out. Just like that."

Slowly, the world began to steady. Thomas's face came into focus, his eyes full of concern.

"That's it," he murmured. "You're okay. You're safe."

"What..." her voice cracked. "What if he's right? What if I knew something and forgot? What if I could have stopped this?"

"Hey," Thomas's hand moved to her cheek, turning her face to meet his eyes. "Whatever happened before, whatever we might have known – we're here now. That's what matters."

The moment stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid. Then footsteps approached, and Gally's voice broke through.

"Hey Sundown, Greenie. Time to go."

Thomas's hand fell away as he turned to face Gally. "What?"

"The pit. One night, no food – remember?" Gally's satisfaction was clear in his voice. "Let's go."

Thomas looked back at Ellie, clearly reluctant to leave.

"Go," she managed. "I'm okay."

She watched them disappear around the corner, her breathing finally evening out. The night air felt cool against her flushed skin as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Later, in her small room in the Homestead, Ellie sat on her bed staring at her hands. The bruises from Alby's grip were already darkening on her arms.

A soft knock preceded Minho's entrance. He took one look at her and sighed, settling beside her on the bed.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Which part?" She asked bitterly. "The part where Alby tried to strangle me, or the part where I completely fell apart?"

"How about the part where Thomas ran after you like his feet were on fire?"

She shot him a glare, but there was no heat in it. "Minho..."

"Look, I'm not saying anything," he held up his hands. "Just pointing out what everyone saw."

"Everyone needs to mind their own business," Ellie muttered, but she leaned against Minho's shoulder, grateful for his presence.

"Including me?" He nudged her gently. "Because I've got some thoughts about that panic attack."

"Minho..."

"You remember something, don't you? When Alby said those things?"

Ellie closed her eyes, fighting against the fragments of memory that threatened to surface. "Not exactly. It's more like... déjà vu."

"And Thomas?"

She tensed slightly. "What about him?"

"You feel it with him too, don't you?" His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "That's why you're so..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"Scared?" she finished quietly.

"I was going to say 'moody,' but sure, we can go with scared."

She punched his arm weakly, but didn't deny it. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching shadows from the torches dance across the wall.

"You should get some sleep," Minho finally said, standing. "But Ellie, whatever you remember or don't remember – you're still you. That's what matters."

After he left, Ellie tried to sleep, but her mind wouldn't quiet. Alby's words kept echoing in her head, mixing with fragments of half-remembered dreams. When the Glade had fallen silent and the torches burned low, she made her decision.

The grass was damp with evening dew as she made her way to the pit. Thomas sat with his back against the wall, but he straightened when he saw her approach.

"Hey," she whispered, settling cross-legged near the bars. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

She shrugged, picking at the grass beside her. "I'm not the one in the pit."

"No, just the one who had a psychic patient try to strangle her." His voice was tight with concern. "Are you really okay?"

"I..." she started, then stopped, gathering her courage. "When you said you thought you knew me before? That it felt like trying to remember a dream?"

He shifted closer to the bars, something like hope crossing his face. "Yeah?"

"I feel it too," she admitted, barely above a whisper. "I was scared to say it before, but... when I'm around you, it's like my brain is trying to remember something important. Something just out of reach."

"Like muscle memory," he said softly. "Like my body remembers being around you even if my mind doesn't."

She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "Does that sound crazy?"

"In this place? That might be the sanest thing I've heard."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by distant cricket sounds and the soft whisper of wind through the trees.

"When Alby grabbed me," she finally said, "the things he said... they felt true. Like maybe I did know something once. Maybe I could have stopped whatever this is."

"Or maybe that's what they want us to think," Thomas suggested. "Whoever put us here – maybe making us doubt ourselves is part of their plan."

"You think a lot about them, don't you? The people who did this?"

"Hard not to." He reached through the bars, his fingers brushing her hand where it rested on the ground. "But right now, I'm thinking about how glad I am you came to talk to me."

The touch sent electricity through her skin, familiar and foreign all at once. She should pull away, she knew she should. Instead, she turned her hand over, letting their fingers intertwine.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Me too."

They stayed like that, connected through the bars, until the eastern sky began to lighten. Neither mentioned how natural it felt, how right – some things were better left unspoken. For now, this was enough – this quiet understanding, this shared remembrance of something just beyond their grasp.

As Ellie finally made her way back to her room, she knew sleep wouldn't come easily. But for the first time since Alby's attack, her mind felt clearer. Whatever was coming, whatever they might remember, at least she wasn't facing it alone anymore.

She touched her hand where Thomas's fingers had been, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. Some memories, it seemed, didn't need words to exist.

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