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The day Ben became a runner was the worst day of his life. Or, at least, the worst day that he could remember.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened – the details were a little fuzzy – but Newt had been hurt, badly. Newt had been a runner for as long as the job had existed – long before Ben had arrived in the Glade. He and Minho had always had this air of invincibility to them. They ran the maze together, knew a lot of the routes by heart, led the discussions about possible escapes and theories, and were seen as this inseparable duo that had everything under control.
So, when Minho’s voice had come bouncing off the walls and into the Glade, screaming for help and breaking through the calmness of the day, the sound had sent chills down Ben’s spine. When he’d come stumbling into the clearing, Newt pale, bloodied and unconscious in his arms, Ben had felt truly fearful. And, when the medjacks had described the extent of Newt’s injury, they all knew he’d never run again.
That night, there had been a meeting in the homestead. Keepers only. Ben and the rest of the Gladers had waited anxiously outside, trying to get on with their evening and block out every sound they’d heard from the medhut in the few hours prior. There was this palpable feeling of fear residing over the Glade and nobody had dared to acknowledge it. One of their strongest runners had been catastrophically hurt and something in the air had shifted; life felt as though it was in the balance.
After thirty minutes inside, Gally had appeared from within the homestead. His eyes scanned the Glade and eventually landed on Ben. He beckoned. Unfortunately, Ben had a sickening feeling he knew what was about to happen.
The next day, Minho introduced him to the life of a runner. That is, if you could call an introduction reluctantly handing him his gear and barely saying more than a three word sentence at a time for the whole day.
The gear itself had been Newt’s. He found out later it had been freshly cleaned and patched up in a few spots, as it had been damaged a little on Newt’s last run. Ben didn’t want to know how.
It fit him awkwardly at first– tight in all the wrong places, pinching him under his arms and over his shoulders. Minho had sighed and pulled at the straps for him, loosening it just enough so that it didn’t completely cut off Ben’s circulation. He’d handed Ben a packed lunch and showed him, wordlessly, which pocket to tuck it into. Then, they’d walked silently to the maze doors.
“Just do what I do,” Minho had said.
He ran, so Ben followed.
Minho showed him the route, moving quickly around corners, eyes focussed ahead. Ben had trouble keeping up –mentally as well as physically– wishing Minho would slow down or stop for a break every now and then. The last day had been a blur and he hadn’t had enough time to acknowledge that he had this new, intense job, let alone feel fit enough to run it.
They ran all the way to the end of their route before stopping. Ben was wheezing, out of breath, but had somehow managed not to be left behind. Minho turned to him.
“Eat your lunch,” he said quietly, before getting his own out from his pack.
They ate in silence. Ben knew better than to start up a conversation.
The run back was much the same; Minho leading, never speaking more than a few words at a time. Ben followed closely, constantly focused on keeping the same pace.
Back at the Glade, Minho briefly showed Ben the map room and how to draw up their route. It was a fairly simple system, if you could remember the route you’d run. That was the worrying part. But before Ben even had the chance to ask a question, Minho left, making a beeline towards the medhut.
So that concluded Ben’s first day as a runner.
-
As time went on, the routine continued. Slowly, Minho opened up a little more, explaining the route in more detail, how to remember their path and map it afterwards, how they compared the maps each day. He talked more, but only about the maze, being a runner, mapping. It was all they focused on so, eventually, Ben fell into a rhythm. Before long, he could run the route almost as well as Minho, and mapping was something he no longer needed to stress about.
Meanwhile, back in the Glade, Newt was getting better. Though Ben had been friends with him, they hadn’t been close friends, so to avoid annoying him while Newt was recovering Ben left him alone, getting his information through everyone else. Newt had been up on his crutches a few times, but mostly spent his days in the medhut or just outside the door on the bench Gally had made. In the few times Ben had seen him, only from a distance, he still looked terrible.
Two weeks later, there had been a bonfire to celebrate the new greenie. Alby had given a speech, welcoming the new guy to the Glade, mentioning the importance of sticking together and working as a team. To his complete surprise, Alby announced how well Ben was doing as their newest runner, and how Minho had been really impressed with his progress. This was news to Ben, who still struggled to get more than a single word out of Minho about how he really felt about anything , let alone Ben. As Alby completed his speech, Ben scanned the area, looking for Minho’s reaction.
Newt had come out of hiding for the night, but spent his time right beside the fire, his broken leg propped up on a small log in front of him. It was beside him that Ben spotted Minho, talking quietly to him, paying no attention to the people around him. It was as if he had no reaction to Alby’s speech at all. It was Newt who reacted, staring right at Ben. He looked away quickly when Ben noticed. Something about it made Ben feel very guilty for taking the runner’s place, especially when the chances of Newt even walking again were so slim. He imagined it felt like a punch in the face to hear Ben was thriving at the job Newt had lost so tragically.
Minho stayed beside him throughout the celebrations and helped him back to the medhut when the night drew to a close. That was the most Ben had seen of Newt in weeks.
-
One day, out in the maze, Minho said something unexpected.
“Newt wants to talk to you.”
Ben lost focus and stumbled a step, tripping over his own feet. With quick reflexes, Minho reached out to steady him, slowing slightly.
“Jeez, shank. Watch your step.”
“Why does Newt want to talk to me?”
Ben hadn’t realised how intimidated he’d felt by Newt until this moment. The mere thought of talking to him was enough to turn him into a stumbling mess. Enough for Minho to tell him not to lose focus.
“He wants to know how you’re going. He says you haven’t talked to him in weeks. Since you started running.”
Ben was silent. They rounded another corner, noting the maze was unchanged since the day before.
Why did Newt want to speak to him? Wouldn’t it just make things worse for both of them?
There was already this unspoken tension between the two of them; Ben had sensed it that night at the bonfire. Ben had replaced Newt. Newt, who’d injured himself so severely doing this same job that now he’d probably never walk again. Newt, who’d now spent weeks healing from said injury in the medhut, only seeing his closest friends on a regular basis and barely making contact with anyone else. Newt, who…
…could probably do with a visit. Even if it was from Ben.
“I’ll go see him tonight,” Ben finally agreed.
Minho nodded. “Good that. Bring him some of Frypan’s bacon and you’ll have him smiling.”
And that was it. Then it was back to business as usual. This way, that way. This turn, that. They were back in the Glade before long, drawing up the maps, comparing them to the day before and then going their separate ways. Minho opened the door for Ben, who stepped out and glanced over at the medhut, wondering if he’d find Newt inside.
He turned back to Minho, who raised his eyebrows expectantly, clearly waiting to see what Ben decided to do.
Ben had already decided. It was just a matter of doing it now. His gaze fell to the floor; he took one deep breath and then headed over to the medhut. Minho, for the first day since Newt’s accident, didn’t go to the medhut. Instead, he ventured over to the gardens, striking up a conversation with Zart.
As he neared the building, Ben could see a figure lying sprawled out across the bench outside, a notebook resting open against their chest. Newt. But, as Ben got closer and closer, he realised Newt was asleep, completely oblivious to the world around him.
He wouldn’t disturb him. Talking would have to wait.
Newt’s water bottle had been knocked out of reach, lying in the grass a metre or so away, so Ben picked it up and rested it up against the bench, somewhere where Newt could easily grab it if he needed it. Certain now that Newt had everything he needed and shouldn’t be disturbed, Ben turned to walk away.
However, he only made it a few steps when a somewhat groggy voice called out.
“Ben?”
Newt.
He turned back. “Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?”
Newt shook his head slowly. He hadn’t moved an inch since waking up, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he remained sprawled across the bench. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Were you waiting out here?”
A quick shake of his head. “No. Just needed some fresh air is all. I can only spend so long breathing in Clint’s stench each day. My nostrils were burning.” He sat up now, slowly lowering both legs to the ground one by one. “Come sit,” he said, patting the seat beside him once he was ready.
Ben hesitated. “Shouldn’t you have that elevated?” he pointed at Newt’s left leg, still heavily bandaged. He didn’t know much, and he definitely wasn’t a medjack, but even he knew that keeping injuries elevated tended to help.
When his worried gaze returned to Newt’s face, he was met with a very pointed look. “You gonna lecture me too?”
“I- no! I just thought-”
“Whatever you thought, leave it. I get enough of that from everyone else. Come sit.”
Well, shit. The Newt he knew never snapped at anyone; he had all the time and patience in the world. Sure, he could be quiet at times but never came across as broody. Ben really had pissed him off by taking his place. He sat beside Newt on the bench.
“How are you?” he asked, before slamming his mouth tightly shut. That was the stupidest question he could’ve possibly asked!
“I mean… you don’t have to answer that. I was just-”
When he turned, Newt was smiling.
“Ben, it’s okay. You can ask that. I’m okay. Getting better each day, I think.”
Ben nodded. “Okay. I just… I know you’re mad at me and I didn’t want to make anything worse between us-”
“Mad at you?”
Ben paused, looking at Newt now. “Yeah?”
“For what?”
“Taking your place?” It was more of a question than a statement. Why was Newt even asking? Wasn’t it obvious?
Newt blinked once, confused. His gaze drifted to the ground and then back up to Ben. “I’m not mad at you.” His voice was quiet, disbelieving. “You think I’m upset that you’re a runner and I’m not?”
A nod.
“Huh,” Newt pondered that for a second. “You thought I wanted you here so I could let off some steam.”
It wasn’t a question and he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he reached down and picked up his bottle, itching his leg on the way. He took a long sip and stared back at Ben. “Ben, I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you.”
A million different thoughts passed through Ben’s mind in less than a second. Was he not doing his job properly? Did Minho not think he was capable of this? Had he screwed up somehow?
“Worried about me? Why?”
Newt scratched his head, his long hair falling down into his eyes as he spoke. He drove it away with a puff of air. “Because it’s not easy being a runner and I just want to make sure you’re really ready.”
“Minho’s been showing me how to-”
“Yeah, I know. Minho’s taught you everything you know. I get that. But he can’t teach you how to manage the stress of it. Only you can do that.” He leaned back against the bench, sizing Ben up. “Pretty soon, you’ll be out there on your own, running the route yourself. How are you gonna cope when day after day, you come back with nothing to show for it?”
Ben shrugged. “The same as everyone else does, I guess.”
Newt stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah. Right. Well, all I’m saying is don’t overthink it. Do your job, come back, have fun in the Glade. If you overthink it, you’ll make mistakes.”
They both glanced down at Newt’s leg. Nobody needed to say it; they were both thinking it. Mistakes out in the maze had dire consequences.
“I’ll be careful, Newt. Promise. I won’t be as good as you, but I’ll try to at least make you proud.”
Newt scoffed. “Don’t worry about any of that. I just don’t want to have given up the position just to have someone else get hurt, okay?”
In absence of knowing what to say, Ben nodded.
“Just do what Minho says and look after yourself out there. Be safe. Can you promise me that?”
Ben nodded once more.
“I need to hear it from you, Ben. Please. ”
There was a flicker of desperation in Newt’s eyes. This was more than just a careful warning or conversation to him; Newt needed this. He needed the reassurance that Ben would be okay.
“I promise, Newt. I’ll be safe.”
That earned him a small smile and a pat on the back. “Good that. Come talk to me if you need it, okay? Don’t leave me wondering again.”
-
Time went on. Ben did talk to Newt – a lot more than he ever had in the past. They became good friends over time. Ben could trust Newt was any worry he had. Newt kept him grounded, focused, and reminded him of what was important. Newt’s support fueled Ben’s days as a runner. Before long, it was Minho and Ben going to see Newt at the end of the day. They’d cheered when he was made second in command, they’d celebrated his first steps without crutches and run up to congratulate him after his first day out in the fields.
Of course, Ben and Minho got closer too. Even after they split the route, they remained close. Ben’s daft sense of humour managed to make Minho laugh on the daily, and Minho could return the favour with his sarcastic quips. They looked after each other out in the maze, and Newt kept an eye on them once they got back. Over time, Ben almost started to enjoy his time as a runner, completely opposing Newt’s fears for him.
And, he kept his promise. He stayed focused, he stayed safe in every way that he could. If anything was going to go wrong, it wouldn’t be Ben’s fault. Ben becoming a runner had only happened because of Newt’s injury, and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste. He’d do his best. Anything else was up to the maze.