Variant | Newt

11 | asset

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of attempted su*cide, depression, scars

"No blurriness, loss of feelin' in the fingers?"

Jeff's questions were asked so smoothly, it was obvious he had been at this Med-jack job for a while.

I shook my head before breathing a sigh of relief. "I feel good. Swear."

He smiled, meeting my eyes for the first time in a while. Previously, he'd been analyzing every inch of my exposed skin not covered by my clothes, just to be extra sure I was finally fit to be medically cleared.

It had been a little over two weeks since my mysterious arrival. My shoulder still ached a bit if I stretched too far, but the cut from Vinnie's ice-pick attack had healed nicely. It didn't look like it was going to leave much of a scar at all; luckily. Just a small jagged slit the size of a ladybug right below my collarbone. The same couldn't be said about the massive cut on my thigh; caused by the griever attack from my first night in the Maze. It was a deeper cut and much more graphic, but Jeff and Clint had worked their med-jack magic. Daily ointments and fresh bandages were my best friend, and Clint had an impressive steady hand when it came to stitches. Now, two weeks later, the cut didn't even need a bandage- just regular applications of ointment. The scar it was going to leave was bad-ass looking, I suppose - well, that's what I told myself so that I didn't feel bad. But, to be honest, it was a bit of an ugly sight. The scarring cut was around a foot long; shaped kind of like a lightning bolt. I didn't wear shorts often, but when I did, the cut, now a healthy, healing scab, was in full view.

"I was thinkin, Y/N, we could start putting on more ointment. It could maybe help with the scarring, you know?" Jeff told me, scratching the back of his neck. He did that when he was nervous. In this case, it was a tell he was lying. No amount of ointment would cover up what had happened.

"It's okay, Jeff," I shrugged, but kept my eyes off my own thigh. I didn't really want to see it.

He sighed, sending a quizzical glance at the cut like it was somehow his fault. "Eh. I still feel bad I can't do more."

"You did amazing," I forced a smile, patting Jeff's arm. "So...thanks, Doc."

He laughed, tossing a roll of bandages into a nearby basket. "Don't call me that."

I put my hands up, like I was innocent. "Okay, okay. But..." I narrowed my eyes, slightly. "You are clearing me, right?"

Jeff's eyes locked with mine for a split second before he looked away with an expression almost like...guilt?

He swallowed hard. "Um..."

"It's been two weeks, Jeff!"

Quickly, he started rambling, his voice taking a higher pitch. "I know, I know, it's just that clearing you means you hit the Maze and Ne— I mean, I mean there's certain people who wouldn't like that. Well, not that it's up to them, but I just-"

I furrowed my brows. "Newt said something to you?"

Jeff sighed, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. He was eyeing the door, like someone was eavesdropping or about to bust in at any moment. "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry. You're clear to run, okay? Just...go easy on yourself, alright?"

A prideful buzz swelled in my chest, but I kept my face expressionless. I leveled my gaze with Jeff's and asked again, "Newt said something to you?"

"Not a lot. It's just...pretty clear he doesn't want you going back in there," Jeff finally admitted. "And Newt's like- he's basically in charge. And- even more than that; he's my friend. I feel bad. That's all."