Sanction -Minho-

Chapter 13

Grace stood in the Med-Jack hut, her back facing the door. There wasn't much to do, and she was growing bored. It was a good thing most days were slow. It meant that nobody was hurt. But it also meant Grace had nothing to do. Jeff and Clint had left to get lunch. That was hours ago. They were bored as well, and since Grace was the newest member of the Med-Jack team, they could task her with staying. There was nothing she could do about it. She never complained either. She could sit inside and clean or rearrange the hut for the hundredth time.

It was raining today. It was the first time she had seen rain in the Glade. "Hey," A voice cut off her thoughts. Grace spun around to see Ben holding an injured Minho. "Have a second?"

Grace felt a rush of panic at the sight, "what happened?"

Minho smirked as Ben helped him into the room. Grace went to his other side, slowly easing him onto a bed. "This stupid Shank took a turn too fast. Slipped on a puddle."

Minho glared at him, "I thought we were going with the cool Griever story?"

Ben rolled his eyes, and Grace chuckled. "Griever story?" Grace gestured for Minho to put his foot on the bed. He struggled but was able to do it.

"Sounded cooler," his cheeks were red. Grace assumed it was from running back here on an injured leg.

She grabbed the bottom of his pants and slowly rolled them up. There was no noticeable bruising, and it didn't appear broken. "Take off your shoes. I'll be right back." Grace walks to the drawer and pulls out an elastic bandage. Holding the item, she walked back towards Minho. Ben was nowhere to be found. There was a silence as Grace inspected his ankle. She rolled it slightly, but he had no reaction. "Wiggle your toes."

"Okay." He did.

"Hurt?"

"No."

"Good." That was a good sign. It meant it wasn't broken. "You slipped on a puddle?"

She gently turned his ankle, and Minho sucked in a sharp breath. "I was going to go with a better story. You ready for it?" She nodded. "A Griever came out of Shucking nowhere, but I fought him off."

Grace raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. "And you would have expected me to believe that?"

Minho placed a hand on his chest, "you hurt me." He was talking about his heart.

"Why would you need a cooler story?"

Minho smiled, "to impress the ladies."

She let out an airy laugh, momentarily glancing at him. "Your ankle is definitely sprained. You'll need to stay off of it for a few weeks. Have someone take over your running duties."

"No can do, doc," he said. "I'm the Keeper of the Runners. I need to be out there every day."

Grace slowly began wrapping the elastic bandage around his ankle and foot. She needed to keep it secure in order for it to heal. "It won't heal if you're running, Minho. You should really take some time off."

He watched her hands as they carefully moved around his ankle. The actions were gentle, careful as not to hurt him further. "Yeah, not going to happen."

She wanted to argue with him about his logic, say that missing a few days wouldn't matter because they were never leaving anyway, but she didn't. Minho hadn't lost hope yet, and she couldn't either. Grace didn't think missing a few days would hurt anything, but Minho seemed to think otherwise. He believed that every day was important. "Med-Jack orders say a week of bed rest. Whether you listen or not is up to you. However, I can keep you here all night."