"I'm not who you all want me to be." Thomas cleared his throat. "I'm not Stiles." the name still felt strange coming out of his mouth. "And as much as I wish I could be this person that you all lost, I can't say I wish this never happened." Thomas thought of Newt. Not covered in black veins, not hunched over himself in the white room, no, he thought of Newt how he was in the Glade.

"I'm not who you all want me to be. They gave me the name Thomas. I'm not sure if they gave me that name during the years I worked for them, or if they gave me that name when they sent me up into the glade but that's all I had of myself. The name Thomas. When you wake up with no memory of who you are or where you are or why you tend to hold onto anything that gives you a sense of yourself."

"WICKED is a group of doctors and scientists who are working towards trying to find a cure for a virus called the flare. A virus they claimed was wiping out the last of humanity bit by bit. That's probably why I must have agreed to work with them in The Beginning." Thomas watched each person seated around the table, waiting for some sign of anger, repulsion, or some sort of backlash but none came. "Kids were immune to this disease. And so kids were their test subjects. The younger the better" he said the words bitterly, recalling one of the few memories he had from before the Maze when Ava told him about Chuck. "They didn't care for the well-being of these kids. They only wanted to study our brains, to see what makes us different than the rest of the world. We were rats in their experiments, and we were treated as such." Thomas drummed his fingers on the table. "They even gave us a Maze." Thomas chuckled darkly.

"A Maze? Like an actual Maze?" the guy at the back of the room asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"A maze. Complete with dead ends, wrong turns, and no way out. At least that's what we thought. My third day in the glade we killed a Griever, the first one in two years and we found a key, the key led us out. Well, those of us that were willing to leave, some were too scared."

"What's a Griever?" the youngest boy at the table asked. Thomas considered the boy and decided his first assessment of Scott McCall was wrong. This boy was actually what a puppy would look like in human form. He smirked at the thought.

"Imagine a spider. Not just a spider you'd find around here, I'm talking a spider the size of a tank, made of metal. Well, the legs are metal, and any kind of blade or saw you can imagine came out of them. the body? The body is made out of some sort of goo that is honestly just disgusting. But it doesn't matter. We beat them, and we lost a few of us. But that's just the beginning." Thomas told them about Janson, escaping WICKED again, and then the scorch, he told them about finding the right arm and getting ambushed thanks to Teresa. He left out almost killing everybody, himself included, with a bomb. Then he skimmed over what happened after they got caught, ending with being 'rescued' again. He watched the man sitting on the other end of the table, his dad, the Sheriff, carefully as he told his story.

"I don't know where they took Newt and Minho and Fry, I don't know what happened or if they even," he stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head before continuing. "I just need to know what's going on and why I haven't seen them yet."

"Alright well, I've already searched the names you've given me through the names of the kids we found and it didn't match any of them. There is no Newt or Minho or, what was it? Frypan? As far as the system goes they don't exist. Which had me thinking yours was probably not the only name they changed." Thomas nodded.

"So what do we do?" the youngest kid asked.

"Well, Liam, I'm not so sure there's much we can do, as far as my job is concerned." the Sheriff leaned back in his seat and shared a look with Scott that made Thomas think there was something else. Something they were hiding from him. Thomas stood up, shoving the table as he did so.

"You're with them, aren't you? you said you were my dad just to make me trust you." his voice was low and shaky as he backed away from the faces that stared back at him in shock. "I never got out," he mumbled, tripping over his chair as he turned ready to flee.

"Wait, son" "Stiles!" "Thomas?" Thomas heard the voices, unsure of what voice belonged to who but he didn't stop, just ran out of the room and out of the house.

It felt good to run again. to feel the muscles working in his legs, feel them pushing him harder and harder as he sprinted. He never thought he'd miss running the maze but here he was missing it. He pumped his arms in time with his feet and he could feel his heart beating as he put as much distance in between him and those people. He ran until his breath came in ragged gasps and his leg gave out on him, sending him tumbling to the ground. He could feel the sticky blood around where he was shot. He could feel it pulsing with his heart but he didn't care. If he was lucky he'd bleed out right here. He shook away the thought and stared up at the sky until he heard footsteps approaching him.

"When the hell did you get so fast?" he recognized Scott's voice and forced himself up on his elbows.

"I was a runner," Thomas said as if that answered the question.

"Whats a runner?" Scott asked plopping down next to him.

"The kids who ran the maze every day trying to find a way out, and still get back before the doors closed at nightfall." Scott nodded along with Thomas's words.

"That's crazy. Before you could barely," Scott stopped mid-sentence. "You're bleeding," he said. Thomas didn't know how he would have been able to tell, it was far too dark to see the blood that soaked through his jeans.

"It's nothing," Thomas responded pushing himself up until he was sitting up.

"No, it's not, you tore your stitches didn't you?" Scott asked, moving to roll up Thomas pant leg. Thomas immediately pulled his leg out of reach and tried to stand.

"I'm fine." he insisted.

"You're not fine, man. Let's go back to the house, we can get that taken care of."

"I said I'm fine," Thomas said again, taking another step backward. Scott moved forward, grabbing at Thomas's hand.

"No really, you're not." Thomas stared at Scott's hand, watching black veins move through Scott's Arm like snakes he ripped his hand out of Scott's, the sudden movement knocking him off balance. He hit the ground hard but when Scott moved to help him up he backed away as fast as he could.

"You, you have it, you have the, the flare." Thomas struggled with the words, his mind racing trying to remember what he'd done to make the cure.

"No, I don't, were you talking about this?" Scott grabbed Thomas again and almost immediately he could see the black veins shooting up Scott's arm. "It's not the flare, or whatever. You're in pain. I'm taking it." Thomas stared at their hands again and became aware of the pain of his leg, and his lungs, and the pain of watching Newt being pulled away from him disappear. He didn't want it to disappear. He pulled his hand away from Scott's again.

"What do you mean, taking it? taking what the pain? how?" Thomas was trying to find the words.

"We'll talk about that later. Right now we need to go back, they're probably worried about you." Scott was motioning behind him. Thomas shook his head. He couldn't go back. He couldn't face the people who looked at him like he was bound to break at any moment he couldn't face the secrets that he was sure was WICKED. He couldn't handle the idea of finally finding a home and it is ripped away from him, even if a home wasn't something Thomas felt he deserved.

"No, what is everyone hiding from me?" Thomas asked.

"It's not that we're hiding from you it's just... It's really complicated." Scott wouldn't look at him.

"Scott."

"None of us are exactly, well, none of us are normal. But its, it's not going to make any sense right now, we have to do this back at the house. You need to get your leg checked out."

"I don't think I can walk on it," Thomas said, not looking at Scott.

"I can, well I could probably,"

"Can you just call my.. dad" Thomas forced the word out. "You can pick me up here in the car?" Thomas bit his lip.

"I didn't bring my phone." Scott cursed under his breath and looked around.

"That's okay can you just go get him? I'll wait here."

"By yourself?" Scott asked wearily.

"Yeah, I've spent plenty of time by myself a few minutes shouldn't be too hard." Scott seemed to be thinking really hard before nodding and taking off running the way they'd come. Thomas let out a sigh of relief before pushing himself up onto his bad leg and walking the opposite direction, deeper into the woods.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Thomas turned to see the man with the dark hair who asked him about the maze, standing there glaring at him. It looked like all he knew how to do was glare. His face was perfect for it. Thomas turned back around and continued walking.

"I have to find my friends," he said in answer

"By yourself, at night, with a bleeding leg, and no memory of the town you're in?" Thomas kept walking until he felt someone grab his arm and spin him around.

"Let me go."

"Stiles, you have to remember something, you have to remember me, Derek? Seriously not ringing any bells?" Thomas could see the pleading in the man's eyes but nothing came of it. Nothing felt even remotely familiar.

"Stiles is gone," Thomas said through gritted teeth.

"No"

"I'm sorry, I really am but everything from before WICKED is gone." he tried to pull his arm out of this Derek's grasp.

"You're stiles." Thomas could swear he heard him growl in his ear.

"No Stiles is dead. Stiles died the day WICKED took him."

"Took you?" Derek chuckled low and dark, the sound sending shivers down Thomas's spine. "Right, they took you." Derek paused and stared at Thomas for a minute before continuing, "God, and After everything I did.. I'm not accepting this. I tried so hard stiles. I tried so hard to protect you from all the supernatural bullshit that this town attracts. I tried everything to get you to stay."

So much of what Derek said rebounded through Thomas's head, practically screaming at him to connect the dots. But he couldn't see the bigger picture so instead, he asked, "What do you mean to stay?"

"I mean when this, WICKED approached you and you decided to go with them. I tried to convince you it was a bad idea. I followed you for days before I lost the scent."

"You, I," it felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs Thomas knew that WICKED told him he signed up for this but he never quite believed them. Not after the maze. But of course, he didn't remember so what did he really know?

"Do you have any idea what you've done to us all by going with them?" Thomas shook his head.

"What I did to you? What I did to you? Do you have any idea what they've done to me?" Thomas finally yanked his arm free but stayed rooted to his spot. "You can't even comprehend what I've been through." Thomas's hands were shaking at his sides. "You can't possibly." his sentence died in his throat as he looked Derek in his eyes. Because those eyes had seen some things.

Thomas needed to leave. He needed to run until he couldn't run anymore, to get out of this town and to track down his friends. If they were really free they could come back here, they could try to fit into this normal life. But, If this was just another trick from WICKED then they'd fight their way out of it but this, this town, this life, these people. Without Newt, Minho, and Fry, this could never be home. Thomas started to turn. To keep walking away. But Derek caught his arm again turning him back, more gentle this time.

"Do you remember this?" Derek whispered, leaning closer to Thomas, too close. His face was hovering above his own and Thomas could feel Derek's breath on his lips. He swallowed hard and tried to take another step backward but Derek followed and soon his lips captured Thomases hard. Demanding but somehow gentle all at the same time that made Thomas's head spin.

"Please," Derek whispered against Thomas's mouth as his tongue brushed up against Thomases lip, pleading with him to open up, to kiss him back, but instead the gesture sent Thomas slamming back in himself, he put both hands against Derek's chest and shoved him off with everything he had.

"You're not him." he gasped, trying to pull as much air into him as he could and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You're not him," he repeated.

"Who?" his voice sounded forced, a mix of hurt and pissed off.

"Newt." Thomas choked out the name like it was a knife slicing him open. He watched Derek when he sad the name and he could tell it cut him too. Thomas was surprised to find tears filling his own eyes.

"Know this, Thomas." Derek spits the name. Taking a step closer until they were face to face again. Thomas's breath caught in his throat. "I'm not going to stop until I figure out a way to get your memories back." Thomas definitely heard the growl that time, sending chills down his spine. He looked up in time to see Derek retreating deeper into the woods, leaving Thomas wondering what the hell just happened.

Thomas didn't have to wait long before he could hear someone calling his name. Someone that sounded a lot like Scott, and as Thomas stood there looking at the woods where the man had disappeared into, the direction he was initially heading, he sighed. He might be in a hurry to escape but he didn't even let himself consider the possibility that this was real yet. And if he had half a chance at finding his friends, he'd need numbers. And a police officer wouldn't hurt either. He started toward the voice and broke through the trees pretty quickly, realizing he hadn't walked that far at all before he was interrupted.

"Where were you going? I thought you said you'd stay here?" Scott's face was full of worry and pain and Thomas felt guilty.

"Sorry I just had to, uh, pee," Thomas said the first thing that popped into his mind and winced at the lameness of the excuse, but both Scott and the sheriff were laughing.

"What?" he asked self consciously.

"That's the most stiles sounding thing you've said since you woke up." the sheriff said through his laughter. Thomas smiled at the idea of maybe he wasn't so different than what these people expected after all.