Thomas didn't know what was worse, the panic that swallowed him whole every time he found himself alone or the way Scott and the sheriff seemed to always be around. He was quickly losing sight of who he was. Thomas or Stiles. Because when he was around them he found himself changing, wanting to be the person they all miss so much but as soon as the lights were turned out he felt like he was right back in WICKED. He felt like he was being suffocated. And all the while he was getting more and more desperate to find Newt.
Sleep was something Thomas avoided like the plague. On the nights his body took over he woke up screaming from the nightmares that bordered on memories but he could never tell what was real.
For days it had been like his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Like the answers he so desperately needed were just right there within his reach and every time he managed to close his hands around it he would wake up in some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced.
He knew what it was. The chip in his head was not something he easily forgot. And it was blocking his memories from him still. Like an electrified wall every time he came close he'd be zapped so hard his head spun and he would get violently sick. But none of this stopped him from trying.
It wasn't just for the sake of these new old friends he couldn't remember. He needed to remember what happened between the time after he left with WICKED and before they sent him into the maze. He needed to remember everything he used to know about WICKED. Because he didn't think Newt and Minho actually made it out. Others did, a lot of others did, but as if WICKED knew and of course they knew that Thomas would do anything for those specific people, they wouldn't have let them get away so easily. Which meant whether this was really his old home or not it was all just another trial. Just another torturous test meant to figure out why he was the cure.
On the nights his body forced sleep on him he woke up screaming and tonight would be no different. Thomas could feel the nightmares flexing somewhere deep inside his mind. He could feel them circling around him like a pack of wolves even as he fought to keep his eyes open. He could feel them jump at him, snarling and clawing with glowing red eyes as soon as his eyes slipped closed.
Thomas was standing in the middle of a forest. The trees grew so tall he couldn't quite see the top of them. Maybe if the sun was out he could see the leaves overhead but all he could see was the skinny trunks disappearing into the sky. Despite being alone he could feel his hair standing on end on the back of his neck and somewhere in his head it clicked that he was being watched. Thomas ran. Tearing through the trees his feet slammed into the earth over and over pushing him forward his arms pumping at his side.
"Things are going to get bad for you, you have to trust me." Teresa's voice sounded like a whisper, threading through the trees until it reached his ears. He pushed himself harder.
"He's going to kill me, he wants to kill me!" a woman's voice he didn't recognize screeched in his ears causing his heart to slam into his chest so hard he could almost hear it. "Don't look at me!" the same voice echoed.
A Scream filled the space around him and he stumbled just like he did in the glade, his leg folded under him and he landed face first in the dirt, clamping his hands over his ears as the scream continued shaking the ground beneath him.
"You've done excellent work, Thomas!" "you killed your mother," "oh. Thomas, you're the reason we're in this situation, to begin with." "and you're killing me too." the voices, each different, raced past him and he shoved himself back to his feet pushing himself harder whipping through the trees and ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and arms and the undergrowth that wrapped around his ankles like hands.
"I hate you!" a sob broke in Thomas's throat as newts voice rang clear in his ears. Thomas kept running. He wasn't sure why but he knew he just had to keep running.
"You won't remember anyway" "don't you understand yet Thomas? There's nowhere to go! This is all that's left!" Thomas was screaming over her voice trying to drown out the words that stabbed through him like knives. Somewhere behind him, a gun went off, and then another, and another, and then he was back on the ground. Staring up and the endless trees that just disappeared into a starless sky.
"Tommy." Newt was staring up at him. He was holding Newt and he was cured. Newt wasn't here. Thomas stared at the sky, tears leaking out of his eyes as voices filled his ears. He could hear something breathing to his right but he couldn't move. He just laid there shaking and crying as the thing approached him. Thomas starred up not wanting to turn his head to look not sure if he even could turn his head to look but it didn't matter before he could even finish his thought he could see red eyes glowing above him, he couldn't make out what they belonged to. Something unnatural in the way it crouched over him. It almost looked something close to human but the eyes were the only thing visible. Thomas couldn't move, couldn't breathe, only stare up at the eyes that looked so much like-
Thomas screamed. The pain washing over him as the chip rejected the memory. He screamed until he could recognize the strong arms around him. He could hear a voice in his ear. This one much more comforting than the ones he'd heard in the forest. but hed heard this voice there too.
"It's okay. It's okay. You're safe. I've got ya. It's okay." a hand was brushing his hair out of his face and the other arm was securely wrapped around his chest. Thomas shuddered and relaxed against the man he knew was his dad.
"I'm sorry." he choked.
"No, its okay son, you're okay now. I got ya. It's okay." the man kept whispering 'its okay' over and over again until Thomas's shaking had settled and his breathing went down to an almost normal speed. "Do you want to talk about it?" The sheriff asked continuing to smooth his hair down and gently rock them back and forth. Thomas shook his head. "That's okay. You know, I can stay home today. I don't have to go to work. I can stay with you and we can talk about things if you want."
"You should go to work," Thomas said thickly, even though he did want him to stay. Of course, he wanted him to stay.
"You sure kiddo?"
"Yeah." Thomas paused and sat up. "Yeah, you should go, see if you can find anything out about my friends?" Thomas couldn't hide the hope in his voice.
"Of course." the sheriff stood and made his way to the door before turning to look at Thomas again. "I don't want you to worry. I won't stop looking for them, I'll do everything I can and then I'll do it again. We won't stop until we bring them home." it was in the way he said home, the way he knew that Thomas wouldn't feel at home until his friends were safe. It was the way that he didn't for once doubt that they were in trouble just because Thomas had said so, that had him walking across the room and wrapping his arms around the man, half collapsing into the hug.
"Thank you," he said with a sob.
"Of course son." they stayed there a little longer before Thomas pulled away and wiped furiously at his eyes and nose. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked, and it was hard to mistake the concern lurking behind the words.
"Yeah. I'm sure"
"Alright. Scott will be by later on and I left money on the counter for food." and just like that Thomas was again left alone in his room.
He didn't go back to sleep, despite his watch reading 5:45. Instead, he took a shower, and let the hot water melt away the leftover ache in his head. He stood there until the water grew cold and bounced off his skin like tiny rocks. He shivered and turned the water off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in the middle of the white bathroom turning in small circles.
His breathing came fast and ragged. Everything blurred white around him. He leaned against the sink and stared at his reflection. It didn't feel right. Nothing about him felt right. He sucked in air that couldn't quite reach his lungs and he gripped the sink with white knuckles.
Everything was too white. He couldn't look anywhere without seeing the walls of the white room. He let out a strangled sound that sounded like something dying and threw his fist into the mirror, the glass shattering on impact and his knuckles splitting on the edges, but it wasn't enough.
He turned around and let his face fall into his hands, both broken and whole but it didn't matter. Even behind closed eyes, he could see the room he was trapped in, the room Newt was trapped in. He felt light headed and angry all at the same time. He looked up and saw the wall in front of him. He could see the bathroom wall, but it didn't matter, in his head, it was still WICKED and he threw his fist against the wall, and then he did it again, and again until he'd painted his knuckles and the wall red. Until he could breathe again.
"Stiles?" Thomas didn't like that name. He didn't like that voice. He blinked hard and looked around. Thomas didn't remember ever leaving the bathroom or walking to his room, or putting clothes on but he sat wedged between his dresser and the wall with Derek fucking Hale staring down at him and could this day get any worse?
"That's not my name," he said, in a whisper, he thought the other man wouldn't be able to hear
"It was your name before Thomas. Are you okay? Scott called me while he was at school, he sounded worried." Thomas let his head fall to his knees. "I don't need a fucking babysitter. I'm not a shuck greenie anymore." he hated the way his voice sounded almost whiney.
"Stiles, what happened to your hands?" Derek asked, ignoring Thomas and leaning closer trying to pry his hands away from his knees. He was very close. Too close. And he kept calling him Stiles. Thomas stopped thinking and lunged at Derek, swinging his fist and connecting hard with the other man's face.
"Stiles, what the hell?" Derek growled.
"Stiles isn't here!" he all but shouted, swinging his other fist towards him, which Derek caught far too easily. "Your little boyfriend died the day you let him leave!" Thomas spit, actually spit, in Derek's face. He didn't know what he was doing anymore but it clicked when Derek knocked the wind out of him. He hit the floor hard and landed on his back.
"Stiles stop," Derek said, standing up and backing away from him. Thomas would have stopped. He could have. But he hated to be called Stiles and he hated that he hated to be called Stiles. There was so much Thomas regretted and it only fed the fire burning all over him. The worst part was that he wanted this. He needed this.
"I'm not Stiles." he lunged again, this time Derek's fist connected before he could even try. Derek hit him hard, immediately filling Thomas's mouth with blood. Derek hit him again and his eyes flashed blue. Not blue like Teresa's were, but a deep royal blue that shouldn't be natural. He didn't have time to stare before they flickered away and he was shoved backward He laid there for a minute coughing and spewing blood onto the floor.
"I'm sorry, I didn't," Derek was staring down at Thomas
"Was that all you got?" he asked, chuckling low in his throat. He pushed himself up and spun at Derek again, but Derek didn't hit him. He caught Thomas easily and held him an arm's length away.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What the hell isn't wrong with me?" Thomas screamed back, that seemed to catch Derek off guard and he stood there opening and closing his mouth. Thomas wrenched out of Derek's arms. "I don't want your pity, and I don't care what you've lost." Thomas was tired. Tired of trying to be a different person for these people he didn't know, tired of trying to piece his life back together. He was just tired.
"Stiles, I'm sorry." Thomas glared at Derek.
"Stop. just fucking stop." Thomas turned away from Derek aggravated. "I'm not Stiles. My name is Thomas."
"But you're still him," Derek argued.
"No! Don't you get it!" Thomas was facing Derek again. "They poured every drop of Stiles out of my head to replace it with this. With me. So I'm sorry if I'm not what you were looking for but until I get my memories back and probably even after then my name is still going to be Thomas." Thomas watched the emotions flicker across Derek's face.
"Fine, it's almost 3, Scott will be here any minute," Derek said stalking to the door, he stopped in the doorway and without turning around said, "I'm sorry I hit you Thomas." then he left.
"I'm not," Thomas said to the empty room.
The rest of his day was spent repeatedly answering the same questions, first to Scott, then to Scott's mom who Scott had called to take a look at Thomas, then to the Sheriff. He'd manage to convince Scott he was fine and had it coming, though the other boy still looked pissed and continually threatened Derek under his breath. He even managed to call the Sheriff down, saying he was going to talk to him. Which Thomas admittedly didn't think was going to work seeing as how Scott is literally a twig compared to Derek.
Surprisingly the hardest person to pacify was Scott's mom. She took one look at Thomas and dialed Derek's number on her phone, then continued to chew him out until she was done cleaning Thomas up. It took hours for him to convince everyone he was okay. Nobody mentioned the mess in the bathroom and Thomas was beginning to wonder if he'd made the whole thing up. He was too afraid to look.
Thomas paced his bedroom thinking about all the strange things he'd noticed or heard since he showed up here, which with his limited memory was quite a lot of strange things.
"Son?" Thomas was pulled out of his head at the sheriff's voice. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm sorry about this." Thomas motioned to his face where he knew one of his eyes was probably black by now.
"You have nothing to apologize for, I have half a mind to arrest Derek for assault but I also have a feeling Scott took care of it." Thomas snorted, he couldn't help it.
"What, Scott? Is Scott going to take care of Derek? I mean no offense I'm sure he's a great guy but I can now say from personal experience that Derek could take Scott in a heartbeat."
"I wouldn't be so quick to judge, son. Goodnight, try to get some sleep."
"I will," Thomas promised.
"Hey if you need me, don't hesitate. I'll be here." Thomas nodded and smiled at him. "Goodnight son."
A few hours later Thomas was staring at his bedroom mirror, hanging above his dresser. He wasn't looking at himself in the mirror, instead, he was focused on the words he'd written in black marker. The things he'd heard, and seen in the past week that didn't add up. The first was 'supernatural'. A word Derek had said during their first conversation. That one was at the top of the mirror because isn't that what they were all hiding. Spread out under that he wrote, 'followed your scent for days' 'maybe if he met the pack' Eyes that change from brown to bright blue, and taking people's pain. He stared at them, fingering the marker still in his hand. There was something else that felt important. Something that seemed ridiculous when he thought it. Something that he's been dreaming about for as long as he could remember, he took a step closer and wrote in big letters. Wolf. and just like that, every piece on the table seemed to fall into place. And just like that everything he knew crumbled beneath him.