Thomas was tied to a chair in the middle of a spotlight, he couldn't see anything outside of the circle of light around him but he could hear, snarling and growling he could hear the snapping of the mouths of wolves but nothing came close enough for him to see.

"I think you've forgotten me, Thomas." Teresa came into view holding a gun.

"I think he's bloody forgotten all of us." Thomas's heart dropped as Newts voice floated to him from somewhere behind. He couldn't talk.

"I think we should remind him what happens when he doesn't keep his promises." Teresa's voice was sweet and sticky and it dripped over him like wax.

"Bloody hell Teressa, just leave him to the wolves and let's be on with it." Newt was walking in front of Thomas now, stopping just behind Teresa.

"But that would be too easy Newtie." Thomases stomach churned.

"You do love your drama." Newt sighed and moved to stand in between Thomas and Teresa. "You could have stopped this Tommy, you said you'd find me." the gun went off without warning and as Newts body fell just as Thomas found his voice.

"Now now, this is no one's fault but your own," Theresa said. "Go on boys." Thomas was confused at who she was talking to until a group of wolves pounced on Newt.

"No!" Thomas screamed.

"You could have stopped this."

Thomas was still screaming, even when he was sure he was in his room, even after the lights flipped on and his dad was holding him. Even when he knew it was just a dream. Because her voice was clear as day in his head.

You could have stopped what's about to happen. The words weren't from his dream. They were from her and they were all he could hear and so he screamed to drown them out.

Things are going to get really bad for you Thomas. Clocks ticking.

"Son! Its okay, you're okay! You're safe! I got you." The Sheriff had to shout over Thomas's screams before the words finally sank in. he felt the arms around him just like the last time. He heard the comforting words but they had no effect. He pulled away from the sheriff and stood on shaking legs, unaware of the tears streaming down his face.

"No, they're going to kill him. It wasn't a dream. Dad, he didn't get out!" The Sheriff blinked.

"Who? Son. tell me what's happening here."

"Newt. they're going to kill Newt!" Thomas wrapped his arms around himself to try to stop his shaking.

"Who is going to kill him?"

"Teressa! WICKED! Does it matter? He's going to die and it'll be my fault again!" Thomas wasn't aware he was screaming until his voice cracked.

"Son. calm down. You just woke up from a nightmare. You're okay and we're going to find your friends."

"No, you don't understand I can hear her in my head. I can talk to her in my head!" Thomas stood there, in the middle of the room trying to beg the sheriff to trust him, to know he's telling the truth. "Dad, please, you have to believe me." Thomas sobbed. Only vaguely recognizing that he'd called the sheriff dad.

"Why don't you sit down son." the sheriff said shifting to give Thomas as much room as possible. Thomas did and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Okay, do you wanna tell me how it's possible to talk to some girl in your head?"

"They put a chip in my brain." Thomas whimpered, staring at the carpet of his floor, at where the blood had stained it from earlier.

"Excuse me?"

"It was to scan our brain patterns and keep us from remembering. But mine was different, mine and Teresa's. We can communicate. I hate it. I hate her. But she told me after I woke up she told me I could have stopped it. She said things are going to get really bad." the more he talked the more he could feel himself falling apart.

"Okay. okay, we'll find him. We'll find him before they can do anything to him and hey, Thomas, look at me." Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to meet his eyes. "This WICKED is going to pay for everything they've done to you, and every other kid they've taken." a strangled sob broke in Thomases throat.

"You believe me?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course I do. You're my son no matter what they did to your head, you're still my son." and for the first time since he opened his eyes in the hospital bed, Thomas really believed it. He wiped at his face, brushing the last few tears away. "You think you can get some more sleep?" Thomas shook his head. "Eh, I don't blame you, wanna get dressed and go to the station with me? Help me follow a few leads I dug up late last night." Thomas sat up straighter.

"Leads on my friends?"

"Yeah." Thomas nodded excited and started to pull clothes out.

"Oh, and son?"

"Yeah, dad?" Thomas said it on purpose that time.

"You have a board for that" his dad pointed at the mirror. "I'll get it back out for you, please don't write on your mirror."

"Oh. sorry. I think I'm about to figure something out."

"Yeah I think you are too." the Sheriff said leaving the room. Thomas looked the words over again and nodded to himself. He'd get his answers today. Maybe more than he thought.

Less than an hour later they parked the car in front of the Police-office with coffees in one hand and a bag of donuts in the other. Everybody stared at Thomas as he followed his dad through the building. Not just glancing up at him and continuing with their work, no, they were straight up gawking at him, not dropping their eyes till they finally reached the Sheriff's office, and even then the sheriff had to call an authoritative 'get back to work' before people even pretended not to look.

"Sorry about them, you used to spend a lot of time up here." the sheriff said dropping his bag of donuts on the desk. "Alright, start with these. I'm going to check up on a few other minor issues and grab the newest files, I'll be back in a minute." the Sheriff stopped just outside the door having to lean back so that Thomas could see him. "And Thomas?"

"Yeah?" Thomas said, not really looking up from the stack of files his dad just handed him.

"Don't touch anything other than those, okay?" he said in a way that he probably knew wouldn't work. But Thomas just nodded and flipped open the first folder.

As soon as the Sheriff was out of sight Thomas was in the chair on the other side of the desk shaking the mouse to get the computer to boot up. He didn't think this plan through to well though and he realized this as soon as the password box appeared on the screen. Thomas stared at the blinking cursor that only served as a reminder of how little he knew about the man that was supposed to be his father. Not supposed to be, the man who was his father, Thomas told himself.

"It's Claudia." the voice made him jump, and upon seeing his dad in the doorway guilt crept up his neck.

"I'm sorry," Thomas said quickly jumping out of the chair.

"Don't be. You haven't changed that much. The passwords Claudia, go ahead." the sheriff motioned to the computer. Thomas hesitated, searching his face for any sign of this being a trap before sitting back down and typing the name into the box.

As soon as he hit enter he was greeted with a picture of himself. At least it looked like him but he had no memory of this specific event. He was wearing a jersey of some sort and grinning like an idiot. Before he could voice the questions floating in his head the picture faded and another popped up. In this one, he recognized the sheriff, but he looked much, much younger, and a beautiful woman beside him. Between the two was a boy no older than 7. A lump rose in Thomas's throat.

"Mom?" he whispered touching the screen before the image changed again.

"She was, yeah." The Sheriff moved to stand beside him.

"What happened?" Thomas asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"She got sick." the sheriff laid a hand on Thomas's shoulder and cleared his throat. "She got really sick." Thomas nodded. And brushed a stray tear that had just managed to escape off his face. He moved the mouse and clicked on the file titled 'WICKED'

"Is there anything you can tell me about your friends, the ones were looking for that might set them apart from the dozens of kids that have been found?"

"Dozens?" Thomas asked scanning the list of names that popped up. "There weren't dozens where they kept us," Thomas said.

"No, I know. They, the FBI, have found other compounds, they're located all over the desert."

"I didn't know there were that many," Thomas whispered.

"Your friends, Minho and Newt right?"

"And Frypan," Thomas added.

"Right, Frypan. What can you tell me about them, I can narrow this search down a little bit more."

"Well. Newts British. Minho's Asian I think."

"Alright then, I need you to look through these." he handed Thomas another stack of files. Thomas took them and moved out of the sheriff's seat. He found a spot on the floor and started looking through the folders.

They went through files all day and the later it got the more certain Thomas was that they never made it out. Out of all the people who had been rescued, none of them, not even one came close to describing Newt of Minho.

"We should probably call it a day kiddo." Thomas looked up at his dad and after a minutes hesitation nodded. "We'll try again in the morning." Thomas nodded again.

The ride home was mostly quiet. Not in an uncomfortable way, just that they were both so deep in thought that neither of them felt the need to speak until they pulled into the driveway.

"I didn't realize how late it was." the Sheriff sighed as they walked up to the porch. Thomas just hmmed in response. "I think I'm going to get to bed, gotta get up early and all. You hungry? I can heat up leftovers if you want."

"No, Nah. I'm good." Thomas said, "you go to bed, I think I'm going to try to get some sleep too." Thomas said absently. He watched his father disappear into his room before he himself made his way upstairs.

The floor creaked under his feet and he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over the entire house. The hallway to his room seemed to stretch father than usual and his limbs were heavy. He passed the bathroom and glanced at the shattered mirror and red stains on the wall and felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach before he kept moving.

He turned into his room and froze. He could make out the outline of someone sitting on his bed and his heart stopped beating while he fumbled for the light switch. When the room was washed in light he could see the stranger was actually Lydia, a short strawberry blonde girl who he'd only seen once or twice since he came back to beacon hills.

"Lydia?" he asked talking slow steps forward. There was a dazed look in her eyes that made him feel uneasy. "Hey, Lydia what is it?" he asked just as she looked up at him.

"Someone's going to die." her voice was hallowed and almost as soon as she finished speaking a gunshot went off, ringing in Thomas's ears. Thomas stood there for just two seconds before lurching forward and grabbing the aluminum baseball bat leaning against his dresser and running down the stairs. the front door was wide open, Thomas gripped the bat tighter in his hands holding it up ready to swing. he kept through the house as quiet as he could be until he reached his dad's open door.

"Hi Tommy." Thomas froze with one foot in the sheriff's room.

"Newt." he breathed, dropping the bat. Thomas stared at the boy standing in front of him. The boy who was holding a gun in front of him. The boy holding a gun, and smiling at Thomas. "What did you,"

"Nothing he won't recover from, well maybe. Not sure really." Newt took a few steps in Thomases direction, "I have a message for you, Tommy. A message from WICKED." Thomases hands shook.

Thomas couldn't force himself to move as newt drew closer and closer until he could feel his breath on his skin. "They want you to stop looking," Newt whispered closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Thomas's.

Thomas was completely overwhelmed with Newt and it took him too long to wrap his mind around what was happening. When he did the realization also hit that this wasn't Newt, not his Newt. he pushed the imposter away roughly and sirens could be heard in the distance, but getting louder.

"Well, that's my cue. Hope to see you soon Tommy." Thomas wanted to say he fought Newt when he tried to escape. He wanted to say he didn't just stand there in shock and watched him walk right past him and out the front door. He wished he could say he tried. But he didn't and by the time Newt disappeared it was too late to do anything about it.

Thomas looked back over the room and his eyes settled on the Sheriff, his dad, lying too still on the floor. He rushed to his side and nearly passed out seeing the puddle of blood growing around his dad. he didn't let himself think about it and stipped his hoodie off wadding up the material and pressing it into the wound. thomas watched wide-eyed as the blood quickly soaked through the bundle of material and flowed up through his fingers.

Soon the room was bathed in flashing lights coming through the window and people were at his side, gently pushing him out of the way and replacing the now ruined hoodie with towels. had the towels always been red? thomas found himself wondering as he watched the men work from where he sat, leaned against the bed with his arms resting on his knees. there was blood everywhere.

"What happened?" one of the men asked Thomas but he just sat there staring at the blood caked on his skin.

"There was a gunshot, we heard it from upstairs and by the time we came down there was no one here." he was vaguely aware of Lydia's voice.

Thomas watched everything happening around him in slow motion. His dad was wheeled out on a stretcher, Lydia answering questions. At some point, Scott and his mom showed up. He could hear voices building on top of each other but he couldn't make any of them out. It was all muffled white noise. He wasn't sure how long he stood there.

"Thomas." everything came into sharp focus as Thomas looked up from his bloodstained hands.

"It's WICKED," Thomas said, and he hoped that Scott would believe him.

"What happened?"

"WICKED, I knew they still had him, I knew, the chip, they can. They made him do it. He didn't do this." Thomas was babbling.

"Thomas, relax. We will get this figured out but for now, we need to go to the hospital okay?" something in the way Scott was talking to him, the kind of gentleness he used struck a chord.

"Is my dad going to be okay?" Thomas's voice cracked.

"He's going to be fine but we should still go," Scott said, his voice soft. Thomas didn't notice when the house had cleared out but Scott was the only one left and Thomas had to practically lean on him as they made their way out of the house and into the blue jeep in the driveway.

Scott drove them to the hospital and Thomas stared out the window. The trees and buildings were blurred and Thomas couldn't tell if it was from how fast Scott was driving or the unshed tears. He bit his lip and fidgeted in his seat only half listening to Scott's reassurances.

Clocks ticking Thomas. He wasn't surprised to hear her voice in his head this time.

What did you do to Newt? Thomas screamed in his head, feeling when it made Teressa wince.

We did what we had to, what you made us do. Thomas bit his lip harder, stifling a whimper. He knew this would happen, well not this exactly, but he knew nothing good came to the people he cared about. This didn't have to happen Thomas. But it did. And it will again. unless... He knew what she wanted. And he knew he'd do it.

Unless what? he thought at her. Wishing he could cut her wither his words.

Unless you come home. Clocks ticking.