Chapter Text
He dreamed a lot about his mom. It started in the maze. Of course he never had a face to her name. Hell, he didn‘t even have a name at all. He just knew that he had to have a mom.
Normally the dreams always showed her with glassy, sad eyes with some leftover tears. She hugged him, kissed his head or simply looked at him with a loving gaze. That's how he remembered his mom. Or more like how he images her.
How she had been with him before the maze. Before WCKD.
Thomas dreamed of her again. A faceless woman, holding him tight. He was maybe 5 years old. Or even 6, if he was a small 6 year old. Nothing happened for a long time. He didn‘t know if he hugged his mom back. He felt his arms, but he couldn‘t register what they were doing. He felt his moms tears on his shoulder where the tears left a wet stain on his shirt.
He waited. Thomas knew the dream well enough by now to know what would happen. Some men would come, separate him from his mom. And that would be the last time he would see her.
So he waited for the men.
And he waited.
And waited.
But nobody came. Not in the first minute, not in the second, the tenth or the 30th. He just stood there with his mom on her knees, arms around him. Their heartbeats aligned some time ago.
___________________
Their hug was broken, not by the men, but very, very bright lights. Thomas saw them with his eyes closed. Through his closed lids the light shone orange. It was warm.
And he was oddly comfortable. Like really comfortable. It was nothing like the hammocks in the glade or even the beds in the WCKD facilities.
The blanket that covered him was not too heavy and not too warm. It was nearly perfect and smelled fresh. The pillow smelled similarly and was at the perfect height for his neck not to hurt.
He was awake, he knew that much but he refused to open his eyes. He wanted to take the comfortable feeling and put it somewhere deep in his body so he could feel it again and again. Whenever he felt like it.
The world moved slowly around him. Like he was in a bubble all by himself. This bubble had a comfortable bed with soft sheets, smelled nice and let him feel safe.
Safety was rare. He couldn‘t remember the last day he felt somehow safe. So sue him if he likes the feeling now.
Sadly, Thomas couldn‘t ignore the lights forever. Slowly and very carefully he opened his eyes.
Thomas didn‘t know what he expected to see but not a whole room covered in white. Everything was white. The bed, the sheets, the walls, the ceiling. Hell, even he himself was white. He could use some sunlight.
He looked around the room. Another bed but empty. A small closet next to the window. A chair, another chair and another chair with a sleeping boy on it.
Wait.
Why did this boy seem like someone he should recognize? It took Thomas one, two, three seconds to puzzle the picture together.
And then he let out a scream, high pitched because his voice wasn‘t in use for some time. It sounded raspy and barely like his own voice but Thomas felt the vibrations in his neck so he was sure he was the one screaming.
But it had an effect, apparently. First the boy on the chair jolts awake, rubbing his eyes, hair a mess on his head. Secondly the door opened and a woman stormed in, right behind her a man.
Thomas screamed some more. Who were these people? Where was he? Where is Minho or Brenda or Frypan? Just someone he knows.
The woman laid a hand on his shoulder, shushing him and talking to him with soft words. Or Thomas assumed the words were soft. His brain didn‘t catch them at all. He was still overwhelmed with basically everything.
The woman told the man something and he and the boy went outside. Thomas‘ throat hurt from screaming. He stopped as soon as the door closed.
The woman waited, hand still rested on his shoulder reassuringly. Gave him time to think.
Finally Thomas could produce normal words in his brain and spat them out in a raspy breath: „Where am I?“
The woman let out a shaky breath and removed her hand. She pulled over a chair. The scrappy sound when the chair was pulled on the floor gave Thomas headaches. But he didn't show a reaction to the noise. He waited till the woman sat down next to him.
„You‘re home“ she said finally. Her voice soft and careful. The words small but big at the same time.
No. No, this isn‘t home. His home were Minho, Frypan, Brenda, his friends.
Newt.
Tears formed in his eyes at the thought of him. The image of him, covered in black veins looking at him with dead eyes. The knife poking out of his chest. It all came back to him like a tsunami. He drowned in the image of his dead best friend.
A warm hand of his own jerked him away from Newt. Right, the woman. The woman who wanted to tell him that this is his home.
„Stephen?“ she asked. And now Thomas wasn‘t only sad but so, so confused. Who the hell is Stephen?
„My name is Thomas“, he said. His voice broke in the middle of his sentence.
The woman stopped and looked now as confused as he did. She leaned back in the chair, pulling her hand away from Thomas‘.
„It‘s worse than we thought“, she murmured. She said it more to herself than to Thomas. She didn‘t even look at him anymore but outside the window as if there were all the answers to the big questions inside the room.
Thomas gulped. What is worse. Wait. What if she worked for WCKD? What if they built new facilities and took him in again. No. Please not.
He should get up and run. He was a good runner. A really good runner. He could easily outrun the woman.
He was basically standing up when the woman put her hand on his shoulder again.
„what is the last thing you remember?“, she asked and Thomas fell back into the sheets.
Images passed by. Newt and his dead body. His painful crying and the ache in his chest.
Then Ava Paige. She was shot by Jason, the ratman.
Fire. Everything was on fire. He was on a roof. It was so warm, being surrounded by the flames.
Suddenly cold metal under his hands. And Teresa was gone. She fell into the flames.
And then the dream of his mom. Wait.
Could it be? Was this woman his mom? He never had an image of her, never heard her voice or saw her eyes.
„Are you my mom?“ she asked with fear. He completely ignored her question. He needed to know.
„I‘m Melissa“, she answered as if Thomas should now know who she was. She also didn‘t answer his question. She sounded sad when she said it. And again, Thomas knew exactly nothing of his mom. The small hope that she was finally with him was gone within a second.
A tear escaped his eye and Melissa stroked it away with the back of her hand. It was warm and soft and so motherly. Thomas turned his face away from her. Her hand landed on his shoulder once again.
„Where are my friends?“ he then asked. He needed to know if they‘re safe. „Minho and Frypan and Brenda“.
“They‘re here too. In rooms just like yours. Most of them are already awake. They also asked about you“ she explained.
Thomas took a deep breath. They were fine, they were with him. He turned towards Melissa again, hoping he didn‘t feel the sudden urge to cry. She smiled at him. Her hand stroked his arm soothingly.
„What about WCKD?“, he then asked. He still was in fear that it wasn‘t over. Even with burned down facilities and a dead boss they had their tactics and their sick experiments. His body tensed while he waited for Melissa to answer.
„Stephen, you‘re safe. Maybe I‘m not the right person to tell you what exactly has happened but I can assure you, you are safe“ she tells him. His body was still tense. Safety. They were promised safety so many times and still every time they weren‘t safe.
And again this name. He was Thomas. Was Stephen his name before WCKD decided to just take it from him and give him Thomas? Did that make any sense? Probably, it wouldn‘t be the worst thing WCKD has done to him and his friend.
They stole his name. And were successful with it. He didn‘t like the name Stephen. It stings in his chest. He was Thomas. His name was Thomas.
„Is this the safe haven?“ he asked. His voice small. He sounded tired. Like he hadn‘t slept in many days.
„This is Beacon Hills“, Melissa said and got up suddenly. She left.
But… but Thomas still had so many questions. She couldn‘t leave. He doesn‘t want to be alone in this scary white room. He wanted to scream, wanted her to stay with him.
He needed to get a grasp. His breath was so fast suddenly. Did he panic? He could not panic right now. He should concentrate on the situation. He was in some place called Beacon Hills in a strange white room with very comfortable beds. His friends apparently were here too. He should find them and then get out of here, find the safe haven. Like they planned this whole time.
Then the door opened and the man from some time ago walked in. He wore a shirt with a gold star pinned right over his heart. He looked tired. Like really tired, the I-haven‘t-slept-in-days-and-lived-off-coffee type. He took a seat in the chair Melissa sat in just a few seconds ago.
The man should be intimidating. But he wasn‘t. He was careful when he sat down. He was careful when he looked at Thomas. He was careful when he laid one hand on his shoulder. And he was careful when he started to talk: „Hello son“.
Son. Like in ‚you are my son and I‘m your parent‘? This kind of son?
“Dad?“ Thomas asked. He never dreamed of a dad. Never thought about having one. Never imagined him alive. The word felt strange in his mouth. He shouldn‘t call a man that he never met dad.
The man started smiling. And Thomas knew that this was in fact his dad. He had a family. Tears started filling his eyes again and this time he didn‘t turn away so his tears were invisible for his dad.
His dad. The more he thought about it, the more a warm feeling in his stomach grew. Like everything fell into place at once. Like the biggest piece of an unsolvable puzzle finally fell into place.
Thomas needed just one second to take in the feeling of his dad next to him.
But that‘s the next thing. He never needed a second. Why was he so calm? He didn‘t ask endless questions and suddenly trusted strangers because they said they're his dad. When he arrived in the maze he basically ran away first and then asked all sorts of questions which annoyed even him.
So he did the only thing he could think of: he asked a question. „What happened?“.
The man took his hand off Thomas' shoulder and left a cold feeling where it had laid. Thomas nearly missed the physical contact. The assurance that the man, his - possible - dad, was really there and it wasn‘t just a twisted dream again.
„You were rescued from WCKD“, he started. And Thomas' heartbeat began to rise. Rescued? That sounded good, very good. If that means WCKD could never harm them anymore.
„The FBI was on the case for several years. It started over 10 years ago. The half legal organisation WCKD started taking young children to start an experiment. They said that a catastrophe was right ahead of humanity and wanted to be prepared. So they faked the sun eruption and this virus“, the man explained.
Thomas‘ brain was trying to take all the information in. WCKD was not a real thing at all to begin with? They took children? The virus was fake? But all the cranks he saw, he fighted.
Newt.
He was never sick? But he died. He felt his heartbeat, or more like, he didn‘t feel it.
„I know, it‘s a lot to take in. We can talk about it another time and…“
“No, explain everything“, Thomas begged. He needed to know what happened. How he ended up in a hospital in a town he already forgot the name of.
„You sure, son? You‘re still weak and I promised Melissa not to overwhelm you. And you‘re still on painkillers“, his dad asks. So the painkillers also kill his urge to ask as many questions as possible.
„I want to know. I can take it“, he assures.
„Okay. So, WCKD took you too. When you were only 5 years old. I don‘t know all the details but since I‘m the Sheriff I have contacts to get my information. WCKD was experimenting on you. They took your memories and let you forget about the real world. I think the details of the maze and the scorch you know better than me“. He paused.
Thomas listened. It sounded like the things he could make out himself somehow. He needed to know how they were rescued by the FBI. As if his dad could read his mind he continued: „As I said, the FBI has been on this case for a long time. To save the children and the adults WCKD took for their experiments. A few weeks ago there was a signal on the radars. Some kind of plane with exact coordinates. We found it on the night you wanted to go to a place you called the safe haven. Most kids were taken to a hospital somewhere in California“.
When his dad stopped again, Thomas looked out of the window. „They took our names too“, he whispered. He remembered how Melissa called him Stephen. Not Thomas. Because Thomas wasn‘t his name.
For a few seconds none of the men said anything. But then there was the hand on his shoulder again. Thomas turned his face to his dad again.
„What‘s your name, kiddo?“, he asked.
„Thomas“.
„You‘re home now, Thomas“.
Home was never a place for Thomas. It was always the people that surrounded him. To hear he had a place he could go back to was such a mind blowing thing for him. Still he thought about the other. If his friends also got a home, got the chance to meet their parents.
His father talked again but Thomas didn‘t really listen. It was so much information to take in. If everything was true what the man said then he hasn‘t been home for 10 years. Over 10 years. Which led him to the question: how old was he? He never thought about it, always just assuming some age that might fit him.
There was Chuck. He was 12 years old or so they thought. He seemed too old to be 10 or 11 but in the maze you are forced to grow up faster. In the experiment.
Alby was 18. Again just an assumption. He was the leader, he had a plan and he thought like an adult. Thomas at least thought so.
He was younger than Minho, he was sure of that. Also younger than Frypan probably. Maybe as old as Winston or Teresa.
His dad still talked to him in a calm voice. Since when? Seconds? Minutes? Thomas didn‘t know, had no grasp of time.
„Thomas, you okay?“, he suddenly heard. The words came back to him, he wasn‘t just listening to a voice anymore.
He nodded carefully. He could feel his head beginning to ache. The painkillers wore off. Maybe Melissa could give him some more when she comes back to check on him. She seemed to really care about him. It was something about her soft smile and her warm eyes that gave him a sense of security.
„How old am I?“, he asked. The question had probably absolute zero resemblance to the things his dad was saying because the man looked very confused. And he took a few seconds to grasp the words Thomas said before he answered: „16. You‘ll turn 17 in 2 months, in April“.
- 16 years old. He was only 16 years old. Thomas didn’t know why the number made him feel so very old and so very young at the same time. It caused physical pain inside him but he couldn’t describe where.
It was just a dull pain… everywhere.
Suddenly the door opened and Melissa walked into the room. „Noah. You have to let him rest now. He just woke up“ she said, a little bit sorry in her voice.
No, his dad could stay, he didn’t need to rest. He needed more answers. He needed to know what happened to the others, he hadn‘t had the chance to ask about Minho and Brenda and Frypan.
Noah, as his das was called apparently, stood up from the chair and took 2 big steps towards the nurse. „Mel. What about Stiles, do you think he could come in?“ he whispered as he leaned towards Melissa.
What is a Stiles? Thomas already opened his mouth to ask when the door opened another time and a boy walked in.
The boy from before. The boy that looked like Thomas. Exactly like Thomas.
Maybe not really exactly like Thomas. The hair is longer and stands up in all directions and his body is lankier and his limbs are too long for his frame. But apart from that… the same snub nose, the same pale skin with endless moles and the same curious eyes.
The boy looked frozen with on hand on the door handle and one leg in the air after rushing in the room, clearly sensing he‘s interrupting something.
Noah and Melissa have turned to him and no one looks at Thomas. His face has gone even paler than it already is and the shook is visible in his expressions. That‘s the same guy that had been sleeping in his room on the chair when Thomas woke up. So it wasn‘t just the mix of the restless sleep, the tiredness and the overwhelming feeling of… everything. All the things Noah had told him in the last minutes.
„Stiles“, Noah said and the boy defrosted from his position. And before anyone could do anything at all, Stiles was all over Thomas, trying to hug him.
„Oh my god, you’re back, I thought I lost you forever. Till I saw you here I really thought Rafael was joking. It’s just his thing, bad jokes, you know. He always pulls them off and he thinks he is a great dad to Scott by pulling some bad dad-jokes. But you‘re really here and you‘re still alive. I don‘t know what I would‘ve done if they tolled me you were dead and that this fucked-up half-organisation killed you“. He said it all in one breath without letting Thomas go.
His arms are wrapped tightly around Thomas‘ shoulders and his face is buried in his neck. The words come out without a stop and sound muffled because Stiles whispered them in the shoulder he‘s hugging.
Helpless Thomas looked at Noah who looked very sad. Slowly he realized. Noah was his dad. And this boy, this Stiles, was — probably — his brother. His twin.
Anger formed in him. WCKD let him forget about his twin. Before his brain caught up with his movements he slung his arms around Stiles. And for one second he closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of hugging his twin. He could still be angry in the future but he will only have this one chance to hug his twin again for the first time after years right now.
Time stopped for minutes. Thomas only felt their heartbeats and their breaths synchronizing at some point. Even though Stiles smelled like sweat and bad coffee and greasy fast food he never wanted to let go. He could imagine his own smell isn‘t really thrilling either, like hospital and dried blood and sand from the scorch. He will probably never get rid of the smells just like he could never get rid of the memories of everything that happened to him since the maze.
At some moment Stiles loosened his grip around his shoulder and sat down on the bed, hand still on his shoulder, his arm, somewhere touching Thomas. Making sure he didn’t vanish right in front of his eyes.
Thomas looked at him but there were no memories coming back. It was a silly thought to begin with, to think that all memories came flashing back by just looking at him. But nothing happened, Stiles still looked like a stranger with his own face.
„Stiles, he probably can‘t remember you“, Noah whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. The grin in Stiles‘ face vanished within seconds and he looked quite sad. But also like he knew this fact, like he knew Thomas wouldn’t recognize him.
„I‘m sorry“. Thomas needed the urge to say it. The boy in front of him looked on the edge of tears. He understood. You get your brother back after thinking you lost him forever for 10 years straight and once you see him again he doesn’t remember you, doesn’t even remember having a brother.
Thomas hates his memories or more like the lack of them. He wanted to remember embarrassing stories of him and Stiles when they were younger, stories of him and his dad and his mom. Stories of his family that WCKD took without giving a shit about what that‘ll mean to him.
„Don‘t be“, Stiles said and patted him on the shoulder. He still sat on his bed and didn’t look like he was going to stand up soon. And Thomas somehow didn’t want him to go. He lost 10 years, 16 if you count the memory loss, with him. He needs time to catch up with him.
„Can he stay?“ he asked Melissa. She said he needed rest and even though the adrenaline was high in his body, he felt the tiredness. But Stiles should stay. He already slept on the uncomfortable chair in his room.
Melissa and Noah shared a look before they nodded silently and left the room. Gave the boys some time to be just the two of them.
„So, what happened? Rafael told us absolutely nothing. Well, he told us about WCKD and what their plan was with you and the maze and the scorch and everything but he didn’t tell us everything. And I need to know. You know, how you survived and how it feels to know that you are the cure to some lab-made virus that hopefully never spreads in our world because then I would be glued to your side just to never be infected. While I‘m asking how were these infected people, like what were the signs and how long did it take for them to die?“
Stiles talked like a waterfall. Just like Thomas always asked endless questions. His brain couldn’t keep up with the pace the words were leaving Stiles‘ mouth but still he tried. And he tried to answer most questions.
He avoided talking about Cranks. They were disgusting and he didn’t want the picture to stay in his head.
And he had to think about Newt. Newt in his last seconds of his too short life. A life that was stolen from him. He died for a sick experiment that wasn’t even legal to begin with.
At some point his eyes were more closed than opened and Stiles stopped asking questions. He still talked a bit, low and fast words escaping his mouth. He talked about the last days in the hospital after Thomas was brought in.
Apparently he slept for almost a week and Stiles had only left his side to get something to eat. He used the small bathroom attached to the hospital room and his dad had to pack him a bag because his clothes started to smell after three days of being constantly at Thomas‘ side.
When Thomas drifted in the unconsciousness of sleep he mumbled the only thought that was on his mind.
„Newt“.