Stiles' POV.

After I had woken up and had been in a plane for hours, I was led by two security guards, (who were saying things about tests, procedures, and frankly just freaking me out more and more), into the office of a large building.

We entered and the first thing I saw was the straight black chair in front of the desk, revealing an older blonde woman. She motioned the guards away before standing up and smiling, still it sent a slight chill up my spine, against the intention of calming me down.

"Hello, Stiles." She greeted me, her voice sickly sweet, making my skin crawl.

"Who are you?" I asked, not letting my guard down.

She answered willingly, "I'm Dr. Ava Paige, the head of W.C.K.D; similar to a human disease and neurological developmental research facility."

"What are these tests I heard about?"

"They are a series of physical exams along with a MRI, PET and CT scan." She stopped to go back around to her desk and grab a chart before signaling me to follow her down the hall. I did, not wanting to run into more trouble with Janson.

"Do you know why you are here, Stiles?" She paused while I shook my head slowly, "because you had a terminal condition, and it went away without any treatment. You hold the cure to frontal-temporal dementia, and possibly other forms of dementia. If you don't do it for us, do it for-"

I cut her off, not wanting nor needing to think about her right now with my rising anxiety and suspicions about this place. "You finish that with " your mother" and I'll react. Badly."

"Do it for the thousands, possibly millions of lives you could save." She finished, and despite my gut feeling, I figured I would have to lay low before acting on it and seeing if it even held a shred of truth.

So, I replied with. "Fine. One rule though, you will be honest and thorough with me, walking me through everything that will happen, before it happens."

"I will personally make sure of it. We are not here to hurt, mock or torment you, Stiles. We just want to help better the world."

"Not here to torment me?" That comes out with disbelief as my thoughts seethed, the past day replaying in my mind and I demanded, "What, then, would you call the way Janson treated me and why can't we have friends and family visit?"

Ava stopped mid-stride, clearly distressed and confused, "What are you talking about? What did Janson do to you?"

Slightly surprised by her reaction I told her, " He mocked me, made an example out of me, sedated me twice and denied me permission to tell my best friend goodbye." I listed off, seeing her face fall before adding. "And why can't we have visitors? They'll come here, it's not like we'll leave!"

"I'll talk to Janson later on, and explain that he has no right to use sedatives on people unless someone is in grave danger... As for the visitors, it's happened many times before where a teenager talks to their friend, or a parent, or sees them in person, and it can upset your brain waves that we need to study. Not to mention, when that friend or parent has to leave, or hang up, the patient gets very upset. Starts acting out, trying to escape into the freezing Alaskan weather, or even try to kill themselves. We are protecting you with the protocols we have had to use on everyone over the years. Do you understand, Stiles?"

"Honestly?" I asked about Janson, before shaking my head when she explained that. "I'm not gonna hurt myself or escape. I promise."

"I promise I will talk to him." She insisted before sighing. "You can't predict that, and even if that were true, we can't bend the rules for one person. Otherwise, people will be upset because you are getting special treatment."

I nodded, feeling slight melancholy as well as anger swelling inside of me, replacing my gut feeling.  "Can we just get this over with?"

"After your physical and tests, I'll have a guard show you to your room. The door will be locked, as a precaution. You will have everything you need in there. Bed, toilet, food. A journal and pen will also be supplied for you."

"What for?"

"For anything you want. Drawing, writing, scribbling. A creative outlet in the case of boredom."

"This won't turn into therapy arts and crafts, will it?" I asked, seeing her slightly confused face, which led me to explain further. "Like force us to go to therapy and show the therapist? I've been in therapy before and I am NOT going back." I finished, adding emphasis on the word "not".

"No, there are no forced therapy sessions unless they have severe mental illness. You're here because of your incredible case of frontal-temporal dementia. Not because of mental illness. Plus, you seem to have your ADHD under control. In any case, if you do want to see a professional for your social anxiety, we can allow that." I shook my head rapidly just as a middle aged black woman came in.

"Alright, I won't force you into it." She finished before gesturing to the woman, "This is Doctor Crawford. She is the lead doctor here and will be performing the tests and physical."

"You must be Mieczyslaw." She smiled, extending her hand for me to shake, which I did before correcting her.

"It's Stiles."

"Well, that's quite the typo, huh?" She joked, trying to ease the mood, but instead it just made my nervousness rise yet again and I replied monotone,

"It's a family nickname."

She nodded, losing the sense of humor before looking down at the chart Paige had handed her. "Go ahead and step on the scale. Dr. Paige has told me to let you know what I'm doing before I do it, is that correct?"

"I'm going to go speak with Janson. I will see you later, Stiles." Paige told me as I nodded before answering Crawford's question while she left.

"That is correct, but can we just do this as quick as possible? I just really want to be left alone."

"I'll go as fast as possible." She smiled reassuringly, writing down a few things before motioning over to the table. "Sit down, Stiles."

I sat down, looking down at my hands which were littered with marks where I had bit my fingers unintentionally. I sighed, wondering what everyone was doing right now. I realized I didn't even know what time it was.

"Everything alright, Stiles?" Crawford asked softly, making me snap out of my thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Alright... You'll be seventeen soon, is that correct?"

I nodded as she did the basic examination before grabbing some supplies from one of the cabinets.

"I'm going to do a quick blood test." I had to swallow when I looked down at the needle. She must've seen it as she smiled softly, "Hey, I don't like needles either. I'll be fast." I nodded, looking down at the needle as she drew it from my veins before smiling at me.

"Alright. I'm going to take this to the lab for testing. Stay here, and I'll be right back."

She disappeared behind the door and I looked back down at my hands, sighing as I said to myself how much I wanted to be home. I must've been too invested in my self-pity because after what only seemed like a couple minutes I felt a hand on my back and someone asking, "Stiles? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing." I insisted, shaking the homesick thoughts from my head, but I could tell She didn't believe me by the look She gave me.

None the less, she handed me a pair of sweat pants and a grey T-shirt, which I quickly changed into before she led me upstairs to have the tests done.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Ava's POV.

I watched as Janson continued to program the microchip to be used to wipe Stiles of his memories which was clearly infuriating him.

"So why aren't we just using the swipe on the brat again?" the growl escaped his twisted face.

"Do not call him a brat, Janson. We can't risk losing him if it goes wrong. It took us 7 years to find him and the technology is still in the testing stages. But you have to finish tonight so the procedure can take place first thing in the morning."

He nodded, looking back down at his work before going back to his name for Stiles and asked, " What else is there to call him? "

"Mieczyslaw? Stiles? Choose, cause we aren't supposed to scare him, Janson." I insisted but he demanded further,

"That kid needs to learn to respect others."

"Not by being harassed."

••••••••••••

-WARNING! THIS SCENE IS VERY DESCRIPTIVE OF A SCARY MEDICAL PROCEDURE WHERE THEY DRILL INTO YOUR HEAD! SKIP TO THE NEXT LINE OF DOTS IF YOU FEEL YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO HANDLE IT!

Stiles' POV.

I was being led down the hall of what I assumed was the medical wing, but what confused me was the thousands of pieces of technology that were aligning the walls, or attached to sleeping patients that I could see through the very thin curtains in front of the rooms.

I guessed they had more technology then the small hospital in Beacon Hills due to being a large research facility in Alaska, but I figured I would've seen at least some of this on Google images.

Then we reached the room, which gave me a very eerie vibe and caused my pounding gut feeling that something was off to resurface.

"Lay down, Stiles." The doctor from yesterday insisted, mentioning to a operating table in the middle of the room, which caused me to raise a eyebrow before looking around the room.

 First off, Janson was there, which was confusing, but not a hundred percent alarming. Then I heard the door lock, which was really strange, but then I saw something that almost made me vomit in my mouth. 

Oh the table of medical supplies was a drill. They were gonna make me a temptation victim.

I started backing towards the door, wanting to see if I could unlock it if I rammed into it hard enough, but then I felt two strong, aggressive hands grab onto my biceps, before starting to drag me towards the operating table.

I started fighting against their grips (now realizing they were the guards) and I felt large leather straps pulled across my ankles, wrists and torso.

I panted from fighting while glaring at Janson, who was grinning as I was forced down on the table.

 "What are you gonna do?...drill a hole in my head?...that'll kill me, you know...and then your plan will be ruined."

 I felt Janson put a gloved hand on the left side of my jaw, pushing my head to the right with two fingers, before speaking in a way that I knew that he had a smirk on his face.

 "We're more experienced then Eichan House when it comes to temptation, and know just how far to go, but if Crawford slips and we lose you, it won't be the biggest loss." 

 Then I heard the drill start whirring, which caused me to thrash as much as I could as I begged while I felt Janson hold my head down and the drill started to get closer.

"Wait, w-wait. Don't do this, I-I'm all my dad has left. Please."

"Your Dad can live without you, and so can everyone else." Janson told me as I felt slight pressure on my head and the last thing I heard was Janson insisting. "You were worthless as Stiles anyway."

 Then I felt the worse pain I had ever felt in my life, which made my eyes water as I screamed, before falling into darkness.

••••••••••••••••••••

Crawford's POV.

I sat beside the bed where the patient had been unconscious for the past twenty four hours, which was deeply concerning to me.

However, shortly after I sat down, I saw the patient's eyes fluttering open as he asked in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"W-what's going on?...w-why can't I-I remember anything?"

I gently put my hands on his shoulders so he didn't hurt himself by sitting up, before answering his question.

"Your name is Thomas. You got hurt pretty badly, but you are safe now. Your memories should come back in a couple days."

"H-how long do I h-have to stay in the h-hospital? W-where's my f-family?"

"We don't know yet. We cannot find your full name anywhere. Just Thomas written on your shirt tag when you were found. Go back to sleep, alright? You'll heal faster that way." 

"O-okay..." Thomas told me before closing his eyes and the heart monitor went back to a sleeping rate. 

 I adjusted the bandages on his head, before closing the curtain that cut off his section from everyone else before getting back to work, praying that Doctor Paige knew what she was doing.