One year later-

Malia pushed a branch out of her way, doing her usual rounds of the woods that Scott had assigned her to once Stiles had left or rather, taken. Even though she would possibly never see him again, she wanted to do her part.

And then she caught a familiar scent near a patch of bush.

"That scent! Could it... it can't be. Stiles?" She realized, and started running toward the smell of a low, constant anxiety and a slight undertone of dog while calling out to him. "Stiles?! Are you out here?!"

She saw him. He was crouched down on the hill, looking almost completely different then how she saw him last winter. His clothes were dirty and tattered, he had the start of a beard from his cheeks down his chin, and he was shivering.

Fearing the worst, she gently called out his name.

"Stiles?"

His dark brown eyes filled with fear when they met hers, causing him to jump backwards. Panicked she held her hands in front of him, trying to calm him down.

"Hey, shh. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

He scooted backwards on his hands, clearly terrified of her as he stuttered through his shivers.

"Wh-who are you?"

Malia sighed, realizing she must have been mistaken in thinking this was her boyfriend and anchor. Due to the fact he looked different and that he didn't remember her she filed her thoughts away and introduced herself politely.

"My name is Malia Tate. I'm from the town outside of the woods. What's your name?"

"Thomas. My name is Thomas."

"Can you tell me what happened to you, Thomas?"

"Everything is still fuzzy." He lied, not wanting her to turn him in, before moving to hug his knees close to him, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

She noticed that he was uncomfortable and smiled softly, asking if he needed help.

"Is there a good place to stay around here?" the response was whispered.

"There's a hotel a couple miles from here. I'll take you… if you want." Malia offered before standing up. Thomas went to follow but almost fell backwards into a tree holding his side forcefully as if in pain. Quickly stepping in, Malia changed courses, "Tell you what. You sit here, I'll go get some help, alright?"

"Sure…" His attempted decline died in his throat, as she patted his knee and went towards town.

Adrenaline pumping and filled with fear that the authorities in this town would turn him in to W.C.K.D, he got up with a tingling numbness covering his body and ran as fast as possible in the opposite direction. With what was probably only a few minutes of running the ground under him gave out into an unexpected crevice. The adrenaline wore of and he saw black.

A few moments later saw him sitting up on his elbows, the feeling of massive pain waves flowed through his left leg and side. He looked at past his knee and almost vomited. A twisted and mangled left foot was sprawled and bleeding.

As anyone in that situation would, Thomas looked up and cursed toward the sky.

"Shit"

··························

Malia couldn't believe it. Part of her was still hopeful Stiles was in there, but she had to let the police know before she got her hopes up too high. Making the quick journey to the sheriff station she went where Noah was packing the squad car for the end of his shift. He glanced at her with a smile,

"Hey, Malia. What can I do for you?"

Not wanting to get his hopes up as well she kept the information discreet.

"There's a man lost in the woods really close to town. He's hurt, alone, and looks like he hasn't taken care of himself in a while. His name is Thomas…I couldn't get a last name."

Noah nodded, shrugging back on his officer coat before putting his hand on my shoulder gently.

"Parrish and I will take care of it. Thanks for telling us." He glanced at his watch and his eyes widened, "You should probably go home now and get some sleep before your father finds out."

She nodded, and left the station, praying that it was indeed her boyfriend who she encountered in the woods. Though, if it was, why did he think his name was Thomas?...

···················

Noah and Jordan arrived to the scene, with Noah in the patrol car and Parrish in the Special Service Vehicle before starting to look for the man Malia had told them about with their flashlights.

After looking around the area fully, the sheriff and deputy regrouped beside the patrol car and SUV.

"I don't see anyone. What about you?" Noah asked, clicking off his flashlight, not really wanting to return home to his lonely and empty house.

"No, but-" Parrish started with his glance focused on the pitch-black woods when he was cut off by a scratched and tormented yell.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Noah swallowed the lump in his throat when the voice hit his ears. He had heard the voice, sadly, several times, when his son experienced night terrors after his mother died and during the beginning of the possession. He may have just been imagining it since his deputy had no reaction that indicated his son in Alaska had come back to him.

"One of the caves in the ground, most likely. He probably fell in." Parrish realized.

The sheriff and deputy shined the lights on the ground and walked slightly away from the cars before looking inside and indeed seeing the young man.

"Hold on! We're gonna get you out!" Jordan yelled as Noah went to get the SUV and immediately started setting up the pulley system in the back of it to lower Jordan in while the deputy started attaching himself to the harness.

Once the rope was connected to Jordan, the sheriff lowered him inside of the cave. He waited ten minutes before there was a tug on the rope, in which he pulled him back up and saw the man in his arms. While he matched the description Malia had given them, he hoped his mind wasn't playing tricks on him to make him think he was seeing his son.

Parrish set the man on the ground, so he could quickly get out of the pulley system, but the young male clearly was scared of them and attempting to run, Thomas fell.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're not going to hurt you. I just have to make sure you are stable enough so we can get you to the hospital, alright?" Jordan asked, and the male nodded in agreement with his back and shoulders visibly becoming less tense. "Thank you. You don't have to look like you're squeamish."

"What's your name, young man?" Noah questioned, kneeling to the ground to make eye contact with him while his deputy was stabilizing his leg.

"Thomas."

"Where are you from, Thomas?" Noah asked, figuring that if this wasn't his son, he should call the police where he was from and see if they were looking for him.

He responded with an "I don't know", and the sheriff figured it was some form of amnesia. "What do you remember?"

"I remember helping an organization called W.C.K.D at one point. I'm no longer associated with them."

Noah was now shocked. Not only did this man look like his son, from looks to his own voice, but he worked with W.C.K.D. The same research center where his kid was at this very moment, unless this man sitting in front of him was indeed his seventeen year old son.

"W.C.K.D.'s in Alaska. Why did you come to California?"

The male bit his lip, probably thinking of the right way to put things, but ended up just telling the sheriff that he was drawn there by a feeling something was waiting for him in California. Before Noah could ask more questions, Parrish had finished securing his leg

"Are you hurt anywhere else that can't wait for a hospital, Thomas?"

"My right side." The young man hissed as Jordan lifted up his shirt, and indeed saw a puncture wounds about the size of a small marble.

He quickly cleaned and dressed the wound before draping a blanket over his shoulders. It was in the low fifties outside and Thomas was in tattered jeans and a blue short-sleeve shirt.

"Okay. I'm going to help you to the SUV and drive you to the hospital, alright?"

Parrish helped him to his feet, encouraging him not to walk on his left leg while opening the SUV door for him. They helped him get settled before handing him the blanket and closing the door.

Then, with Noah in the patrol car and Jordan with Thomas in the SUV, they both drove to the hospital. The sheriff unable to shake the feeling that his son was in that SUV with his deputy.

··············

They arrived at the hospital fairly fast, and luckily, Parrish had called the hospital in advance, so as soon as they pulled up they were able to get him on a stretcher.

Melissa arrived quickly to see what was going on and realized the same features Noah had. The hair, eyes, and voice were all reminiscent of Stiles, except the name... She turned to one of the nurses, handing her the stretcher before giving orders,

"Start working on his injuries, I'll be there in a second." The nurse nodded and left with the stretcher while Melissa turned to the sheriff and demanded. "What's going on? Is that Stiles? Why is he here?"

"Malia found him in the woods while patrolling and alerted Parrish and I. If he is Stiles, why can't he remember us and why does he think his name is Thomas?" Noah asked, knowing that it HAD to be his son. There were way too many coincidences for it not to be.

"I'm assuming some sort of amnesia or being forced to go by a different name and backstory." Melissa told him as she started to go back where he was, but Noah gently grabbed her arm and pleaded.

"Please fix him, Melissa. I need my son back."

Melissa nodded, turning to hug him, before disappearing behind the large push doors. Now, the most dreaded part of being in the emergency room.

Waiting.

···················

Three hours later, the time was turning toward two in the morning, and Noah was dozing off in the chair when Melissa came back. No emotions were visible on her face, a good or bad sign. He stood up and asked about Thomas' condition.

"In addition to his leg being broken, as you saw, his right side was pierced by a sharp object and he is suffering from a moderate case of hypothermia. We did a DNA test...it is Stiles."

Noah held in his joy at the news, wanting to get to the bottom of why he was going by "Thomas".

"What about his memories? Why can't he remember any of us?"

"His memories are being controlled by a chip near his brain. It was implanted a little over a year ago."

"If it's taken out, will he go back to normal?"

"If it's taken out, he will regain his memories, yes. But it's a complicated surgery and it's best to wait till he's a hundred percent healthy." Noah sighed, but agreed. While he didn't want something to go wrong with his son, he hadn't seen him in over a year.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Melissa offering to let him see Stiles for a few minutes before he had to go so he didn't get in trouble with the hospital.

He agreed, and Melissa led him down the hall into one of the rooms, where Stiles was settling down for the night, but jumped when his landed on him, clearly terrified, but sounded like he was trying to keep his composure.? Thomas started when he turned around to see the officer in the doorway,

"I-is there a problem, officer?"

"I just wanted to get to know you." Noah insisted, trying to keep himself together when he saw that terrified look on his son's face.

However, the fear quickly mixed in with wariness when he asked why he wanted to know him better.

"We just want to help as best we can." Noah insisted, but Thomas clamped up after that insisting that he would like to get some sleep.

Respecting his wishes, Noah left the hospital and drove home to his empty and lonely house, hoping and praying that Melissa could figure out what was wrong with his son.

·······················

The teen walked into the Beacon Hills hospital that morning, brushing his lighter dirty blond hair out of his eyes before going to the reception desk,

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm here to see Thomas."

"Last name?" She asked. Unsure of it, he responded by saying his name was Thomas.

Luckily, she understood what he meant and smiled gently at him.

"I'll take you to him. What's your name?"

"Newt."

The woman nodded and lead him down the hall to one of the rooms and opened the door to see Thomas scrolling the TV channels. She spoke to get his attention,

"Thomas? There's someone named Newt here to see you."

"How you doing, Tommy?" He smiled, going over to him and giving him a tight hug, barely noticing the woman leaving the room.

He felt Thomas' shaky arms squeeze him just as tightly for a full minute when they finally let go and Newt settled into the armchair beside the bed while his shocked friend gaped,

"How are you alive? I...I watched you die."

"Minho. He brought me back to The Safe Haven." Newt looked down, stuffing his shoe on the ground. "He saw how upset you had been after, um...the fight and had the medics do whatever they could to bring me back."

"Did you want it to happen? Did you want me to kill you?"

"Yeah. I did. I didn't want to turn into one of those, and forget all of you. Especially you." After explaining this, Newt decided he had to tell Thomas why he was here."Thomas, Janson is still out there. Vince saw him while administrating the cure to the infected, and he tried to shoot him down, but he escaped. They sent me after you to make sure he hadn't found you. Minho, Brenda, Jorge...all of them. They thought you would be held captive or dead at this point."

Thomas swallowed harshly, trying to keep his composure since one of the last things he did to save Teresa ended up a failure. He decided to divert the subject a little by asking.

"How are they?"

Newt was pretty relieved to get off the topic of the man who had terrorized all of them, but mainly onto Thomas. Although now he had to talk about Brenda.

"Minho is doing pretty well. He's built mansions at the Safe Haven at this point. Jorge has been helping Vince with the cure, and Brenda..." He trailed off, not knowing how to tell Thomas about the discovery made shortly after he left.

"Is she okay?" Thomas panicked, not wanting to lose yet another person he cared deeply for.

"She's missing you a lot, Thomas...and the med jacks are ninety nine percent sure she's...pregnant."

Thomas shook his head, trying to sink back into his pillow. Wanting to insist that Newt was lying. Newt swore at himself for telling him about that though it only emphasized his point,

"You have to come back, Thomas."

"Everyone seems to know me here, Newt. Why don't we move you guys here?"

"It's not safe. You don't know a thing about these people… and why don't they have the flare virus?" Newt demanded. After all, if he was going to be so insistent, he better have a damn good reason for it.

"I don't know, but I feel connected to them and to this place. I just can't place it yet, soon." Thomas insisted, running his hand through his unkempt hair.

"Maybe something bad happened to you here, Tommy. We don't know why you are drawn here, it may not be good."

"Maybe. Though, maybe, and if, this place involves my past before the maze, I need to look into it." Thomas argued. He had a pretty solid point, so I sighed and nodded, before asking softly,

"So, are you going to come back?"

"After I figure this out."

"And you want me to stick around?" Newt asked his friend, and when he nodded, he smiled, tisking his tongue slightly with a grin on his face.

"You're lucky I like you, Tommy." He relaxed a bit in the armchair before asking him.

"What happened to you? I mean, you ARE in the hospital, not to mention you haven't shaved in a decade or something."

"Rude." Thomas retorted and stuck out his tongue before giving an explanation. "There's something about this place. Call me crazy but I think I must have lived here before."

"Do you know how long you're going to stay?" Newt asked, brushing his hair from his eyes as Thomas responded with 'no'. He sighed and reached over to clap him on the shoulder.

"Well, get some rest, buddy. I'm not leaving till you do."