Lost One- Teen wolf and The Maze Runner Crossover

chapter ?

well, imagine my surprise. i login after 3 or so years to find this story that i wrote on a whim has got way more views than i was expecting.

well anyways here's a chapter. and uhh the timeline of this story has changed. i decided that having the nogitsune sitation would be more interested. ill get round to fixing the synopsis at some point.

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Someone was watching him.

He can feel their eyes boring into the back of his head, intense and determined. Thomas doesn't know who it is. Or at least he doesn't want to admit to himself that it could be who he thinks it is. Because Newt is dead, right?

He has to be. He saw it. He was there. He held the gun and he shot that bullet and he saw it connect and he saw him gracefully fall but oh god he was so heart wrenchingly beautiful why WHY HIM?

No.

Newt is dead.

He had to be.

...

Sleep never seemed to come easy Thomas - was that another unlucky trait from stiles or something Thomas had carefully cultivated after years at being at WICKDS mercy? Who knows.

He had managed to get in a few precious hours of bliss before the cold hand of-why the fuck cant I breath is someone strangling me?- jerked him awake.

He couldn't see. Why can't he see? WHY CAN'T HE SEE?

The darkness retreated like a blindfold being moved away from his face.

Pale calloused hands

What-

A flash of blonde and then there's Lydia.

"Lydia? What are you..." Thomas says his voice clouded with confusion.

Lydia leaned against him and stroked his arm in a gesture that was meant to be comforting but just felt awkward to Thomas.

He knows Lydia. Of course he knows Lydia, she's everywhere, in his memories of when he was Stiles and now that he is Thomas she seemed to only be a few feet away.

But why was she here? He did not remember letting her in. In fact he didn't remember much of anything. Why had he woken up in the first place.

Something...something about a tree?

"Shh..you okay? What's wrong?" she said. Her red hair seemed oddly dull at the moment.

He still felt the drowsiness of sleep clawing at him but mustered up an answer regardless.

"Yeah, I'm fine I guess it was just a dream. It was weird though, I can barely remember it but I feel..."

She hummed, encouraging him to finish, "a nightmare?"

Thomas nodded. But he still could not shake that feeling of uneasiness.

Thomas opened his mouth to ask her...something: a question that had already been forgotten by the time it had reached the forefront of his mind.

'There's a horrible draft in here' he thought.

He turned to look at his door and frowned in suspicion. It was slightly ajar. Thomas would never do that. There was a reason why he had moved the bed against the wall and had installed locks onto the door. He'd be damned if he let himself be murdered in his sleep after everything.

But it was open. And the draft was slinking in because of it.

'I must have forgot, I'll just close it now'

He rose and began to approach the door. The chill was becoming stronger, sinking into his bones like cold lead.

"Stiles, what are you doing," Lydia questioned. It was merely a whisper in the back of his mind.

"Stiles come back to bed,"

"Stiles don't open the door"

"Stiles! No don't go in there"

'I have to----I have to see him'

"Stiles! No don't!!"

"THOMAS NO,"

He had already stepped through the door but he knew that voice. How could he not. The British timber had been strained, fearful, worried - for him?

The scorch greeted him when his eyes adjusted to the light. And in the middle of it, a tree. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but Thomas barely had the chance to comprehend how on earth a tree had managed to survive in such a barren wasteland.

Sunlight seared into his eyes. He had woken up. Another day of avoiding Scott and his puppies.

"Tommy I need you to listen to me, Tommy?"

No. No no no no no no no NO NO NO NO.

He's not in stiles room. He was on the ground. Dressed in dusty and stained clothing and a gun clutched in his hand.

"Newt?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I need you to listen to me, Tommy,"

Thomas shook his head and turned away from the gruesome sight of Newt sprawled on the ground.

"Thomas, listen. When is a door - THOMAS YOU ARSE THIS IS IMPORTANT,"

No no no no.

"Thomas, when is a door not-"

The guttural scream ripped itself from his throat. Thomas shot up out of the bed and tried to clutch at his head but there are hands clawing at him-

'Cranks the cranks are back I have to run I have to warn the others'

But it wasn't the cranks. After a minute of struggling he hears his dad's voice frantically trying to comfort him.

The memories echo back at him. The scorch, escaping, the FBI, the faces of people he should know, Scott, Lydia, the vision, the tree, Newt.

newt. 

'he's warning me,' Thomas realises, 'but from what?'