When Everything Comes Crashing Down TW/TMR

II

Thomas found himself interlocking his hands together over his knees, his knuckles turning white. The car he was in ran much smoother than anything in the Scorch, and it had air conditioning. But that didn't do anything to calm his nerves.

About a week ago, the real F.B.I. had entered the Safe Haven, revealing that The Flare wasn't real. There was no such thing as cranks or the impending Ragnarok they'd experienced. They'd been searching for W.C.K.D. for years, and only managed to find their Mazes, Scorch, and technical facilities recently. W.C.K.D was by no means gone, but now the remaining Gladers had a chance to remember, as the memories of life pre-Maze were fake. But as it was, there was no certain way to retain the memories.

With a quick glance at Minho beside him, Thomas reminded himself why he was listening to the F.B.I. They could return him to his previous life. Thomas couldn't remember much other the occasional flash of strawberry blonde hair. Second, they could help take down WICKED. That, Thomas cared about. And finally, they could protect the remainder of Thomas's family. There was no way he was losing anyone else.

For their safety, the Safe Haven group had been split into groups, each one assigned to be protected by an F.B.I. agent until it was safe to return to their families. Or, as Thomas hoped, to reunite with each other.

"Thomas," one agent spoke up from the passenger seat. Thomas lifted his head to meet the agent's gaze. "We've placed you in your hometown. It'll be confusing for anyone who knew you before, but they'll be motivated to protect you if our Agent fails. He will be undercover, living with you in a house paid by the government. You're to stay there and await further instructions."

"My hometown?" Thomas's voice hitched. "Do I have family there?" 

"Your father is in the same house you grew up in. A file will be left for Thomas-" Minho looked up as the agent continued on. "It will have anything and everything you want to know about your past life, and what we know on W.C.K.D. Any information you can recall about your time there would be greatly appreciated, but we'd like to keep you two as far away as the investigation as possible." Thomas found his hand drifting to the small vial hanging around his neck. He had burned Newt's letter, but he couldn't find himself to toss the cure.

"Did you find my family?" Minho asked. The agent shook his head.

"Our DNA test is still processing. The only reason why we know about Thomas is because one of our agents recognized him."

The car pulled into a driveway. Minho glanced at Thomas, who gave him a slight nod in response. They would survive. They always have.

"Good luck," the agent said. Thomas exited the car, pausing and waiting for Minho to exit the car before heading towards the house. They were both battle-worn, but they'd stick together. Heck, Minho had even fought some agents before they finally allowed him to be grouped with Thomas. Thomas was originally supposed to be grouped alone, as he was WICKED's most wanted, and Thomas was still too shaken up over Newt and Teresa's death to really put up a fight. He wanted it to be over.

A tall man stood in the doorway, a badge peeking out of his jacket pocket. Thomas analyzed him, searching those brown eyes for a sense of familiarity. But he got nothing. The man's eyes had flickered over both teens, staying on Thomas a lot longer than Minho. 

"Once you enter this house, you must not leave under any circumstances," the agent said calmly. Thomas found himself meeting the agent's gaze, seeing underneath the disguise that this was just a normal occurrence. Thomas was pretty sure that the F.B.I. had never done something like this for such a large group of people. "Understood?" 

"Understood," Thomas confirmed, hoping to prevent himself or Minho from saying something reckless or stupid. The agent quickly glanced at Minho before leading them inside.

"You don't open the door for anyone, including me or any of the Beacon Hills police department. We have no idea how they'll react to the situation, and there is the possibility that one of them could leak your whereabouts to W.C.K.D. Our security here is military grade, so it's extremely unlikely that something will find you or break in. I would teach you how to defend yourselves, but from what I can recall, that isn't necessary."

Thomas winces as he remembers the F.B.I. arriving at the Safe Haven. Because of WICKED's manipulation, they didn't believe that the agents were indeed the good guys. A fight had issued, and only after the Safe Haven members had knocked out most of the agents, Thomas had called them off, realizing that these were the real F.B.I.

But now, as he thought about it, he couldn't remember why he called his friends off. Thomas had held a knife to the throat of an agent, the same one who was living with them, and only backed off when the agent had mumbled a few words. 

"My name is Rafe McCall," the agent had said. The knife had dropped immediately from Thomas's hand. He had a gut feeling to trust this guy, a gut feeling that only kicked in when he heard the name McCall. And since his gut is usually right, Thomas trusted it.

Only now was he unsure. Once again, he was being trapped under supervision. Hiding from the dangers that lurked outside. Why hadn't he stayed at the Safe Haven, where it was, well, safe.

"Can I trust you to not act out after reading your file, Thomas?" Agent McCall asked, dragging Thomas back into the present.

"If it'll keep me safe from WICKED, then yes," he responded cooly.

"Then the file is on the dresser is your room upstairs. First door on the left." Thomas's eyes flickered to the staircase behind the agent. "Your rooms are labelled with your names. My son is coming over for dinner, so just for tonight I request that you stay in your rooms. My son cannot keep a secret from his friends, or stop himself from investigating and attempting to solve a case. So for both your safety and yours, stay in your rooms. After he leaves, I will invite you down for dinner. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Minho replied, glancing at Thomas. Thomas tried to ignore the hidden jealousy in his friend's eyes. He nodded. Agent McCall stepped aside, allowing the Gladers to head upstairs.