Never Stop Running

T H R E E

3rd Person POV

The boy the name was aimed at looked over his shoulder, as if he wasn't aware the question was for him. He turned back to face Agent McCall confusedly, along with slight fear that the elder wasn't used to seeing in the boy's eyes. "Sorry, there isn't a Stiles here. You must have the wrong place." Thomas' tone was strong and determined, not sarcastic and amused like it was before. The boy had also changed physically, gaining muscle, and his hair had grown out from his previous buzz-cut. He seemed more steady on his feet, rather than stumbling on his too long limbs. His eyes, formerly a light caramel colored had darkened tremendously, so a deep and empty looking mahogany.

Agent McCall continued to stare at the boy. No, this was definitely Stiles, his son's best friend. Then, turned and nodded to a select few people stationed behind him. "Search the whole building, and don't stop until you find Ms. Paige," he ordered, and the men nodded before speeding off. Once their voices and footsteps could no longer be heard, Newt broke the tense silence.

"Are you guy from WICKED? Because we're done playing your games." Newt stood tall and confidently, despite feeling as it he was ready to pass out. His dark eyes narrowed, and he discreetly leaned into Thomas who supported him with an arm around his waist.

Minho nodded in stubborn agreement. "We want to be left alone, okay? We won't even ask to go home, since we can't shuckin' remember anything anyway." He took a sideways glance toward his best friends, and he had to stifle the small smile that crept onto his face. He called it, and Frypan and Winston owed him.

The man cleared his throat and fidgeted a bit in his spot. "Look boys, we're not from WICKED. We are a governmental organization called the FBI, standing for Federal Bureau of Investigation. We were called here to investigate this WICKED corporation that you speak of. In case you weren't aware, WICKED is actually an illegal institution, and what they're been doing is kidnapping children from their families and bringing them to this facility to test on them for an unknown purpose," he kept his eyes on Thomas, who began to feel uncomfortable against his gaze.

"We're being tested for a cure," Newt stated.

Agent McCall looked intrigued. "A cure for what?" the man asked gently, urging for them to continue.

"A cure for the flare," Thomas answered, and all eyes from the FBI settled on him, when he began explaining the journey the past several years (of what they could remember) at WICKED and in the Maze.

---

3rd Person POV

It had been a week since his father left on his expedition, and Scott wished he could say he was surprised that his father hasn't shown his face yet. Scott was pretty good at forgetting the excuses his father gives him for leaving, and this wasn't an exception. He carried on as normal, arriving at the school on his bike and leaving it to meet up with his group of friends.

Immediately, his arm lazily found its place on his girlfriend Allison's shoulder. He took a seat at the table beside her and Isaac, and across from Lydia, who was leaning into Jackson, who was presumably pissed at something that didn't go his way. The rest of his friends were scattered around the table, and they all exchanged greetings before discussing the Dread Doctors in hushed whispers. Then, everything went silent as one side of the table stared at something far off.

"Hey Scott?" Lydia's voice caused him to raise his gaze from Allison's fingers, which were toying with his. "What is your dad doing here?"

Immediately, Scott turned around on the wooden bench. Sure enough, his father was strolling dutifully toward the school, in the direction of the main office. "Not sure. Want to find out?" I ask, directing my question toward Isaac.

He shrugs and follows me in that direction. We sit on the benches in front of the offices, covering our faces with magazines. Then, we listen in.

"Hello, could I enroll a student into the system please?" Rafe's voice sounded, and Scott shared a curious glance with Isaac.

The secretary begins to ask questions, and then she asks for the name.

"For now, he would like to be referred to as Thomas Edison," he replied, and Scott's eyebrows furrowed. What could he mean for now?

"For now? Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to clear that up for me," the woman orders, and the clicks of her keyboard could be heard.

Scott can just imagine his father flashing that 'charming' smile. "Ma'am, this is under a federal investigation, and we're asking you to bear with us."

They speak a little bit longer, and then the conversation begins to come to a close. Scott and Isaac waste no time sprinting out of there and back to their table. Curious eyes meet the pair as they huff and take their original seats.

"Okay, so here's the deal." Then, Scott quickly explained all of it, which wasn't much. There were many questions that the group had, but Scott just admitted that he shared the same ones.

But one thing was for sure: whoever this Thomas Edison kid was, he was definitely someone that Rafe McCall cared for, for the boys could sense the emotion behind the words Scott's father spoke.

He was important to Agent McCall, and the boys were determined to figure out why.

"Hey Scott!" A voice called from behind him. Scott groaned slightly in annoyance before turning to face his father. "How about you take the day off today? I have something I have to talk to you about..." Rafe smiled sheepishly at Scott's careful eyes. "We should stop by the hospital."

After carefully weighing his options, Scott nodded with a heavy sigh. He rose to his feet, only looking back to give his friends the I'll tell you later look. They give him eager nods and watch him follow his father. "I'll meet you at the hospital; I brought my bike today."

Rafe nods. "But then I want you to take a seat in my car before heading inside. I need to let you in on some things before you go inside." Scott noted how fast his heart was beating; this was important.

As quickly as possible, Scott met his father at the hospital and plopped into the passenger seat. An unfamiliar yet familiar scent filled his nostrils, and he looked at his father curiously.

"Okay Scott, I'm just going to spit it out. We're fostering a boy that we recently rescued from the raid that I went on." There is no way I'm babysitting... "And before we go in there, I need you to know. This boy is going to look so familiar, but I need you to understand this, okay?"

Scott stared at him, completely and utterly lost. "Dad, what's going on? Why are we fostering a kid, and why are you so freaked out over it? Why would he look familiar? Do I know him?" Scott's mind was on overload. Why would he need to take off school for some foster kid? Yeah, he felt bad, but it couldn't affect his life that much.

"Scott! We're not sure it's him, and we want you to call him Thomas, no matter what, okay? And he's going to be going to school with you, so I want you to show him around and act like this is the first time you're ever meeting him okay?" Agent McCall's eyes darted back and forth between Scott's, trying to get him to understand the urgency of this situation. "And we're fostering him because we're the only fit family at the moment. Now let's go."

Scott followed, trying to understand this situation. As soon as the door to a specific room opened, though, he immediately understood.

Stiles.

Scott went to advance, but he stopped short at the volume of his best friend's shouts. "No! I don't know who Stiles is or who any of you people are! And if you won't tell me where Newt and Minho are, I'll find them myself!" He went to storm toward the door, but I was currently blocking his path. "And I don't know who you are, so I suggest you move so I can find my best friend and boyfriend before I make you move."