The Glade ♚ TMR x TW - Complete

11; rescued

It took them hours to get to Agent Booth's office in Washington DC. Thomas was informed he would be stuck in a random agent's car while his friends were all placed in vehicles separate from each other. He had begged to see Chuck but all the agent said was that he was okay for now and being transported to a hospital by helicopter. That made him uneasy, not being able to see him; but he dropped the argument hoping Chuck was already being taken care of by then.

Hours and hours passed, causing his butt and legs to cramp, but it gave him time to think; especially since he couldn't fall asleep to pass time. He thought about Lydia and Derek, and how he was able to talk to Lydia in his head. The thoughts wandered to Chuck, the maze, Alby and many other things. He wondered how his dad was doing with him being missing. Probably not great, might've started drinking again. The thoughts about his father made his mind focus back on his friends and he wanted to know if they were alright; so he figured why not give the mind-talking a try.

Closing his eyes, Thomas took a deep breath in and focused hard on Lydia. He pictured her face in his mind and concentrated on it.

Lydia. Can you hear me?

Moments passed and nothing happened, no response. He tried again.

Lydia. Please, if you can hear me tell me you're all okay.

A few minutes ticked by until he finally heard it; her voice in his head.

We're okay. How about you?

I'm okay. I remember you guys.

He could practically feel her smiling.

I know, I woke up before they separated us and Scott told me. I think they're going to interrogate us separately before letting us see each other. Make sure we're not making up a story, I'm guessing.

That made sense to Thomas, from a cop stand point. From his, he just wanted to see and be with his friends again.

How did this happen, Lydia? How are we able to communicate in our heads?

I don't know, Stiles— uh, Thomas. It's definitely weird. All I remember from earlier is that I felt a scream coming and the first name that came to my head was Chuck. I felt an urgent need to warn you and all of a sudden I just knew I could.

Thomas shifted in his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

We can figure it out later. Maybe Deaton can help us.

There was a moment of silence from Lydia's side of the conversation and Thomas was worried he'd said something wrong.

Finally she responded, if he's not gone doing god knows what, then yes. He can help get the werewolves' abilities back. Plus, I'm sure he'd love to see you.

The conversation was cut off when the car came to a halt in front of a tall building with many windows. Finally they were there.

Thomas was let out, stretching out his sore limbs from the extra long drive he had to endure. One by one other cars were pulled up behind his own, his friends being let out as they too stretched themselves. Thomas' arm was grabbed, quite harshly by a man in dark sunglasses and suit. He resisted the urge to punch the guy in the face as they entered the building and headed to a pair of elevators. They went up, exiting into a dark hallway with few doors.

Without a word, Thomas was taken to a small interrogation room and left there alone. He saw himself in the mirror, taking in the longer, dirtier hair, the stubble on his chin and cheeks he had growing, blood and a small cut on his busted nose, and the dry blood caked on his clothes and arm. His broken arm was set in an actual cast and sling, after being thoroughly cleaned by the woman in the ambulance from before.