Chapter Text
The pain that Thomas was feeling at this very moment was indescribable. It was not because of the bullet stuck inside his abdomen gushing out way too much blood for him to be even conscious, it was so much more than that. While they had brought down WICKED, the very ones who hurt and killed so many of their friends, the guilt and grief were eating him alive on the inside. No matter how many times he tries to rationalize and tell himself that it was all WICKED's doing with their 'End's justify the means' philosophy that killed the ones he called family, he could have done more.
He could have tried harder to save his loved ones and it was his fault for not doing more. He couldn't save Teresa.
He couldn't save Newt. The boy who grounded Thomas with a level head when he was at a loss for what to do, always worrying and taking care of everyone else but himself. The boy whom he had fallen in love with because of his kindness was dead.
Thomas was in and out of consciousness in Minho's and Jorge's arms while Vince, Brenda, Gally, and the many immunes running behind them. Tears threatened to escape Minho's eyes, he didn't know what he would do if he were to lose another best friend who was the closest thing he had to a brother the same day he lost Newt. He wouldn't be able to bear it.
"Come on Thomas! Stay with me!" He said desperately with tears rolling down his face.
"He'll be all right Minho, we just need to get him to a safe place to treat him," Jorge said trying not to lose his composure himself.
They were running through the fire-filled city to the exit since the burg had already taken way too much heat damage when they rescued Thomas from the collapsing building which almost caused them to crash. They had almost made it to the wall that was exploded into an exit earlier when suddenly many people emerged from the smoke entering and scattering through the city fully wearing black clothing with what looked like bulletproof vests and protective helmets with their guns aimed at them. Jorge, Vince, Brenda, and Gally all raised their guns back at the unknown people while Minho held onto Thomas and stood in front of the young immunes along with Frypan shielding them.
"DON'T MOVE!" One of the men demanded.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE?!" Jorge yelled back. From behind the wave of people, a tall man wearing a suit with a protection vest over it emerged with his hands high in front of him one of them holding what looked like to be a badge.
"WE ARE FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION! We received information about a group of minor immunes who were being held by WICKED and were sent to rescue them." The man announced. As he was going to say something else, his eyes wandered over the group in front of him analyzing them but abruptly stopped and stared directly at Thomas who had looked up to see what was going on as he was getting paler by the second. The shock and disbelief on the man's face was evident.
"Stiles?" He asked sounding bewildered as he took a small step towards Thomas.
Thomas looking confused and barely able to hear correctly as all the sounds mixed and muffled together. He only asked one thing before his body gave out and the world turned black.
"What the shuck is a Stiles?"