Memories {Teen Wolf/Maze Runner crossover fanfiction}

"You're a Bloody Idiot."

*Scotts POV*

Come morning, for all their protests last night, Minho and Newt stood just as hopefully at the Mazes doors as he did. Waiting for them to open, waiting for Stiles to sprint back through. Maybe it was simple idiocy, but he wasn't ready to give up hope, Stiles was alive - he knew it.

"He's not dead." Lydia whispered, grabbing onto Scott's hand for support - he didn't mind, he probably needed it as much as she did, "I'm not wrong."

"You're never wrong about these things." Malia piped up from her place ahead of them, she was glaring intently at the doors - like her sheer force of will could open them.

"I wouldn't say never." Lydia frowned, gripping Scott's hand a little tighter - by now Minho and Newt had come over, the former eyeing Malia wearily.

"But this time?"

"This time I'm right."

"Well then-"

Malia's retort died in her throat as they all heard the unmistakable grinding of the Maze. Stone scraped across stone as it moved slowly open - too slowly, they all lent forwards, hope filling them despite them knowing better.

Futile. Hope was always futile.

The doors slid open, and, as Minho had promised, they were met with nothing - no limping Stiles or torn bits of cloth. Not even footprints to say where he'd been. Nothing, it looked, if anything, cleaner than it had last night.

"Dammit Tommy." Newt muttered, eyes welling with tears as Minho wrapped an arm around his shoulders - Scott guessed it must've stung. After all, Thomas was family to them, they were all each other had.

"Wait," Malia stepped forwards, so she was verging on the border, and squinted, focusing, "Don't you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Minho asked incredulously, but nobody answered - they were all too busy straining to hear the noise. Praying for all they could that it would be Stiles.

"That." Malia hissed, pointing to the edge of the tunnel. They all stared at the stone long enough for it to be awkward before he emerged. Limping, pale, bleeding, and not nearly as fast as he should've been. But alive, completely alive.

Scott didn't pause, didn't think, just sprinted straight out to meet Stiles and helped sport his weight, Minho soon taking some more of it - together the three of them hobbled their way to the glade, Stiles's breath painfully loud in Scott's ears.

"Tommy!" Newt rushed forwards as soon as they made it - but Stiles just fell uselessly to the floor, his breaths harsh and uneven.

"I'm fine." Stiles muttered, and made to pull himself up - which resulted in him pulling Scott to the ground with him. Lydia bent to their level, eyeing Thomas critically and using her shirt to swipe away his bleeding head.

"No you're not. But, you'll live." Lydia sighed, and stood with a grace that was way too out-of-place considering where they were. Scott let out a strangled kind of laugh, and just let himself soak up the knowledge that his brother was here. Alive. Okay.

"You're a bloody idiot." Newt snapped, running a stressed hand through his hair. Stiles gave him a look, and Newt caved, a small, almost traitorous grin spilling onto his face.

"Don't you ever try and save my life again you stupid shank." Minho rolled his eyes, though it wasn't without kindness - he too was clearly relieved.

"No promises." Stiles smiled - a real, genuine smile, and managed to pull himself up to sitting. Scott helped keep him upright, and together they managed to struggle to their feet.

Stiles looked hesitantly up at Malia, who looked like she didn't quite know whether to shout or hug Stiles. She sighed, shook her head slightly, and deadpan said, "I told you to shout if you needed anything."