CHAPTER 9

Hoboken Police Department
Hoboken, NJ
10:07 AM EST

"... Ten-four, we're on our way."

Officer James "Iggs" Igby rested the radio on his hip back in its holder, his eyes shifting toward Will's broad form that was occupying a seat in front of his computer, as it had for the last couple hours. "Will," Iggs called softly, seeing Will turn to him. "Do you have a minute?"

Will bolted from his chair immediately, his transmission of Iggs' thoughts clear as day. "When?" he asked once he reached him, his eyes wild.

"The officer who found her thinks it wasn't any more than a couple hours ago," Iggs said softly, his brow wrinkling as he realized he hadn't even shared the terrible news with Will. "Wait, how did you know-"

"How?" Will interrupted.

"... A single round to the head."

"Any witnesses?"

Iggs shook his head, still confused as to how Will knew. "How did you know what I-"

"Are they sure it's her?" Will asked, cutting him off.

"It's what her ID said. When she arrives to Doc's department, you're welcome to confirm identity ... if you're up to it."

Will swallowed, shutting his eyes as he thought of Tonya Nichols. Though he hadn't dated her for a terribly long time, he cared for Tonya, remembering her forgiving and understanding character when she finally made him realize he was in love with Cara. Who would want her dead? he thought, pained by the idea of her being taken so soon from the world in such a dark, troubling way. "Son of a bitch," he whispered, his eyes opening in sudden revelation. Without another word, Will tore back to his desk, Iggs watching as he faced Reyes. "I need you to get Skinner on the phone," Will ordered. "Gibson's life is in danger."

"What happened, William?" Reyes asked.

"Whoever shot Cara's mother just killed an ex-girlfriend of mine in cold blood," Will said, fumbling over some of the words as it fully registered into his mind.

"Oh my God," Reyes whispered.

"They're sending me messages, Reyes," Will continued, tucking the bounty hunter's gun into a holster he attached to his belt. "You need to stay here, get on the phone with Skinner and see where they are. Then call me as soon as you know. I need to get to them before they do."

"Wait," Reyes called after Will as he began to walk away, "where are you going?"

"I need to check on someone," Will said. "Just stay here and get me their location. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before she could object, Will snatched a set of car keys from Cindy's desk, bolting out of the bullpen with urgency. Reyes' lips parted, her mind filling with thoughts of Doggett, Mulder, Scully and Cara, Will's sudden disappearance adding to her compilation of worries.

Gunnison, UT
8:29 AM MST

"Mulder?" Scully whispered, gently stroking his face. He remained motionless in her hands, his head and body limp as if he were a lump of clay waiting to be formed by the sculptor who kneeled in front of him. The only thing that reassured Scully of Mulder's existence was his steady pulse she had found on his neck. Wincing as she braced herself against her own pain, she lifted a hand to stroke her fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him awake, though she wasn't even sure if he was asleep. He seemed to be in a deep catatonic state, Scully concluding it was the results of a drug administered to him to keep him calm and quiet, his bicep bearing a small insertion mark to back up her theory. No doubt Mulder had given them a run for their money despite his immobility, but Scully still knew they retained ultimate victory, given the cuts with blood and large bruises he now sported on his face and what she could see of his body.

"Scully," Mulder muttered, his eyes still closed and his head still hanging.

"I'm here, Mulder," she assured softly, still stroking his hair.

"Scully … Scully …" He kept repeating himself under his breath, which became increasingly more shallow, his voice cracking as he stirred. "Scully … … Scully … … SCULLY …"

"Mulder, I'm right here," she whispered into his ear, hoping to snap him out of his stupor.

"SCULLAAAAAY!" he screamed, his head lifting and his neck arching back against her hands, shaking her off of himself with anger. Scully fell away from him, crying out in pain as she landed on her broken ribs. Concerned, Doggett rushed to her side, gently helping her up as they watched Mulder's lividity reach a boiling point. His eyes flashed open; hostile against his restraints, he lurched forward in an attempt to free himself, yanking violently against the pole. "SCULLAAAAAY! I'LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU BASTARDS! SCULLAAAAAY!"

"Mulder! ... Mulder!" Scully assured, pulling herself toward him and taking his face in her hands. "I'm right here! Mulder, I'm right here!" She watched as his eyes lowered to look into hers, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he slowly registered her existence.

"Scully," he breathed, his chest still rising and falling quickly. "Scully ... Scully, are you alright?"

"I'm okay," she replied, still clutching his face. He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he took a few deep breaths, feeling the softness of her hands against his beard-shadowed cheeks.

"What did they do to you?" he whispered.

"I'm fine, Mulder."

"Dana, what did she do?" he asked firmly, looking down at her with pent-up rage.

"It was her fault."

Both of them turned as they heard her voice across the room, seeing Joy stride forward toward them. "I gave her an opportunity to see you earlier, but she wasn't cooperating."

"If you touch her again-" Mulder growled.

"Oh Fox," Joy interrupted, "it's quite admirable, your attempt at threats. Given your current position on the, uh, totem pole, I don't think there's much merit to them, though."

"Mulder," Scully whispered, bracing Mulder as he lunged against his cuffs, his nostrils flared as he glared at Joy.

"I'm going to kill you myself," Mulder snapped.

"You make it sound as though you think William is capable of killing me," Joy noted with a smile.

"I might not wait for him to."

"And how do you figure you'll be able to escape, Fox?" Joy circled behind to view the two sets of cuffs Mulder was still bound in, his hands and fingers numb from lack of circulation as he knelt into the wood floor. "Of course, I could always offer a trade," she suggested. "Dana would make a nice decoration as well."

"No." Mulder's eyes narrowing at Joy. "Don't touch her."

"Then I'd stop dreaming of heroics and start assessing the situation like the agent you once were," Joy concluded. "You know, none of you have even bothered to negotiate with me. I'm kind of surprised."

"Now why would we want to negotiate with you?" Doggett asked, eyeing her as he stood across from Scully and Mulder.

"I honestly don't need all three of you," Joy explained. "I could let one of you go."

"Let Scully go," Mulder ordered.

"No," Scully objected, shaking her head.

"Uh-uh, it's not that easy, Fox," Joy said, her hands on her hips. "What's in it for me?" she asked, looking down at Mulder.

"What do I have that you want?" Mulder asked.

"Besides William?" Joy asked, moistening her lips. "Hmm … I guess not much besides yourself."

"Alright," Doggett said, taking a step closer, "let them both go and I'll give you federal access."

"No, Doggett," Mulder objected, seeing Joy's peaked interest.

"Hmm, interesting," Joy commented, now nearing Doggett. "I can't do two parents, but I can do one."

"Let Mulder go," Scully insisted.

"Scully for access," Doggett offered, his eyes focused on Joy's as he heard Scully's objection.

Joy smiled at Doggett. "Oh, John," she said softly, "it's so valiant of you." Joy circled around him, her eyes skimming over him. "You know, it's so painfully obvious your … appreciation of Dana. Did you know he harbored thoughts like that, Fox?" she asked, still smiling at Doggett. "I bet he had a lot more of them when you left Dana for that year. Hmm, I wonder if Monica knows about those thoughts of yours, John." Doggett remained silent, his jaw flexing as Joy stood behind him, leaning into his ear. "But you poor thing … you never had a chance, Johnny Boy," she whispered. "Just like your offer doesn't now."

Doggett quickly grabbed Joy's arm, yanking her into himself as he wrapped his arm around her throat. With a cool laugh, Joy flipped Doggett over herself, her unnatural strength forcing him onto the floor as his back slammed against the wood. He groaned in pain, trying to roll out of her way before her boot landed on his throat, clamping him in place as she closed off his airways.

As Mulder pulled at his cuffs to try to stop her, Scully rushed toward Joy and grabbed her from behind, ripping her off of Doggett. Scully heard him gag and cough as he regained his ability to breathe, clutching onto Joy with every ounce of strength she could. Scully knew she didn't have a shot against Joy, finding her arm quickly twisted behind her as Joy's knee repeatedly slammed into her back. She screamed, the pain searing through her body as she felt her broken ribs be pounded on, hearing Mulder curse and shout at Joy in front of her. When Joy tossed Scully to the floor next to Mulder, she straightened her shirt, seeing both Doggett and Scully incapacitated as they tried to recover. "Well," she said, looking at Mulder, who was fuming in rage, "I think you three just lost your chance at a deal. It's a shame, really."

With a snap of her fingers, two large replacements entered the room, gripping Doggett and Scully and pulling them to their feet. "You're dead, you hear me? I'LL KILL YOU!" Mulder yelled, feeling his head pounding as he yanked against the cuffs, his skin burning as the metal tore his flesh. He groaned as he continually wrestled against the pole, watching as Scully and Doggett were dragged from the room while Joy stepped close to him, smiling down at him just out of his reach.

"I can't wait to see you try," Joy whispered.

Port Washington, NY
10:59 AM EST

"My God."

His eyes widened, his head shaking in disbelief as he answered the door. "William," he said softly. "What in the hell-"

"Let me in," Will said softly.

"Son, what happened to you?"

"Jack … they know."

"What? How?"

"Please … just let me in."

Martin Jackson considered himself to be a man with a good sense of judgment, observing and analyzing character one of his many fluencies when he was a working officer for the NYPD. Never would he had imagined the turn he saw William Van De Kamp take over the last eight months, keeping tabs on the case that stunned and shocked him as it unfolded.

The frantic phone call he received only forty-five minutes ago from Will paralyzed Martin, his ability to reason destroyed as soon as he heard the pain and urgency in the young man's voice. He had considered Will as a son, mentoring him since the age of seventeen, guiding him into a career of law enforcement. He also knew he served as a father figure to Will, feeling privileged to be let in on the deepest secrets the young man held - secrets which Martin knew were dangerous and valuable, secrets he forced Will to keep locked deep inside of him for his own safety. Secrets he now knew were exposed in January, resulting in the chaos that quickly became Will's life.

With a deep breath, Martin let Will in, closing the door behind them. "Are you alone?" Will demanded.

"Of course," Martin snapped. "Wouldn't you think I'd know if I wasn't?"

"Sir," Will said softly, "I have reason to believe your life is in danger. I need you to pack a bag and come with me."

"What in the hell are you talking about, William?" Martin demanded.

"Sir, we don't have time to-"

"Oh yes you do," Martin interrupted, eyeing Will. "I'm not going anywhere until I hear an explanation."

"It's what I told you before, Jack," Will whispered. "It's … I was right."

"What are you-"

"ME," Will said firmly. "Me, Jack. Me and all my freakish abilities. Do you remember what I told you eight years ago?"

Martin paused, searching Will's eyes. "Son," he said softly, "what you're saying is that … whoever made you, found you?"

"Yes," Will breathed. "Please. Please get some things quickly and come with me."

"Who is after you, William?" Martin asked gently, protectively.

"I'll explain more on the ride. Please."

With a sigh, Martin turned, disappearing into the corridor leading to his bedroom. A moment later, the silencer gunshot rang softly, Will's eyes wide with terror and heart racing as he sprinted toward the sound he was surprised he heard. "Jack!" he yelled, shoving open the bedroom door to find him on the ground, blood leaking from his chest. "Shit!" Will yelled, bending down and checking his pulse, relieved when he found a faint one. His eyes focused on Martin's face that was wrought with pain. "Hang in there, damnit!" he ordered. Will tore the nearby bedsheet, pressing the ripped cloth into Martin's wound as he shook underneath him.

Will's eyes flicked up, seeing the ground-floor window open, the curtains shoved aside to reveal the escape point of the shooter. "William," he heard Martin say shakily, his focus shifting back to the man under him.

"Shh," Will said, "hang in there, okay? Just hold on. I'll call an ambulance."

"No, William … listen to me … worm eaten hut."

Will shook his head. "What?"

"Worm … eaten … hut."

"Jack-"

"Worm … eaten … hut."

"I don't understand!" Will felt Martin's body relax under him, seeing his lungs collapse as the air ceased to flow through them. "SHIT!" he cursed, still holding the sheet to Martin's wound. "No!" Will pressed his hands to Martin's chest, performing CPR as he tried to revive the lifeless man below his strong hands. Trembling, Will pressed his fingers to Martin's neck, his eyes closing when he wasn't able to locate a rhythm. He collapsed fully on his knees, feeling the quivers of his sorrow run through his body as he wept.

Knowing Martin was dead and that he was still considered a fugitive, Will stood, swallowing hard as he took one last look at Martin's lifeless body. He moved to the window, peering out into the backyard of the home, knowing by now the shooter was long gone. Will's choice to aid Martin had caused him the ability to put a face to the two heinous deaths that occurred in a matter of hours that day, each striking a chord with Will personally.

What had Martin meant by worm eaten hut? Will was sure he heard him correctly, the arrangement of words unexpected and confusing. Worm eaten hut. Worm eaten hut.

As the words rang through his mind, he quietly slipped out of the house, fleeing the scene. Despite his protection from the Chief, he knew when Martin was discovered, his fingerprints would be lifted from the body or the house, which meant he would be the first suspect the Long Island Department would pursue. It also meant the Feds would be notified of his return, which he knew would mean he would have no choice but to be on the run again. If he stayed and reported the shooting, he risked exposing himself as a fraud and risked being drug further away from where he needed to be, which was pursuing Cara.

Thankful for the concealed driveway and home Martin had lived in, Will pulled the squad car out of the neighborhood, his face wet with tears as he wearily drove back to Hoboken.

Rural West Virginia
11:10 AM EST

Hot. So hot in here. So incredibly hot.

Cara's eyes were heavy, the lids slowly lifting to reveal the cell she was trapped in around her. A wave of nausea hit her as she carefully sat up, her eyes falling on the cold food still sitting on the table she had refused earlier. How did it get so hot in here? she thought, wiping the sweat from her brow as her stomach flipped and churned with hunger. With trepidation, Cara took the apple sitting on the tray and bit into it, tasting its sweetness as she chewed it thoughtfully, her head still woozy from the sedative she was given. She finished the apple faster than she thought she would, moving on to the now stale toast that she devoured, realizing just how hungry she was. She ate out of necessity, for the children tucked away in her womb that she was so desperate to protect, sipping juice from the small carton to quench her dry throat from the stifling heat of the room as she felt her illness begin to subside.

Once she felt the strength return to her body, she stood, eyeing the shower with a grimace. She wanted so badly to refresh herself - it was a burning temperature inside of her cell, hotter than she remembered it to be earlier that morning. She felt slick with perspiration and faint from the overwhelming heat. In the corner of the room sat the shower and she looked toward it, wanting to feel human again under its cool, refreshing spray. Yet, she feared the ever-present red dot that shone high above her, knowing it would easily violate any sense of privacy she had, the thought of which made her resist utilizing the stall for a while. The minutes ticked by slowly, the heat seeming to increase to an unbearable level, and Cara moved toward the vents in the ceiling, feeling the hot air quickly being pushed through to the room. As she wrestled in her mind with the actions she now took, she stripped her clothes with haste and closed herself in the shower, twisting the knob and feeling the cool water pour onto her skin with relief.

The thought of people watching her under such intimate circumstances caused her nausea to return, she working quickly inside the tiny stall as she lathered and rinsed, not willing to waste a single second. When she finished, she wrapped herself immediately in a towel, dressing with as much speed as she could in her own clothes that she saw folded nearby that were taken from her travel bag. She grit her teeth as she heard the whoosh of the heating and cooling system groan, feeling it shift gears as the air conditioning pumped through the openings in the ceiling. Bastards, she thought bitterly. They were forcing her to adapt to her surroundings, testing her limits. If she refused to cooperate, she would pay the price. This was their game, their show of control. The more she withheld, the more angry they would become. She hated herself for falling victim to their ploy, unable to see their angle until after the fact.

"Is this your form of entertainment?" she asked sharply, eyeing the red dot in the corner. "You get off on it, maybe? You know, it's pathetic to imagine one needing voyeurism in order to feel superior!"

She sat angrily on the bed, her eyes flicking back to the light as it continued to shine, unmoved by her convicted accusations. Her head snapped to the cell door that opened, the Smoking Man stepping inside, a cell phone in the hand his cigarette wasn't in. "If you so much as look at me funny, I'll kill you, you bastard," she growled, not moving from the bed.

"I see you've opted to indulge yourself," the Smoking Man said calmly.

Cara yelled, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak with William," he replied, dragging from his cigarette.

"Well, I'm not feeling like being a pawn right now," Cara replied, turning her eyes away from him.

"I'm offering an open conversation, Caraline," he continued, exhaling. "A solid block of time to discuss whatever you wish with William." Though she didn't look at him, he could clearly see the interest in her body language. "Go on," he said, resting the phone on the table. "Someone will be back in five minutes to collect the phone. It's up to you if you want to talk to him." As he headed for the door, he paused. "Oh, and trying any other number is pointless. The phone will only accept his, so it's him or nothing."

Cara continued to look at the wall away from the Smoking Man as the cell door slammed shut, her eyes eventually shifting to the black device that rested on the tabletop. She knew they desired control so much that they would do everything possible to toy with her to expose her weaknesses. Yet, the opportunity to speak to Will at any length clutched at her heart, her soul aching to hear his voice and to take comfort in it.

Closing her eyes, she swiped the phone from the table, holding it in her hands as she carefully pressed the digits she committed to memory, raising it slowly to her ear as she heard the ring of the other line.

"Hello?"