A/N: Yeah, don't you hate it when you don't write down ideas so now I have no idea where I'm going with this story or what I wanted to-

Oh okay I just thought of something to do.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend and loyal fan, Icedragon19, who scored a 94 on a state (? correct me if I'm wrong) exam! You go buddy!

His feet were dragging against the ground and the souls of his feet had fallen out a few miles back. The dirt and the sun were beating down on him, but at least it wasn't raining. Twelve hadn't gone back to the motel room the night before, and he had just run. He'd gone to the pharmacy, gotten the money for Mrs. Goom, paid her, and ran. He wanted nothing more to do with Danny and Sam and Tucker.

No matter how much his heart hurt to see his former friends. No. He thought bitterly as he continued to trek through the terrain. It hadn't changed much since he'd left the town. The highway stretched on to his left, continuing into the horizon and the sides of the highway dipped into ditches and stretched into fields and forests.

The air was getting cleaner though, he noticed with a small sniffle. He was cold and tired and hungry. He was getting sick, and he had no way to use his ghost powers without fear of melting. He didn't believe that Danny had a stabilizer, and he didn't want to hang around to find out what it was. He didn't want to die, he really, really didn't.

He was nearing the Canadian border, and he felt a small elation in his heart. If he could just cross the border, they wouldn't be able to get to him. They wouldn't be able to find him and they wouldn't be able to chase him. No one would know him in Canada and maybe he'd move to that French place. No one ever went there, so he'd be able to hide out. Maybe start a new life until he vaporized.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he walked, swaying slightly with his exhaustion. It would be good to be in Canada.

He didn't notice the van pull up behind him, or the window rolling down. He didn't notice the muzzle of the gun pointing towards him, a silencer on it so it wouldn't be heard. He didn't hear the soft puft of a tranquilizer bullet. But Twelve did feel it bury deep into the muscle in his back and he arched, trying to snuff out the pain by pinching it. His throat worked as he screamed in pain, and his knees gave out as the blissful darkness of the tranquilizer sped through his body.

His eyes were locked on the distance shape on the horizon as his head slammed against the side of the road. The border guard, he knew it was the border guard. He had been so close to freedom, and suddenly all he could hear in his mind was, "O' Canada…"

"Here's your assignment. Treat him, and guard him." A gun was shoved roughly into his hands and he gripped it tightly, looking down at it before back up at his superior with a tight nod. All the Guys in White were trained to carry weapons, but he was also a certified doctor, and this kid sure needed one.

"We're lucky that station out there finally paid off," his superior mumbled as he turned back to his desk, his bald head catching the fluorescent lighting and blinding the junior agent slightly. "Mrs. Goom was an excellent look out, and I knew that town would attract a ghost sooner or later." He said with a smirk, shifting through his papers.

Junior nodded, his eyes darting to the door, knowing he needed to get going to relieve the person currently watching the ghost. His dark sunglasses covered his movements though, and his superior didn't seem to notice. "This ghost is different though," he continued, pulling out the file for the newest ghost in their collection. "He seems to have a heartbeat; therefore, he's not quite dead." This caused Junior to frown. Ghosts weren't alive. There was no way they could be; the very definition of ghost was that they were dead; a manifestation of a human's very soul.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he had a—creature to watch over. He was excited to start his very first assignment; excited to be able to prove to the agency that he was ready for that promotion they'd been dangling over his face. If he got it, if everything went right with this assignment, he was going to buy his girlfriend the best ring around. He'd finally be able to propose to her, just like he'd wanted to for the longest time. He'd take her to France—she'd always wanted to go to France. He'd propose under the Eiffel tower, at night when it was all lit up like a Christmas tree. He smiled in spite of himself, eager to get out there and to show them that he was ready for this. "Sir," Junior began cautiously, "I need to go relieve Agent O." he said with a small concerned frown.

"Oh! Yes, alright. Go ahead. Report back every four hours."

It was a permanent assignment. Junior would have armed guards outside the door, though he would be able to leave the room whenever he wanted, though he was strongly encouraged to stay with the ghost for as long as possible each day. It wasn't like he was going to be in any danger; the ghost was going to be behind a ghost-proof clear wall, so Junior could observe him and take notes. There was a way to access his enclosure in case of medical emergency, but being a ghost, he'd heal fairly quickly.

Junior stood, hooking the gun into the holster on his belt. He was led out and down the hall by two heavily muscled agents, they weren't even trying to hide their guns—both human and ectoplasmic—as they led him down a hall filled to the brim with cells of ghosts and other monsters and creatures they'd captured.

One could never be too sure when dabbling in the wold of the supernatural.

They came to a small door and Junior looked inside through the small peep hole. There wasn't anything he could see aside from a small reading table and the very edge of the ghost-proof wall. The two agents who escorted him unlocked the door and pulled it open. Agent O turned and gave him a nod in greeting before tossing a set of keys at him. "Good luck with this one," he said with a stretch. "He's a tough."

Junior nodded, a little stunned at the sudden position. Quietly, the other guards left and he was alone. Opening the heavy iron door, Junior glanced inside; what greeted him was a normal room, something that almost gave off an air of peace. If it weren't for the slightly glowing and humming shield nestled halfway through the room, it'd be a nice little apartment.

Junior cautiously stepped in, glancing around. He couldn't see any signs of the detained ghost; so he figured he must be in the attached washroom. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair provided for him, Junior waited patiently. He could faintly hear the running of a tap; so the ghost was probably showering. He should feel privileged, Junior thought to himself smugly. He's got it pretty good here.

The junior agent crossed his arms on his laps as he smiled smugly to himself, proud of his agency and their way of dealing with ghostly threats.

He was beginning to doze off when the door to the bathroom opened and the ghost—no, he didn't look like a ghost at all. He looked like an emaciated teenager. There was no ghostly glow, no glaring supernatural eyes. He looked just like a tired human would. His hair, shaved on both sides of his head to make a Mohawk was flopped to the side, dripping water down half his face, his facial piercings glistened with moisture.

The kid turned his eyes towards the agent, and Junior started in surprised at the emotions boiling in them. His eyes were such an innocent blue depths, that the anger and confusion that misted them simply didn't seem plausible.

The ghost gave Junior such a sad look before turning away, walking deeper into his little enclosure. Junior turned, eyeing the door before quickly getting up and locking it before turning and glancing back into the ghost's enclosure. "I don't understand…" he muttered to himself, walking up to the barrier separating him from the creature.

There was a small communication box installed in the barrier, and Junior found his hand coming up and pressing the small button. "Hey, kid. What's your name?" He was compelled somehow to ask these questions; compelled to make sure the kid was okay. Dang it, what kind of Guy in White was he? He couldn't even keep animosity towards a ghost!

The ghost looked at him, his face no unreadable before turning around and sitting on the thin mattress the GIW provided with the cell. His hands were working, but his fingers were simply picking at his skin, his eyes blankly staring at the wall across from him. Discouraged, Junior tried again, pressing the button and asking his question again, a bit more forcefully this time.

The ghost looked over, his brow furrowing furiously. "Twelve," He snapped, balling his fists in anger. His voice was scratchy and slightly muffled from the less-than-quality microphone installed to communicate with the agents. "They call me Twelve." Something seemed to calm him down and he sadly looked at the floor, whispering something the microphones couldn't catch.

"Twelve?" Junior repeated, obviously confused. He knew ghosts used weird names for their offspring, but Twelve was such a… planned name. Something that made him feel like the ghost boy in front of him hadn't meant to be around.

"What's your name?" The voice was so unexpected it jolted Junior out of his thoughts and he blinked at the ghost, trying to collect his thoughts. "Or…well, I guess your code name, since you guys are so obsessed with hiding your identities." He barked a bitter laugh, and Junior's eyebrows furrowed.

"Uh, well, I'm a junior agent, so they call me Junior." He said before drawing himself up a bit, puffing out his chest. "You're my first major assignment." He added with a bit of pride. He knew he wouldn't screw this one up.

"Feh," Twelve snorted before kicking his feet up and laying back on the bed. "Congrats Junior, I'm sure you're just so proud."

Junior swallowed nervously but decided not to respond. He moved away to sit at the small desk, a little put off by the ghostly teenager. His superior had mentioned something about this kid not being fully dead. How was that even possible? He grabbed his notebook, tapping the back of his pencil against his lower lip, his eyes scanning the boy's room.

Nothing had been touched since he'd been put there. The kid mostly just slept and showered, he hadn't personalized his space at all, and he just seemed…mopey. Ghosts didn't mope, did they? Most of them were very violent, and stopped at nothing to destroy the room and try to escape. But Twelve…

Junior sighed, rubbing his forehead in confusion over this case. The kid was just a mystery, and he knew that he'd never be able to ask him directly. The kid just wasn't a talker.

Junior had quite the hard case on his hands.

How long had he been trapped in this hell hole?

Really, he didn't care anymore. Twelve sat on the metal bench, his shirt off and several wires attached to his chest and to machines. He stared blankly ahead; his hair had started growing out, much to his disappointment. He rather liked his Mohawk. He didn't even care for the fact that they were probably going to dissect him. He was just waiting for it to end.

"So, what are my vitals tellin' ya, boy?" Twelve asked, swinging his feet lazily over the edge of the table. He could honestly care less about it, but the silence was starting to eat at him.

Junior—he still couldn't get over the fact that they actually called their agents Junior—glanced up at him from the print out he was reading. He looked comical like that, his reading glasses resting on the edge of his nose, his gaze hazed with contemplation. It reminded him of Vlad. Vlad had always worn reading glasses and he'd often made fun of him for it.

Twelve's anger sprouted and his clenched fists began to shake, yet again Vlad had crept his way into his thoughts; he couldn't let this keep happening! He had to get rid of Vlad, permanently.

A malicious grin spread on the halfa's face. He knew now that he couldn't just let Vlad walk away. He thought if he got far enough away from the man, that he'd be free.

But no.

It wasn't like that. He had to physically remove Vlad in order to be completely free.

His eyes flashed green for a moment as he glanced over at the junior agent in charge of him. He'd have to start somewhere…

Right?

A/N:

Hey! So in case you don't read Lockdown:

All my stories are currently under PARTIAL HIATUS.

This means that they WILL be updated, they will only be updated slower than normal.

This is because school's back in session (as of the end of August) and I'm sorry, but school will come first.

Sorry for the disappointment this may cause.