"Who are you? What is this about?" Tom asked as Hal shoved him into an old office filled with collapsed dry wall and a broken desk. A cracked picture frame lay on the floor, the picture in it slightly faded. It was a photo of a man in a baseball jersey and a young girl with braids resting on his shoulders smiling like nothing in the world could take that smile away from her.

Hal pushed Tom to the floor roughly and slammed the cracked door behind himself.

Hal glanced around the room briefly, his eyes filled with a darkness that frightened Tom terribly. He spotted a chair across the room and strode to it. He hurried back to the door and jammed it tightly under the doorknob as a lock.

"Who are you?" Tom asked again, his voice husky.

"Who I am isn't important, Professor. What I want is what you should be concerned with. If you comply, I'll let you see your precious boy again." Hal spoke lowly, his eyes boring into Tom's.

Tom swallowed before speaking. "Okay. All right. What is it that you want?" His voice was filled with genuine concern.

Tom heard footsteps outside and knew that Weaver had ordered his men to station outside the room in case something needed to be done. He couldn't let anything happen. He knew they'd shoot Hal if Hal became too much of a threat to Tom.

Ask him about the attack, Hal. Ask him about Boston. Chicago.

"What are you planning, Tom? An attack, right? Where?"

Hal watched as all the color in Tom's face washed out. He slowly began to shake his head, his lips pressed so tightly together they were white.

"I'm not going to tell you anything." Tom stated firmly.

Hal chuckled, his laugh hoarse and dry. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with Tom.

"Oh, I think you will, Professor. Otherwise you will be burying your boy." Hal said with a smirk on his face.

Tom clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. "No. You won't. Hal. You won't. You're in there, Hal, I know you are. You can fight this."
Hal's brow slowly furrowed. He looked at Tom. Hal was in there, fighting himself. But he wasn't strong enough. He felt himself being shoved deeper into his subconscious.

The shuffling outside had come to a halt. Tom supposed Weaver had ordered them to wait until further notice. He knew Weaver didn't want any harm to come to Hal any more than Tom did, but he would still do whatever he had to to keep the 2nd Mass safe.

Hal shook his head as if coming out of a daze. He cocked his head at Tom, and a smirk began to creep across his face once more.

"You think that'll work, Mason? Hal's not here anymore. I control him now. And either I get what I want from you, or I kill your son. Your choice." Hal stood up again, holding his pistol firmly.

Tom watched Hal closely, his eyes searching for any remainder of his son. He saw nothing, but he had to try.

"You've been through so much, Hal. These past few weeks have been hell, I know. But you have to know none of it was your fault." Tom watched Hal with uncertainty.

Hal's feature shifted noticeably then. He began to look more like himself. He frowned and stared at his father in mild confusion.

"What happened with those kids. There was nothing you could have done. It was out of your control." Tom continued quietly. "You couldn't have saved them, Hal. No one could have."

Hal broke through just a bit. He looked at his father and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he remained silent. His hands began to shake slightly as he felt the guilt and pain weighing on him once again.

Tom bit his bottom lip. "You know, just before the attacks, after that last lacrosse game of yours, your mother scolded me because I had missed it, just like most all of your games. I wish so badly now that I had been there to see you play. I wish I had been there to see a lot of things. You've grown into such a courageous, strong man, and I've missed so much. I'm so sorry, Hal."

Hal's breathing was becoming shaky and hard. He was there, fighting, but a part of him still wasn't in control.

"Tell me your plan...or I'll shoot myself…" Hal spoke weakly, his throat gruff from holding back tears.

"No." Tom said, shaking his head and rising to his feet slowly. "No, you won't shoot yourself."

Tears began to fall down Hal's cheek. He drew in a shaky breath and turned the gun on himself, pressing it firmly against his temple. "Tell me what I need to know, or I'll shoot... I swear..." His voice was barely a whimper now, and Tom knew Hal was fighting desperately with this thing.

"No, Hal. Don't do this. Give me the gun. Please. Just give me the gun." Tom held his hand out gently.

Hal fingered the trigger, and Tom's heart jolted painfully. "Boston. Chicago. Talk!" Hal yelled weakly.

That was when Tom saw it. He watched in horror as a small, worm-like bug slowly emerged from Hal's ear and crept across his cheek until it reached his mouth, then it vanished inside of his son once more.

Tom's heart was racing. Hal's face suddenly became dark and dangerous again. He smiled at Tom, his eyes fading from hazel to black.

"Death, then." He said, his voice low and menacing.

"No!" Tom lunged for Hal just as he pulled the trigger.

For the first time since the attacks, Hal felt good. He felt free. It was such a foreign feeling to him that he almost rejected it.

He was nowhere. There was nothing here. It was just black. He expected his mother to emerge as she had before, but he found himself alone in this darkness.

Hal layed down. He stretched his arms and legs as far as he could, listening to the stiff joints popping uncomfortably. He relaxed. Hal knew he was dead.

He didn't remember how, or when he had died. But he knew he wasn't living anymore. And somehow he was okay with that.

Hal always figured that when his time was up, he'd be afraid. He thought it would be terrible, and that he would do everything he could to fight it. But he found himself accepting death quite easily and comfortably now.

He thought of his mother, and wondered if this was what her death had been like. He hoped her death had been better. He hoped she had gone to a place full of people who watched after her and loved her, like a new family.

Hal closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, and as he did, he felt a sharp pain in his temple.

Hal sat up quickly, pressing a hand to his temple. He clenched his jaw, and again a shooting pain ripped through his skull.

Time to get back to work, Hal.

Hal's eyes fluttered open. His breath was icy and harsh. He felt straps pressing down on his chest and legs firmly. He suddenly became aware of the agonizing pain in his head, and he knew his suicide attempt had failed miserably.

Hal looked around the room he was being held in. There were blinding lights shining in his face from all directions, so his vision was severely compromised. He squinted and managed to make out some medical equipment: a gurney with needles and knives resting on top, an IV stand across the room and an awaiting IV bag lying on a table, and what appeared to be a blow torch next to the bag.

The room he was in was much bigger than the med bus. Hal rested back, his head throbbing painfully.

He felt the darkness creeping to the surface again, and he knew his only way out of this situation was to lie. He had to make everyone believe he was better, that he had control of his own body. It was his only hope for making it out alive.

Hal closed his eyes as the darkness consumed him entirely.

Don't let them know, Hal. Make them see you're in control now.

Hal's attention was suddenly diverted when he heard rustling outside the room. His head snapped to the side quickly, igniting a burst of pain. The door creaked open hesitantly, and Hal watched as Matt entered, his head lowered slightly in fear.

Matt closed the door and faced his brother bravely. "Hal?" His voice was shaky.

"Hey, buddy." Hal said, sounding as caring and loving as always. "What are you doing here?"

"Dad... Dad said you had a bug... He said to stay away, but I wanted to see you..." Matt avoided eye contact at all costs.

"Well, Dad was right, little man. I HAD a bug. But not now. It's gone now." Hal saw Matt's eyes fill with hope and joy instantly.

"It is? How did it go away?" Matt's voice sounded almost cheery.

Hal's lips curled up slowly. "It just left, buddy. It didn't need me anymore, so it just left. But Dad... Dad doesn't know it left, Matt. That's why I'm here, strapped down." Matt's face fell a little, and he listened to his brother's words intently.

"I need your help, Matt. Do you think you can help me?" Matt paused for a moment, then nodded. Hal smirked. "Good man. I need you to come over here and undo these straps for me. Can you do that, buddy?" Matt hesitated noticeably. He bit his lip and frowned.

"I don't know, Hal... Maybe we should wait until Dad gets here so he can undo them..." Matt's voice was small but cautious.

"Matt, I need you to undo them NOW." Matt immediately detected the frustration in Hal's voice, and he took a step back.

"Matt, UNDO THEM NOW." Hal couldn't hide his anger anymore. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Matt!" Matt stepped back, frightened, and his back slammed into Tom as he entered the room.

"Matt, I told you to stay away from here." Tom's voice was low and emotionless. "Dad, I..." Matt began, but Tom interrupted him. "Go, Matthew!" Tom said harshly.

Matt quickly left the room, leaving Tom alone with Hal.

"Dad, you gotta get me out of here. The bug left. It's gone." Hal said, his voice hoarse. Tom remained silent, staring blankly at his son.

"Dad, please. You have to believe me. Please. The bug's gone now. It's just me." Hal gave a feeble smile.

Tom finally spoke. "Anne is preparing to perform a surgery to remove the bug, Hal. It's Espheni technology. It'll make you better, kill that thing inside of you."

It'll kill you, Hal.

Hal's breath shuttered. "If it doesn't kill me, you mean? You don't know anything about Espheni technology. What if this kills me?"

Tom swallowed tightly, but his face remained emotionless. He said nothing.

"Dad, I don't wanna die." Hal said, stunned. "I don't wanna die, Dad. Dad!" Tom had turned away and was now walking out of the room.

"Dad! DAD!" Hal's voice cracked, and he began whimpering like a child. He struggled fiercely against the restraints, but gave up within moments.

Tom Mason is going to kill you.

Hal growled angrily. "You son of a bitch! I hope I see you in hell, you goddamn coward!" Hal's voice echoed throughout the room.

Hal felt the veins in his neck and forehead pulsing out as he strained himself against the tight restraints. He felt the wound on his head from the bullet reopen and blood flow warmly into his hair.

Anne stood to Hal's left, wearing a white coat and a surgeon's mask. She was toying around with a slimy, tube looking thing. She picked up a drill and switched it on.

Hal let out an angry howl of fear. Tom Mason stood at the other end of the room, watching his son in agony. Ben was next to his father, his arm resting reassuringly on his shoulder. Maggie stood on Tom's other side, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Bastard!" Hal screamed, his voice fierce and threatening. He thrashed against the straps furiously.

Anne drilled into the tube, her eyes narrowed in focus. Hal looked away in fear, groaning in rage as he attempted one last time to break free. Then it happened.

Anne placed something dark in front of Hal's face. He flinched away, gritting his teeth and growling like an animal. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

The pain came immediately. It was unbearable. Hal felt fire racing through his veins. He felt as though his insides were melting.

"Ahhhhhggghh!" Hal screamed in fury as he felt the fire coursing through him. "Aghhhhgghhhaaaaaa!" His scream began to falter as the pain became too excruciating to bear. Hal felt his body seizing uncontrollably. "Please kill me!" He begged in agony, his voice ripping through the air like a siren.

He felt himself choking on the pain, his screams coming out like gargles. And then he let himself slip away, letting go of everything.

Hal Mason fell into the darkness once more, and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to find his way back to the light again.