CHAPTER 2

"Scully, come look at this."

Drying her soapy hands on the weathered dish towel that hung faithfully from the handle of their small oven, Scully sighed a little under her breath. As of late, Mulder's obsession was reading the national news in large and small online newspapers alike. Though he tried to keep his mind off of the events to come in December, it was growing harder to ignore the need to prepare for what was ahead.

Scully peered over at him while she crossed into the small office space in their home; she mentally noted the physical toll that 2012 had already taken on Mulder, his hair disheveled and his beard longer than usual. Only a week ago, he finished building an underground shelter where he stockpiled canned goods, weapons and other survival essentials for them to use. When he wasn't stockpiling the shelter, he was reading online news articles in the dark, cracking sunflower seeds between his teeth and tossing pencils into the drop ceiling above his head.

Scully frowned; Mulder didn't change. He wouldn't let go, even for a moment. Perhaps she was too nonchalant about things at times, but what's the sense in preserving life if it hasn't even been lived? She wanted to rest, to breathe. She had come so far and she just wanted to leave the darkness behind.

The time Mulder spent at the computer researching wasn't all doom and gloom. She knew he had still been looking for William in all of his daily research, just as she had in every free moment she could. They stopped speaking about it after a while, each unsure if the other could deal with the heartbreak of so many dead ends.

What troubled Scully, though, was her recurring dream she had been having over the last month. The dream was a compilation of key points in their previous investigations - only, it wasn't Mulder she was investigating with, but an adult William. It was strange to say the least - after all, in her dreams she was the same age, yet her son who would be ten this year was a full grown man, powerful and strong with an obvious greatness about him. Scully never told Mulder of the dream; she feared he would see too much into it. She assumed the dreams were some sort of psychological mental distraction from the obvious - William was no where to be found, and she would never be able to see what he would become.

"What is it?" Scully asked, now behind Mulder peering at the screen where his articles were opened on the browser. Without turning to acknowledge her presence, Mulder slipped a sunflower seed between his teeth, holding it in place with his jaws as he spoke through the unoccupied side of his mouth.

"Check this out, this happened in Hoboken, New Jersey yesterday," he said, the sunflower seed he had between his teeth mushing some of the letter sounds together. "A murder investigation and a disappearance, within days of each other."

"Those kinds of things are happening everywhere, Mulder." It was obvious Scully didn't see the significance of the, albeit unfortunate, events.

"Yeah, but are cops the suspects in all of them?"

Scully leaned in, skimming the article from The Times Online, not seeing anything that would be related to what they were most concerned with. Mulder cracked the sunflower loudly, causing Scully to step back with an annoyed sigh. "Really, I'm not sure where you're going with this." Her tone was laced with impatience.

Mulder jabbed his finger at the computer monitor. "UN-IDENTI-FIED CHEM-I-CAL SUB-STANCE," he sounded out for emphasis. This time, Scully leaned back in with a peaked interest. She took a closer look at the article, noting how Mulder's jaw cracked slightly as he chewed the seed he shelled.

"So …" she began after a moment, "... a chemist is murdered, they have a suspect but can't find him. Then another chemist goes missing, last seen with another unidentified Caucasian male. Both from the same place."

"The cleaning crew found the acid burns."

"They are chemists, Mulder. They could have been supplying someone for chemical warfare."

Mulder pointed at the section Scully hadn't read. "Read this about the cop."

"'Investigating officers C. English and W-'" Scully froze as she read the last name first to herself. She opened her mouth to continue to speak but couldn't find any words. It was then that Mulder turned to her, sensing what was running wildly through her head. "Van De Kamp …" she said softly.

"Scully," Mulder said gently, taking her hand, "it's not him. It can't be, he's ten."

After a moment, Scully nodded, shaking her head. "You're right. Anyway, 'Officer … Van De Kamp … is in federal custody after an episode of unexplained violence against Officer English while they were investigating the crime scene that resulted in Van De Kamp being shot after refusal of surrender. Officer Van De Kamp is being psychologically evaluated under heavy security. Officer English declined to comment.'"

Scully sat on the edge of the desk, quiet. "Why show me this, Mulder?" she asked softly. He knew she was upset to have to read the name, and he regretted that completely strange coincidence, but she wasn't reading close enough between the lines with their background. She was still stuck on W. Van De Kamp.

"Scully, this screams Super Soldier," Mulder replied gently. "The acid marks that can't be identified, the disappearing people …"

"But where does the officer's craziness come in?"

"It's probably a cover-up. He's in on it."

"A dirty cop?"

"Why not?"

Scully shook her head. "You're reaching, Mulder. You want this to be something it's not. It's an unfortunate case of murder and missing persons. But that's it." With that, she stood up and left the room. Mulder whirled around in his chair and followed her into the kitchen.

"Are you kidding me? You're actually buying the crap they want to sell everyone?" he accused.

Scully turned to face him, furious. "I'm not buying anything, Mulder! There is nothing to buy! You're seeing something that isn't there!"

The two stared at each other, fierceness in both of their eyes to defend their beliefs regarding the article. Scully closed her eyes tightly, covering her face with her hands. "Please," she almost whispered. "Please, can we just eat dinner like two normal human beings who supposedly share a home and a life together?"

Mulder tightened his jaw, teetering on the edge between continuing the fight and surrendering, keeping his theories to himself. As he scanned Scully's glassy blue eyes, Mulder audibly sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah we can."

Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. Neither of them spoke to the other, each too consumed with their own thoughts regarding the article. After cleaning the dishes, Scully went to bed early to read and Mulder resumed his online investigating. It was in the wee hours of the morning that Scully felt Mulder slip into bed next to her, wrapping his long arms around her from behind as he tucked his nose into her hair that was tossed on the pillow behind her.

"Sorry," he murmured softly, knowing she was awake as he noticed her breathing pattern change with his arrival into bed.

"Don't be," she whispered, not moving. "I should be."

"No," he replied, placing a gentle kiss on her head. "I was the one who said we would leave the darkness. I guess I'm too scared to actually do it just yet." Scully shifted in his arms, pressing closer to him. "I guess I just want the control."

"We still don't know what will happen," she gently replied, squeezing his hand and rubbing circles on it with her thumb.

"I know."

"I hate not knowing."

Mulder pressed another kiss into her hair. "Me too."

University Medical
Hoboken, NJ

1:56 AM

Cara stretched her neck slowly to the side, her eyes never leaving the hospital door that Will was behind. She knew they were able to remove the bullet that he had taken in his shoulder, but even after surgery she still wasn't allowed to see him. It had been several hours and several cups of coffee later since she first arrived after he was transported. Cara couldn't understand why she just couldn't see him. Was he still violent? Did they have to sedate him? She was almost positive they would have, given his crazed state the day before.

She had kept busy for those several hours that she waited to see him, most of them being harassed by the press and even her superior. She must have told the story a thousand times to investigating officers, each time remaining firm that Will would never hurt her in the right state of mind. She refused to cooperate with the press, which only made the situation easier for reporters and television anchors to fill in the blanks with juicy speculations. She knew that no matter what she said, her words would end up twisted tighter than a pretzel, probably "shared" on someone's Facebook post like it was gospel. Let them fly with the rumors. It was easier that way.

Now at almost two in the morning, Cara was tired of playing by everyone else's rules. She sipped the last of her now lukewarm coffee, standing with purpose as she crossed to the information desk nearby. "Look," she said softly to the nurse at the station, "I know by now you have some kind of information on the guy in 18B. So I'd appreciate it if you'd share that with me now."

"I'm sorry, ma'am-"

"Seriously?" Cara asked, turning toward the door she was watching for the last several hours. She heard the nurse behind her asking her to sit down and wait, which she ignored. Cara just about reached the door when out of nowhere a very tall male security guard blocked her way. He was dressed in all black with a small device in his ear. Considering how close she was to him, Cara noticed that he didn't smell like anything. Not sweat, aftershave, cologne or deodorant, which she thought was odd. Not even a clean soap scent. It was like he was a stone. Scentless.

"Step back, Officer," he warned Cara, his eyes fixed on hers.

"I want to see Officer Van De Kamp immediately," she demanded in reply.

"Step back," he warned again. "Take a seat."

She faced off with him for a moment, watching his jaw flex as he peered down at her. "I have taken a seat … for the last twelve hours. I'm done sitting. Now MOVE." Cara tried to press through the guard, but he pushed her roughly back, gripping her shoulders so tight that she winced in pain.

"Take a seat," he said coldly, giving her a shove backwards slightly. She pushed his hands off of herself, anger burning in her eyes. It was at that moment that the door to room 18B opened behind them, a herd of doctors and nurses crowding around the hospital bed they rolled out of the room.

Cara pushed the guard aside and saw a glimpse of Will laying on the bed, his eyes heavy from what looked like sedatives. He was strapped down to the bed, and wearing a straitjacket for good measure. She quickly followed the rolling bed and herd of people, shouting into them in hopes of at least one person to respond. "Where are you taking him? Why is he bound?" she demanded, trying to push through the herd for a better look. "Answer me!" she yelled, her tone catching one doctor's attention, who stopped and caught her arm.

"Miss English, please," he said gently yet firmly, stopping her in her tracks. "Officer Van De Kamp is not well. We are taking him to a place that is safer for him for his current condition."

"He was shot!" Cara exclaimed, pointing at the rolling bed. She started after it again, the doctor following alongside her. "Why is he in a jacket?"

"William is experience episodes of extreme violence. The jacket is for his own protection."

"What about-"

"Miss English, please," the doctor said, stopping her again. "We need to transport him immediately. You are free to see him when he is secured."

She didn't know whether it was the exhaustion, the stress, or the downside of all the caffeine she had drank earlier that made her stop and watch as they rolled Will away, but in the moment she did know she felt incredibly helpless. Fearing she would lose track of the herd, she started following them, determined to not rest until she had her answers.

8:02 AM

"Miss English?"

The gentle touch on her shoulder was enough to completely startle Cara, who hadn't realized she had failed to her own commitment of seeking the truth before she would rest. Exhaustion must have gotten the best of her, she concluded, not remembering when she dozed off.

"Miss English, you're able to see the patient now," the nurse said softly as Cara groomed the flyaway hairs from her braid behind her ears. Cara stood quickly, her eyes darting around for Will. "This way," the nurse said, gesturing. They walked in silence down a hallway that Cara didn't remember seeing before, twisting and turning so much that she wasn't absolutely sure of her bearings any longer. When they finally reached the door, the nurse opened it, and Cara stepped inside to a viewing room, which wasn't what she expected. A row of doctors turned around to her; they were standing in front of a large window to what appeared to be a padded room. "Officer English," one of them said, stepping toward her. "Good morning."

"Where is he?" she asked, fearing the worst.

The doctors who were viewing through the window stepped aside, parting so there was enough room for Cara to see Will standing in the corner of a padded room, still wearing the straitjacket. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw he was standing there, staring at the wall.

"What have you done to him?!" she exclaimed, shocked at his drug-induced state.

"Officer English, he is a danger to himself and until his brainwaves return to normal, he needs to be secured for evaluation," the first doctor who greeted her replied.

"What do you mean?" Cara questioned, stepping as close to the window as she could.

"William Van De Kamp is showing unusual brain activity that needs to be monitored for his own health and safety."

"Such as?"

"Think of it this way," another man stepped out from the side of the viewing room, giving a small smile to Cara, "William's brain is currently operating on overdrive. If we don't help him to relax soon, he could possibly have a stroke." The man crossed to Cara, sticking his hand out for a shake. She took it reluctantly. "Doctor George Weitz," he introduced himself. "Hospital psychologist."

"What caused this?" Cara asked, turning back to Will, who hadn't moved.

"We aren't sure at this time, but we have some more experts in the field flying in to evaluate his condition this afternoon."

Cara noticed the various monitors and their corresponding feed from the headset that connected to Will, the data whirling and making absolutely no sense to her. "For example," Dr. Weitz said, leading her to view one of the monitors, "here is William's reactional data being recorded. See this spike?" Dr. Weitz pointed to a jump on the screen. "This is the exact moment you walked in the door."

"What makes that special? He knows me."

"Aah, yes, but the normal reaction would have been ten times less, even under the most heightened circumstances. The human brain doesn't even begin to enter half the stage William's brain is currently in during the two most highly active episodes - epileptic seizure and orgasm." Cara turned back to Will, who hadn't moved a millimeter still. "His brain waves are connecting at a speed not witnessed before by anyone here."

"So …" Cara said slowly, going back to her place in the window, "... how do you treat him?"

"That is why we have experts coming," Dr. Weitz replied.

All of a sudden, the monitors began flaring wildly, beeping and lights furiously conducting a crazed symphony. Will was still standing frozen; the doctors rushed to the monitors in confusion. Cara turned and looked at their state of chaos, unsure what was happening. It was then that she was faced with a large bang on the glass directly in front of her, which startled her back to Will, now with his head pressed up against the glass right in front of her. Cara watched in horror as he screamed to her.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

Her mouth dropped open, her heart breaking for Will as his eyes locked with hers. "HELP ME! HELP ME!" he screamed, then quickly crashing to the floor on his knees, yelling in agony.

"Do something!" Cara screamed to the doctors. Dr. Weitz took her by the arm and pulled her away from the window. "Let me go!" she protested.

"Officer," Dr. Weitz said firmly, "you cannot be in here. You risk harming Will with your presence. You need to leave immediately."

"He's in pain!"

"You need to leave, Officer. Now!"

Tearing herself away from Dr. Weitz, she looked back at Will, who now stood again, breathing heavily as he locked eyes with her. Sensing she wouldn't leave on her own, Dr. Weitz pushed Cara out of the room as she watched in shock at Will's body reeling again with pain.

When the door to the viewing room clicked shut and locked, Cara knew she had to do something to help Will, no matter the cost. Something wasn't right, and she would get to the bottom of it.

9:44 AM

Given the circumstances, it wasn't hard for Cara to request an emergency leave of absence from the Chief. She had a week of time banked, as well as some other time given to her by the district, which she assumed was for circumstances like hers, such as your partner almost killing you in a psychotic rage. As she turned in her badge and gun, which was customary to do when on leave, she left the precinct for home to shower and change. She had work to do, and it would take time without the resources at the station. However, she was determined to find answers fast for Will, regardless.

Back at her apartment, Cara was freshly showered and in the process of changing when her phone rang. Buttoning her jeans and slipping on her cream sweater over her lacy nude-colored bra, she picked up her iPhone and hit the green talk button, noticing the number was blocked. "Hello?"

"Officer English, this is Doctor Weitz. I received your information from-"

"How is he? What's wrong?" Cara interrupted.

"We need you to come immediately. There has been an escalation in his condition."

"I'm on my way."

Cara hung up the phone, letting her long blonde hair finish drying naturally into silky waves as she grabbed her keys, coat and wristlet, heading out the door.

As she approached her car, ready to click the key fob to unlock it, another car pulled up alongside hers. The backseat passenger rolled a tinted window down; she could see a gun aimed at her from the person inside. "Get in the car," the man demanded rather quietly, as to not make a scene. Cara hesitated, realizing she was without her gun and only left with her pocket knife that she always kept on her person. "Now," the man said gruffly.

Cara swallowed deeply, trying to mask her fear the best she could. She slowly approached the car, her hand sweaty as she opened the door. "Get in," the man repeated. She complied, sitting on the dark fabric seat, her belongings still in hand. "Shut the door," the man demanded. Perhaps it was her fear, but it was only then that Cara realized the man with the gun had an English accent. She once again followed his direction, closing the door as the car pulled out quickly into the traffic. "Hand me your belongings," the man said, his palm open. She gave everything to him, fearing that now that he had her things, he would begin what she could imagine would be the most painful part of her abduction.

"Miss English," the man said, lowering his gun slightly, "your partner William is in grave danger."

This wasn't what Cara was expecting. "Who are you? How do you know my-"

"There is no time for formalities," the man said abruptly. "I didn't come from Somerset to chit chat. You are running against two clocks at the present, one which holds your partner's life in the balance and another that holds a larger purpose."

Cara's eyes narrowed. "What kind of danger?"

"The kind that cannot be spoken of without sacrifice," the man replied grimly. Cara noticed he was maybe only a few years older than she, and his hands were extremely well manicured.

"What kind of sacrifice?"

"Miss English," the man said, "William's current mental condition isn't happenstance. It was triggered by something that hasn't been seen for many, many years." He pursed his lips, then continued. "A series of events has been set to occur long before you or I were born, none of which can be altered by ordinary men."

"Are you talking another 9-11?"

"September 11th, while tragic, pales in comparison to what lies ahead." The man shifted in his seat. "These events will occur all over the world, with no one to stop them."

"So then we are all in danger, not just Will."

"You don't yet understand," the man replied, slightly agitated. "A group of men known as the Syndicate worked previously to counteract these events, even sacrificing the lives of their loved ones for collateral to those who will be responsible for the destruction, all to die by the hand of those whom they made the deal with."

"A war?"

"A war to end all wars."

"Why is Will in more danger than anyone else?"

The man sighed, rubbing his eyebrows with his free hand. "Those who came before me worked tirelessly to successfully create a weapon to use against the assailants in the upcoming attacks, some of which were successful and some which were not. William's design is the most successful of these creations."

"Wait … what? Did you just say William is a 'design'?"

"There is no time for disbelief," the man said sternly, waving his gun. "You were chosen to protect William because of your beliefs!"

Her being 'chosen' for something she didn't understand confused her even more. "...What?!"

"Miss English." The man was growing impatient. "William is the key to the enemy's undoing. He holds more power than even he is fully aware of. You were assigned to protect him, and I am giving you this to ensure he is saved." He handed her a small bottle encasing a syringe of liquid. "With each passing moment he is bound and sedated in the hospital, they are draining his power away. This is their intention. He will becoming powerless, therefore useless to them if you do not get this to him within the next 72 hours."

"Who is 'them'? And what is this?" Cara held the bottle up angrily. She felt the car jerk to a halt at the command of the man with the gun. Cara noticed they were near the city's sanitation collection area; heaps of garbage were viewable in the distance from the window behind the man with the gun.

"'They are everywhere. People you know, just in disguise. The time is coming, December 21 is the recorded date of arrival. Without William to intercede in the events beforehand, all hope is lost for mankind." The man seemed so sincere as he gave Cara's belongings back to her. "Take the vial and administer it to William within 72 hours. He is growing weaker by the minute. They don't yet know how to kill someone like William, or if it's even possible, so they will strip away all the functions they can in the meantime."

"What do you mean 'someone like Will'?" Cara asked, taking her belongings carefully.

"Get out of the car," the man ordered. In a moment of hesitation, Cara jumped as the man turned the gun on the driver, killing him instantly with a bullet to the head. "My grandfather died for this truth in a much similar fashion. See to it that it wasn't in vain. Get out of the car."

Cara opened the door slowly, her mind reeling from all that had just happened. He rolled the window down as she shut the door, leaning toward her. "Trust no one, Cara English," he said grimly, pulling the trigger and shooting himself in the head.