CHAPTER 3

University Medical
10:02 AM

The viewing room was dark on purpose, the light kept at a minimum to reduce the surges of violence William experienced as he battled what no one, including himself, understood. For whatever reason, it seemed triggered by unusual amounts of light exposure, similar to a person suffering with a migraine. Will's mind was a twisted, chaotic mess of sounds, thoughts, feelings and white nose that he couldn't pinpoint. It was as if he was trapped in a tiny room with several different radios and televisions set on their highest volumes, all vying for his attention. Different languages, ones he had never heard spoken, flowed through his mind like ocean waves, rising and crashing with no end. He couldn't control any of it, and it was wearing him down physically.

At times, he would pace around the padded room like a caged animal, snapping at random moments into hysterics. Otherwise, he was frozen completely still, as if the constant barrage of stimuli literally weighed him down, unable to move.

"His blood pressure is too high," Dr. Weitz said, examining one of the many monitors tracking Will's every move. He was having trouble with the recommended procedure from the panel of experts that had just flown in at the FBI's request.

"We need to chart his abilities," one of the expert doctors insisted. "The cases we've seen that compare, in them the subject is able to complete the rounds of testing with little to no consequence."

Dr. Weitz frowned. "His partner is on her way, he has listed her as his emergency contact-"

"We cannot wait for anyone," another doctor said, his voice slow, deep. He stepped closer to Dr. Weitz. "He must be treated and to do so we will need to have him demonstrate his abilities."

"Doing what?" Dr. Weitz asked.

"Psychological evaluations," the deep voice doctor replied.

"How will that help him?"

"It will help us to understand if he is dealing with what we think he is," the first doctor said smoothly with a smile that made Dr. Weitz feel uncomfortable. "You may leave now, Doctor. We will oversee his progress from here."

Dr. Weitz wasn't too sure about the experts plan of action, but given their credentials, he nodded slowly. "I will stay to observe," he said, making sure they knew that he would still be in their hair for a little while longer.

The four doctors who flew in looked at each other and then to Dr. Weitz. "Of course," the deep voiced one replied. He turned to the doctor who first spoke, nodding. The other doctor turned and retrieved two of the security guards that were posted outside the door. "Bring him in, cuffed. Have him sit at the table."

The security guards replied with an unsure "Yes, Doctor," under their breath, going to the doorway to the padded cell, where William stood silently facing a wall. Knowing the reputation William had gained in a short amount of time, the taller of the two well-built guards approached William with caution. Once he reached William, he glanced back at his companion, seeing the other guard's weapon drawn. "Van De Kamp," the guard said gruffly, "Don't try anything. We will shoot you."

The guard saw William swallow, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as his jaw was clenched tight. The guard was able to remove the jacket with ease because William didn't protest. He remained motionless, his eyes fixed ahead. "Now hold still," the guard barked, cuffing William's hands roughly behind him. Again, William didn't move an inch, still staring straight ahead.

As the guard led William out of the cell, another explosion of pain surged through William's head as they got closer to the doorway. He yelled, pulling against the cuffs the officer had out on him, the guard trying to keep control. The second guard, closer to the door, raised a vial of sedatives at William. Thinking he was attempting to escape, the guard re-acted by trying to inject William in the arm. In all his years being a guard for this ward, the security officer couldn't understand what happened next.

William growled in agony, breaking the cuffs off of his hands like they were a toy, pieces of metal flying in all directions of the padded room. The two guards were blown back away from William by a large invisible force, pinning them again the walls of the room with William standing in the center, breathing heavily.

Dr. Weitz's eyes grew wide as he saw the events take place, but he nearly fainted when he saw the syringe the second guard was carrying whirl around in a circle in midair, then fly at bullet speed into the glass directly in front of the deep-voiced doctor, all without touching anything. The syringe was lodged deeply in the extra thick window, the force of its impact splintering the surrounding glass.

William turned slowly, looking first at the deep-voiced doctor, then at Dr. Weitz. As another surge of pain rushed through his body, William locked eyes with Dr. Weitz. At that exact moment, a flood of words entered into Dr. Weitz's mind as if by telepathy. Help. Voices. Pain. Tests. Experiments. Killing me. Killing me! Killing me! Dr. Weitz was shocked; he knew it was William somehow communicating to him, and him alone, through his mind. Impossible! Dr. Weitz thought in shock. Or was it?

As William ripped his headset off, the four doctors started to panic. They turned to Dr. Weitz, who was now understanding what William was saying - it was them, they were killing him and they knew it. But he is a marvel of science! Why? He knew in that moment he had to protect William, to give him a chance to escape. He pushed one of the large monitors into two of the doctors, who fell beneath its weight, being knocked unconscious in the process. The deep-voiced doctor moved toward him and Dr. Weitz reached for a syringe on the tables behind him, hoping he would be able to defend himself. Despite his best attempt, he wasn't able to get to one in time, and the deep-voiced doctor grabbed him by the throat, lifting him in the air and choking him to death as he watched with a stone face.

The remaining doctor headed for William, who attacked him, breaking the doctor's arm as he grabbed him and threw him against the wall, rendering him unconscious with the others. William rushed to Dr. Weitz and attempted to free him, only to be struck by an intense blow of pain. William fell to the floor, hearing Dr. Weitz manage to barely speak. "Go! Go!" Dr. Weitz ordered William. "Run!"

Torn by wanting to save the doctor and wanting to escape, he hesitated long enough to see the doctor's neck snapped by the deep-voiced man, who turned and looked at William intently. William couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the man's face before him completely change into that of the sketch he remembered seeing at the precinct of the suspected murderer of the Terminal case.

The now shape-shifted man smiled darkly, approaching William to attack. With strength he never knew he had, William blocked the man, sending him flying backwards into the glass window, shattering it completely and toppling into the padded room. William watched in horror as the man stood, seemingly completely unharmed, shaking the glass off of himself and heading toward him again. William tore off down the hospital hallway, pushing through medical staff, equipment and security officers as he somehow managed to escape. It was as if he was following a GPS in his mind; he was running on autopilot, unaware of where he was going but somehow managing to make every right decision to get there.

When he finally made if out onto the street, he scanned his surroundings, his mental GPS taking a sudden change in direction. He followed his mind down the block to where a car was sitting in traffic. He banged on the glass furiously, splintering the passenger window with the palm of his hand.

Cara screamed at the sound of the impact of William's hand. When she realized it was her partner, she unlocked her door and he climbed in, crouching down in pain.

"Will!" she exclaimed, shocked and confused. Had he escaped? From what? Will crouched in his seat as he held his head, moaning in agony.

"Go, Cara! Drive south!" Will managed, still holding his head. Cara was still visibly in shock; she didn't know whether Will would attempt to kill her again or if he even meant to at all. She decided in that split second that she had to trust that he was doing what was needed. She heard the English man's words echoing back in her mind: "You were chosen to protect him because of your beliefs." Cara wheeled the car around and drove away from the hospital, her heart racing and palms sweaty with fear.

Behind them in the entrance of the hospital, the shape-shifted man clenched his jaw, clearly agitated at the escape William had managed. He raised a finger to the Bluetooth in his ear, waiting for a moment as he placed the call. "We lost him. He's untraceable now."

"How is that possible?"

"He is somehow shielding our ability to track him."

"Then this confirms what we know to be true about the project."

The shape-shifted man paused, a slow smile spreading across his face as a revelation came to him that changed his strategy for going after William. "Not only the first project, but the counteraction measures as well."

"See to it that both are terminated."

"With pleasure."

"And in breaking news this morning, Doctor of Psychology George Weitz was found dead at University Medical Hospital. Police suspect missing psychiatric patient and police officer William Van De Kamp, who was recently admitted to the unit for attempting to kill his police partner, Cara English. The suspect is believed to be extremely dangerous and unstable, and should not be approached under any circumstances. Local police ask you to contact them at 555-4892 with any information regarding the whereabouts of the man you see on the screen."

Scully heard the news anchor's voice coming from the online video Mulder was watching clear across the house in the living room where she sat with a cup of coffee, reading the paper. She knew Mulder was still keeping up on the Hoboken case, why she had yet to figure out; though she had to admit that it was getting more twisted by the minute, and tragic for whoever shared her beloved son's moniker.

"Did you hear that?" Mulder asked, now padding into the room, a certain air of cheeriness in his voice at the thickening of the plot.

"I did," she replied, still occupied with the paper.

"Sounds like there's a crazy man on the loose," Mulder said suggestively, hoping her faith in his theories were restored with the developments.

"Not just one," Scully replied calmly, her eyebrow arched as she finally peered up from the paper to meet his gaze.

Mulder frowned at her accusation. "You still don't see anything?"

"Just a man who needs to let go."

"And do what?" Mulder said accusingly. "Take up golf?"

"Mulder ..." Scully was now annoyed at his childish reaction. "There's a time and a place for theories. But this is getting way out of hand. I mean, the guy was most likely an addict and is being controlled by his addiction."

"Now he's an addict ..."

"Mulder, I'm worried about you." Scully crumpled the paper, pressing it into her lap. "You want answers so badly that I feel like you're making them up."

"Scully," Mulder's voice was dark, "look me in the eye and tell me you don't see what I do. Because you're not the only one with theories. I am hypothesizing that you're too scared to admit that it's going to end."

"You know what?" Scully stood, now angry at Mulder's ignorant statement. "Maybe I am scared. Maybe I'm scared for the both of us. But I'm not the one going around making mountains out of thin air. THAT'S a person who is too scared to admit that they CAN'T handle what is to come."

"Scully-"

"Look, I'm going to go to work." Scully moved toward her purse and keys. "I don't have time for this."

She stormed out, more angry than she remembered being at him for quite some time. Mulder sighed heavily, his heart aching for her and for the truth he knew somehow existed in what was happening across the country.

"Will ... where are we going?"

Cara had been blindly driving for 45 minutes, unsure where or why she was headed south. Will barely spoke during the ride; he clutched his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as he looked out the passenger window at the passing countryside. She dared not ask him what had happened at the hospital - she had to believe he would tell her when he was able. Cara didn't know whether he was stable enough to really establish a plan of escape, yet took him at his word when he directed her to drive south on the highway toward Virginia.

She knew they only had about another 45 minutes or so before they will be officially fugitives in the eyes of federal law; crossing state lines would attract much more attention.

"I can't let you do this," Will finally said softly, looking toward Cara, who kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She heard him swallow hard, struggling with the revelation of emotions. "You've got to just drop me here."

"No way," Cara replied, her eyes still on the road. "Not gonna happen."

"Cara, this has gone too far. I can't let you give up everything for me."

"Will ..." Cara snuck a sideways glance at him, "... You're all I have."

He knew she genuinely meant what she said, recalling her troubled past. Before the academy, Cara grew up with an abusive father and a passive mother who didn't protect her daughter for fear of becoming a victim as well. Though she never admitted it, he always had the sinking feeling that she had been not only physically and verbally abused, but sexually as well. Will had a theory that Cara's love of the extraordinary and unexplained came from a desire to escape her reality as a child, finally gaining freedom as a teen who slept on friend's couches and worked odd jobs after running away from her home in northern New Jersey. Because of her rough exterior, no other family would take her in, so she never had any true family - until she met Will.

Will had come to New Jersey when he was 17 after being taken in by his aunt on his mother's side shortly after the car accident that killed both of his parents in Casper, Wyoming, where he was born and raised. Though he appreciated his aunt's hospitality, Will never felt at home in Hoboken. It was a high school friend's father, a detective in NYC, who saw the potential in him for a career in law enforcement. Perhaps it was due to the unusual strength he displayed in the high school wrestling team, or his careful, calculated demeanor that suited the field, but when Will joined the academy after graduation, he finally felt at home - as if his purpose was fulfilled in protecting and serving. Shortly after his graduation from the academy, his aunt passed away from an aggressive strain of cancer that claimed her life in only three short months after being diagnosed.

Will first met Cara at a tactical training course during what is known as Hell Week at the academy. She first witnessed his stellar fighting abilities in hand-to-hand combat, him becoming the envy - and the target - of the other male recruits in their class. During a period of off-duty that week, Will had been severely beaten by a gang of the jealous recruits. It was Cara who came to his aid, using natural herbal remedies to reduce the swelling of his face from the abuse he had just taken. Though he refused her help at first, she wouldn't take no for an answer, and he became fond of her whimsical ideas and her adventurous spirit. She had incredible tenacity and a tough-as-nails facade that kept everyone at arm's length - everyone except for Will.

He wasn't sure why she had chosen to trust him as she did with relative ease, but it was evident that even now, as she risked everything to tow him across state lines to an unknown location, she valued him more than perhaps even herself.

"Cara-"

"It's not up for debate, Will." Cara made eye contact with Will briefly, her eyes flicking away quickly as she saw the intensity in his. "Just give me an address or something."

"I don't have one," Will murmured, unsure if he should reveal the strange sensations he had felt ever since yesterday afternoon, including his new internal GPS that seemed to direct him to where he should be going.

"Okay ..." Cara said slowly, "... then give me a city, at least."

"Alexandria," Will replied softly, sighing deeply at the lost battle between he and Cara to preserve what little of her career - and life - she had left before ending up in jail for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

The silence between them continued for another couple hours, each lost in their own thoughts of the last 24 hours. Cara had been having a usual morning yesterday, only to find herself in the most unusual of circumstances a day later. Will's sudden mental shift, the English man who held her at gunpoint, the way Will was shot, yet she noticed he displayed no indicators that he was even in pain. She absentmindedly wondered if his skin would show any physical signs of bullet entry. Okay, easy with the sci-fi theories, Cara, she scolded herself mentally.

It was also confusing why police didn't seem to be following her, why no one had called her cellphone. She would've imagined by now they would be facing more challenges, perplexed as to the reason for the lacklustre cat-and-mouse game that was occurring.

Some three and a half hours later, and with strangely accurate directions from Will, Cara put the car in park in front if the small, gray house in Virginia. She glanced over at her partner, assuming she would see a sense of recognition at their arrival there - instead, she was faced with a man who looked just as perplexed as she to be in the DC suburbs.

"Well," she said quietly, "this is it."

Cara palmed the small bottle she had received from the English man in her coat pocket as she waited for a response from Will. She knew he had just smashed her window with a bare hand only hours ago, and she could only imagine what he could do to her if he felt in danger. Yet, knowing the risks, it was now over 24 hours since the incident first occurred and she only had two more days left before the effectiveness of the syringe contents expired. But what exactly was in the bottle? Could she trust a man who had held her at gunpoint to save Will? Did Will even need saving?

With a sudden turn, Will faced Cara, his eyes peering deep into hers, and she dropped the bottle from her hand in her pocket.

"Do you know the person who lives here? Is it family?" she asked hesitantly.

"No."

"Okay ... is it a family friend?"

"No."

"A neighbor?"

"No."

"A mentor?"

"Cara!" Will exclaimed angrily. "I don't know!"

"It's okay, Will," she said softly, considering this to potentially be a disaster. "We'll go together."

"No," he said gruffly, tearing off his seat belt. "Stay here."

Cara grabbed Will's arm as he started to get out of the car. "Will! You're insane! People know what happened yesterday, as well as today! Don't you think this guy may have seen the news?"

"I don't have many options left, Cara," Will said sternly, taking Cara's hands off his arm with ease, grabbing her by the wrists.

"Then let me come with you," she pleaded, wincing to herself at the tight grip he had on her wrists.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm telling you I am."

A moment of thick tension-laden silence hung over them like a proverbial dark cloud, Will still grasping Cara's wrists. She felt uncomfortable; not because of his strong grasp on her, but because of the darkness she saw in his eyes. She felt as if her innermost thoughts were somehow seeping out of her, being read like an open book by her partner, who relaxed his grip on her wrists, carefully laying them down on her lap. He continued to examine her eyes, his breathing slowing to a restful pace that allowed her to relax as well. Cara's lips parted as she watched Will take one of her hands in his, stroking her flesh with his thumb. He raised it to his mouth, placing a lingering, tender kiss on it. Then in haste, he release her hand, throwing open the door of the car and unintentionally slamming it behind him.

He moved fast, unconcerned with his current state of dress in hospital issued scrubs and tennis shoes. Cara barely had time to gather her thoughts and zip her coat before before she saw Will knocking roughly on the door of the little gray house they had parked in front of. She quickly exited the car, hoping Will hadn't made what she thought was the most brazen mistake he could have made.

She was speechless when she saw a man with salt and pepper hair in a Marine-style cut, dressed in a white tee and jeans, his eyes narrowing at Will in anger.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"You're John Doggett, correct?" Will said firmly, Cara joining him at his side.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" John Doggett replied, unimpressed.

However, his face changed very quickly as he heard Will say, "I'm William Van De Kamp."