CHAPTER 7

"It has to have been stolen," Monica said, her voice unsteady from the growing nervousness she felt.

"By who?" Doggett asked quietly, beginning to worry himself.

"I don't know, but we need to find it. If whoever is after William got ahold of my phone …"

"They could have already told Cara not to administer the vial."

"But whoever that was would have to have known both about the car meeting Cara had and somehow got to my phone within the last 12 hours. I know I had it this morning. I put it in my purse."

"Are you suggesting someone stole it here?" Doggett asked.

"How else would they get it?"

"I don't know, but I need to get in touch with Cara immediately." Doggett pulled out his cell phone, a moment later cursing under his breath. "Son of a bitch thing died on me," he growled, reaching for his charger. "Shit," he muttered, realizing he left it at home. "Do you have the number?"

Monica shook her head. "I stored it in my phone. Then you destroyed it."

"Damnit," Doggett replied with a sigh. "Alright, let's start digging."

"John," Monica's voice was low, "if we go through federal channels, they will see what we're doing. Besides, I can get in and out of here without anyone missing me. I'll get the charger."

"Alright," Doggett said, his voice equally as soft. "I'll cover you."

With a small nod, Monica took her purse and slipped away from the desk as inconspicuously as she could.

Outside of the building, Monica climbed into her car, started the engine and pulled out of the garage with no hassle as she had predicted. She knew she'd make it back to the office within the hour, and prayed Doggett could hold down her cover until then.

A few moments after Monica left, as Doggett was lost in a trance thinking about William and Cara, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. "John, A.D. Horncheck caught me. I can't get away until lunch. He has me on record sorting in the basement."

Doggett turned and looked at Monica, who was frowning. He nodded. "Alright, we'll have to wait until then. I'm gonna head to the little boy's room. Meet you outside at noon."

Monica nodded, watching Doggett leave with a smile. "Sure," she said, her voice laced with a hint of darkness, which Doggett didn't catch.

He smiled to himself as Doggett disappeared. "Easier than I thought," he said, his voice matching Monica's. His shift in physical appearance made him identical to Monica; however, his intentions were the complete opposite.

11:24 AM EST

Charger in hand, Monica re-entered the J. Edgar Hoover building with purpose, heading toward the large open office space where Doggett's small desk resided. She smiled when she saw Doggett heading toward her. "I got it," she said softly. "Let's go plug it in."

"I'll do that," Doggett said softly. "A.D. Horncheck pulled me in his office. He wants you in the basement on record sorting."

Monica's eyebrows furrowed. "Did he ask where I was?"

"I told him you were in the ladies' room. I said I'd tell you as soon as I saw you." Doggett gently pushed Monica in the direction of the elevator. "You'd better get down there quick," he said, taking the charger from her hands. "I'll meet you outside at noon."

Hesitantly, Monica nodded. "Alright," she said, "see you in a half hour."

He smiled, watching her walk away and disappear into the elevator heading for the basement. Turning, he stepped into the men's room nearby. Noting it was empty, he took a long look at himself in the mirror, his face shifting into that of another agent's. Quietly, he exited the men's room, tucking the charger in his pocket and slipping out of the building.

12:02 PM EST

Doggett paced in the garage, his arms crossed over his chest. He waited somewhat impatiently for Monica to arrive, kicking a small stone in the garage with the toe of his dress shoe. He wondered why A.D. Horncheck hadn't put him on basement duty too, but Doggett figured that he didn't want him and Monica together as much as possible.

"John!"

Doggett turned, seeing Monica enter the garage from the elevator doors.

"Did you send it?" Monica asked quietly when she approached him.

"Did I send what?" Doggett asked, confused.

"The text," Monica said, becoming confused as well.

"My phone is dead, remember?" Doggett replied, his eyes narrowing down at Monica.

"I gave you the charger a half hour ago! It should be enough to send it while it's plugged in!"

"I don't have the charger, Monica." Doggett was growing angry. "Besides, you said Horncheck sent you to the basement."

"YOU told me that, before YOU took the charger!"

"Wait …" Doggett shut his eyes, his head falling back against his shoulder. "Shit!"

"What?" Monica asked, confused.

"We've been played, Monica," Doggett replied. "Son of a bitch shape shifter played us."

"Wait, what?"

"He pretended to be you, then me, probably to make us lose time."

"How the hell did he get in here?" Monica was stunned at the boldness the shape shifter showed by running around the federal building as both of them.

"Damnit! And now the bastard has my charger. HE'S probably the one that took your phone!"

"John, what do we do?" Monica asked softly, needing control of the situation somehow.

"He won't be back here," Doggett said, unlocking his car. Both he and Monica climbed inside, buckling their seat belts. "We need to get ahold of Mulder and Scully, and fast. They've got to know what they're up against."

"What about Cara?" Monica reminded.

Doggett sighed heavily. "For now, we'll have to pray that she trusts her instincts."

Somewhere in central Iowa
2:41 PM CST

My oh my, you're so good-looking

Hold yourself together like a pair of bookends

But I've not tasted all your cooking

Who are you when I'm not looking?

Do you pour a little something on the rocks?

Slide down the hallway in your socks?

When you undress, do you leave a path?

Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

My oh my, you're so good-looking …

There weren't many options in Iowa when it came to radio. At least, Cara couldn't find anything besides country music to fill the silence in the car. Will had crouched in his seat a while ago, staring out at the passing open fields without saying a word. It had been quiet in the car for more than two hours when Cara decided to find a radio station to help her stay motivated during the drive. She was growing tired, her back aching from all of the driving she had done in the last day or so.

With Blake Shelton singing melodically in the background, Cara's thoughts shifted to Will. She knew something was wrong with him; he hadn't moved in what seemed like ages, nor did he try to argue with her about taking a turn to drive as he did the day prior. She had to keep the heat on high, which burned more gas, because Will kept saying he was cold, even though he was layered, had a coat on and a blanket tucked around him.

Cara couldn't stand not knowing anymore. She decided to break the silence between them, determined to get to the bottom of what was wrong with Will. "Will, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured, not moving an inch.

"Seriously? You want me to believe that crap?" She glanced over at him, concerned. "Are you sick?"

"I'm just cold, Cara."

"Cold, my ass."

"Cara …"

"Don't 'Cara' me." She was beginning to get agitated from her concern. "Will, what's wrong?"

"I feel like shit, Cara, alright?" Will growled, turning toward her. "There. Happy?"

"Will, if we need to get you medicine-"

"I'm fine," Will yelled, wincing as he turned away from her.

Without checking for traffic behind her, Cara turned the wheel sharply toward the road's shoulder, slamming on the brakes as she came to a stop. "Damnit, Will!" she screamed at him. "I've been worrying about you this whole drive. I swear I'll kill you myself if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Will turned to Cara, his eyes dark. "I'd like to see you try," he said dryly, knowing his implication of her inability to kill him irked her.

"Fuck you, Will!" Cara screamed, punching him in the shoulder.

Will grabbed her arm, surprising her. "I don't know what's wrong, alright?!" he yelled, seething in anger. "I just feel like shit. And I'm freezing."

Cara yanked her arm away from Will's grasp, reaching up to feel his forehead. Will winced as she raised her arm, expecting her to slap him. Instead, she pressed the back of her hand against his skin; she noted that his temperature felt oddly cold. "You feel cold, Will. Not like you have a fever, but like you're … hypothermic." Cara shrugged off her coat, draping it over Will, tucking it the best she could.

"What about you?" he asked, seeing she only had a sweater on under the coat she just took off.

"I'm fine," she replied, brushing his concern aside. "But we need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Will said sharply. "I can't. They'll want a name."

"Then we need to get somewhere where you can get some soup."

"I'm too tired, Cara," Will said softly, his eyes heavy.

Cara bit her lip as she looked at her partner, his head resting against the splintered passenger window. It's been over 24 hours since he was exposed to magnetite, she thought. The Englishman said 72 hours. That leaves less than 48. She inhaled slowly, watching him close his eyes. I have to get him further.

"I'll stop and get some," she replied. "The next rest stop."

3:49 CST

"Stay here," Cara said softly, leaving the keys in the ignition. Before he could say anything regarding putting on her coat, Cara was gone, jogging into the convenience store and disappearing out of sight.

Will sighed, burying himself deeper into the pile of coats and blanket he was surrounded with. He could smell Cara's lingering perfume in the fibers of her coat, which made his heart skip a beat. Coco Mademoiselle, he thought idly, remembering the image of the bottle he once saw in her apartment. The scent was fresh. She must have a travel spray with her.

He fixed his eyes on the entrance to the convenience store, wondering if she had been as long inside as he felt she had. He was startled by a buzzing sound coming from Cara's coat pocket. Curiously, he fished around inside it, pulling out not only the iPhone he suspected, but a small bottle as well. He squinted as he examined the bottle, the clear liquid inside the vial sealed tightly. What the hell is this? he thought angrily. The iPhone in his hand buzzed again, and Will glanced down at it, reading the preview of a text message from an unidentified number.

Administer the vial to William as soon as possible. Don't wait ...

Will's eyes widened, trying to process what he was reading. He felt his heart race, unsure of his own safety with Cara. What was this liquid? What was Cara doing with it? Could he trust her? No, he thought. He knew he wouldn't get far unnoticed if he left the car at this point - he'd have to take his chances and stay with her until they stopped driving for the night.

The driver's side door opening quickly beside him startled Will, and he hastily tucked the vial and her phone in Cara's coat pocket. Cara shivered as she shut the door, holding a small brown bag in her hand. "Sorry," she said. "Figured I'd use the bathroom while we were stopped." Will nodded, distracted. Cara paused, sensing his hesitation. "You okay?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah," Will's voice was deep. "Thanks." He took the bag, wondering silently if she had put anything into the soup inside it, or if it was even really Cara sitting next to him. He placed the bag on the floor of the car, re-tucking himself back into the coats as if nothing had happened.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" Cara asked, perplexed.

"Later," Will said. "I'm not hungry."

"But you need-"

"I said I'm fine," Will nearly shouted.

Shaking her head in disgust, Cara pulled out of the rest stop parking lot and back onto the highway, accelerating perhaps a little faster than was necessary, the car's wheels shrieking as they spun. Will ignored the statement she made with the car, knowing he wouldn't touch a thing she gave him or trust a word she said until he made her confess later that night at the motel - before he killed her.