Requiem

A/N: Hello, all. This story is a sequel to Pain. It is written by me, (Crims0nHaze) and XfilesGuy123. Hope you like it :)

Chapter One

"Is there anything I can get you?"

Cody Martin numbly shook his head as he drummed his fingers against the table in front of him. He was sitting in a small-secluded room in the hospital. It did not seem like a hospital room though. It was small and dimly lit. There was no distinctive medicine smell. There was only a table with four chairs and a shelf with a water cooler and a stack of cups. There was a box of tissues on the center of the table, but Cody did not need any of them.

"Okay, I'll be back with the lawyer and your mother in a minute."

Cody nodded. He had been answering questions with a young police officer moments earlier. She was very kind and understanding as she questioned Cody, who mumbled and gave one-word answers throughout the entire thing. Now she was leaving.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" the officer asked as she walked to the door.

"No," he mouthed the word but no sound came out.

He stared at his hands. Brown blood dried in the creases of his palms—Zack's blood.

As the officer left, part of Cody wanted to call her back. He wanted to tell her that he did need something. He needed his mom. He needed the doctors to tell him what was happening. He needed Zack.

But at the same time, he didn't want to see his mom or the doctors. He really wanted to know what was going on, but not if the news was bad. If there was bad news, he'd rather not know what it was at all.

'Oh God,' Cody thought desperately, 'Zack was shot. He-he could really die.'

His eyes were stinging even though he knew that he didn't have the strength to cry any more tears. There were enough of them, dried and caked onto his cheeks. He did not want to think about the reason why he had been crying, but the memories from earlier that day came creeping into his mind, hijacking it.

It had been beautiful outside; such a perfect spring day it was almost a cliché. Cody was happy—his heart was flying high. Then, out of nowhere, there had been a loud, deafening blast. Zack fell to the ground. He was shot in the chest. He was conscious but not lucid. Cody watched as a team of doctors' carted Zack away from him and back into the hospital—back to the place he had just escaped.

Cody and his mom sat in the parking lot where Zack had been shot. Neither of them spoke as disbelieving tears coursed down their cheeks. They may have stayed there, but it was not long before the entire parking lot was swarming with cops.

'I'm in the middle of a crime scene,' Cody realized as he and Carey were escorted back into the hospital.

Cody blinked back tears and shoved the memory to the back of his mind. Once they returned inside, Carey went to speak with the doctors, and the police officers questioned both her and Cody. Neither of them had been much help, though. Jack Cole was the only person who had seen the person who shot Zack, and he was in the operating room doing everything he could to save Zack's life.

'This is so unfair,' Cody thought to himself, 'we were going home! Everything was supposed to go back to normal. And now look what happened!'

---------

Storm Henshaw walked down the halls of the hospital. She carried a navy blue briefcase in one hand. She was wearing a fitted blouse, a black skirt and a black business jacket. Her long dark hair was tied back in a bun. Her stylish, horn-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. Her black pumps squeaked as she made her way to the room that the hospital provided for the investigation. She knew that she would be in and out of this hospital a lot for the next few months.

She walked into her designated room, room one hundred, and saw Cody Martin.

Cody looked up, "Are you the lawyer?" he asked in a scared, quiet voice.

"Yes," she replied. She sat down on the opposite end of the table, "I'm Ms. Henshaw. I'll be representing you and your family in court."

Cody nodded and stared at a spot on the table.

"I spoke to your mother a few minutes ago," Storm told him, "She told me everything that happened."

Cody's head snapped up, "My brother was shot."

"Yes, I know," she said, "I'm sorry. I'm going to do everything I can to get whoever did this to him."

"I know who did it," Cody said immediately.

Storm raised her eyebrows, "you do?"

"It was Drew."

"Drew Taylor was the boy who attacked Zack in school," Storm stated.

Cody nodded vigorously, "He got expelled and he's going to have to go to a detention center."

"He's already in the detention center," Storm said quickly, "When he and the other two, John Pascal and David Willis, were questioned they were sent to the Caring Hands Facility. I checked this immediately. Drew was in anger management at twelve thirty eight this afternoon. That's when Zack was shot."

Cody's mouth dropped slightly. It had to be Drew. Who else would want to hurt Zack?

"What about John and David?" he asked, desperately trying to find out who may have killed Zack.

"John was in group therapy and David was speaking with a counselor," Storm said, adjusting her glasses, "They were my first suspects too. But it couldn't have been them."

Cody stared at his hands, "But nobody else has anything against Zack. If it wasn't Drew, who was it?"

Storm smiled—a strong determined smile—"That's what I'm going to find out. But I'll need your help."

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"He's losing too much blood!"

"His pupils are dilating!"

"I can't get a heartbeat!"

"His right lung is collapsing!"

"There is too much strain on his heart, he needs Epinephrine now!"

"Get oxygen in here immediately!"

Jack Cole felt helpless as he loaded a clear liquid into a syringe. Get a hold of yourself, Jack; he ordered himself, this kid isn't dying. Not now. Not like this.

He handed the syringe to Dr. Deana Evans, who was standing closer to Zack's upper body. She injected the needle into Zack's chest and let the Epinephrine flow into his heart.

Dr. Connor Murphy hooked Zack up to a heart monitor. Instantly a white line appeared, accompanied by a lone, continuous beep.

"The bullet is lodged in his lung," Deana said, "The cartilage is breaking away. It needs to come out now."

"If we take it out his ribcage will collapse," Connor argued, "The bullet is pinning it in place."

"He could develop an infection if it stays in," Deana pointed out.

"We can worry about that later," said another doctor.

Connor nodded, "We need to get the bleeding to stop and get him on a respirator."

"Get it out."

All six surgeons in the room looked up at Jack.

"Get the bullet out," he said, "it's putting a strain on his heart."

Connor looked at him, "But his ribs—,"

"Get the bullet out," Jack interrupted, "He's weak right now. His heart's weak. It will give out. If that bullet is causing any more damage he will be dead within an hour."

Special agent Chance Matthews had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he walked to his bosses' office. The Violent Crimes Division was requesting him on a new case. It was never a good sign when the Violent Crimes sector requested help from the Behavioral Unit. That meant they were dealing with a violent and sadistic individual. Either that or their backs were to the wall. Chance was surprised that he had been called. At twenty-eight, he wasn't exactly the top agent working in the Behavioral Unit. He was just good at what he did. Chance had a gift for getting deep into the minds of serial killers. He had already assisted in the capture of eight serial killers. He had been with the bureau for only a little over four years.

Special Agent in Charge Ted Carlson looked up as Chance entered his office. Carlson was a seasoned agent in his late-forties. He had just recently been promoted to head of the Behavioral Unit for the Boston Field Office. Chance got along well with Carlson. Carlson gave him his space and let him work cases as he saw fit. Chance didn't work as well if he had a lot of people putting pressure on him.

Carlson motioned for Chance to take a seat. A man in his mid-thirties was sitting in a chair in front of Carlson's desk. Chance recognized him as Special Agent in Charge Brad Patterson, the head of the Violent Crimes Unit.

"Chance, I assume you know Brad Patterson, head of Violent Crimes,' said Carlson, adjusting his glasses.

"Not personally," said Chance. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, something he always did when he was nervous. He had a bad feeling about this one.

"Agent Matthews, I assume you're aware of the string of fatal shootings that have occurred in the past three months," said Patterson.

"Yes," said Chance.

"What do you know about it?" asked Patterson.

"Four victims, all selected randomly. Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the chest. Killer leaves behind a telltale. A .45 caliber bullet with a red x painted on it. There have been no witnesses and no fingerprints. No evidence that can really help." Chance shifted in his seat. He figured one of two things was happening at the moment. Either Patterson was looking for a scapegoat so that his unit wouldn't be at fault when the case got ugly. Or something new had developed.

"Two hours ago a thirteen-year-old boy was shot in the chest at Boston General. Police found this at the scene," said Patterson. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside was a .45 caliber bullet with a red x painted on it.

"Son of a bitch killed a kid," said Chance.

"No. The boy is still alive. Last I checked he was still in surgery. But the killer seems to be stepping up his game. The last four victims weren't exactly upstanding citizens. Hell, the first victim was a convicted drug dealer and murderer. Now an innocent thirteen-year-old boy is fighting for his life in the hospital. I want this sick bastard caught and Ted here says you're the best profiler he has." Chance looked over at Carlson. Carlson was giving him a small smile. He had always wanted Chance to be the head profiler on a major investigation. He must have pulled a lot of strings.

"What's the boys name?" asked Chance.

"Zackary Martin. He has a twin brother Cody who is fully cooperating with the investigation. The mother Carey is a still a little too grief stricken over her son being shot to help out in anyway," said Carlson, speaking up finally.

"Who's the lead agent on the case?" asked Chance.

"William Cross. One of our best. He worked as a profiler for ten years before coming to Violent Crimes," said Patterson.

"I've heard of him. He helped catch the Boston Ripper last year," said Chance.

"He had a good profiler working with him. We need you on this, Agent Matthews," said Patterson. Chance ran a hand through his hair again.

"Guess I'm going to Boston General," said Chance. Patterson nodded.

"The Martin's lawyer will be able to give you more details there. The DA's office sent one of their best prosecutors," said Patterson.

"Who is it?" asked Chance.

"Someone you knew a long time ago, Chance," said Carlson, leaning forward. Chance raised an eyebrow. It didn't take him long to figure out who it was.

"It's Storm Henshaw," said Carlson. Chance let out a sigh. Storm Henshaw. The young and beautiful law student who had stolen his heart long ago. The determined law student who had graduated with top honors from Harvard Law. Chance always knew she would make it to a DA's office. Hell, she'll be a DA before she's forty. Chance had some good memories of that girl. But the last two months they had been together had been nasty. They both wanted glory and successful careers. They worked together right out of law school. Chance was looking into the stabbing deaths of three drug dealers. Storm had been representing a witness. Chance and Storm clashed through the whole investigation. It destroyed their relationship.

"Chance, are you OK?' asked Carlson. Chance snapped back to reality.

"Yeah. Nice to know a professional is handling the legal side," said Chance. Carlson gave a slight nod. Patterson handed Chance a stack of folders.

"That's everything we have," said Patterson. Chance tucked the folders under his arm and stood up. Patterson rose and shook his hand.

"Good luck, Matthews," said Patterson.

"Thank you, sir," said Chance.

"If there's anything you need, let me know, Chance," said Carlson.

"I will, sir. Thank you," said Chance. He excused himself and headed for his office. As much as he tried to focus on the case, he couldn't get Storm out of his head.