Part II

That same night, while Chris battled his nightmares, JD Dunne battled some demons of his own. The young empath stood frozen in the middle of a large room filled with beds, overcome with an incredible deluge of emotion and pain swelling out and crashing into him. As if shielding himself in a storm, JD raised his arms to cover his head and bent slowly from the onslaught drumming into his mind and body.

"Focus, Mr. Dunne. Don't let the volume overwhelm your strength. You must find a way to pinpoint one person through the crowd and help them."

JD shook his head at the disembodied voice and doubled over in agony. Moans and screams filtered through to his mind and his body began to ache with all the different ailments that assaulted him. "I can't!"

"You have to. What would you do if a member of your team needed your help?

What if a friend were hurt and you needed to get them out of danger, but you had to fight through a room of wounded men to get to him?"

He clasped both hands to his head and slit his eyes open. Chest constricting, JD gasped. "I -- I don't know any of these people. How can I --?" Agony speared through his head. Crying out, he collapsed to his knees buut managed to keep from falling face-first to the floor. "There's too many!"

"Pick one. You won't leave this room until you've shown me you can focus through the different signals and help one."

Anger bled through briefly and JD used the strong emotion to push himself to his feet. Glaring at the two-way mirror where he knew Dr. Evans was watching, he stumbled closer to one of the beds and leaned against the bedstead. The iron frame felt ice cold in his grip. Closing his eyes, he let the darkness pull him down into the well of his mind, diving deep into the pain and suffering that had been gathering there since he'd walked into the room.

A crooked spine, a mind numb from drugs, limbs crippled from abuse, lungs black and shrunken with too many years of smoking, cancer riddled guts -- he accepted them all, unconscious of his own body convulsing and violently arching with his efforts. Weariness, madness, annger, sorry, grief, hatred and fear all swirled together in a tornadic rush that swept down on his head. Barely keeping his feet on the ground, JD's body surged, his chest filling, arms thrown out, as he swam through the tumult looking for that one small voice that could anchor him and pull him back to shore. Stretching, reaching, fingers spread wide and grasping, seeking for one among the many. There, almost there. One voice, one pain, one calling to him above the others.

Sarah. Adam. Buck, help me.

A noise woke Chris up and the pitiful cry for his family and call for help from Buck dissipated. When had he fallen asleep?

Terrifying how Evans could still hold such power over his mind that the mere mention of his name could resurrect not only memories, but emotions and, heaven help him, a migraine. Strangely enough, just as the first tendrils of pain built behind his eye, they disappeared. Relieved, Chris pushed the covers back and rolled to his side, drifting back into sleep.

Pulling air into oxygen-starved lungs, JD fell, suddenly realizing that he'd somehow reached far beyond this room and touched someone else. Abruptly, a blinding headache formed, and his throat constricted with grief. He couldn't move, couldn't call out for help.

Hands clamped to his arms and pulled him up. Despite being unable to control his feet, someone dragged him from the room. Pushed into a chair, JD sagged, his chin against his chest, and gasped, slowly catching his breath. The familiar pinprick on the side of his arm didn't even bring a reaction.

"This will keep your energy level up, Mr. Dunne."

A cold alcohol-soaked cotton ball swabbed the place where the needle had pierced his skin, soothing away the annoying heat of penetration. "Can't I rest for a minute first, Dr. Evans?" He lifted his head and looked hopefully into his trainer's face.

"How do you expect to hone your skills if you don't push yourself? The Agency only accepts those who are willing to work hard. If you want to be invited to join their elite group, you must prove that you can handle situations like the one in that room out there."

JD shuddered and turned to gaze at the door as if he could see past it into the room full of patients. "It all rushes at me at once. I can't sort them out into individuals and deal with them one at a time."

"But you have to. And you will." The tall researcher's mouth stretched into a faint grin that disappeared quickly. He patted JD on the shoulder. "I believe you almost had it that time. Think how far you've come in the three weeks you've been here."

JD let his head fall, dragging between his shoulders. "You're right."

"Now, I want you to join Peek and the others in the east wing."

Stiffening with dread, JD glanced at his teacher before looking back at the floor. "I don't understand why you put me with them, Dr. Evans."

A heavy sigh preluded Evan's reply. "Because you need to learn how to block thoughts and emotions as well as accepting them." A note of impatience bled into Evans' voice. "Hurry. I'll be in the observation room."

"I'll be right there." Pulling himself to his feet, JD hurried out of the room. He knew it wouldn't do to keep Dr. Evans waiting. He was allowed one hour a day to sit in his isolated, shielded room, and he didn't want to loose that privilege. That one hour rest did more to restore his sanity and peace of mind than any of the drugs and sedatives Evans had pumped into him.

Realizing he had to join Peek and the others, JD's pace slowed as he neared his room. There was something he wanted to do first.

When Dr. Evans had first approached him, JD had been guarded of the proposal to join the researcher. He'd never heard of the Agency, and felt uneasy and a little fearful that someone knew of his empathic gifts. But the doctor had been quick to assure him of his legitimate research, and promised to show him ways to use his gifts that would help others. Alone, broke and still grieving after his mother's death six months before, JD had finally consented.

Dr. Evans' research lab was simple: an old abandoned clinic just outside of

Batesville. Training had started simple, then become more complicated within just a day or two. Daniel Peek and his small group of friends came to stay at the facility, and JD welcomed the company, but it soon became apparent that

Daniel and the others knew what he was and feared him for it. The added guests at the old clinic served only to make him feel more alone, rather than offering companionship. Two days ago, several terminal patients from one of the nearby hospitals and one or two residents from a local sanitarium were added to the mix.

At first alarmed, then frightened when he realized what the newcomers were for, JD felt helpless to refuse Dr. Evans' training. He had nowhere else to go, no other means of making money to care for himself. He'd found it difficult to exist in the world, unable to fully block out thoughts, emotions, and pains from those around him. He'd hoped Dr. Evans training, and later joining the Agency, would give him the skills he needed to survive with his gifts. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Kneeling by his bed, he pulled out a small square of cloth he kept stuffed in his pocket and arranged it over one hand. He bent and reached under the cot to the wall and touched the box he kept hidden there. Careful to keep the cloth over his hand, he pulled it from its hiding place and tucked it close to his knees, but didn't open it. Like looking through an old family album, each object inside held a treasure trove of memories and emotions. His empathic gift blessed him with the unique ability to relive the moments as vividly as if he'd stepped back through time.

A piece of lace, a watch, and a favorite barrette: things that belonged to his mother and his link to feeling her presence with him again. But along with the comfort came pain and the despair of watching her slowly die. Determination kept him coming back to the box, hoping to hone his skills enough so that he could enjoy thinking of his mother and holding her things, finding a way to block out the pain and misery of her death.

Fingers quivering, he pulled out a key from where it hung around his neck by a long thin chain and reached for the lock.

"Mr. Dunne."

Startled, JD looked up with Evan's call over the intercom.

"Yes sir?"

"I need you now, the experiment is ready. Join the others."

JD nodded respectfully, his hand poised over the box that held his mother's things. "Yes sir. Right after I finish--"

"Now. That wasn't a suggestion."

"Yes sir!" Snapping up sharply, JD quickly secured the lock and stuffed the tiny key back into his shirt. Using the cloth, he slid the box under his cot and hurried out of the room.

Part III