Part One

Mulder slammed his foot on the brake, waited for the faint click that indicated he'd dropped into third, then floored the accelerator as he wrenched the car into the tight turn. The car slewed around the curve in the road, its tires barely keeping purchase on the rain-slicked asphalt. There was a sickening screech as the cliff-wall clawed the paintwork, a bone-jarring scream of ripping metal as the panels on the driver's side were gouged open by unyielding rock. 

Then, as he wrenched control back from the skewing vehicle, wrestling it off the cliff-face and back into the center of the road, the interior of the car filled with a bright, blinding light a mere fraction before the unmistakable sound of a loud explosion behind them evidenced that their pursuers had failed to make the treacherous turn.

"Another one bites the dust," he quipped softly, though his hands were shaking slightly on the wheel and his heart was hammering in his chest as it battled to recover from the adrenaline surge that had fueled their crazed flight from the motel.

Scully just managed a tightlipped smile, though she patted his knee reassuringly. 

"Looks like we'll have to ditch another car," Mulder muttered. 

"What's left of it," she pointed out quietly.

After checking the rear mirror to be sure no other vehicles were following, Mulder allowed his foot to rise slowly off the accelerator and then turned in concern to his passenger. 

"You look like hell, Scully."

"Thanks," she mock-pouted. "You don't look so hot yourself."

"No, seriously. You don't look well."

"I'm just tired. We're both tired, Mulder. We just need some sleep."

Mulder nodded. Sleep. He was beginning to forget what the word meant. 

"It's only me they want, Scully."

"Don't you even dare say that again," she growled. "You are not ditching me, Mulder. Not this time."

"I have to," he whispered then, as she opened her mouth to argue, he brought his right hand down to caress the fingers that were now clutching his knee with angry desperation. "We need help, Scully. No matter how often we change the car or how careful we are, they keep finding us. I'm going to drop you off at the next town. They won't come after *you* if you're alone. You need to go to Skinner. He's the only one we can trust now."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"You have to. Skinner's the only person who might be able to help me and you're the only person I can depend on to get that help."

"What help? We both know there's nowhere for you to run where they won't eventually find you," Scully replied, too tired to even pretend it wasn't the truth. The last four weeks had proven conclusively that no matter how carefully they covered their tracks, someone always found them and, rather than their pursuers losing heart, the brief moments of safety between attacks were becoming increasingly shorter.

Mulder sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Yeah, well the 'eventually' sounds real good at this moment, Scully. We're sitting ducks at the moment. They've found us four times in the last week. Every time we hire a car or book into a motel, they turn up within hours. That means that at least four of our identities have been compromised and I'm willing to bet that means *all* of them have."

"I know that," Scully agreed grimly. 

"We're just running from too many different people," Mulder explained, as though she hadn't already figured that out. "Whatever happened to the concept; the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" he added, with a bitter laugh.

"I think the real problem is that no one is even sure who their enemies are any more," Scully replied thoughtfully. "The only thing that *everyone* seems to agree on is that you're too potentially dangerous to live."

"Except it doesn't make sense, does it?" Mulder demanded, his tone frustrated. "What do I *know*, Scully? Nothing but secrets that aren't even secrets any more. Besides, they've effectively destroyed whatever little credibility I had. What do they think I'm going to do with a Federal warrant hanging over my head? A guest appearance on Jerry Springer? Besides, even if I did announce the invasion plans to the world, I'd just be written off as just another nutcase."

"I don't know," Scully admitted. "But I'm beginning to believe it's not what you know that scares them. It's who you are. Or perhaps *what* you are."

"The man who rose from the dead," Mulder agreed bitterly.

"Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood," Scully mumbled softly.

"Oh, god," Mulder swore, thumping his forehead down onto the steering wheel.

"I'm not saying I believe it," she replied. "Just that I understand *why* some people think of you that way. It's written in Revelations that the only man who can loose the seals and save mankind is the 'lamb who was slain' but rose again. I'm not suggesting you're the second coming, Mulder. Hell, I don't even believe that the proposed colonization is Armageddon. What I *do* believe is that there are a lot of scared and misguided people out there who could easily be convinced to follow you if you *did* make that claim."

"I know," Mulder agreed wearily. "So in addition to alien bounty hunters, the grays, the oiliens, the surviving members of the Consortium, all other collaborators, half the world's governments and our very own military, I now have to worry about being killed by Satanists, kidnapped by some Billy Graham clone and being excommunicated by the pope."

"You can't be excommunicated, you're not Catholic," Scully pointed out, with an appreciative smile.

"Maybe I'll get lucky, and just be stoned," Mulder agreed.

"Are you channeling 'Life of Brian' again?" she asked sweetly.

Mulder flipped her the finger and grinned. "So, anyway, I need you to fly back to DC and get us fresh passports and some money."

"Us?" 

"Of course. I'm not ditching you," Mulder lied.

"It makes sense," Scully agreed reluctantly. "But what about you? It'll take me a couple of days to sort things out. Maybe more if I have to shake a tail to get back to you."

"You take this car to the airport. I'll use the last of our cash to buy a Junker and some camping gear. If I buy something privately it'll take a couple of days before the seller files the paperwork."

Scully laughed.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to visualize you in a tent, Mulder. It's not really you."

"Think about my apartment. I can slum with the best."

"I don't like this plan," she admitted quietly.

"It's the only one I've got. It's just a couple of days, Scully. That's all."

"Then why does it feel like you're saying good-bye?"

~#~#~#~

"Sleeping on the job again?"

Mulder jerked awake at the familiar dark-honeyed drawl. He was still blinking in total confusion when the air-horn blasted through his ear drums.

"SHIT!"

For a few seconds he was too busy wrenching the car out of the path of the oncoming truck to even breathe.

"Novel idea, Mulder," Alex drawled, "but killing yourself, before *they* can do the job, is a somewhat counterproductive solution."

Shakily, Mulder parked the car at the edge of the road then turned to face his uninvited 'guest'.

"You're dead," he said flatly.

"So?" Alex shrugged. "Keep driving with your eyes closed and the word 'dead' will have a whole new and personal meaning."

"I'm beginning to really hate my subconscious," Mulder muttered to himself. "If I've got to keep conjuring up a ghost to talk to, you'd think I'd chose someone I liked."

"That's cold. Here I am, saving your butt *again* and all you can do is insult me," Alex complained, stretching his legs out and settling comfortably with his arms, two of them, Mulder noted, behind his head.

"Count yourself lucky. If I actually believed you were sitting there, I wouldn't bother to just 'insult' you," he snarled.

"That's what I mean. You've got an attitude problem, Mulder. I sold you out. So what? It wasn't personal. I was just doing a job. Get over it. This damned martyr complex of yours is getting real old. You've got unrealistic expectations of people. Name me *one* person whose ever lived up to your ideals."

"Scully," Mulder snapped.

"Ah, the sanctimonious ditchable Scully. Wondered when you'd mention her."

"I didn't ditch her," Mulder lied defensively, then flushed hotly as he realized he was essentially lying to himself. The burning sensation in his cheeks wasn't helped by the fact that for some reason his subconscious had visualized Krycek wearing nothing except a very tight pair of denim cut-offs, well-faded in a certain area, and a muscle-tee.

"How come when I lie it makes me an immoral scumbag, but when you lie it's okay?" Alex asked conversationally, absently rubbing at his crotch where the denim *did* seem a little too restrictive for comfort.

Mulder swallowed heavily and decided he *hated* his subconscious. "I'm just protecting her. They don't want her. They want me."

"True," Alex agreed. "I hear hunting season on Scullys has been temporarily suspended."

"So what are you doing here?" Mulder asked tiredly, pretending not to notice the way the illusion was now scratching his balls with a blissful grin on his face.

"Did I just hear you correctly?" Alex asked, with a smirk. "Have you finally accepted I'm real?"

"Nope," Mulder replied crushingly. "I've just decided to play along with whatever fucked-up portion of my brain conjured you up. I figure it's the fastest way to make you disappear again."

"Oh," Alex mumbled, his grin disappearing into an expression of hurt.

Mulder noted the wide wounded eyes, the pouting rosebud lips and sighed heavily. He really hated the way that he always visualized Alex as he'd first seen him. Young, vulnerable and cuter than a collie-pup. 

"Know why I know you're not a real ghost?" he asked suddenly.

Alex just raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Because you're too damned good-looking."

Alex blinked.

"Seriously," Mulder continued, warming to his subject. "I've met a few ghosts. Real ones, I mean, and they're transparent."

"You mean you could see through them?" Alex asked cautiously. "Like this?" His body shimmered and faded until Mulder could see right through his hazy form.

"No," Mulder snapped. "Not *that* kind of transparent. I meant you could look in their faces and see their souls. Every vile thing they ever did was painted on their features in wrinkles and lines. Ghosts with ugly souls have ugly faces. So you aren't a ghost," he concluded. 

"I see," Alex agreed, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. He settled for letting his body turn opaque once more. 

"So, I repeat. What do you want?"

"Don't you mean what do *you* want?" Alex mocked. "Since I am only a figment of your imagination."

Mulder glowered at him dangerously, his right fist clenching as he wondered whether to test his theory about hitting 'ghosts'.

"Roadblock. Bounty hunters waiting for you at the next junction," Alex said. 

"How can they be?" Mulder argued. "I'm in a new car. No-one knows where I am or where I'm going. Hell, even *I* don't know where I'm going."

"Think laterally," Alex advised. "*I* knew where to find you."

Mulder ignored the comment under the circumstances and racked his brains to work out why his subconscious was sending him the message.

"They know Scully drove to the airport alone. They backtracked, figured out where we split up. They're checking all possible routes out of there."

"Whatever," Alex snarled. "Just get your ass off this road. While you were busy dreaming at the wheel, you just passed a small junction to a dirt track. It leads up into the national park. They'll eventually figure that's where you've gone but there's a lot of space to get lost in there."

"How do you, I mean how do *I* know about that road?" Mulder asked, turning to glower at Alex again.

But unsurprisingly the passenger seat was vacant.

~#~#~#~

"Don't mind me. It might be important," Kersh prompted, his smile as wide and dangerous as a hungry shark's.

Skinner shrugged disinterestedly, careful to keep his face expressionless although his heart had started jumping the moment his phone had beeped to indicate an incoming text message. Fortunately Kersh wasn't aware that Skinner had two phones; his bureau standard issue and an unregistered 'pay as you go' that only two people knew the number to. Hopefully, Kersh hadn't noticed that the text beep had been slightly different than the usual tone.

The need to read that message, to know why Scully or Mulder had taken the chance of contacting him, was like a burning ache. It made an already terminally boring budgetary meeting almost unbearable but nothing in his manner or posture gave away his urge to just grab his jacket and race out of the room.

He found himself agreeing to several points he would have otherwise argued and making only a token complaint about a proposed cut in the IT budget for the VCU. They wrapped the meeting up in less than an hour but then, although he wanted to scream with frustration, Kersh invited him to lunch and Skinner didn't dare draw attention to himself by refusing. 

So although he immediately excused himself at the restaurant and slipped into a stall of the men's room to read the message, it was gone three PM before he set the wheels in motion to respond to Scully's plea for help.

~#~#~#~

"I've been hearing some disturbing rumors from the ranks, Alex."

"Oh?" Alex asked lazily from the sun bed he was lounging on, and raised his head enough to meet his employer's eyes with a look of pure innocence.

"Something about ghostly visitations," Luke prompted.

"Ah, those," Alex agreed, but smiled unrepentantly.

"Try to remember the bigger picture, Alex. As fond of you as I am, there's far too much at stake for me to tolerate this kind of irresponsible behavior indefinitely. Help him again and you will regret it."

"Fuck," Alex mumbled under his breath as Luke turned and walked away. He made a mental note to track down the snitches and teach them his own personal version of hell. Then he smirked as he replayed his boss's words. No more 'helping'. Okay. He could live with that. He could think of a few ways to keep Mulder too pre-occupied to need help.

~#~#~#~

Mulder squirmed uncomfortably and decided, not for the first time, that sleeping on the ground was a hell of a lot less comfortable than sleeping on a couch. Of course, the six billion or so insects that kept crawling into his sleeping bag weren't helping.

He groaned, reached down and scratched his ass furiously.

"It's your own fault, for having such an obviously tasty butt."

"SHIT!" Mulder yelped, as he sat up so fast that he hit his head on the tent pole.

"If you don't stop saying that every time I visit you, I'm going to get a complex," Alex drawled.

"You *are* a complex. Mine," Mulder pointed out irritably. "What the hell do you want this time?"

"Well, I could be here because I had an overwhelming desire to teach you how to pitch a tent properly," Alex laughed, as the structure wobbled dangerously around their heads. "Or I could be here to warn you there's a posse of bounty hunters about to swoop down on your head."

"There is?" Mulder gasped, scrambling out of his sleeping bag and reaching for his weapon.

"Nope," Alex laughed. "I just said that's why I *could* be here."

Mulder thumped him in the jaw, then yelped in shock and cradled his bruised knuckles.

"Now did that feel like punching a ghost?" Alex smirked.

"No," Mulder agreed. "It felt like I just hit the tent pole, which is probably exactly what I *did* do."

"How about I kiss it better?" Alex purred, as he bent over and licked the back of Mulder's hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mulder demanded, snatching his hand away from Alex's lips.

"I'm just a figment of your imagination, right?" Alex asked slyly.

"Right," Mulder agreed weakly.

"Then think of me as a wet dream," Alex said, with a wide smirk.

"You're no way in hell my idea of a wet dream."

"Yeah?" Alex mocked, leaning forward and licking a wet path down the side of Mulder's neck. "Wet enough for you yet?"

"I never wanted you like that," Mulder protested angrily, though he made no effort to push Alex away as his tongue continued its slow, wet assault. 

"No?" Alex asked, looking up and grinning before lowering his head to Mulder's chest and gently biting down on a nipple. "You must have, Mulder. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here drooling over the idea of sucking your cock down my throat, would I?"

"No," Mulder denied weakly, as he arched his back to thrust his chest encouragingly against Alex's mouth. He writhed and whimpered with pleasure as Alex laved and nibbled his way over to the neglected nipple and teased it into a hard nub. Then he gasped as fingers that *felt* solid and real caught and stroked his cock through his thin cotton boxers.

"Your mouth says no, but your body says yes," Alex laughed. "Want me to show you what *my* mouth can do?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He moved so quickly that Mulder was barely aware of the sudden chill on his wet, abandoned chest before ghostly fingers delved into his boxers and withdrew his hard dick. "Whaa?" he gasped and then forgot what he was about to say as his excited flesh was embraced in a hot, wet, velvet-soft caress.

~#~#~#~

"What's this?" Alex asked, as a heavy manila envelope was slapped down on his lap.

"Complaints," his employer snapped. "That's just the start. Two unions are up in arms about it. Do you have *any* idea how many rules you broke last night?"

"I don't see the problem," Alex sniffed. "It was personal business, not work."

"I warned you to stay away from him," Luke growled. 

"You told me not to 'help' him," Alex countered. "I didn't help him. I just fucked him."

"From what I saw, it was the other way around."

"You watched?" Alex asked, with a satisfied grin.

"Quiet night, last night," Luke agreed, walking over to the poolside bar and pouring them both a drink." You could at least have timed it better. Just about *everyone* watched you. Hence the complaints.

"I didn't hear Mulder complaining," Alex retorted.

"Complaining? Hardly. We all heard him howling the hallelujah chorus."

"So what's the problem?"

"Apart from the fact you just kicked the entire Succubae in their professional pride? Maybe the fact that Mulder *isn't* your responsibility anymore. Stay away from him."

Alex just shrugged disinterestedly. Luke's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

"I mean it, Alex. In fact, I'm going to ensure it. From now on, I'm grounding *everyone* who isn't on an authorized mission. I've got enough to deal with without you sowing dissension in the ranks."

"So authorize me," Alex challenged.

"I seem to recall you saying you didn't *want* to do another tour," Luke reminded him, carefully settling himself on the sunchair to Alex's right.

"It was PTSD talking," Alex replied. "I've changed my mind. The game's still on and I want to play."

Luke leaned back in his chair, taking an appreciative sip of his wine and then frowning thoughtfully over his glass.

"So you want to go back. Again. What exactly do you hope to achieve down there this time? What is it that makes you keep wanting to play the game, Alex?"

Alex frowned back, surprised by his employer's unfamiliarly solemn tone. 

"After how many months of trying to entice me back into the game, you say that like you don't want me to go."

"Maybe I don't. Perhaps I think you've suffered enough for the cause. Perhaps it's time you stepped away. I have other pieces in place. I don't deny you've been a useful player but you've become a little too 'fond', shall we say, of the canon fodder. I'm worried about you, Alex. You're too valuable for me to let you destroy yourself over this."

"You need me," Alex insisted.

"I *did*," Luke corrected. "But it's all over now, bar the shouting. It's time for you to step back and let the others clean up the mess."

"So you don't need me anymore. That's what you're saying?"

"Of course I need you. I need you *here*. Safe. You've been invaluable and I won't forget your contribution. When it's over, you'll still be standing at my right-hand Alex. Where you belong. Where you deserve to be."

"I've left some loose ends that still need to be tied up."

"You have," Luke agreed amiably. "Which is unfortunate, I admit, but rather unavoidable under the circumstances. We never anticipated Walter Skinner killing you in cold blood. It was totally out of character."

"And if he dies *now*, with that on his conscience, it could change everything."

"He's just one man," Luke countered. "It's made the balance tight, I agree, but the game's still winnable."

"And there's Mulder," Alex pointed out angrily. 

"He was always a wild card, Alex. We never knew which way he'd fall. It's your own fault. If you'd just followed orders and killed him, without wasting all that time trying to justify yourself before pulling the trigger, Skinner's shooting of *you* would have been a righteous killing. As it is, Mulder's still in jeopardy and Skinner's fallen."

"I know," Alex whispered miserably.

"Oh, cheer up," Luke said, patting Alex's thigh. "I'm not angry with you. It's my own fault, really. I knew you'd been down there too long. You were beginning to think like one of them. It happens to us all one time or another. We fall in love with the pain and misery. Men like Mulder make suffering an art form."

Alex flushed a little under Luke's scrutiny and shrugged self-consciously. "I dunno," he admitted finally. "Maybe I did in a way but it's not *all* pain and misery. There's good things about being human too. Fame, fortune, great sex…that kind of thing."

Luke huffed with annoyance and seeing the dark eyes narrow, Alex's color deepened. He spread his hands out in a gesture of helplessness.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I'm not being flip. I just don't have a better answer. All I know is that something changed for me this time. It started off as just another job and turned into…well, whatever it turned into, I fucked it up. I've got to go back and put things right. Not just for the game, but for me. "

"You're forgetting a salient point, Alex. You're dead, remember?"

Alex shrugged and grinned.

"We can go with the clone thing. Mulder will accept that. He swallows ten impossible things before breakfast every morning. Hell, he fucked a 'ghost' last night."

To his relief Luke chuckled with restored good humor, his high-boned cheeks quivering above a benign smile.

"What about the arm?"

Alex shuddered dramatically. "I can't face *that* again," he admitted. "It's taking authenticity too far. If he asks, I'll say the bounty hunters regrew it or something."

"It's too late for Skinner. That die's been cast," Luke warned. 

"My interest in him is personal," Alex admitted. "I caused the problem. I just want a chance to put it right. I won't interfere with the end game."

"Take him out of the game completely. Like I said before, he's just one man. It makes little difference which side he ends up on personally as long as he doesn't have the ability to influence anyone else at this stage."

"Agreed," Alex nodded.

"As for Mulder, though…he's out in the cold, running on empty. It's too late to get him back into the loop. Even the other side have given up on him now. It's best all round if he's taken permanently out of the equation."

"So you are still planning on killing him?"

"Well, no thanks to you, the aliens haven't done it for us. While I can't see him managing to upset the game at this stage, he's surprised us before. If he's not part of the solution, he's part of the problem. There's nothing more dangerous than a man with a 'quest'. "

"He just doesn't understand."

"Men like Mulder never do."

Luke tipped his glass slightly and peered thoughtfully at the blood red liquid as it swirled around the glass.

"The tide's coming in, Alex, and Mulder's still the only one who might stop its flow. We can't take that chance. There's too much at stake."

"You don't have to kill him, Luke. I can keep him out of the end game. Please." 

"HE won't like it."

"Since when have you cared what HE thinks, anyway?"

"You don't understand anything, Alex. I love HIM. The game doesn't change that. It never has."

"I know," Alex admitted.

"Then why won't you just step away from this?"

"Because…" Alex paused and looked away, his green eyes scanning the horizon thoughtfully. "Because I think I love him."

"Mulder?" Luke asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Damn," Luke swore. "When you fuck up, you don't do it by halves do you?"

Alex just shrugged helplessly.

"HE definitely won't like *that*," Luke pointed out.

"I know."

"Of course, that *could* change things. What do you intend to do?"

"Tell him the truth," Alex admitted.

"WHAT? Are you completely out of your mind?"

"Maybe, but I don't see any alternative. He's only dangerous because he doesn't understand what's really going on."

"Perhaps," Luke agreed. "It won't help you though, will it? Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it on Earth."

"Yeah, maybe, but what I do know is that whatever I'm looking for isn't here."

"And you believe this Mulder's got the answer?" Luke asked archly.

"Maybe," Alex agreed, with a hint of defiance.

"I knew you'd been down there too long. You seem to have forgotten that you're not human," Luke pointed, waving his hands dismissively. "Wearing a human body is like taking a drug, Alex. It's addictive. I understand that. We've all taken a human lover from time to time. They're an indulgence. A pastime. That's all. That's all they can be. Quite apart from the impossibility of it all, you still haven't the faintest notion of what you'd be letting yourself in for. How many times do you have to 'die' down there before you accept that humans just aren't worth the bother?"

"Maybe I think the risk's worth it," Alex muttered.

Part Two