Title: Conundrum
Author: Chad
E-mail: Chad_Skywalker@webtv.net
Feedback: Always welcome
Date: August 11th, 2001
Archive: Yes, please
Series/Sequel: This story is a sequel to "Dangerous
Undercurrents."
Category: M/O
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Set after the TV story "Existence."
Disclaimers: All familiar characters belong to CC,
1013 and Fox Television; any others were conceived in
my warped imagination. Azathoth and the Great Old Ones
are creations of HP Lovecraft, and are now the
property of Arkham House. No infringement intended.

Huge Beta Thanks: Bertina

Chapter Ten: Pawns

"How's that feel?" Walter asked, slightly out of
breath.

"A lot better," a flushed Alex replied.

"Don't move," Walter told him. "I'll be right back
after I get cleaned up."

Alex smirked and stood up to survey Skinner's
handiwork in a nearby mirror. The wound he sustained
from the earlier scuffle had been expertly cleaned and
bandaged. The antiseptic stung a bit, but Walter's
touch had been surprisingly gentle. Now, only a dull
ache remained in Krycek's side.

Returning from upstairs, Walter handed him a crisp,
white dress shirt. "Here you go," he offered. "I think
yours is pretty much ruined."

But Alex Krycek did not reply, instead he stared off
into space. To Skinner, he appeared to be in a trance.

"I tried to stop it, when I found out..." The former
double agent whispered, half to himself.

Walter carefully approached him, a part of him still
finding it hard to trust the man. "Found out what,
Krycek?" he asked.

The hold on Alex's mind loosened its grip. The longer
he was away from the influence... He pounded his fists
against his temples. "A voice... inside my head...
telling me to forget, that I'd been chosen, that I was
needed... to bring him here."

"Who?!" Walter demanded. When Krycek failed to answer,
he gripped his shoulders and swung him around.

Alex saw a series of visions flash before his green
eyes. He remembered becoming a Brother in the Cult of
Azathoth. Matthew Blair, the High Priest and president
of the Avatar genetic facility, reconstructing his
lost arm... then promising to harvest a clone if
Krycek located the Deliverer: Jamie Grayson, Fox
Mulder's long lost love.

The images increased and Alex winced with pain. He
felt a pair of strong hands pulling him off the floor,
although he was oblivious to whom they belonged.

He saw himself in Oxford, England a year ago
discovering Jamie in a crowd. But it wasn't Jamie
somehow... a fierce, powerful light shone from his
eyes. A voice in his mind...

"No!" Krycek screamed.

Using the only action he knew would work, Walter
hauled back and delivered a right hook across the
Russian's chin.

"Snap out of it, Krycek!" he growled.

Alex looked up at him, revelation shining through his
eyes. "Don't you see? I've been used. We've all been
used! It was Azathoth all the time!"

~*~*~*~*~

The long forgotten portable phone slipped from his
numb fingers, rebounding off the cool, tiled kitchen
floor. Sickened, Mulder leaned over a counter,
emotionally disoriented.

Mulder walked, as if hypnotized, into the hall.
Adrenalin rushed through his body as he comprehended
the meaning of it all. 'He said "help me," and I
didn't listen!'

He'd been a blind, trusting fool, wanting so much to
believe in the impossible. The tension, the
anticipation of finding Jamie had been so great that
it had felt almost sexual.

Now he felt as if he'd just been slapped hard with a
jagged piece of glass, cutting into his flesh and
straight to his heart. The truth hissed and spat in
Mulder's mind like a coiled serpent, awoken after a
long, dormant sleep.

Mulder knew that he was the one who'd been given this
quest. It was his. Jamie was his.

Wordlessly, Mulder went over to his bedroom and opened
the door.

Inside, "Jamie" turned from a wall mirror as if he'd
been talking into it. "Oh, Mulder, you scared me," he
said, furrowing his brow. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Did I? I'm sorry." Mulder's face remained set in
stone, but the gold flecks in his eyes glittered with
anger.

It was surreal and awful beyond anything he could
imagine. Jamie, his first love who had captured his
heart and his soul completely and made him want to
forget the world, was host to an evil older than time.

The thing that possessed him moved across the room and
Mulder felt as if he was being stalked. He mustn't
show fear, whatever else happened.

"Was there something you were looking for... a box?!"

Azathoth cocked his head to the side, a malicious
smile spreading across his face. Raising his hand, a
powerful, invisible force hurled Mulder backwards
against the wall.

Within his mind, Azathoth heard the Chosen One cry
out.

Mulder groaned and clenched his teeth. With the wind
knocked out of him, he held onto the nightstand and
slowly regained his feet. All of the gloss had been
stripped away, and Azathoth didn't bother with
pretense. A cold, hard voice escaped his lips.

"Clever, Fox. Jamie said you'd figure it out. Although
Jamie won't be saying anything in a couple of hours."

"Get the hell out him!" Mulder shouted.

"And give up this body?" Azathoth ran his hands along
Jamie's form, caressing it. "No, thanks. I'm here to
stay. But don't worry. It'll be over soon enough."

At this, Mulder went red with fury. "That's a lie! Get
out of Jamie now or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" he taunted. "To get me out of this
sweet little body, you'll have to kill your precious
Jamie. Call me a gambler, but I seriously doubt you're
willing to do that."

Anger flushing his face, Mulder took a step toward
him. "You're killing him! You have no right to do
this!"

"I have every right," he hissed. "Centuries have
prepared me for this moment, ever since I was trapped
in that box! Jamie is the instrument, a pawn shall we
say, to my awakening." Azathoth grinned. "Oh, yes, you
should be thanking me, Fox."

"Thanking you?!" Mulder exploded.

Azathoth shook his head playfully. "Why yes, when my
essense entered his body, I kept Jamie alive and held
back the barriers of time. Trapped in that pit of
darkness, building up the strength to escape. A story
full of holes didn't take much to convince you, did
it?"

Mulder exhaled deeply. "You think I didn't know? I
realized that only a supernatural influence could have
saved him."

Azathoth chuckled lightly. "Long before that, Fox.
Ever since Oxford, where you first met the boy!"

What was he saying? Mulder stared in disbelief.

With relish, Azathoth continued. "He is one of the
cursed -- descendants of the very first Chosen One."

Mulder thought furiously. The Oxford cemetery flashed
before his eyes; the ghosts that haunted the woods,
the gravestones of the Chosen Ones. Jamie's voice from
the past, "My ancestors were from Scotland." The first
gravestone: Here lyeth Jeremiah Patterson. Azathoth's
curse passed down through the generations. Mulder felt
the room lurch sickeningly.

Azathoth smiled, then his smile turned into a laugh.
"So, you finally understand?"

"You've got it wrong," Mulder warned, balling his
fists. "I won't let you do this to Jamie."

Azathoth's statement was victorious. "All those who
prevented my becoming have failed. Inspector Winston,
Professor Wickham, Alex Krycek and now you."

"Me? How?"

"They all lead me straight to you. The one who held
the naga box." Azathoth replied, coldly.

The words twisted in Mulder like a knife. "Shut up!"
he hollered, an unwanted tear sliding down his cheek.

Folding his arms, Azathoth began to pace around him.
"Those touched by my curse have released me and I have
a body again. Only one thing remains. Unless you want
those pretty lips of yours sealed forever, give me the
naga box!" he furiously demanded.

Something burned inside Mulder. A deep anger that
flamed up. "Jamie? Jamie, I know that you're in there
somewhere. Just try and listen to me. You can fight
this! Please come back to me."

Azathoth turned, laughing mockingly at the man's
feeble attempt. White hot fury surged through Mulder's
blood. "GIVE HIM BACK NOW!" he cried, whirling the
figure around. He stilled before staring in stunned
silence.

The astonished person before him stared back,
confused, taking shallow breaths. His skin was deathly
pale, and dark circles ringed his -- yes, it's in his
eyes! -- brilliant emerald eyes where tears glistened.

"Jamie?" Mulder gasped. "Jamie, is that you?"

"Mulder?" he whispered back, in a weak but gentle
Southern accent.

"Jamie, oh my god, Jamie."

Completely exhausted, Jamie collapsed and Mulder raced
forward. Catching him in his arms, he held Jamie
tightly to his chest. Together, they sank to their
knees. Jamie let out a little cry.

"Jamie, I'm so sorry," Mulder whispered while stroking
his hair. "You tried to tell me and I..."

Relief washed over him and Mulder let himself relax,
slowly rocking Jamie back and forth. Feeling Jamie's
body shaking like a leaf, he kissed him on the
forehead and moved his hands up and down his back.

"I was trapped. I couldn't move." Jamie, weak from the
effort, explained. "I tried calling out to you for a
long, long time." 
After a few moments, Jamie raised his haunted eyes.
There's such a look of love in them, that Mulder found
it almost too painful to look at him.

"Shh," Mulder tried to calm him, while Jamie sobbed
against his chest. "It's alright, everything's alright
now."

"No, it's not." Jamie shook his head adamantly. "I
can..." He struggled for breath. "I can feel it inside
my mind. The feelings of hate and rage building for
control. I can't fight it."

"Yes, you can!" Mulder cried, holding his face in his
hands. "This is why you've got to fight it." Gently,
he leaned forward and kissed Jamie softly on the lips.
A feeling of warmth washed over Mulder; in his heart
he knew this time its the real thing.

Mulder leaned back, wiping the tears from Jamie's
cheeks. "I never stopped loving you, Jamie."

Slowly, Jamie ran his fingers lightly over Mulder's
face, revelling in the touch of his skin. He smiled,
then choked on a deep-throated cry. "Thank you for
knowing the difference between my kisses and his."

A bright grin spread across Mulder's face. "Now that
you're here, we'll find a way to stop it. I won't lose
you again. You have to know that."

Jamie tensed and suddeny became very afraid. "I don't
know that," he said, overtaken by a racking cough.
With great effort he pulled his frail body up and
headed out of the bedroom. He fell against the
doorframe, every ounce of his strength ebbing away.

"Jamie, wait!" Mulder, full of concern, hurried to his
side and pulled him back.

"Mulder, the thought of this thing near you terrifies
me. If it were to hurt you..."

"It won't!" Mulder was about to protest further, but
Jamie gently placed his fingers against Mulder's
half-open lips.

"No, listen to me. I don't have much time left."

Mulder frowned and listened carefully.

"This thing inside of me won't rest until it has the
box. It wants to kill us all." Jamie paused, his voice
breaking. "You've got to destroy it."

"What?" Hearing this, Mulder's eyes went wide in first
bewilderment then alarm. "I can't!"

"You must!" pleaded Jamie, holding onto his arms for
support.

"No." His voice was firm. "Do you know what you're
asking me to do?"

"You've got to do it... for us all."

[Next episode: Choices]