A full moon shone onto the river, illuminating a dark haired man dressed in a green t-shirt and boxer shorts. Tony released the final leech from his leg forcefully, throwing it back into the river with a curse. His patience had waned after a couple of hours absorbed in the same painful task, interrupted only by futile slapping at swarms of mosquitoes. He rose irritably, reaching for his damp jeans from the branch he'd hung them on once his pursuers had left. With a sigh he pulled them on, wishing they had dried but knowing he hung them up too late. Well, they would dry on him then as he moved on. A barely audible hum reached his ears and he rushed onto the road in a hurry, clouds of mosquitoes in hot pursuit.

The beauty of the surroundings lost on him, he hurried along the road, determined to reach Chihuahua and conceal himself in a train moving west, aware of the need to lose the mole temporarily while leaving a traceable lead. He was beginning to get tired, but fear lent his body the strength necessary to keep moving.

It was almost dawn before he came upon the first houses on the outskirts of town. All was silent as he crept past them, wishing he had his sombrero. The first person to come across him would not fail to recognize him as he was, and he needed at least another hour to reach the railway station. A door opened and an old man stepped out dressed in work clothes, passing him without a glance. Tony quickened his pace, hearing voices from within several of the dwellings he passed. Two children sat on a fence laughing together and a delicious smell of coffee wafted over to him from within the house. Tony swallowed, aware it was breakfast time. Forget it, Almeida, you're not getting any! You got a train to catch and you'd better find yourself a hat rather quickly if you even want a hope of reaching the station!

Tony reached the end of the street and turned right, heading deeper into the heart of the city. Sudden noise reached his ears, he stiffened. People were working nearby, drilling in the road. As they had already seen him he decided it would arouse more suspicion if he turned away than if he continued walking towards them. He moved rapidly, eyes lowered, breathing easier once he passed them.

Despite the early hour the station was crowded with an odd assortment of passengers. Tony examined the motley crowd, noting well dressed people with plenty of luggage and a handful of out-of-season American tourists as well as barefoot slum dwellers, peasants from tiny villages and crowds of children. He moved among them, his head turned to the angle of the security cameras. The notice board showed the imminent departure of two trains, one westward bound to Los Mochis and the other heading south to Mexico City. He had half an hour to kill and from the lack of attention paid him, he worried whether the mole would even notice his arrival.

Tony moved over to a bench and withdrew the cell phone he had collected from one of the dead agents. Chewing his lip he took a deep breath and called Michelle's cell. Come on honey, pick up. I haven't got long. It was answered by an anxious 'Dessler' after the fifth ring. He breathed easier. 'Sweetheart, it's' me.'

'Tony, where are you?' she whispered softly. 'Are you ok?'

'I'm fine,' he answered characteristically. 'Jack got to me just as Miller was about to blow me into the next world. Honey, you sound exhausted. I'm guessing you know all about my capture and escape. I need you to relax now and get some sleep.'

'What about you?' she questioned, treasuring his familiar voice.

'I need to draw him after me. Jack thinks a deserted spot would be most ideal. I'm heading into the Sierra Madre, it's a massive mountain range filled with canyons. It should be easy to monitor anyone coming after me there.'

'Should be,' she answered unhappily. 'Tony, I miss you.'

'I know honey, I do too. I know you must be mad at me right now, but you'll understand why I did what I did when I get back and explain.' His fingers tightened round the phone as he waited anxiously for her response.

'I am mad, Tony. I'm MAD you took it upon yourself to find our worst traitor alone. I'm mad you didn't allow me to help you and I'm REAL MAD at Hammond for refusing to listen to you. I saw the footage of your interrogation.' Her voice broke and Tony stared at the phone shocked.

'Sweetheart, you shouldn't have done that. He was unreasonable but he was only doing his job. It's his way and right now, without my old position at CTU, this is mine. I'm fine now.' A train whistled loudly and he covered his ear. 'Can you hear me, Michelle? This battery is running low; I won't be able to talk much longer. I wanted you to know that I love you more than anythin' in the world and after I've helped capture this mole I'll come back. Even if they arrest me for hacking.' His voice broke over the final sentence. 'I need to see you, even if it's only for an hour a month behind solid glass. I miss you so much, sweetheart.' The phone gave an annoying beep. 'It's runnin' out now,' he finished. 'Honey, you gotta promise me something.'

'Sure,' she agreed, wiping her eyes. 'I'll let your parents know you're fine.'

'Thanks sweetheart, but I had somethin' else in mind. Things are gonna be happening real fast in the next few days, and I want you to stay out of it. Just go to work as usual and don't try to discover anything.'

'How can you ask me that? You think I'll sit by and…'

'You must. I need to know you're safe if I'm to focus on this task.' He stared at the beeping phone. 'Promise me now, honey.'

'I promise,' she said, having no intention of keeping her word.

'Ok, remember that. Close your eyes, sweetheart. I'm giving you a real deep kiss….' The connection cut out and Tony glared at the phone in pure hatred. 'Dammit. I needed another minute! She sure didn't sound as though she meant to keep her promise!' He rubbed his face in frustration.

An announcement interrupted his brooding. The public were warned there was an inbound train on the third track and that it would be departing shortly for Mexico City. Relatives of passengers were asked not to board the train. There was a general stirring. People reached for suitcases and children. Tony boarded a blue diesel train for Los Mochis on the second platform, heart hammering. It was risky, though only one policeman patrolled the area. He doubted whether the authorities would assume he had the audacity to catch in train in the center of the city. Still, he was a wanted fugitive without a ticket; he would need to conceal himself before a conductor approached him. Whilst it was imperative to allow the mole to locate him, it was necessary to allow Jack time to discover him.

He walked along to the back of the platform, ignoring the first class carriages reserved for tourists on the Canyon Tour and the second class coaches for the ordinary Mexican passengers. Tony entered the final compartment; full to overflowing with what he noticed instantly were villagers. He settled on the floor behind the last row of seats, pushing a few bags aside and settling among odds and ends, resting his head against the hard side of the train. Nobody paid him the least attention, busy sorting themselves out for the long journey ahead. Mothers handed tired children pieces of bread or tortillas, old people talked or grumbled and he rested his head in his hands, watching the crowd through a few cracks in his fingers. A toddler dropped her tortilla, ignoring it as she bounced on her seat. Unnoticeably his fingers closed around it and he ate hungrily, hoping he wouldn't get too sick. The floor was not only dirty, it was filthy. A smile crept across his face as he imagined his mother's horror if she were able to see him, remembering her preoccupation with hygiene.

"Tony, what are you eating?" she exclaimed, the horror in her voice clear after nearly forty years. She laid the baby in the carrycot and pulled a sticky lollipop from his mouth. "Where did you get it from?" He pointed to the floor proudly. "How can you even think of putting something in your mouth that was on the floor?" she cried. "You don't even know whose it was! It's full of germs." The offending candy was laid on the other side of the seat and she picked up the whining baby. Tony bounced up and down, watching the passengers getting on and off the bus, his eye on the lollipop. The moment his mother bent down to pick up the baby's rattle he reached for it, taking care to keep his back to her. It wasn't really dirty, after all, the dirt had already come off in his mouth, and who cared whose it was? They obviously didn't want it any more, and he did! A sharp smack on his hand from his indignant mother taught him the importance of considering the mysterious 'germs.'

A jolt ran through him, and the ground shook as the train pulled out of the station. It rattled slowly along the tracks, gathering speed. Tony closed his eyes, convinced none of the villagers had recognized his picture in the police station, aware they would avoid the place like the plague. He was safe enough momentarily, as long as he received advanced warning of the approach of the conductor. Something told him he was not the only passenger who would seek to avoid such a confrontation.

'Dammit, Brad, are you listening to me?' Jack demanded. 'I'm telling you Tony was innocent, he didn't shoot anyone! Four agents tried to kill him; I shot three of them as they attempted to kill me. The third got away. You need to discover who sent Miller; he was in charge of the rogue agents.'

'And just how am I supposed to do that, Jack,' Hammond demanded sarcastically. 'You want me to question a dead man? He might not wish to divulge anymore information!' He tapped impatiently on his desk. 'I sent you down to Mexico to locate Almeida and catch the mole. Instead what do I have? You protected Almeida, which was never on the agenda, and you failed to procure the identity of the mole. Your prints are all over the gun that shot three agents, you've got questions to answer and you'd better prove your innocence, or you'll find yourself sharing a cell with Almeida!'

'Now Brad, you know I'm telling you the truth,' Jack protested. 'When did I ever shoot our agents?'

'I don't know anything, Jack! You'll have to come back and explain it to me! As for when did you disobey direct orders, well, do you really want to go into that? Now where the hell is Almeida, I need to send someone else after him.'

'With all due respect, sir, he didn't tell me,' Jack answered. 'Let me get this bullet from my arm, and I'll go after him. Brad, you know Tony.'

'Unfortunately I do,' Hammond interrupted, highly irritated.

'And he won't show himself to anyone he doesn't trust. I promised him I'd help him out in a coupla days and…'

'And that's a promise you won't keep,' Hammond stated, his voice brooking no argument. 'You're coming home tonight, Jack.'

'Brad, I can't. Tony's life is in danger. I'm confident the mole himself will come to track him down after this bungled affair.'

'Possible, but highly unlikely. In any case, the moment anyone of importance in Division leaves for Mexico and Almeida's body is returned we've got our man. You're no longer needed.'

Jack drew a deep breath, resisting the urge to shout with difficulty. 'Brad, Mr. Hodgeson ordered you to protect Tony. If you pull me out now, he's alone.'

'Protecting Almeida was never the main issue,' Hammond answered mercilessly.

'Sir, I understand how you feel about him, especially in regard to his taking you hostage, but he deserves…'

'To go back to jail. And he will, should he return alive. And if you're not on this flight tonight, Jack, you'll join him. Have I made myself absolutely clear?'

'Yes sir,' Jack muttered, laying his head against the pillow and glaring at his bullet wound.

His door opened noiselessly. Jack sat up, relaxing at the sight of Miguel Alvarez, who appeared a little uneasy. 'Jack? What the hell happened?' he demanded. 'They're saying you shot three agents, and Tony shot another three.'

Jack shook his head. 'Tony didn't shoot anyone. Our rogue agent shot them, and had Tony shackled to a tree. I shot his would-be executioner and two others, the fourth man escaped. Damn it Miguel, I still don't know who sent those guys.'

Miguel let out an impatient breath. 'Jack, the Americans from District are pinning the shooting of the first three agents on Tony. The gun that was used for the killings is gone, I presume he took it.'

Jack nodded. 'Yeah, he needed something.'

'True, but his innocence can't be established. My people are now hunting for him just as determinedly as yours, and can you guess what the mandate is concerning him? You won't like it.'

Jack frowned, staring at the Mexican.

'Shoot to kill,' Miguel said softly. 'That's a direct order and our people will obey it.'

'If only I could discover who sent that order,' Jack sighed. 'Could you check any intercepted phone calls, Miguel, especially those calling District from here?'

The Mexican rose from his chair, pacing the room greatly agitated. 'Jack, what makes you think my government intercepts calls from foreign intelligence… Oh, ok. I'll see what we got, but right now my hands are a little tied, and they'll be tied literally soon enough. My boss wants to know what I'm doing in the state of Chihuahua, why I called you and held up Almeida's departure. I'll call a few people to see about the phone calls, but I won't be able to do anymore.' He looked at Jack in despair.

'I'm sorry,' Jack told him. 'None of this was your affair, but you've been a good friend to Tony. We'll put in a good word.'

'Where from, Jack - jail? No more words, please.'

Jack watched him leave the room, wondering how things had deteriorated so rapidly.

Tony woke suddenly as someone tripped over his legs. 'The conductor!' 'The conductor's coming!' Several people shuffled around, the majority hunting for tickets while a few headed determinedly for the back of the coach. Someone pulled a door open and climbed out, hanging onto it and taking a perilous leap towards a hook at the back of the carriage, followed by a few others. Tony pulled himself up and climbed after them, his hair blown back by hot air rushing past at a furious pace. He made the jump to the hook successfully, hanging onto it as someone reached down and helped him onto the roof.

'Gracias,' he gasped, lying flat on his stomach, breathing deeply.

'Of course. These tickets keep going up, who can afford them anymore?'

'Not me,' Tony answered honestly, wishing he had something to hang onto. No one spoke as they lay flat on the roof, unable to have heard each other over the rattling of the train. What seemed like hours later but in reality could not have been longer than fifteen minutes; someone opened the door and yelled that the conductor had departed. Tony offered up a silent prayer and slid backwards, his feet struggling to find the small metal hook. He lowered himself and crouched there a moment, unable to resist looking below at the tracks rushing past a few feet from him. His head swum with dizziness and he held on tighter, ordering himself to move. Carefully he let go of the hook with a hand and reached for the door, gripping the frame before swinging himself over. Hands pulled him inside the carriage and he moved aside, allowing the rest of the men to return. Oh God, please don't let this conductor come here too often!

Everyone settled down as though no interruption had occurred, loud conversations floating all around him. Tony lay back, resting his head against someone's bag, a plastic shopping bag low over his eyes. The temperature rose in the carriage and all the windows were pushed open. He nodded off again, waking suddenly as the regular rhythm of the train changed. They were slowing. He pulled the hat up and stared at the passengers, a few of them reaching for bags. His heart beat faster once the train drew to a stop, but the sight that met his eyes reassured him. They were in a small station with a single platform. An overweight station master strode around with a flag in his hand. About ten minutes after their arrival they pulled out, amid loud shouting of goodbyes by milling relatives.

And now I guess the conductor will come again!

Tony moved when several passengers began fidgeting, scrambling outside with a handful of poorer dressed men. The same man who had given him a hand a few hours ago pulled him up again, patiently lying flat on the moving train. His very passivity caused Tony to wonder how frequently he traveled this way. Warm sun beat down on him as they raced along the track. The landscape began to change, the train slowing as it entered steeper gradients.

He slid off a slowing train just minutes before they reached a small station in the mountains, by no means the only passenger who had disembarked that way. The embankment was fairly shallow and he landed on hands and knees.

Tony saw the steeples of Divisadero in the distance and he purposefully turned his back, heading in the opposite direction. The lower slopes and valley were bound to be more heavily populated; he took the deserted paths that led upwards into the Sierra Madre towards the vast canyons, passing several small dwellings. They petered away as he moved upwards, pulling his sweater on, glad he had remembered to ask for it back in the police station.

A cooler wind began to blow towards dawn, and Tony stopped, admiring a breathtaking view. The last dwellings had been situated several miles down the road, and the deserted area showed no sign of human presence. Steep cliffs surrounded a secluded valley, tiny but graced by a brook which gurgled along the center of the plain. The vegetation was edible if not appetizing, and there was no sign of any track leading downwards. Higher mountain peaks rose in the distance, cutting off human movement from any direction save one. As the river no longer ran that way it was bound to remain secluded from the most enthusiastic canyon viewing tourists and locals alike. The place was about as quiet as he could hope to find, and it would be possible to hole up and wait for Jack. As the sun rose higher he began his descent into the valley, taking care to pick less exposed rocks, having little desire to break his neck. Really, had he known where he would end up, he would have taken a little more interest in mountain climbing! If his mother could see him now, she would faint!

His fingers' grip weakened on the outcrop he hung onto, coming loose with armfuls of broken rock in each fist. Tony flailed in vain as he slipped and fell, landing twenty feet below. He moved slowly, examining himself for any injuries. Thankfully he appeared fine, though an ankle refused to take his weight when he attempted to rise. The pain caused him to sink back onto the ground grimacing. 'Dammit,' he swore, wondering how he would manage to find shelter. After a few minutes spent contemplating his ill luck, Tony rose and found a stick, made a splint for his leg, and set off slowly, searching for a sheltered outcrop. A few minutes after he began his exploration he found a hole in the cliff side, dry and reasonably flat.

Cheer up, Almeida! Things could be worse; you could be in prison on death row! Here you are in a nice quiet canyon instead, plenty of fresh water, lots of plants to eat, as much fresh air as you can desire, and a snug hole as your new home. There's no reason to put your head in your hands and groan aloud, you should be ashamed of yourself! That ankle's not broken, it's only sprained, it will be fine in a coupla days, and Jack will find the mole by then and you'll get to go home! He prayed that everything was indeed so, not at all certain about his diagnosis of his ankle.

It was humid in the valley. Tony removed his jeans and sweater and picked a few plants which he rinsed in the brook, chewing them slowly. At this stage he would have eaten just about anything, he was ravenous. He wondered whether the mole would ever be apprehended and he would be permitted to return home. A drop of rain on his neck pulled him abruptly back to the present. That's weird, it's not supposed to rain here at this time of year! Another few drops fell while he collected an extra plant, before the heavens opened. He hobbled over to his overhanging rock drenched, huddling close to the back of the cliff, bewildered by the heavy rain. Moments after he arrived a flash blinded him, followed almost instantly by a loud clap of thunder. He could have sworn the cliff behind him shook.

Tony spent a dismal hour leaning against the cliff in a vain attempt to shelter from the torrent. The lightening circled the same mountain peaks, striking trees far above the cliff while he watched, awe-struck. He removed his soaked clothes once the storm passed and hung them over a few low bushes to dry, taking the opportunity to wash in the brook. Refreshed, he rubbed himself with the damp sweater and found a clean rock in the sun to stretch out.

Take a break, Almeida, you're exhausted. Tomorrow you'll need to find a little better shelter and check out escape routes just in case. You won't be left alone for too long. He hoped Jack had recovered enough to find a few programmers to check Miller's last assignment. The thought of spending weeks alone in the valley with nothing better to eat than the same plants filled him with dismay.