a/n: Just to clarify what might've been a confusing point in my original author's note: this isn't an X-Files crossover. I started one of those, but then ended up discarding it. It's been so long since I've watched The X-Files, I feel like I can't confidently reproduce Mulder and Scully in the written word.

Thanks for the reviews, and keep 'em comin'!

And the answer that you're seeking
For the question that you've found
Drives you further to confusion
As you lose your sense of ground.

The case was not progressing well. It was at least partially the fault of the local sheriff's department: while they seemed eager for FBI help, Reid got the impression it was just so the sheriff could get his face on TV and his picture on the front page. The two crime scenes they did have had been horribly mishandled; evidence was missing or destroyed; witnesses hadn't been questioned right away; and no one had issued a warning to local women about being careful in the park.

Hotch was stone-faced, Reid noticed warily, his expression that hard, blank "don't fuck with me" look. Deeply familiar with that particular Hotch Glare, the team steered clear.

Rossi and Morgan were sent to interview the hikers who had found the bodies; JJ held a press conference; Reid and Prentiss headed out to interview the coroner; and Hotch stayed behind at the station to whip the bungling, Keystone-style locals into some semblance of order and professionalism.

The coroner's lab was several blocks from the police station, situated next to the impound lot. "I guess most of their autopsies are performed on car accident victims," Prentiss remarked.

"The murder rate around here is pretty low. They get the occasional death from exposure or, even more rarely, an animal attack, but largely it's boating and automobile accidents," Reid said.

Prentiss gave him a sidelong look as she pretended to scan an intersection for oncoming traffic before easing through the stop sign. "This case's pretty important to you, I guess," she said after a few moments' silence.

"I.…" He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He glanced in the rearview mirror, but they were alone in the SUV. He was relieved. "Um…can I…can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." She watched surreptitiously as he stared out the window, his Adam's apple bobbing as his throat worked.

He clenched his jaw. Relaxed it. Cleared his throat. "I was wondering. It's stupid. I was wondering if…do you believe…I mean…."

"Spit it out, Reid. We're almost there." She smiled to show she was joking, but he wasn't paying attention.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked in a rush.

"Do I…?" Of all the things he might've said, that hadn't occurred to her. She pulled the big car into the parking lot and cut the engine. Rested her hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield without really seeing the low, dilapidated building in front of them. "Yeah," she finally said, "I guess I do."

He turned to stare at her with wide, amazed eyes. "Really? You do?"

"I thought I saw one once." She waved a hand at his startled expression. "I might've been dreaming; I don't know. But it seemed real. It seemed so real…." She shook her head once, quickly, and then turned to him with a little smile. "Why do you ask?"

"I just…I just wondered. This case, you know. Elle. It's got me thinking about a lot of weird stuff."

She nodded; reached out to press her fingers against his arm in a brief, comforting touch. "If you need to talk…?"

"It's fine. I'm fine. Let's…not tell anyone about this conversation, OK?"

"Yeah, sure." Prentiss cleared her throat. "Grab the file; let's see what the coroner has to say about the two victims."

As he reached into the backseat for the folder, she was there. Their eyes met; her look was wry and almost scornful. He glared at her; closed his eyes and wished her gone; but she was still there, smirking now, when he opened them. With a glower he yanked the file off the seat and sat up to find Prentiss staring at him in bewilderment. "Let's just go inside," he muttered, shoving the file at her.

He slammed the door behind him and buried his hands in his pockets before slinking off across the parking lot. She watched him go with a bemused frown; checked the backseat; and hurried to follow his long, thin form through the murky day.

So much work to do;
I don't know if I can.
Trying so hard, so hard, so hard,
But I am just one man.

It was late and Reid was worn out, but the day had turned out to be fairly productive, despite the locals' general incompetence. Or, more accurately, inexperience: they were doing their best given the resources and training they had. With the team's help, the press were under control, the profile was in circulation, and at least one solid eyewitness had been culled from the pack of pretenders.

After a quick supper, the team had retired to their small motel. Reid had immediately stripped out of his clothes and jumped into a scalding hot shower; twenty minutes later he stepped out to find Elle Greenaway pacing his tiny room. He tried not to shriek, but his irritation was evident as he stalked past her to grab a pair of shorts from his suitcase. He made a gesture indicating that she should turn her back, and she did so with a grin. He dressed quickly and slid between the (surprisingly clean) sheets.

Pointedly not acknowledging her presence any further, he pulled a fat book from his bag and began to flip the pages in rapid succession. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall to wait. He could feel her eyes on him like laser beams.

"If you're going to randomly pop up in the middle of my work day, you could at least make yourself useful," he groused after several minutes of trying to ignore her. "Point out the guy who took you. Show me where…um, where…." He trailed off awkwardly. Buried his nose in the book again. What were the social conventions in a situation like this, anyway?

"Where my body is. It's OK; you can say it."

Her Mona Lisa smile was driving him crazy, and he tossed the book aside. "Fine! Where your body is. Show me. Help me."

She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way. I'm not here to help you find my killer, or even to help you find me."

He fisted his hands in his hair; his face contorted. "Then why, Elle? Why are you here? What do you want?"

"I'm here to help you find you, Reid."

He let out a groan of frustration and fell back against the headboard. "That makes no sense!"

"I'm dead; I can afford to be cryptic."

"That's great for you, but what about me? The team already thinks I'm losing it. Did you see the look on Prentiss' face today? And Hotch…he's ready to pull me off the case and ship me back to Quantico if I so much as twitch."

"You're twitching now."

If she weren't already dead, the look he gave her would probably have done the job. "There are two options here, Elle: either you're a ghost, or you're a manifestation of my imagination. If number one, then everything I've ever accepted about the universe in general is wrong. If number two, then I either have the same illness as my mother, or I'm suffering from a brain tumor. I'm not sure which of those possibilities I prefer."

She sighed; perched on the extra bed and crossed one leg over the other. "It's not that simple. I mean, yeah, I'm dead, and I wish I could've told you that sooner."

"Why didn't you?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't work that way," she repeated.

"Why don't you save us both some time and just tell me how it does work?"

She looked suddenly stricken, like he'd slapped her. "I'm sorry, Reid. I'm…new to this too, you know."

He sighed; consciously relaxed his long-fingered hands so that they rested limply on the quilt. He was being an ass. She was the one who'd been kidnapped and murdered, and he was treating her like…. "I'm just having trouble accepting it. I was OK with you being a delusion. But a ghost? It's harder."

A smile flitted across her face like the memory of a dream. "Yeah. You should've seen how long it took me to accept that I was dead. Because, the thing is…I don't feel dead. I feel sleepy and hungry and grumpy and happy just like I always did before." She traced the pattern on the bedspread with a long finger. "Things are paler now. People. You're the first person I've seen who looks real to me."

"Is that why you chose me?"

She bit her full bottom lip; chewed a moment. It wasn't a gesture he remembered from her BAU days. "I decided to come say goodbye to all of you. I was dead, but I hadn't, you know, gone anywhere. I thought maybe I had unfinished business or whatever, and maybe I needed to make some amends."

"Like an addict."

Her mouth quirked in appreciation. "Something like that." Her face was naked and honest, vulnerable in a way he'd never seen her in life. "I realized you could see me, and I panicked. I didn't know what it meant. I'd spent all these years staying away from all of you, and suddenly…." She trailed off with a shake of her head. "I'm glad it was you."

"I'm not sure I can handle this, Elle."

"Don't make my mistake, Spencer. You're not alone; don't be afraid to ask for help. They'll be there for you, if you just ask."

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and when he blinked she was gone as though she'd never been there at all. Exhausted and suddenly resigned to the bizarre new shape his world had taken, Reid flipped the light off and slid down in bed. He was asleep in moments, and when he woke he couldn't remember if he had dreamt.