Title: Not Even the Angels 
Author: David Hearne
Rating: PG-13
Category: XA

CHAPTER ELEVEN
KURTZVEIL, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, I'VE READ YOUR BOOK!


"If coincidences are just coincidences, why do they feel so
contrived?" ---Fox Mulder


For each day Mulder had been missing, Scully had stopped by his apartment
and fed his fish. She had done that three times so far.

On the third night, she had stayed in the apartment. She looked around at
Mulder's couch, his computer, the television with the collection of porno
videos underneath it, the books ranging from Tocqueville's 'Democracy in
America' to Barbara Ehrenreich's 'Blood Rites' to Michael Ventura's 'The Zoo
Where You're Fed to God.' She spotted a basketball and started bouncing it.

Did she think that she would find some inspiration here? Well, she couldn't
look anywhere else. Three days into the investigation and they had nothing
more than one dead body.

They had distributed photos to every police station. They had investigated
all the planes that had left the Northeastern part of the United States.
They had inspected the DNA of hair fibers at the crime scene. Everybody who
knew Mulder and everybody who knew Howard had been questioned. Any house or
building or secluded area that looked remotely suspicious had been given the
once-over.

She considered any other possible alternative as the ball hopped. Nothing
came to mind. No inspiration struck her. She was left with nothing but the
sense that time was running out.

The phone rang.

She stared at it in surprise, but only hesitated a moment before answering
it. "Hello?" she said.

"Oh," a voice replied. "You really are there."

Scully held back a sigh. "Hello, Mrs. Mulder."

"It's strange, but...I tried to call you at your home. You weren't there and
I was trying to think of where else you could be. For some reason, I
thought...well, I guess I was right."

"Yes. You were."

"You're trying to get inside his head, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I remember seeing Mulder around the time he was investigating the case with
those missing girls. The one with the cloth hearts."

"I know that one."

"I could tell that nothing else was on his mind. It frightened me. They say
that profilers have to walk in the same steps as the...I'm sorry. I
shouldn't be going on like this."

'It's all right."

"Agent Scully...are they responsible for Mulder's disappearance?"

Scully was about to ask who was "they," but then she realized that it was a
foolish question.

She thought, well, why don't you tell me, Mrs. Mulder? You know these
people. They visited your house. They went to your picnics. It's even
alleged that you were very close to one of them. You know these people in
your goddamned blood. You tell me if...

"I don't think so, Mrs. Mulder."

The silence from the other woman was so long that Scully said, "Hello?"

"Would you promise me something, Agent Scully?"

"What's that?"

"If something happens to Fox...don't let that go unpunished. Do something
about it."

Do? Just what in God's name do you expect me to "do," you stupid old woman?
Am I supposed to take up arms and find out wherever the hell "they" are and
start blasting away?

The thought made Scully turn stiff. Because it was not unpleasurable.

"I promise you," she said. "I will see that justice gets done."

"Thank you, Agent Scully."

That ended the conversation. Scully laid back on the sofa and covered her
eyes. Was she seriously considering an armed attack? Gearing up like a
militiaman and kicking down the doors and shooting every cigarette-smoking
man in sight?

But she had considered it before, hadn't she? Just a few nights ago.

And on many nights before then.

They have to be held accountable. They should be brought down. They should
pay for what they had done to her, Mulder, Melissa, Emily and the countless
others. They should suffer.

They, they, they. She had never thought that she would view the world like
this. She had never thought that she would be thereatened by her own
government to the point that...

She sat up straight.

They.

She had thought up a question that hadn't been asked before. The problem was
not so much that the FBI hadn't found Mulder and Ellis. It was that "they"
hadn't found the vanished men, either. If there was one thing "they" were
good at, it was tracking down missing people. She had witnessed this skill
first hand.

So, why hadn't they found Mulder and Ellis? How do you keep a secret from
people who specialize in secrets?

You use their secrecy against them.

She quickly left the apartment, her anger set aside for the moment.


Michael Forester was pleased.

He was also a little uncertain.

He had been keeping a close eye on Howard Ellis over the past three days.
Undoubtedly, a change had taken place in the Protector's soul. The anxiety
in his behavior had gradually given way to a quiet thoughtfulness. He was
accepting his new role.

Another encouraging thing was the way Howard tried to make the Church
members feel comfortable around him. He would play with the Chrisman boys
and helped Miguel with his English lessons. The pinball machine became a
scene of constant competition betwen him and Oliver. (Howard insisted that
he left the ball alone.) He watched 'The Twilight Zone' with Harlan. Poppy
kept her offer open, but he politely declined.

He did his best to convince them that he was no better than any of them. It
would work for fleeting moments, but then the awe would return to their
eyes. Howard was the Protector. He would defend the Church of the True
Angels from the dark forces. They would follow him,  no matter what.

And Howard followed Michael Forester.

In the past, Forester had carefully manipulated his flock into staying on
the Ezekial Ranch. Sheldon and McDonald would always be ready with
strong-arm techniques, but Forester kept them (usually) on a tight leash. He
preferred to use the power of his voice. Whenever someone wanted to leave,
he would question them long and hard. Eventually, he would steer them back
to his own logic and fill them with fear of the outside world.

He wasn't real proud of this.

However, with Howard Ellis at his side, Forester's control over the Church
was absolute. He was glad that Howard had left behind his anger and hate and
become a worthy prophet. He mentioned this to Howard. The Protector smiled
and said, "I guess I have changed."

"Why?"

"Over the past few days, I've been...extending myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I've found this connection that goes through every mind in the world. You
touch this connection and you know what everybody feels. What they hope for.
What they fear."

Forester felt uneasy. "You mean, you've been reading people's minds?"

"Sort of. In any case, I've comparing what you said with what goes on in the
world."

"And?"

"I agree with you. A change is needed."

Michael Forester felt very pleased.

But why was he still uncertain?

It was because of Susan Jones.

Howard spent as much time with her as he did with Forester. She was also the
only one not in awe of him. He knew this because he had a listening device
in Howard's room. Sheldon or McDonald would give him the transcripts of
their private conversations. As he read them, Forester was startled by just
how much she had been holding back from him. He knew that her parents had
ill-treated her but he had never understood how it had twisted her life. The
religious leapfrogging had only been a part of it. There had been spiteful
boyfriends, mind-numbing jobs, aimless wanderings all over the
country. She would often cry in Howard's arms. Forester would turn away from
the transcripts and feel like crying himself.

Susan would also express her doubts. This made him sigh but he should have
expected that she remained unconvinced. While everybody else had accepted
Agent Mulder's captivity at the ranch, she still worried about the day that
the FBI would come. Howard tried to assure that his protection was complete
and that there was no need to doubt Reverend Forester, though he still left
out the details of John Taylor's death.

Susan and Howard would argue a lot about the Church, yet there was obviously
a lot of care and respect there. It was also obvious that Howard needed a
friend and not just a worshipper.

Yet, could Forester afford this? Could he let Howard get exposed to Susan's
doubts? What if the Protecter turned away from...

No, no. What mattered was that Howard fulfilled his duties before the Lord.
Forester was not the one in control. The Almighty was the designer of this
plan. God, as the Koran said, is the master plotter.

However, Forester still desired a bigger and clearer viewpoint. He wanted to
know what his final role in this plan would be. When you know all the
secrets of this world, you get anxious to know the secrets of the next one.


"What do you want to know?" Langley asked as his fingers danced across the
keyboard.

"I'm not interested in what they were doing there," Scully replied. "I don't
care what was in their planes. I just want to who they were and their times
of arrival and departure."

"All right. Piece of cake."

>From the office of the Lone Gunmen, Langley set out his little electronic
armies to invade the targeted systems. As code spread across the screen,
Frohike looked at Scully's face. As usual, she was focused and intense.
However, there was something else in her expression which unsettled him.

"You okay, Scully?"

She looked at him as if she didn't want to answer that question, but she
did. "I'm fine. How's life as a free man?"

He grinned awkwardly. "Oh, pretty sweet. You know, I'm not mad at Mulder or
you because of that whole..."

"Forget about it." She turned her attention back to the computer screen.
Byers and Frohike glanced at each other. Something was wrong. They could
both feel it.

Langley finally broke in, got out the necessary information and then sneaked
away with no one the wiser. He did this to the computer system for every
government-owned or military airport within three hundred miles of Ludlow,
Vermont. The information he got was the list of every flight that had
arrived and departed around the time of Mulder's disappearance.

Scully's theory went something like this:

"They" could keep a tight cloak of secrecy because they compartmentalized
everything. Information was transferred very grudgingly from one section to
another. No one provided any knowledge unless it was asked for by the right
authority. In this case, the right authority never thought to check their
own lines of transportation. And the people who could give them the needed
information never provided it because....well, no one asked them. Those
underlings never knew their superiors were looking for Mulder and Ellis
because their superiors wanted the fewest people on a need-to-know basis.

So Mulder's kidnapper hoisted them on their own petard.

The records were still there to be looked up, though. That is just what
Scully and the Lone Gunmen did. They perused the flight schedules that
Langley printed out.

"Jeez, look at this traffic," Langley commented. "Makes you wonder what all
these people are doing."

"I'm only interested in one plane," Scully said, her eyes fixed on the
schedule.

A minute later, Byers said, "Wait a minute..."

Scully snapped to attention. "What?"

"I've got a private plane arriving at Anton Military Base on
eleven-forty-five A.M. of the day of Mulder's disappearance. And I see
leaving again on three-twenty-five of the next morning. When do they
estimate Taylor's death?"

"Around eleven p.m."

"Anton is near Boston. Four hours is enough time to get between there
Ludlow."

"So the times check out."

"And that's not the only thing. The plane is registered to a Michael
Forester. He had an old low-level clearance, but it was enough to get him in
and out with no questions."

"What's special about Michael Forester?"

"I don't know how, but the name sounds familiar."

Byers checked a shelf full of books and then took one down. He searched
until he found the page he was looking for.

"'You may ask why God would allow events like these to occur. Why would we
let His beloved children be set upon? The answer is---this is a test of us.
A test of us and our faith.'"

"Byers, what is this about?" Scully asked impatiently.

Byers closed the book and handed it to Scully. The title was 'The Four
Horsemen of the Apocalypse.' The author was Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil.

"The quote I read came from the mouth of Reverend Michael Forester. He
worked with Kurtzweil in the State Department."

"Then he must have known Mulder's dad," Langley said.

"That is just a little too interesting," Frohike added.

Scully stared at the book's dark cover.


The next day, Kersh sat at his desk and read the report given to him. Very
carefully. Scully kept the most professional composure across her face and
her body.

Finally, he looked up at her. "How did you get these records?"

"The military provided them to me, sir."

"I wasn't aware that you had made contact with them."

"I had just realized that this was an avenue yet to be explored. You will,
agree, sir, that the information is relevant."

"Any relevancy is rather strained, Agent Scully. The most that you can come
up with is that this man might have known Mulder's father."

"But, sir, what would Michael Forester be doing at a military airport at
three a.m.? He quit the State Department over fifteen years ago. And the
times coincide..."

"I know. I've read the report. This wouldn't have anything to do with the
man's religion, would it? The Church of the True Angels?"

"It does give him an air of suspicion, sir."

"The last time the government pursued its 'suspicions' against a cult, the
results were nothing but a black comedy."

"I'm not proposing a raid..."

"Not yet."

"...but I am proposing a quiet investigation. I would like to go to Arizona
and talk with Michael Forester personally."

Kersh looked at Scully. She could literally hear him adding up the
expenditures for an airplane flight inside his head.

"I merely bring this up, sir, because we have no other leads. I assume that
you're still feeling the heat."

Kersh looked down at the report, then pushed it side. "All right. You have
the go-ahead."

"I have one more request, sir."

The Assistant Director raised his eyebrows.

"As I said, I want this to be a quiet investigation. I would prefer that no
one beyond this office know about it."

"Why is that?"

"You said it yourself, sir. We don't want another Waco. Someone might hear
about this and decide to proceed with more extreme actions."

Kersh took off his glasses and looked straight at Scully. "So you want me to
withhold information."

"If you feel it's necessary to inform others, please do do. But where is the
necessity of doing so now?"

Kersh sighed. "God, you're a pain in the butt, Agent Scully." He waved his
hand. "All right. It'll be done as you request."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll still be watching you, though. No matter where you are."

Scully thought, Just as long as it's you doing the watching and not somebody
else.


CHAPTER TWELVE

AUGUST 28, 1968


"Change the DNA."---a slogan found written at the Koresh compound.


When you are driving in the middle of the night towards an event usually
considered outside of the spectrum of reality, you fall back on banalities
like "How are the kids?"

"What?"

"How are the kids?"

Bill Mulder glanced at Michael Forester, then said, "They're fine."

"Fox is what? Near seven now?"

"Yes. Samantha's close to four."

"Hm. You know, I've been thinking of raising a family myself. If Elizabeth
and I get married, that is. If we do, I hope the Lord will provide us with
healthy..."

Bill smacked the dashboard, then hit it again. "Dammit! When are they going
to take this seriously?"

"I don't think anybody isn't, Bill."

"They why didn't those troops have proper protection when they went to the
crash site? I'll tell you why! Because they didn't know what they were
dealing with! And they didn't know because we didn't warn them!"

"It was a mistake, I agree. We should have sent in troops that were properly
briefed. But we have to keep this information in as small a group as
possible."

"Why? Why should we?"

"Bill, haven't you been listening to the news? Don't you know what's going
on in Chicago? The whole country is tearing itself apart. Can you imagine
what it would be like if this secret got out? It would be like dropping a
lit match into gasoline."

"How long are we going to keep telling ourselves that?"

Forester had nothing to reply to that and Bill had nothing to add. They were
silent the rest of the way to the military base.

They had to go through three security checks before they got to the
basement. The checks were fast, though. Bill Mulder and Michael Forester
were unknown men to the public but, in places like these, they were
according unthinking respect. When they reached the basement, they found a
man waiting for them.

"Hello, Bill," the man said.

Bill stared at the man through a cloud of smoke.

"Excuse me, but I don't think we've..." Forester began, before he felt Bill
touch his shoulder. The message was clear. Don't even ask for a name.

"Where's the infected soldier?" Bill asked.

"Corporal Marsh's body is being kept in room six."

"His body?"

"Apparently, a soldier in Marsh's platoon panicked upon witnessing Marsh
getting infected. Put a bullet right into his brain." The smoking man
smiled, much to Forester's unease. "The soldier has been crying his eyes out
over killing Marsh. The poor idiot doesn't know that he may have saved his
platoon."

"And the virus?"

"Still inside the body."

"Why?"

"Perhaps the shock of the host's death killed the virus as well. Or the
virus needs a live host to be communicable. In any case, it should prove to
be an interesting opportunity for a study of..."

"We want to see the body."

The smoking man shrugged. "This way."

As they headed for room six, Bill muttered, "I thought you were in Chicago."

"Chicago is apparently taking care of itself," the smoking man replied.

Forester pretended that he didn't hear that.

These were the contents of room six---a grey slab, a few tepid light bulbs
and a body with one eye left.

The three men assembled in the room. Forester and Bill stood on opposite
sides of the slab, looking at the one-hundred-and-seventy pounds of flesh
laid before them. The smoking man stood near the door, occupied with his
Morley.

After getting his fill of the corpse, Bill turned towards the smoking man.
"This does not happen again. The next time, we only send a team that know
what it's doing. I don't care how antsy the rest of the group gets. We rush
nothing. Is that clear?"

"I caught every word, Bill."

Bill sighed. "There is something else we need to talk about." He turned to
Forester. "Alone."

"I would like to stay here for a few moments, if you don't mind."

Bill nodded, then signaled the smoking man to step outside. They were
speaking low, but Forester caught the words "vaccination records."

He looked down on Corporal Marsh with a sad face. Closing his eyes and
intertwining his hands, he said, "Lord, please take the soul of this man,
Corporal Marsh. He became the victim of our mistakes and of events beyond
his control. Accept him into your kingdom where he might have life
everlast---"

A cold hand grabbed him. He knew before he opened his eyes that he would
scream. And scream he did when he saw Corporal Marsh look at him with his
one good eye. A black mist flowed across its soft surface.

Marsh's body was sitting up by the time Bill and the smoking man rushed back
inside. Once he saw what was going on, the smoking man yanked Bill out of
the room. The door was closed and locked.

Marsh planted his bare feet on the floor, then backed up Forester against
the wall. Forester tried to pull away from Marsh's single hand, but it was
like
fighting iron.

Small worms slid under the skin of Marsh's arm. Forester stopped his
screaming and watched in fascination as they swam towards him.

Then they were inside him.

Marsh dropped to the floor, finally released from this world. Forester
remained pressed against the wall. He realized that he was no longer
himself, but who was he now?

He was darkness. Darkness without hope of light.


Then he was himself again.

"Michael?"

Yes, that was him, wasn't it? And that was Bill Mulder standing over him.
And he was lying on a bed in a white room.

"Can you talk?" he was asked.

He didn't expect to be able, but his voice was surprisingly clear and
normal. "What happened to the virus?" he asked.

"It...transferred itself to the proper place. The doctors say there hasn't
been any physical effects to yourself."

Forester nodded, then said, "I guess this means the virus can manipulate the
host even after death."

"Yes."

"By the way, how long was I gone?"

"Two days."

"Well. Imagine that."

"They will want to know what you remember."

"Of course."

"What...what was it like, Michael?"

Forester took his time before answering.

Then he said---

"It is later than you think."

Bill cleared his throat. "Well...um...I guess I should let you rest."

"Thank you."

Bill left the room, putting that look in Forester's eyes behind him.

Forester spent a hour in his bed without speaking or moving. Then he called
a nurse and asked it they had a Bible he could read.

They did. He started reading it all the way through.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOWARDS THINKS ABOUT IT


"It may be the Devil or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve
somebody."---Bob Dylan


Agent Scully was on a plane a few hours later after her meeting with Kersh.
At the airport, she got a rental car and took it to the town nearest to the
Ezekial Ranch. After checking in a hotel, she drove to the ranch. By the
time she got there, night had fallen and Howard was playing chess with Susan
in his room.

At least, that's what Susan thought they were doing. Howard hadn't made a
move for over two minutes.

"Howard?"

He made no response. He was looking at the board, but was obviously thinking
of something besides rook and queen. This wasn't a surprise. Howard had been
spacing out like that more and more over the past three days. As expected,
the Church members regarded it as a sign of his ethereal nature. Susan, on
the other hand, couldn't help feel annoyed when someone stops your
conversation to become one with the universe.

"Howard, do you want to stop playing?"

His eyes rose up to her and he said, "I killed my father."

Susan stared at Howard for a moment, then she began putting away the pieces.
Howard continued to talk as she did.

"He used to him me and my mother. One night, I wished him dead. And then he
was dead."

She folded up the board.

"I'm still glad that I did it. In fact, I wish I could have done the same
thing to your parents."

"Shut up!" Susan yelled.

"Are you telling me you never wished such a thing?" Howard said,
unperturbed.

"That's not a point! It's wrong to do that!"

"Wrong for other people. But not for me."

Susan winced.

"Don't you believe that's true?"

"You believe it because Reverend Forester keeps telling you to believe it."

Howard looked down at his hands and rubbed them slowly together. "You
know...he killed a man right in front of me."

Susan's lips trembled.

"Or, rather, he ordered McDonald to do it. This man was...was sort of a
friend to me. He didn't deserve it. Should I punish Forester for that?"

Susan wrapped her arms around herself and let out a sob. Howard walked up to
her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You've suspected for a long time what he was capable of. Yet you stayed
here. Why?"

"I don't know, I don't know, maybe I believe in the Church, maybe I don't
know where else to go, maybe I just...maybe I just want to die."

Howard nodded as if this was the information he needed. "You should know
that they've been listening to us."

She looked sharply up at him.

"They put a listening device in this room. Don't worry. They didn't hear
what we were just talking about."

"How do you know?"

Howard smiled. "Because you were right. I can do many, many things. For
instance, I know that Agent Scully is here and that she wants to speak to
Michael."

"Agent Scully?"

"M-hm. I suspect that things are really going to warm up now."

He lowered his head and kissed her very lightly on the mouth. "I need to be
alone. I need to think about a lot of things."

Susan felt like she was drifting out of the room and then the door closed
behind her. She went back to the sleeping quarters and tried to pray. Yet
nothing she told God could convince even herself.


After all so many years of watching her, Michael Forester was sure about one
thing---you don't cross Agent Scully unless you're holding the right cards.

Or if you don't really care about winning.

He met her in the front hall of the ranch. She gave him a look
that...unnerved him a little. He knew that there was a core of steel in the
woman, but there was something more than determination in her eyes.

Nevertheless, he threw down the glove. "Hello, Agent Scully. I assume you
want to see Mulder."

That gave her a start. "You admit that he's here?"

"Handcuffed in one of our rooms."

She was instantly on her guard. "You should know that attempting to detain
me..."

"I don't wish to do anything like that. I would like to talk, though."

"About what?"

"Your faith."

"I'm sorry?"

"We both believe in God. I want to know what that belief means to you."

She regained her composure. "Don't play mind games with me."

"This is not a mind game. This is an attempt to clarify where we each
stand."

"There's nothing to clarify. It's obvious that you're a lunatic."

"And what are you?"

"I'm a FBI agent who insist that you..."

"You're someone that I want to be."

Scully drew a complete blank for a response. Forester continued talking, his
voice gently humming in her ear. "I wish I could stand with one foot in the
realm of science and with one foot in the realm of faith like you. It's been
difficult to maintain your balance, but you have succeeded to a surprised
degree. And I know, Agent Scully....I know that God looks after you. I know
about Kevin Kryder and the four twins."

"Apparently, God is not the only one who has kept an eye on me," Scully
finally said. "What else do you know?"

"I know that you've been hurt. By the people you have trusted. By monsters,
both human and inhuman. By loss. Even by Mulder. And anger folllows hurt. So
you fight back as hard as you can. You use your science and your
intelligence and whatever authority that a FBI agent has. But you know it's
not enough. You know that victory can only be found with God. He is the one
who gives us the strength to go forward. He gives us the power to overwhelm
our enemies. He is the one who gives us the comfort for our tribulations.
Trust no one, Agent Scully...except God."

Forester looked at her so intently and his voice was so commanding (and his
words felt so truthful) that Scully didn't notice how close he had gotten to
her. Or that he was touching her hand.

She quickly stepped back and fixed him with a harsh stare. "I want to see
Mulder."

Forester looked back at her in disappointment. Then he nodded. "Well...I
don't want to make you come out all this way for nothing."


When you've been locked in a room away from everyone you know and had no one
to talk with except a crazed cult leader, the sudden sight of your best
friend can produce an extreme reaction.

In this case, Mulder felt elation. Then, cold fear.

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

Scully gave him a quick look-over. Other than being unkempt and showing
signs of stir craziness, Mulder looked surprisingly well. Still, she wanted
to make sure.

"Leave us alone," she told Forester. The Reverend closed the door with no
complaint.

She sat down on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Did they get you, too?"

"Mulder...are you okay?"

"I'm...I'm fine. Really. But what are..."

"Don't worry. I don't think I'm a prisoner. Even if I am, Kersh knows I'm
here."

"I don't understand. You're not a prisoner?"

'I don't understand it, either. The important thing is that you've been
found. Is Howard Ellis here?"

Mulder sighed. "Oh, yeah. He's their new prophet."

"Because of his telekinetic powers?"

Mulder gave her a brief look of surprise, then smiled slightly. "Partly. But
also partly because Forester has everyone here under his control."

"Including Howard?"

"I think so. He's shaping him up for..." Mulder stopped himself.

"For what?"

"I'm not sure how to say this."

"Just go ahead and spill it."

"Well, Scully...Forester plans to wage war on aliens."

Scully took a few moments to run that through her mind. Then she said,
"Whether that's true or not...this is a very dangerous situation and we need
to get you out of it."

"How? Are you and Kersh going to lead the troops in?"

"Are you worried this might become a Waco?"

"No. With Howard Ellis on his side, Forester may have you outmatched."

"I don't think Kersh is going to believe that."

"Then don't tell him."

Scully closed her eyes and rubbed between them.

"Think about it, Scully. If you're right that Forester isn't keeping you
here, why is that? Maybe he wants a confrontation."

"I have considered that."

"He's waiting for something. A sign or whatever he'll call it. It could be
anything. It could be you. After that, God only knows what he will do."

Scully nodded.

"We have to think of a way around him. We have to get to Howard Ellis
somehow."

"Any ideas?"

"Scully, I'm stumped. Not to mention handcuffed."

"Why is he keeping you here if I can go free?"

"He wants me to watch what happens. He thinks it'll convert me." He
grimaced. "He seems to think that it's a favor to my dad."

"So the pressure is on me."

"I'm afraid so."

Scully's eyes wandered away from the tension in Mulder's face.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

She was still for a long moment, then she looked back at him. "If anything
should happen to you...I won't let that go unpunished."

Mulder saw something that he had never seen in Scully's eyes, heard
something in her voice. "What...what do you mean exactly?"

"They've taken a lot from me. My sister, Emily, my certainity in the
future..."

She held Mulder's hand so tightly that it hurt.

"I'm drawing the line at you. And if Forester or anybody else crosses that
line..."

Mulder wanted to speak. He wanted to warn her. He wanted to say that he
recoginized the look in her eyes. He wanted to tell her that she was
entering territory through which he had passed before and had barely
survived the visit.

Nothing came out of his mouth. Even as Scully let go of his hand and headed
for the door, he could only watch her, unable to think of any right words.
He was left alone, now more frightened than ever.


McDonald knocked on the door of Forester's office. Sheldon was at his side.
"Come in," they heard. When they entered, they saw the strangest sight they
had ever encountered at the Ezekial Ranch. Forester was cleaning up his
office.

He saw the surprise on their faces and smiled. "I am a pack rat, aren't I?
Scully has left, I take it."

The two men shook off their surprise. McDonald said, "We were listening in
on her and Mulder."

"And?"

"Apparently, she will not go to the FBI with what she knows."

"I didn't think she would."

"But she will interfere if she can," Sheldon commented.

"I didn't think she wouldn't."

"Should we eliminate her?"

Forester looked straight at the two men. "You will do no such thing. You
understand me?"

"Yes, sir," McDonald and Sheldon promptly replied.

Forester looked back down at a stack of papers, trying to organize them. "Is
there anything else?"

"Well, Reverend..." Sheldon said.

"Yes?"

"What is it exactly that you're planning to do? The Protector has been with
us for several days. Obviously, something important is going to happen. But
what? And when?"

Forester didn't look up at them. He continued shuffling papers for a few
moments, then he begin to speak. He sounded like he was talking to himself.

"It's all in place. It is here that the first battle with happen. Not
between us and the False Angels, though. Our initial conflict will be with
those who have cast their lots with the Devil. That will be the prelude to
the Great War. I can set it all into motion. I need something, though. I
need assurance that it's..."

Then the Reverend looked up. "How is Howard doing?"

"That's the other thing we have to tell you, sir," McDonald said quietly.
"The bug in the Protector's room has gone out."

"How?"

"We don't know. But the failure occurred when he and Susan Jones were
talking."

"They've been having a lot of conversations since the Protector got here,
sir," Sheldon noted.

"They're not exactly private if we listen in, are they?" Forested said with
a small smile.

"Susan has been an influence on the Protector. She is as close to him as you
are."

"We've gone over this before. If Susan has been an influence, it's been a
good influence."

Neither McDonald or Sheldon looked convinced. Forester sighed. "All right.
I'll go talk to him."

Forester went to Howard's room. The Protector, however, was elsewhere.


The door unlocked, then opened. Mulder expected Forester or one of his goons
to come in. Then he noticed the door was moving by itself.

Howard stepped in. At least, Howard assumed that it was Howard. It had been
four days since he had seen him last. The man he had known before had been
emotionally twisted. This man before him looked much too calm.

The door closed and locked itself. Then, Howard asked---

"You have seen evil, haven't you?"

Undoubtedly, an odd way to open a conversation. However, an answer was
needed and the only honest reply Mulder could say was "Yes. I think I have."

"I've never really seen it before I came here. Before, I knew that it
existed but I didn't care. I was so lost inside my resentment and my anger
that I could never see the world around me."

"And now?"

"Now I see more than anyone. I see it in my dreams. I see the evil and the
desperation. I can see children dying of salvation. I can feel cold seep
into the bodies of old people sleeping in alleys. I can hear bombs exploding
in churches and schoolyards. Surrounding all of this are the politicians who
serve only themselves, the thieves with their twisted principles and the
ones who simply enjoy inflicting pain. Every attempt to better the world is
destroyed or simply futile."

Howard sighed. "I know, I know. So what else is new? Everybody knows this.
It's become a cliche. It's different, however, when it's not longer an
abstract concept. When it's right in your face."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's in your dreams as well. Not as sharply in mine, but you can
feel this evil."

That was true. When Mulder started out criminal profiling for the FBI, he
reasoned that it was the best way to apply his psychological knowledge.
However, he knew that he didn't choose the occupation so much as it chose
him. It was the only way of handling the nightmares.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here," Mulder said.

"Your dreams made you a FBI agent. What am I supposed to become?"

Mulder knew that he had an opportunity and he damn well better take it. "Not
a prophet," he said.

"Hmmm."

"If you want to talk about evil, Howard, look at Reverend Forester."

"No. I wouldn't call him evil."

"For God's sake, have you forgotten about John Taylor?"

"Of course, I haven't. But Michael is caught up in something so large that
he has to make difficult decisions. As I have to make a decision now."

"For yourself?"

"For everyone."

"No one is responsible for everyone, Howard."

"You feel responsible, don't you? You feel like a great task has been handed
to you."

"That's different."

"The difference is that I'm not so ineffectual."

Mulder felt a sudden urge to hit Howard. The man was so arrogant, so casual
in his judging...

Howard lifted an eyebrow towards Mulder who quickly stifled his violent
impulse.

"Don't get mad at me because I can do what you can't do," Howard told him.
"I will not deny the responsibility."

"What is your responsibility, then? What decision do you have to make?"

Howard slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know. It's so
hard to see. There's an old man who can help me. He's been talking to me in
my dreams. You know him as well, Agent Mulder."

"I do?"

Howard opened his eyes. "All he can do is help me, though. In the end, the
choice is mine. I will not turn away from it. Unlike you, Mulder."

"I haven't turned away..."

"You don't want the responsibility. I can see that now. You're so afraid. So
very afraid. You're not able to help me."

Howard took a breath, then said, "It's time to put everything into motion."
Then he grinned at Mulder. "Don't go anywhere."

With that, he left the room.

"Oh, beautiful," Mulder muttered. "He's a comedian."


Forester saw Howard just as the Protector was leaving Mulder's cell.

"Howard?"

Howard turned to the old man. Then he casually walked over to him.

Panic suddenly hit Forester. Maybe they're right, he thought. Maybe Howard
is straying from the path and all my work is...

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" Howard asked.

"What?"

"You brought me here for a purpose. Shouldn't you get started on that?"

Then Howard walked past him.

Forester got down on his knees and gave his praise to God.


Adam Bridge tried to keep still. He had to look like he was just sleeping.
He had to look completely at home and unaware of what was going to happen.

He glanced at a clock. Eleven-twenty-two, eastern standard time. What was
taking them so---

The door flew off its hinges and then two large men grabbed him. He was
pinned to the floor. He caught the scent of tobacco.

"Where are they?"

"What are you talking about?" he said in a suitably nervous voice. After
that, there would come the expected---beating, torture, his eventual
confession and execution. Through it all, he would feign resistance and
scream, but joy would consume his heart. The Reverend had told him that his
superiors would receive information. This information would lead them to
this house. He had to tell them of Ellis and Mulder's location. He also had
to convince them that he was only an informant that got caught.

After his phone conversation with the Reverend, Adam felt a peace that he
had never known before. He would finally make that great sacrifice for God
and the Church. That peace sustained him through the entire interrogation.
Nobody saw that smile on his face right before they shot him.


After trying to pray, Susan decided to sleep, hoping that dreams would take
her away from her confusion.

This is what she found in her dreams---

A strange, high-pitched sound that could be heard everywhere.

The beating of drums.

A man saying, "I've made a terrible mistake."

A cold breeze against her naked skin.

A rock with a stain on it.

Darkness.

Then light.

"Susan, wake up. Wake up."

Her dream ended and she saw the last face that she wanted to see.

"It's time for a service," Forester told her.

"A service?"

Susan looked around her. Everyone was getting out of bed and putting on
their clothes.

"Michael, it's...what time is it?"

"It's just past midnight."

"Oh, for God's sake, Michael, you can't..."

Then she noticed the tears on Forester's cheeks. They slid down the lines on
his face and past his smile. He looked so happy, so grateful, so relieved.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

He waited until the others had left. Then he said---

"This is it, Susan."

Her body froze.

He took her hand and pressed it between both of his. "This is the moment
that I've been building up to for thirty years. Ever since the Devil himself
crept into my body, I've plotted and schemed..."

"And killed?"

He didn't let go of her hands and he didn't stop smiling. "Yes. That, too.
But all of it will find justification in this moment. I'm glad you're here
with me."

"Why me?"

"I wished that I had a child. There was a woman once in my life, but...we
drifted apart. If I had one...I would have wanted her to be like you."

He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then he stood up.

"I'll be with you shortly," he said. "There's something that I have do
first."

He left the quarters.

This is the end.

Susan remained in her bed for several moments. Then she thought, if it isn't
the end of the world, then I wouldn't mind if it was the end of myself.

She went to join the others.


Scully didn't go back to her hotel room. Instead, she stopped her car with
the Ezekial Ranch at the edge of her sight's horizon. She sat and watched it
for several hours, staying there past midnight. That's how she got to see
the troops moving in.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TAKING LEAVE


"Then one night in history, the nature of fear changed, maybe it was the
night that the wall came down and there was nothing on the other side to be
afraid of anymore except for some horror too personal to tear down as easily
a wall..."---Steve Erickson


November 20, 1970

A man with a dark beard was giving a speech.

"I can't judge any of you," the man said. "I have no malice against you and
no ribbons for you. But I think that it is high time that you all start
looking at yourselves and judging the lie that you live in."

The man had been going on like this for several minutes and it looked like
it would be awhile before he stopped. Yet no one in the courtroom tried to
stop him. The man sitting in the witness box had eyes that were too bright
and his voice was too intense. What could you do that would stop him?

One listener had been so lost in the man's speech that he had to be
tapped twice on the shoulder before his attention could be broken.

The woman standing besides him said, "Sir, are you Michael Forester?"

"I am."

"You have a call for you outside."

He blinked. "Who is it?"

"She said that her name was Elizabeth."

Forester could feel his stomach turn. He didn't want to leave the courtroom.
He didn't want to talk with Elizabeth. He did want to talk with Elizabeth.
He did want to leave, very badly, he wanted to leave and pull himself out of
the man's voice.

He decided that he should leave, but he knew that he would return. It took
him a few moments for him and the woman to get out of the courtroom. It was
filled with rapt listeners.

The woman directed him to a pay phone whose receiver hung down like a dead
rat. He took a breath, then lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Elizabeth?"

"You didn't tell me you were going to California, Michael." The woman on the
other end spoke with no bitterness. She just sounded tired and sad.

"No, I didn't," he said quietly.

"I know you're not there for Department reasons."

"That's true."

"You're there because you couldn't keep away from the trial. You had to be
there yourself."

He said nothing.

"I think I still love you, Michael. I..." The voice stopped.

"I love you, too," he said, his voice still quiet, calm, unrushed.

"I've always understood that your life has its secrets. I've accepted that.
But these...I don't know what to call them."

"Obsessions?"

"Yes. These obsession have been going on for two years. I don't know what's
behind them and I don't think you're ever going to tell me."

Again, Forester was silent.

"It's coming down fast, Michael. I can feel it. And I don't want to hit the
ground."

"You're right not to." Forester pressed a hand against the wall.

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be." Forester took one last pause, then said, "Good-bye,
Elizabeth."

"Good-bye."

They both hung up.

Forester stood there for a long time, leaning against the wall. Then he went
back to the courtroom. Someone took his seat while he had been gone. He
listened to the man while standing up. He also watched the young women who
had been present throughout the trial, their faces shining with a rapture no
one
could understand.

The man pointed at the women and said, "These children were finding
themselves. What they did,  if they did whatever they did, is up to them."

For the first time, Forester experienced a great disgust towards the man in
the witness chair.

He's being doing this all wrong, he thought.


August 8, 1974


Two men were watching television.

"You know what that is?"

"What is it, Bill?"

"That's what happens when you mess with the wrong assholes," Bill Mulder
said, then laughed and took another slug of whiskey down his throat.

On the screen, a man with a sharp nose was addressing the camera. "I would
have preferred to carry through to the finish, whatever the personal agony
it would have involved, and my family unanimously urged me to do so."

"His family?" Bill snorted. "Bullshit. No family would stick with any man
who put them through this. Not one of them."

"We don't know his family, Bill."

With his blurry eyes, Bill examined the man sitting next to him in the
living room. Then he said, "You were lucky, Michael."

"In what way?"

"You were never close enough. Never close enough to the inner circle. You
didn't have to play by their rules. You didn't have to make any
sacrifices..."

"We all have to make sacrifices, Bill."

Bill said nothing. His head lolled back towards the television set. "I've
heard the stuff they cut out of the tapes. The eighteen-and-a-half minutes.
You know what's on it?"

"Like you said, Bill, I'm not close enough."

"On the tapes, you can hear our illustrious commander-in-chief...our
illustrious EX-commander-in-chief telling a man to stick his cigarettes
where the sun don't shine." Bill laughed, then changed his voice into
something deep and quavering. "I'm, I'm the President of the United States,
you bastard! Nobody talks to me like that!"

Bill laughed again, shaking his head.

They listened to the rest of speech in silence. Then, Bill said, "Turn that
damn thing off, will you?" Forester cut off a newscaster in the middle of
commentary.

"So, why did you come over, Mikey? Was it to share this moment of history
with me?"

"You know why I came over."

Bill lifted the glass to his mouth, then lowered it. He lifted it again,
then put it back down on the table. "She has every right to leave me," he
said clearly.

"Maybe. The question is, what will it do to Fox?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He's a survivor. I can tell, Michael. The look in his eye---he's a real
smart one, you know that?"

"He's still young."

"Yes, well...young enough to inherit what we have..." He stopped himself,
then looked right at Forester. "You have no idea what is really being
planned, don't you?"

"I might know more than any of you do."

Before Bill could ask what he meant, Forester walked up to Bill and said,
"Come with me to church this Sunday. Maybe you can bring Teena and Fox,
too."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

"Michael, I don't go to church. Teena doesn't go to church. In fact, you
don't go to church. You're the only evangelical I know that doesn't go to
church."

"I don't think I'm an evangelical. But you're right. I don't go to church.
Maybe we should all go and find out what we're missing."

Bill rubbed his forehead, trying to sort out the haze of alcohol and tension
in his mind. "I think I know where almost everybody stands," he muttered.
"But you...just what are you thinking? What secrets do you have?"

Forester changed.

It seemed like a change, an almost physical change. It was all in his eyes.
Those grey eyes were staring at Bill, holding him down, trapping him.

Judging him.

Then Forester's expression softened and he was just Michael Forester
again---decent, Bible-beating, relatively harmless Michael Forester.

"The only secrets worth learning are God's," Forester said in a mild voice.
"They are open to everyone who wants them."

Then he smiled, patted Bill on the shoulder and told him to call if he
needed any help.

Bill was left alone in his house. He remained still on the couch for a long
time. Then he reached for his glass.


November 9 1989


In a bar, three old men were drinking a toast.

"To the end of history," one of them said.

As he held a glass in a well-manicured hand, another one of them looked at
the toaster. "'The end of history?'" he said in his British-accented voice.

"Well, it certainly looks like the end of something," the toaster replied
and pointed at a television set. The screen was displaying people gathered
around a long grey wall, standing on it, attacking it with sledgehammers.

"There will be intense changes, I agree," the Englishman said. "But how can
history come to an end?"

"How can it not?" the toaster replied with a grin. "It would be very
impolite of it not to end, instead of just plodding on into infinity."

"It can plod on. Just as long as it takes no notice of me as it took notice
of you."

"I wouldn't say that it noticed me."

"Your name is on the history books, my friend."

"As a code name. A name derived from a pornographic film. Not exactly how
anybody wants to be remembered. Though I will say that it was nice not
to..."

"Not to what?"

The toaster looked at the Englishman and said, "Not to hold back secrets for
once."

"It's not a role I would advise taking up again," the Englishman said
lightly.

Then the two men became aware of the grey-eyed man at the table. The
grey-eyed man smiled and said, "I heard nothing."

"Well, what do you think?" the toaster said. "Is this the end of history?"

"For it to be the end of history," the grey-eyed man said. "it would have to
be the end of myself."

"And that would be a bad thing, wouldn't it?" the Englisman asked.

The grey-eyed man said nothing at first. He took a sip of his drink, then he
said, "I'm quitting the State Department."

"Really?" the toaster said. "After all these years?"

"I don't think I'm doing any real work here."

"So, what do you plan to do?"

"Start a religion."

The toaster and the Englisman laughed, but then they saw the look of
seriousness on the grey-eyed man's face. If he saw how uneasy they were,
then he took no notice of it. Instead, he looked at the television.

"This is a grand event," he said. "But it will be small and trifling
compared to the events to come." Then he drained the rest of the glass and
placed a few dollars on the table. "If you will excuse me..." he said and
stood up. He took a few steps towards the door, but then he looked back.

"The end of history means the end of myself," he mused. "Actually, I wonder
if the reverse is true."

With that, he left the bar.

The Englishman said, "Why do I have the feeling that when that man dies,
he'll take many people with him?"

"If he does, I hope it's only a small, personal Armageddon."

"I believe he just told us that there is no other kind."


CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHEKHOV'S RULE


"Now is the end come upon thee and I will send mine anger upon thee and will
judge thee according to thy ways and will recompense upon thee all thine
abominations." --- Ezekial 7:3


Sheldon entered the cell. "It's time," he told Mulder. He unlocked the
handcuffs.

Mulder rubbed his wrist and considering taking a swing at the shorter man.
However, it was evident from Sheldon's careful poise that he knew eight ways
of making the prisoner feel funny in his vital organs.

"Come with me. Forester has called a meeting."

Sheldon took Mulder through the Ranch. It was Mulder's first chance to see
the rest of the place. He discovered that it was large and very
well-furnished. If you're waiting for the Apocalypse, he thought, you might
as well do it in style.

Their stop, however, was the simplest room of the Ezekial Ranch. The walls
were white and unadorned. Foldout chairs were lined up in rows. The entire
membership of The Church of the True Angels was seated in them, talking
amonst themselves. They didn't seem upset about being deprived of sleep.

Obviously, this room was the worship area, but there was nothing facing the
chairs. Just another blank wall. It was as if they had come to worship
whatever they perceived in the wall.

People turned to Mulder and gave him big smiles. Sheldon prodded him to the
front row where an empty chair was being kept for him.

"I should warn you," he said. "You don't want to hear me sing hymns."

Some of them actually laughed.

As Mulder sat in his chair with Sheldon right by him, he noticed a few
things. Neither Forester or Howard were present. He also took notice of the
average-looking woman seating in the front row with him. She stood out
because she was the only one who didn't look happy.

"My friends..."

Everybody fell silent and turned. And gasped.

Forester was standing there naked with blood covered over his pale, wrinkled
flesh.

"It's pig blood," he explained calmly. He walked up the middle aisle,
leaving a trail of small scarlet drops behind him. His followers watched him
as if he was a bull that might charge. Mulder closed his eyes. Susan looked
like she wanted to vomit.

"I wear it to demonstrate the human blood on my hands. I stand before you as
a sinner. Perhaps the worst kind of sinner, one who has killed in God's
name. How will I answer for these sins, I have no way of telling. But this I
can tell you...you who have followed me for so long...you who have
waited...you have cried out 'how long, O Lord, how long?'...I can tell
you..."

Mulder opened his eyes. A sound had reached his ears. Distant, but very
strong.

Engines. Lots of them.

"...the Day of Reckoning has come."


In his room, Howard didn't bother to look out the window. He concentrated on
a tiny crucifix in his hand. Forester had given it to him as a gift.

It floated away from him and spun in the air.


By the time Scully got there, the Ezekial Ranch was already surrounded.
Soldiers were taking positions behind jeeps, their rifles aimed perfectly. A
tank was rolling out of a truck. Lights were set up to cover the Ranch with
their hot glare.

And he was there. He stood at the back of the surrounding platoon, talking
with an army captain.

She stopped her car right in front of him. Soldiers immediately pointed
their guns and barked at her to leave the area.

"It's all right," he declared. "Let me speak to her."

The soldiers silently acquiesced and Scully strode up to the man, his smoke
invading her nostrils.

"I should have known you would be here," he commented.

"Call this off."

"We have already committed ourselves."

"To what? A slaughter?"

"To any action needed to deal with Howard Ellis."

Scully could feel a pulse inside her head. She tried to stop it. It kept on
going.

"What is going to be your cover story?" she demanded. "Will this be another
Waco?"

"There are no cameras here. The nearest town is twenty miles away. We can
put out any story we want."

"Now, wait! I've talked with Agent Mulder..."

"You have? How did..."

"Just shut up and listen! We believe that Reverend Forester is trying to
provoke a confrontation with..."

"Son-of-a-bitch," a voice muttered.

Scully and the smoking man turned.

Forester stood on the front porch, the harsh light striking him. He held his
frail body as if it was a shield. His naked, bloody body.

Then they all came out. All of them were as naked as he was. Sixty-two in
all, male and female, old and young, all races. They blinked in the light,
but showed no other sign of weakness. They faced the guns with calmness and
composure. It was hard to tell at this distance but Scully knew Mulder was
among them.

"Well...this is interesting," the smoking man said.

The pulse in Scully's head beat harder.


The closeness of flesh did nothing to warm Mulder in the evening chill.
Sheldon and McDonald kept him close, pressing his hands against his back. It
didn't matter even if he could break free, though. He was not inclined to
rush forward in the face of those guns. He just wished that he could shout
out past the tape across his mouth. If Scully was there, he wanted to call
out to her.

He wanted to tell her not to watch this.

He glanced over at Forester, standing proud and confident. And there was
that average-looking woman. She was the only one trying to cover herself up
with her hands. She undoubtedly felt trapped.

Howard Ellis was still nowhere to be seen.

Was Forester expecting the Protector to save the day? What was he trying to
accomplish? And what would be worse---Howard leaving them to die or Howard
rescuing them?

I'm not going to watch this, Mulder thought. Forester wants me to watch but
I won't.

His eyes remained open.


"Should we round them up, sir?" the captain said.

The smoking man looked at him as if that was a stupid question.

The captain hesitated, then called out in a loud clear voice. "All right. On
my command..."

"For God's sake!" Scully screamed. "There's no point to this!"

"Howard Ellis is in that building," the smoking man said quietly. "We can't
give him a chance to strike back. We need a full-frontal assault."

"Everyone in their positions!" the captain ordered. The sound of cocking
guns snapped in the air like cracked bones. The tank swerved its turret
right at Forester's heart.

"Tank team, prepare to fire!"

The pulse was hard in Scully's head.

"I apologize for it coming to this," the smoking man said.

Hard.

"I actually didn't want it to work out this way..."

And there was only one way to stop it.

"...but I am left with no other alter..."

"EVERYBODY STOP OR I BLOW THIS MAN'S DAMN HEAD OFF!"


Mulder heard that. He knew that voice, but it sounded like it belonged to a
psychotic.

Forester heard it as well. He blinked, not knowing how this would affect
things.

Ellis felt the anger before he heard the voice. He turned towards the
window. He looked like a man who had discovered a bright new gem.


The smoking man heard the voice as well, full volume in the ear that was
under the gun barrel pressed against his temple.

The captain and his troops spun around. Fifty men with guns stared at one
woman standing behind a man with a cigarette stuck comically in his mouth.

They honestly weren't sure of what to do.

Scully did a quick glance to the side. She noticed a van that was a few feet
away. Its back doors were open.

"Move it!" she hissed and tightened the hold that she had on the back of her
captive's jacket. The cigarette finally slipped out of his mouth. She jerked
him into a sideways walk. She had to do this fast while she had the
advantage of surprise and the platoon's bewilderment. Just as they were
behind a door's cover, she twisted the smoking man around and jumped back so
that she was seated in the van.

"You're not going to..." the smoking man began.

"Inside!"

He crawled backwards with her into the van. The captain was approaching
them, slowly but steadily.

"Close the doors!"

He complied.

"Tell everybody to back off!" she ordered.

The smoking man sighed and said, "Don't come any closer!"

Scully waited a few moments to see if anything would happen. When nothing
did...

"Now tell them to call off the attack!"

"They're not going to..."

"Tell them!"

The smoking man closed his eyes. "Stand down!" he called out.

Again, she waited and listened for a second, then her hand shot into his
jacket and searched until it found something long and plastic.

"Now, you get on that phone and you tell your buddies to get these toys out
of here. Or bang. Got me?"


Howard searched out the angry presence. He carefully examined its facets and
qualities.

He found himself impressed.


"I said, call them."

"No, I will not, Agent Scully," the smoking man said with perfect calmness.
"For two reasons. First, this will not stop this attack. Your threat will
have no effect on my colleagues. I can plead, but they will not listen. In
fact, shooting me will be completing a job that they tried before.

"Second, you're not going to pull that trigger. You're angry, but you'll
stop yourself before you shoot. If Mulder couldn't kill me, you won't,
either. He's capable. You're not."

The smoking man took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He extracted a
new cigarette, put it in his mouth and lit it up. "So, let's stop this
charade..."

Scully snatched away the cigarette. She pressed the burnt end against her
prisoner's neck. The smoking man howled.

Then she pushed him hard onto the van's floor. She shoved her gun against
his mouth. Above him, he saw eyes as cold as the moon. The voice that spoke
was almost a whisper.

"You think you know me? You think I'm incapable of killing you? Don't be
stupid. Haven't you been paying attention? My life, you bastard, my
life...these past five years...after all the things that have been done to
me..."

The gun was jammed between his lips, its metal banging against his teeth.

"I...am...capable. And if Mulder dies, you die. If I can't get anything else
out of this, I want that satisfaction."

She pressed the cellular phone against the smoking man's cheek. "Call them.
Try. Your life depends on it."

This is not Dana Scully, the smoking man thought. This is not the woman that
he had wanted to use against Mulder years ago.

Whoever she was, though, she was going to kill him.

His trembling fingers had difficulty finding the right numbers.


Just as the smoking man was dialing, the army captain turned off his own
cellular phone. "The attack goes ahead," he declared. "He's expendable."


Forester saw the troops retake their positions. He sighed his relief. "It is
almost upon us," he said. "It's..." A sob choked off his words.

I don't want to die, Susan thought. I really don't want to die.

Mulder had to restrain himself from breaking free and finding Scully. That
madness he heard had to be stopped now.

He was also thinking, Howard, if you're going to do something...


As fierce as the angry presence was, it could do nothing to stop the forces
gathered around the Ranch. While it was hot and pained, these forces were as
cold and impersonal as an avalanche.

Howard looked at the crucifix spinning in the air. It began to bend and
twist into a hard ball.


The smoking man heard the sixth ring. Even after that, he was still holding
out for the possibility that his call would be answered and that all of his
work wouldn't come down to an end seen in a woman's cold eyes.

Scully held out a similiar hope. All these years of risk couldn't suddenly
come to an end now. Death had gracefully left her and Mulder alone for so
many years. Why should it choose this moment to ignore any faith?

The only sounds in the van were a man's panicked breathing and a faint sharp
ring that continued unabated.


Inside the tank, the turret man prepared to shoot. If there was anything in
his mind that questioned firing upon unprotected people, then it was too
buried under his training. His conscience was overwhelmed by his captain's
voice.

"Ready..."

He watched the old man in the center of the naked crowd. He could vaguely
make out the man's smile.

"Aim..."

A tingling formed on his skin. He assumed that it was because of the
anticipation.


A two-syllable word flew across the air, immediately followed by a boom that
fanned its sound across the desert.

At the same time, the lights went out.


She heard the cannon. She didn't take notice of the silence after it. The
cannon shot was the only thing that reached her ears. The only thing she
could see was the man underneath her. The only thing she could feel was the
metal against her finger and the pulse that filled her whole mind.

She pulled the trigger.


The lights came back on.

No. Not the lights the platoon had set up. This glare came above their
heads. It feel upon every upturned face.

Howard Ellis looked down at them. The glow was from his skin. His feet
rested on the air as easily as on rock. He had the face of a king.

The army captain took note that the Ezekial Ranch was unscathed. He
concluded that the man floating in the air could make him disappear as
easily as a speeding cannon shell. Therefore, he ordered his troops to do
the only thing he could imagine.

"Shoot him, you idiots! Shoot him!"

It sounded like a good idea to their panicked minds. Unfortunately, they
found that their guns didn't work anymore. After a few moments of getting
nothing but useless clicks, they chose other options. Some ran. Some began
to cry. Some got on their knees or just stood still.

Forester knew what he had to do. He stepped forward and he tesitified.

"Behold! Behold the glory of the Lord!"


Inside the van, Scully pulled the trigger again. She kept pulling it, even
after it was apparent that the gun wasn't working. The smoking man kept
still at the gun's hammer snapped back and forth. He couldn't comprehend why
he had been given a reprieve. It took him awhile to realize that he should
take advantage of it.

He shoved Scully off him and crawled like a wounded dog to the back doors.
He pushed them open and literally fell out of the van.

Scully watched him escape with a flat expression. She took no notice of the
bright light streaking into the van. She just stared at the gun, her finger
still pulling the trigger.


Susan Jones had trouble breathing. She had trouble thinking. What could she
feel about that man floating in the air? She knew that he wasn't a god. She
knew the pain in his human heart. Could she separate what she knew from what
she was seeing?

Mulder found himself actually thinking that this was God before him. He knew
that was wrong. This was no god, just man with the luck of biology on his
side. Yet, as the people around him fell to their knees, he wanted to join
them. He wanted to bow before the Protector. The words of Michael Forester
filled up his mind.

"The time of His return is at hand! The final battle has begun! You soldiers
have come here in the belief that you are serving the government but your
real master is Satan! Satan has drawn you to this place that he might
slaughter God's people! But what has happened? Did God allow you to perform
the Devil's work? No! He sends Howard Ellis to stop you! And now you
understand the might of the Lord!"

Forester saw the smoking man lying down on the ground, shaken and pale. He
laughed. "There! There is a man who saw the signs but ignored them! There is
a man who was close to the truth but ignored it! But now he knows! Oh, yes,
he knows! As everyone shall know! The Church of the True Angels shall march
forward from this desert and proclaim the Good News to the world! We shall
cry 'Repent!' and 'Know God!' And this man, Howard Ellis, the Protector, he
shall march to the battlefield and throw down the gauntlet before..."

"Michael?"

Forester's mouth kept moving up and down as if the transition from speech to
silence came too abruptly. Then he closed his jaw. He looked up.

Howard descended to the cold desert ground. The glow subsided off him and
all the search lights turned back on. He looked at Forester as a father
might look at a disappointing child.

"Howard..." Forester whispered.

"You sure like to talk a lot, don't you, Reverend?" Howard said. Then he
turned to Susan. "Get your clothes on."

She replied with a look of confusion.

"Susan, get your clothes on."

She nodded, then backed up into the ranch building.

"Howard, what are you doing?" Forester's voice was hoarse.

"You wanted me to fight your war." He waved his hand over the area. "This
occurred for a reason. I don't know why. But it's not the beginning of a
war. I've come to believe that I have another purpose."

Forester opened his mouth, but Howard held up a finger. All the words that
had sustained Michael Forester through his insanity left him.

Howard smiled. "Don't get me wrong. You helped me. You started me on the
right path. However, I have to travel the rest of the way without you."

Susan stumbled out of the ranch, her wrinkled clothes hastily assembled.
"Wh-wh-what's going on? What are you..."

"Everything will be explained. When I understand everything." Howard Ellis
turned to everyone else. "Return to your homes and families. Please pray
that I might find the answers I search for."

He then looked back at Forester. "And now for you, my friend. One last gift
before I go."

He placed a hand on Forester's chest.

"May you find the peace that you could never find in life."

The old man's eyelids fluttered. He let out one last breath and then he
collapsed.

"Michael!" Susan dropped to one knee and felt the old man's cheek. It was
already turning cold. She heard crying and looked towards the porch.
Bewilderment and anguish were all over the faces of the Church members.
Tears ran down their necks to their bare torsos. Even Sheldon and McDonald
were crying. Only Mulder watched with tearless eyes in a numb face.

She wanted to cry, too. Then she felt Howard touching her shoulder.

"Let's go."

He helped her to her feet, then he looked at the soldiers. "Could anyone
please give me the keys to their vehicle?"

Key rings were tossed before him, striking shrill notes before they hit the
ground.

"Thank you."


Scully stepped out of the van. Her gun was still clutched in her fingers.
She had been aware that a dramatic event had been taking place outside, but
she couldn't get past what happened to her. Something had been taken away
from her and she would never get it back.

Howard Ellis and another woman crossed her sight. Howard stopped to look at
Scully. He nodded as if in acknowledgement of a fellow artist. Then he took
one of the jeeps and rode off with the woman.

No one else was leaving at first. Then the smoking man saw Scully. He rushed
to his car and started it up. That started a chain reaction along the whole
platoon. Their retreat was clumsy and they avoided looking at each other.

Scully passed, oblivous of them, oblivious of everything including the
wailing from the naked people. Then she heard---

"Scully!"

Mulder ran from the porch, babbling. "Jesus, Scully, what the hell happened,
I saw it but I don't believe it, I don't even understand it, what is he
doing, where is he going, are you all right, what did you do---"

"Mulder?"

"What?"

"Get some damn clothes on, will you?"


A few hours later, another meeting was held at West 46th Street.

"We have given you a chance to handle this," the large man said. "Now it is
our turn."

"Are you sure?" Strunghold asked him.

"I am never unsure," the large man replied. Then he left.

"If they get involved in this," the heavy-set man said. "it will not be a
silent visitation. They will show their hand."

"Undoubtedly," Strunghold said. "The side effects of such a battle will be,
at the very least, a revelation of their existence."

"All our work," another one of the old men in the room moaned. "It'll be for
nothing."

"Our work? That could be the smallest cost. A war like this...who knows what
the casualities will be?"

Strunghold went over to a window and looked out. "Forester may have gotten
his Armageddon after all."


PART THREE
THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS


"The fishes are silent deep in the sea.
The skies are lit up like a Christmas tree.
The star in the east gives its warning cry.
'Mankind is alive but mankind must die.'"
                                                    ---W.H. Auden


CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAN AND WOMAN


"The harvest is past, the summer is over and we are not saved."
                                        ---Jeremiah 8:20


The sun lit up the sky, having risen a few hours ago. This was considered
its normal behavior.

Scully and Mulder were sitting in a diner. She felt the light touch her
face, but regarded its warmth with indifference. Mulder watched her stony
expression as he tried to eat a sandwich. After taking a few bites, he put
it down and reached for her hand.

"Scully..."

She snatched her hands out of the way. Mulder kept his hand outstretched on
the table. It was a long time before she even looked at him. Then she
finally spoke. This was the first time that she had spoken since they had
headed back to town. The Ezekial Ranch had been left in the hands of the
Arizona state police. The Church members---dazed and grief-stricken---had
made no protest over being detained.

"He told me that you had a chance to kill him. Why didn't you?"

"Because I felt that it wasn't right. Because I thought that it was against
what you believed in."

"Well, now, you know better, don't you?"

"No. I don't believe..."

"I pulled the trigger, Mulder. And I'm angry that the gun didn't go off."

Her voice was dead and hollow.

"That's how you feel now, but you have to look beyond..."

"What did he tell you? What did he say that kept you from shooting him? He
must have said something."

Mulder looked down at his sandwich.

"What was it?"

"He said...'You could kill me, but you'll never know the truth.'"

Scully slowly nodded. "I see. I understand."

She looked away and said, "You knew what was more important than me. The
truth."

"Now, wait..."

"I've always understood, Mulder. The big quest came first. I came...maybe
second or third."

"You know that's not true!"

Scully's eyes turned back to him. They could have been holes in her head for
all the feeling they showed. "I would have killed him for you," she said.
"But you couldn't do it for me."

Mulder wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream and throw things. He
wanted to tell her of the ache that losing her would cause him. He wanted to
make her understand.

But this wasn't about him. This was about something that was a long time
coming. All the crimes that had been committed against Scully were finally
taking their toll. The pain was overshadowing her mind. There was nothing
else in her now except a need for revenge.

And who was he to deny her that?

The silence held itself for a long time.

"What did Kersh have to say?" Scully quietly asked.

"He...he wants us to get back to Washington as soon as possible."

"You told him what happened, of course."

"I told him what I saw. You plan to tell him something different?"

"I'm sure what you saw happened, Mulder," she said with complete
indifference.

Mulder pulled back his hands and clenched them under the table.

"What about Howard Ellis?" she asked. "What to do about him?"

"I don't think there's anything we can do about him."

"You mean, you don't want to go chasing after a bona fide telekineticist?

Mulder shook his head.

"All right," she said. "What about The Church of the True Angels? Sheldon
and McDonald can be prosecuted for murder, but what about the rest?"

"The best thing to do is just let them go. Enough has been done to them
already. With Forester and his cause both dead, chances are that some of
them will be lost for the rest of their lives."

"Only some? I will say that the whole lot of them are screwed up."

"People can come back," Mulder said evenly. "They can go so far into their
own souls that they think they'll never be a part of the world again. But
nobody is beyond hope, Scully."

"The Gospel According to Fox Mulder." She turned away from him.

The silence fell on both of them again and didn't go away.


She hadn't said a word since they had left the Ranch. She watched the wide
land pass them with a stiff expression. Her arms were tightly wound over her
stomach.

He decided to speak first. "It's what he wanted. Deep down, he just wanted
to die."

"Did you have to be the one who killed him?"

"I'm the only one who could have done it with understanding."

Susan finally looked at Howard. His face was as unremarkable as ever. Yet
she knew that a vista was inside his mind, one that expanded past the
horizon and should have made her seem so insignificant in his eyes.

Yet she was here, right beside him. Riding alongside a god.

"I don't know what to think about it," she told him. "Was it necessary?"

"I wasn't going to follow his plan anymore. I killed his soul when I did
that. Killing his body after that was a mercy. So, should I have gone along
with his plan?"

"No. Michael was wrong. But..."

Susan let out a long sigh and rested her head against Howard's shoulder. She
closed her eyes. "I don't know if I can judge you, Howard. I don't know if
anybody can."

"Do you want to leave me?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Because you are part of something larger than I ever known." She opened her
eyes. "I can't turn my back on that."

Howard nodded.

"And because it feels so right being here."

He looked at her and smiled. She reached up and ran her hand through his
hair.

"So where are we going?" she asked.

"There's a man I need to see. And then I'll make my decision."

"What kind of decision?"

"One that will change the world, I'm sure."

She let out a small laugh. "Is that all?"

"Yes. That's all."

"Why do you need me?"

"Because you started this. It was you who first got me to understand what I
am."

"And what are you?"

He laughed. "You know..."

Yes, I do, Susan thought. You're Howard Ellis and that's good enough for me.


Meanwhile, behind one of Saturn's moons, something was being created.


They reached Two Grey Hills, New Mexico before noon. Howard steered them
towards an area with houses pressed into the red desert. Susan watched the
small, low-rent buildings pass by and knew that she was being watched.

Eventually, Howard parked in front of one house. "Well," he said. "Here we
are." He stepped out of the jeep, then stood at a respectable distance from
the front door. He waited casually with his hands in his pockets.

Nothing happened for over a minute.

Then an old man with long white hair stepped out. There were many other men
with him, all looking strong. As they regarded Howard with inexpressive
faces, Susan was reminded of a lynch mob.

Howard was unafraid and, of course, rightfully so. He smiled genially at the
old man. "It's the weirdest thing, but I still don't know your name."

"Albert Hosteen," the old man said in a voice as straight as his face.
Almost straight. Fear crept at the edges of it. "What is your name?"

"Howard Ellis."

Howard contemplated the answer, then he said, "That doesn't sound right.
Someone like you should have a different name."

"You mean, a grander one? A name with more significance?"

"Maybe."

"No. Howard Ellis will do just fine."

"If you wish."

"Now...let's get started."


They took Howard to a small hut with a grass roof. Susan wanted to follow
them inside, but Hosteen told her that it was best to keep away.

"Why?" she snapped.

"There is nothing you can find here. This journey belongs to Howard."

"So, I'm just along for the ride."

"No. You are very important. I don't know how, but..."

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I'm so sick of hearing that. I
would like a straight fucking answer for once."

"I can't give you answers. But maybe you already know them."

Hosteen stepped through the doorway of the hut. Susan sat down on a large
rock and listened for any hints of what was going on inside. No sound came.
In fact, there wasn't a sound to be heard anywhere. No coyotes, no eagles
crying in the sky, no wind.

The sun started on its descent. This was also considered its normal
behavior.

Just as the first stars peeked through the thick blue streaks in the sky,
the drums started.


Scully left like she was the last person in the world and she liked it. It
felt so good to just lay in her hotel bed and keep everything away from her.
She denied the existence of any person who could touch her.

She anaylzed over how it soured. Not that she cared, but she was just
curious. She had gone from a desperate need to find Mulder to not giving a
damn about him in a split second. She decided that it was because he never
been a real person to her, no more real than she was to him. They were only
abstract concepts to each other---faith and reason, hope and rage, light and
darkness, baloney and peanut butter. Whatever.

They had kept close these years because they needed to believe in something.
In this case, their friendship. They kept up the illusion in order the keep
away the loneliness of their lives. If they were in this together, then the
world couldn't be so bad, couldn't it?

So they believed the lie and now the lie had exploded in their face. It had
blown up because love was an illusion. Love between children and parents,
love between a follower and a flock, love between diametrically opposed
people---it was all a fantasy. Because humans had sharp teeth and nails.
There was only one possible use for them and that was to strike back.

That's why she was waiting for the pulse to start again. She wanted the
hatred to warm itself up. She would deny it no longer. It would sustain her.
She would hate and curse and plot with all the agility of her opponents.
When the next opportunity came for murder, she would not miss.

She smiled when the pulse finally started. It felt like a drum.


Hosteen looked down at the thin man lying naked across a grass bed. He
imagined what one quick knife blow could do to that tender skin. Yet, he
knew that this was a foolish notion. This man would be instantly aware of
any threat.

That's why Hosteen continued the chant of the Blessing Way. His fellow
Navajos kept watch over the naked god sweating in the hut's thick air. They
knew that everything depended on properly guiding him into the spirit world.
If Howard Ellis did not return any wiser, then not even their ancestors
would be able to save them.

They beat their drums and chanted because there was nothing else to do.


Near Saturn, others continued their own work.


Howard had never gone walking among the stars before. He was surprised that
so few people did. It was a piece of cake. Just step over the horizon and
then they were swimming around you like little fishes. He indulged in the
sheer pleasure of being among them.

"Careful, young man. It's easy to lose yourself here."

Howard turned. (Did he turn? Or did space just revolve around him?) He faced
an old man in a suit. The man had a charming yet distant face. He looked
like he had just heard a story sad in its details yet rich enough in irony
to be almost amusing.

"Who are you?"

"I used to be a friend of Agent Mulder. I came to him when he was in this
place before."

"Why are you here?"

"Because no one else will come to you. Normally, your parents would be here,
but..."

"I don't want them here."

"Apparently not."

The stars began to arrange themselves into straight lines.

"You want answers about the future," the visitor observed.

"Yes."

"A truth only means as much as what you can do with it. If you knew the
future, would you try to stop it or let it happen?"

"That is my affair only."

The man looked down, his expression sad. The stars began to flow towards
Howard.

"Remember my question, Mister Ellis. I left the world a long time ago, but I
still care for it." He looked back up. "Very well. Here is the future. Ready
or not."

The stars covered Howard's body. He opened his mouth and they crowded
inside. Swallowing them made his eyes as bright as the sun.

He looked...


INTERLUDE


"I got to scrub the whole human race and it was fun!"---Stephen King


The first ones who will see it coming will be those gifted or mad or both.


Bill Patterson had been drawing pictures of faces every day he had been in
prison. If they didn't let him have pen and paper, he would scratch the
faces into walls. The faces always had long jaws, pointed ears and black
eyes.

One night, he will draw something different. It will be of a tiny unknown
person. The person will have his hands outstretched to a large circle
hovering above him. It will be the first drawing that he won't regard with
panicked eyes.

Instead, he will sigh with contentment and say, "It will all be over soon."


The woman had often tried talking with the two girls. They had been in their
nearby cells for many years and she would babble about anything to
them---gene therapy, God, the enjoyment of smashing in the skull of some
poor sucker. The girls would never talk back, even though she could sense
the occasional thought from them. They only talked to the woman who shared
the same face as her, the one planning her own agenda with them.

Occasionally, the girls would whisper to each other, but they had grown up
in their dark, confined spaces on little more than silence.

One night, the woman will hear a sound that she has never heard before. It
will take a long time before she can identify it. Even after she recognizes
it, she will think it to be another of her frequent hallucinations.

It will be no hallucination, though. The girls will be crying.

She will find that she feels like crying, too.


Zirinka will run her figures through the computer for the fourth time. She
will try to do her calculations as precisely as she can. She will peer
through her telescope and see if the stars are in the actual positions she
discerns. She will do this over and over again and the results will be the
same.

"Son-of-a-bitch," she will mutter. "This is it. Do or die. The final
countdown."

She then will drink everything remotely alcoholic in the house.


In a desert cave, a young boy and his companion will step to the opening.
They had been hiding there for some time, rarely showing themselves. They
will look at the night sky and know what is out there.

"Something bad is going to happen, isn't it?" the boy will say.

His companion will nod its grey head.


Donnie Pfaster will press himself against his cell wall. He will feel a
presence building up in a faraway place. He will let out a hot breath,
wanting so bad to know this presence. He will want to get close to it and
know its power.

Then something familiar will touch his mind.

Touch it like a hot poker.

He will stumble to the floor. He will lie there, shaking and crying.


A man will stand in the desert...

Will it be a man?

It will have to be, won't it?

The man will stand in the desert and he will wait, watching the stars.

One of the stars will move. It will head towards him.

In a few moments, a smooth ball of light will be hanging over him. It will
be nothing more than light, but everything that a light can be.

He will hold out his hands....

A man. Nothing but a man...

He will hold out his hands to the light. The light will respond in a way
that only he can notice.

His feet will leave the ground and he will rise within an inch of the light,
its brightness only troubling him slightly.

A note will slowly build in the air. Shrill and discordant, it will be no
music that a sane person could bear hearing. It will seep into the ground,
making it shift. Every animal in the desert will stop and look in its
direction. Their bodies will be tight as if death had already struck them.

The music will get louder. The man will smile.


The music will spread beyond the desert to all the nearby
cities---Flagstaff, Austin, Los Angeles. All action will cease as people
stop their cars, their late-night work, their sex. They will feel it hum in
the ground at their feet. Buildings will vibrate ever so slightly. A
tingling will fill the air.


Bill Scully will be woken by the music and the cry of his baby.

"What the hell is that?" his wife will shout. They will stumble out of bed.
Tara will make her way to their baby's room. Bill will open a window and
look outside. He will see others standing in their doorways and looking out
their windows, wincing at the noise.

Then he will hear another sound.

Screaming.

His wife screaming.

He will rush into the baby's room. Tara will be standing in front of the
crib and her screams will be directed at the still body of Matthew Scully.
He will look down, his hands gripping the sides of the crib and he will see
blood gushing from his baby's mouth and ears.

He will start to scream himself, but then an explosion will be felt inside
of him. His throat will be choked with blood and he will fall to the ground,
a shaking mass of flesh. The last thing that his collapsing mind will
recognize is his wife fallen at his side.


The music will vibrate along every mountain and road as if the country is a
wire. When it reaches the ocean, it will create ripples that can be seen
from satellites.


Marita Covarrubias will be in an underground cell, the place that she had
been kept ever since her exposure to the virus. She had been cured, but she
had also been revealed as a traitor. They had been keeping her as a study
object. It had been the only thing that had kept her alive up until this
moment.

The music will resonate against a grey ceiling, turning it into a long blur.
The ugly flourescent bulb will flicker out, giving her eyes a comforting
darkness. She will hear the cement crack around her, then crumble.

She will think about the people who had been imprisoning her. They had been
invading her body with their humiliating, painful tests, all the while
making no promises that they would keep her alive. She will know that their
fate will be the same as hers.

She will be laughing as the walls come down on her.


The man beneath the light will not listen to the pain around him. He will
only know the battle at hand. He will revel in it, showing the light that he
is as powerful as it is. He wants the light to know that every animal bites
back.


Alex Krycek will be in a late-night bar, wondering about his life over a
glass of bourbon. He had returned to the organization that he had betrayed.
They had not been very pleased to see his return. However, the Englishman
had taken him under his wing and promised protection as long as he followed
orders. Krycek had thrown in his lot with the Englishman to survive, yet he
had also admired the man who had believed in something beyond manipulation
and control. Now, the Englishman was dead and Krycek had to watch his back.

He will hear the music after he steps out of the bar. He will stop on the
sidewalk with the others out at that late hour. He will cover his ears,
trying to keep it out. He can't avoid hearing it, though, any more than the
other sound. This one will be lower in register and growing in volume.
Krycek won't recognize it until he looks in the right direction.

The insects will swarm at a mad speed, desperate to get away from the music
that will wreak havoc with their simple instincts. Everything from flies to
wasps to locusts will be in this flying herd. Krycek will see them as a
great cloud rolling through the streets. There will be so many of them that
they will look like a solid wall.

Others will turn and run, but Krycek will know there is no escape. He had
known that his time to die would be instantly recognizable. He will close
his eyes and the insects will cover him.


The man will realize that he can't win this battle. His anger and pride will
be matched by the light's thoughtless need for domination. He will decide
that if he can't win, then he will go for mutual self-destruction.

He will plunge his hands into the light. For the first time in this fight,
he will cry out in pain, but the light will finally quaver. Sparks will
spring off them and get carried along on the music's wave.


"So, there is nothing that you can do," Jeffrey Spender will tell the man
visiting his apartment.

"No. It is completely out of any earthly hand except for Howard Ellis."

Spender will think over what this man has told him and then say, "Dad?"

The gloom in the man's face will vanish. This will be the first time that
Spender will ever call him that since their reunion.

"Yes, son?"

"Was it bad enough that our lives had to be screwed up? Must we screw
everybody else in the process?"

The happiness will leave the man's face, but he will still smile. "It's just
life," he will say. "Everybody gets screwed eventually."

He will take out a cigarette pack. "Want one?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Spender will accept the proferred cigarette and put it in his mouth. The man
will also hold out a lighter. Spender will bend his cigarette towards it.
Just
as the lighter flicks on, the music hits them.

The flame will burst into a fire that will instantly eat up the two men. In
a few minutes, the entire apartment building will be an inferno.


"I've got blisters on my fingers!" the man will yell out, laughing
hysterically.


Walter Skinner had kept himself going through life with his sense of duty.
He had pledged himself to his country, his platoon and the FBI. He took it
upon himself to look after those around him and those under his command.

That's why when he hears the music, he will decide not to stay in his
apartment. He will sense a bad craziness coming and he will want to be out
there, trying to keep things sane. This is his town and it is his duty to
keep it safe. Despite the pain that the music causes him, he will leave his
house.

It won't take him long to find trouble. A group of men will attack a woman
in the street. They have been turned crazy by the music. He will get out his
gun and yell at them to stop.

They will charge at him. His gun will bring down some of them, but there
will be too many of them and they will be too quick. He won't be able to
save the woman or himself.


The man in the desert...

It must be a man...

The man in the desert will feel himself falling apart into insignificant
motes. Above him, the light will spread into the clouds formed around them.
The light will feed the clouds whose bellies change from white to black to
white. Then the lightning will come, lightning that will strike the ground
and leave craters as big as houses. The clouds will expand, determined to
show their strength all over the world.

Just before he will finally fade away, the man will see everything he has
caused and call it good.


Margaret Scully will sit on her front porch, having been woken by a
nightmare. She will know that this one will come true. She will wait for it
to happen.

She will want to speak to her family, but she will know that there will be
no way of contacting them. She will be weighed down by grief, but will not
cry. She will feel like she has exhausted her tears a long time ago.

She will wait for the clouds to pour across the sky. She will watch the
great explosions that get closer and closer to her, her face grimly
stoic until something touches her mind. She will leap to her feet and
call our her daughter's name, just before the lightning strikes her.


Yes. This will be good.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HOWARD MAKES HIS DECISION


"I am guided by a signal in the heavens.
I am guided by this birthmark on my skin."
                                         ---Leonard Cohen


Howard Ellis sat up. The drumming and chanting immediately ceased. In a very
careful tone of voice, Hosten asked, "What did you see?"

"I saw how I could destroy the world."

Hosteen nodded.

"If I fight them, everyone will die."

Hosteen nodded again.

Howard took a moment, then said, "I'm not going to do that."

Hosteen let out a very long sigh, then smiled. "I'm glad. When the visitors
come, you must give your power to them. Then they will leave you alone."

Howard stood up. His legs were remarkably steady. "Thank you all very much,"
he said, then he left the hut.

As he stepped out, Susan rushed up to him. "What happened? What did you..."

"Shhh." Howard touched her cheek and then took ahold of her hand. He started
to lead her away from the hut.

"Howard...?"

"It's going to be all right, Susan. Everything is going to be all right."

He took her far away from everyone else. He gently laid her down on the
ground and removed her clothes with equal gentleness.

Susan had to agree with him. Everything was going to be all right.


The pulse in Scully's head had become different. It was less of a pain to be
relieved than a signal. It was calling to her, telling of a direction to
travel in. She obeyed it with no hesitation.


Mulder wasn't sleeping in his hotel room. He had been walking alongside the
highway that ran through this small town. He had let the night sky soak into
his mind, trying to clear out the hurt. Everything had gone wrong and he
knew no way of making it right again.

Then a car rushed by him, well above the speed limit. It took him a moment
to register that it was Scully's rental car. He yelled out her name as the
car's rear lights faded away.

Then he stood there, stuck in the middle of a small town with no
transportation and no way of knowing where to go. He had only the certainity
that he needed to catch up with her fast.

First, he rushed back to the hotel and talked (and almost threatened) the
manager into lending him his car. Then he tore out after Scully, hearing the
screams of the manager who watched Mulder's reckless driving. As Mulder
stepped on the gas, he knew that Scully already had too much distance on
him. He also knew that the long highway would eventually branch out. Which
direction would she go in? Where could she be headed? He ransacked his
memory for a clue, a hint, a rememberance of anything she might have said.
He couldn't come up with one blessed thing.

Then he remembered Howard Ellis.

"There is a man who can help me. You have met him before, Mulder."

It couldn't be...

That would be crazy. And why Scully would be headed towards Albert Hosteen?

But what else did he have?

When the time came to make a decision, he steered toward New Mexico.


He arrived at Scully's destination, ten minutes behind her. However, by
then, it was too late.


They completed their work near Saturn. It rested in a large iron ring,
glowing and singing. They released it  and it flew smoothly towards Earth.

Some scientists noticed its approach on their telescopes and satellites.
They scratched their heads, not knowing what it was. Others knew precisely
what it was. They were also aware that everyone would soon share their
knowledge. Right now, though, that wasn't their primary concern.

"It has started," Conrad Strunghold said after receiving a report on the
object. "Our fate lies completely in the hands of one man."

He was wrong.


When he arrived in Two Grey Hills, Mulder took straight to the house of
Albert Hosteen. He found the old Navajo's grandson who told him about Howard
and the Blessing Way ceremony. Mulder ran with his flashlight towards the
hut, stumbling twice in the dark.

He found Hosteen along with several other Navajos. He was about to shout his
questions when he saw the pain and terror in Hosteen's face. All of them
looked like a bomb had just killed their families. Hosteen looked at Mulder
and said, "I've made a terrible mistake. I thought that if he knew what the
future could be, he would turn away from it, but..."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then he pointed in a direction. "They are
over there."


Howard was sitting in the ground, naked and looking very content. He heard
footsteps and then a flashlight's glare hit his eyes. He flinched as Mulder
yelled "Where is she?"

"Calm down, will you, Mulder?"

Mulder completely forget about what Howard was supposed to be capable of. He
backhanded the man and Howard fell over, blood gushing from his lip.

Mulder froze, waiting to explode.

Nothing happened.

He heard a woman crying. He spun around and his flashlight caught her in the
dark. It was the plain-faced woman from the Church of the True Angels. She
was also naked.

He knelt carefully by her. "What happened?" he whispered.


After their lovemaking, she had laid at his side. The desert coldness
couldn't touch her after she had been in his warmth. Susan kept awake for a
long time, pushing away the sleep. She wanted to watch Howard's face under
moonlight forever.

Sleep came to her, eventually. She dreamed.

There were two people in her dream, one man and one woman. A light was
pouring down on them like hard rain. They were looking at each other and
crying.

When she awoke, she found Howard standing far away from her and talking to
another woman.

"I give my power to you," he said. "Do what you will with it."

Howard touched the woman's hand and there was a brief moment when they both
seemed in great pain. Then Howard looked like a great weight had been taken
from him. The woman...

Even in the darkness, Susan could make out her beautiful face, but she could
also see the cruelty in her eyes. It reminded her of Howard when she had
walked in on him and Poppy.

Only this was worse. That had been merely the rage of an emotionally
adolescent man. This was an anger against the whole world.

The woman took a few breaths as if she was readying herself. Then she walked
away.

"Howard?"

"Yes, Susan?" He sat himself back down at her side.

"Who was that?"

"Don't you remember? That was Agent Scully."

"What did you do to her?"

"I gave my power to her."

"What?"

"I gave my..."

"I heard you, but...why?"

Howard's smile shined in the darkness. "So she could destroy the world."


After Susan explained what happened, Mulder slowly turned to Howard. "You're
crazy."

"No. I saw it. I was given a vision of the future. The aliens have sent a
weapon to this planet. It was meant to destroy me or whoever has my power.
Scully will fight this weapon. The result will be the end of life on this
world."

Mulder stared at Howard, speechless.

"I know what you're thinking. Why her and not me? Because...well, in the
end, I'm just a loser who killed a few people. Scully is something else.
She's been wronged so badly that there's nothing else she wants except
revenge. That is what is needed here. A person so full of wraith that they
won't care about the consequences. An anger that could crack the Earth
itself."

"No," Mulder said, his voice tight. "She wouldn't be so careless. She'll
never
rush into something..."

"Maybe not before. But now..."

He's right, Mulder thought. That coldness in her eyes...

"Why, Howard?" Susan cried. "Why did you do this?"

"Because Susan, I have seen the world and it looks like your childhood. And
my childhood. What we went through is being repeated in a million different
variations. I've had enough. So have you. Everybody has."

Howard closed his eyes and laid back down. "It's over. It's time to be done
with it. There's really no point in continuing..."

"Where did she go?" Mulder demanded.

Susan pointed a direction. Mulder went running, faster than ever before.

"She won't listen to him," Howard said in a lazy voice. "Everything has been
leading up to this. This is the real apocalypse. Not the one that Michael
really wanted but..." He looked over at Susan. "...I know it's the one you
wanted. Isn't it?"

Susan buried her face in her arms. Howard looked up at the stars.


He could hear the dirt chipping under his feet. He could smell the rough
grass. He could feel a tiny wind go by. He just couldn't see worth a damn.
The flashlight only gave him a few feet out of the miles of desert around
him. He would scream Scully's name over and over, but there was no response.
He was so caught up in his search that he didn't notice the bright light
moving across the sky. He almost didn't notice the edge of the cliff.

He stopped himself just in time. He forced himself to slow down for a
moment, just to calm his pained chest. That's when he finally saw the light.

It was descending into the canyon in front of him. He swung his flashlight
around until he found a trail that lead down a hill. He carefully made his
way as the ball of light dropped like a stone. When he reached the bottom,
he headed for the light's point of descent.

And there she was.

Her arms were folded across her chest. She appeared very calm. The light was
still floating down, a smooth white ball that was fifty feet in diameter.

"Scully!"

She made no reply.

"Scully, you have to stop..."

That was all he could get out. His throat couldn't work anymore. Not a sound
could rise from it.

"I know you want to talk me out of this, Mulder," Scully said quietly.
"Maybe you could. Maybe you could convince me that vengeance only
belongs to God. There's just one problem with that."

She turned to him. "For this night, I am God."

A light filled up the canyon, making it bright as day. The pitiless look on
Scully's face was clear to see.

"And here comes the Devil."


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A BALM IN GILEAD


"That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and
experience that belong to you, that are you..."---Dana Scully


"You and I have always been sent back to the beginning, Mulder. This is
different. This is the end. One way or another, it ends tonight."

Scully smiled. "I once told you that it was presumptious to think that you
were the one to save the world. Now here I am, about to face...yes, Mulder,
aliens. I don't know why I've been given the task. I don't know if it was
planned or if it was just pure chance. What matters most is whether I
accept it.

"I do. Oh, you bet I do.

"You want the truth, Mulder. Truth with a capital 'T.' You want these aliens
to give you some grand and cosmic outlook on life. The only truth they've
taught me is that pain only makes sense when you give it back in return.

"I'm going to destroy every last one of those grey-skinned bastards.

"Watch carefully, Mulder. It's going to be quite a show."


The ball of light was now just a hundred feet over their heads. Mulder could
just feel what it was capable of. He also instinctively knew that the aliens
never used it before because it was too much of an attention-getter. The
moment that it used its full power, it would leave all the evidence
needed---radiation, climate changes, signals to radar everywhere---that
could prove an alien presence. No one could plausibly deny this. It would
expose the silent colonization.

Of course, that hardly mattered now, didn't it?

Scully held up her hands. From inside the light, a high-pitched sound
started.

*Don't do this, Scully. I know this seems like the only way to stop this
evil once and for all, but this battle will destroy us all. Stop it now.
Please.*

She left the ground behind her. As she soared into the air, he was
completely overwhelmed. How could he stop her? What could he say that would
change the mind of a goddess?

But Scully wasn't a goddess. She was human---beautifully human. Only now her
humanity had been shredded apart and all that was left was a hollow version
of Dana Scully. The destruction of the world would flow from the destruction
of her soul.

*Come back, Scully.*

She stopped floating and looked down at Mulder. There was a puzzled look on
her face.

She had heard...?

Then she continued her rise. She stopped within a few inches of the light,
caring nothing for its blinding radiance.

Yes, she had heard him. She had the ability to know his thoughts. He had
concentrate hard, get her attention, beat his fist against the wall of her
mind.

*Listen to me, Scully...*

She closed her eyes and raised her hands. Even from down on the ground, he
could tell that she was smiling. He made it the voice in his head louder. He
made it a scream from the deepest part of his heart.

*Listen...*

Then she pulled back her hands.

She opened her eyes.

She looked out over the desert. She looked over even further.

She saw everything.

The horror of what she was about to do hit her in the face.

*Good. She understands. Thank you, God, she understands. Now, back away,
Scully.*

She remained hanging like an old puppet. The light filled up a tear that ran
down her face. The tear fell a hundred feet to the earth.

*Give the power away, Scully. Give the power to them. It will do you no
good. Just give it away and they won't hurt you.*

She curled herself into a ball, knees against her elbows, still hanging in
the air.

Something was wrong.

She wasn't attack, but she wasn't retreating, either. It wouldn't matter to
the light, though. It would kill her as long as she remained a potential
threat.

That's when Mulder realized that she hadn't heard him at all.

She had figured it out for herself. Howard had been wrong. Her anger hadn't
overwhelmed her.

But her shame had.

She had saw what she had almost done and it filled her with disgust. She saw
the genocide that she could have unleashed on the whole world, her family,
her friends.

She wanted to be punished for it.

She wanted to die.

NO, NO, NO...

The screaming inside Mulder's head became real. His voice had been
returned to him and he was hollering for her to come down. A ripple
appeared on the light's surface. It stretched out a tentacle that slowly
reached for Scully. It was tentative, not understanding this meek
behavior. It wouldn't throw away this opportunity, though.

Mulder yelled and yelled and yelled. His anger would not be ignored. He was
not going to let it happen. She did not deserve this, but there was no way
of telling her...

Yes, there was. It would take something more than screaming.

So he opened up his mind and gave her his past.


Once upon a time, there was a man who lived in the basement of this big
building where a lot of knights worked. He was a knight, too, sort of.
Nobody else could really accept that because this man was kind of weird.
Kind of out-there. Kind of spooky.

He got so spooky that they sent a woman down there. Her job was to tell him
just how spooky he was.

She did more than that, though. She told him that she admired his courage.
She liked the way that he stood up for what he believed in. She developed an
affection for the plucky son-of-a-gun.

Then it turned out that the spooky man saw dragons that really existed. She
decided to fight the dragons with him, even though she wasn't sure what kind
of dragons they were. Eventually, the spooky man found out that she was the
best dragon-hunting partner he could have. She was brave and smart and
caring and understanding. They still got into arguments because he thought
the dragons were red and she thought the dragons were green, but they always
stood by each other in the end.

You know what? I think that the spooky man kind of liked the woman. Maybe
she kind of liked him, too.


Scully lifted her head. The tentacle stopped, unsure if it was going to
attacked.

She wasn't going to attack. She was just watching and listening to what
Mulder was sending her.

There she was...

...on a hotel bed and listening for the first time to his story of a
long-lost sister, coming to an understanding of the man...

...examining his back for signs that he could be a murderer and then he
would do the same for her, their first real test of trust...

...sitting at his side on a hospital bed, telling him that she had faith in
her father and he smiles his understanding...

...listening to him tease her about the contents of her bag...

...comforting him in a dark garage...

...lying on a hospital bed and he was telling her that he would be with her,
no matter what...

...shedding tears onto him as he held her...

...accepting his embrace as she looked at the bed where her sister had
laid...

...performing a last-ditch effort to prevent him from shooting her...

...telling him "I know who you are"...

...saying "You'll be in my prayers."

...still and pale as he broke through the ice...

All of that and more. Everything in his mind was about her.


She looked below and saw his agony. He needed comfort.

She brought him up to her. He came face-to-face, startled and afraid to be
floating in the air. Then she opened up her mind to him. It was his turn to
understand.

She gave him all of the moments that she had with him---the joyful, the
uneasy, the hard, the comic. However, one second of their lives stood out.
It was when he stopped her in the middle of a hallway and told her how much
that she meant to him. That it was impossible to go on without her. That he
owed her everything.

She had never really know. Deep down, she had felt that she was just a
passenger on his insane ride. Did he truly know how much that confession
meant to her?


I think I do know, Scully.


They held each other under the light. She rested her head against his
shoulder as he kept his arms tight around her.

Dancing in the sky.

Then she pulled away just enough so they could look at each other. Their
faces were washed out in the brightness, but there was no mistaking how the
other one felt.

Scully leaned forward and kissed him.


Forget about history and the fabric of control that holds it together.
Forget about the death of loved ones. Forget about the death of those we
barely knew. In this moment, there are no killers and no manipulators. There
are no threats from above or below. The power that darkens our lives---call
it a conspiracy, an alien colonization or the Devil---has no influence in
this moment. It means nothing to what we know about each other. Push it
aside. Deny all of it.

Deny everything.

Except you and me.


Scully's lips left his mouth, then she looked back up at the light.

She held up one of her hands.


Then nothing happened.

Howard had seen the light descend into the canyon. Then it went back up to
the skies and vanished.

He waited for a long, long time.

Still, nothing happened.

He sighed.

'Something has gone wrong," he commented.

Susan made no reply.

"Oh, well. There will be another opportunity."

"There will be?"

"That power was in me before. I can get it back somehow. Then I will start
over again."

One of Susan's hands slowly stretched out from her. It felt like it was
acting of its own accord.

"It is my job to end this world's suffering. I will spend the rest of my
life doing that."

"What about me?"

Howard moved towards her. "You? You're the woman I love. You're the one who
understands, I hope."

"I do understand."

Her hand found a rock. Just the right size.

"Do you?" he said.

"Yes."

Howard reached to embrace her. He was close enough for her hand to swing a
perfect arc towards his head.

It took several blows to get it done. He whimpered all the way through it as
his skull got softer and his shaking became less violent. He gasped one last
word before he died.

"...light..."

She sat down by the body, clutching the rock like a newborn baby.


CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE HAPPIEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD


"Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him; but I will maintain my own ways
before him."---Job 13:15


The little snot was actually making him wait here in the park. He tossed
another cigarette to the ground and lit his third one up.

Then he heard, "Good evening."

Fox Mulder stepped from behind the cover of bushes. He had a grating little
smile on his face.

"You know, a man your age really shouldn't be out all alone at this time of
night."

"What the hell do you want, Mulder?"

"Oooo, aren't we touchy?"

The smoking man angrily let out a puff of smoke.

"Actually, I just want to see how you're doing."

"How I'm doing?"

"I understand that Agent Scully gave you a little scare."

The bile rose to the smoking man's throat.

"You didn't have to change your underwear afterwards, did you?"

"Enjoy the moment, Mulder."

"Oh, I will."

"You must be very proud of her."

Mulder looked down at his feet, then back up. "She's not proud of what she
did. Yet I can't exactly blame her for it."

"Oh, really? What happened between you two in Mexico anyway?"

"What makes you think that anything happened in Mexico?"

The smoking man wasn't going to tell him about the alien weapon that had
visited Earth. The bizarre readings that astronomers and scientists had
picked up on their equipment could be explained away. Furthermore, there was
no data that indicated that the weapon had been in New Mexico. It had left
without using its full power. Secrets had been kept. Denialibility was
intact.

"You were both found near a Navajo reservation. You both claim to have no
memory of what had happened there."

"That's the truth."

"I see."

"Would I lie to you?"

"And what about Howard Ellis?"

"Howard Ellis...is no longer a problem for anybody."

"My group will need more than that."

"Tell them that Howard is a buried secret that no one will learn. Unless you
want people to learn."

The smoking man exhaled again. "Very well. Then this matter is done."

"For once, we agree."

Mulder took a few steps away before the smoking man called out. "Tell Agent
Scully that if she wants to play hardball, then I'm ready for our next
match. And that you don't get a second shot at me."

Mulder looked back. "She's not playing that anymore."

"Really?" A smirk formed around the cigarette. "She's getting to be as
erratic as you, Mulder."

Mulder looked the smoking man over, then said, "You'll never beat me. You
know why?"

"I can't imagine."

"Because you'll never beat her."

With that, Mulder left the smoking man who didn't move for a long time.


"I trust that you didn't tell him about Susan."

"I didn't see much point." Mulder gave Scully a careful look. "Are you still
having doubts?"

"We are now officially accomplices to murder. And I'm not sure why Susan
killed Howard, but..." Scully remembered Susan's face, almost collapsing
under its grief. There was too much pain there to ignore.

"...I don't see any point in sending her to jail," she said. "And I trust
that
Hosteen will look after her. As for Howard...whatever he was, he was
dangerous. Susan may have done us all a favor."

Mulder nodded. They were both silent for awhile.

Then he said, "You don't remember anything."

"All I remember is that one moment I'm in my hotel room, the next I'm in the
middle of New Mexico."

"And all I remember is chasing after you. At least, I think I was chasing
after you."

One thing they would both remember, though, was waking up at each other's
side, her hand in his hand, his hand in her hand. They had looked at each
other and knew that something important had happened. If they had no
memory of the event itself, they were still left with the feelings that it
had aroused.

"I asked Albert Hosteen what happened," Scully said.

"What did he say?"

"He said that he didn't want to tell me something that I would have trouble
believing."

"Smart guy."

"He did say that I had changed."

"In what way?"

Scully sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. "What happened to me,
Mulder?" she whispered. "How did I get that bitter?"

"You got pushed too far."

She looked down. "I acted as if I had no conscience. I
behaved...horribly..."

"Hey."

Mulder touched her chin and tilted her head gently up. He looked into her
eyes.

"No one could take everything you've been through. Not without going to
the edge. I've been there myself and I haven't been hurt like you have."

"You haven't?"

"Well...maybe seeing you like this hurts enough."

She held her breath for a few long moments, then let it out.

"What matters most is that you pulled through," Mulder told her. "I know who
you are, Scully. When you have to make the decision, I know it'll be the
right one."

"What decision is that?"

Mulder paused, then said, "The future is not going to be easy on us, Scully.
But the best weapon we have is right here. That's what gives me hope."

"Do you really have hope, Mulder? I haven't been so sure that it's with you
anymore."

He just smiled at her. She smiled back and a passer-by would swear that
they looked like the happiest people in the world.

"Hmmm," Mulder said.

"What do you mean by 'hmmm?'"

"Speaking of the future...there's something that I haven't told you."

"Oh, great."

"Mind you, I don't know if this is true."

"Well, what is it?"

"I mean, I really don't know..."

"Mulder, out with it."

"Susan Jones is pregnant."

Scully looked at Mulder blankly.

"With Howard Ellis's baby."

"What? How do they know?"

"She says that she just has a feeling."

"Susan knew Howard for a week at most. And we left her less than a week ago.
How can she be sure about a two-week..."

Then the look on Mulder's face gave her a weird feeling. "Mulder, I know
what you're thinking."

"Of course you do."

"Howard Ellis was a genetic anomaly..."

"Which could be passed down."

"Unlikely."

"But not impossible."

"And if it is? What then?"

"There's going to come a day when the world will need someone that has what
Howard Ellis had. Only this time, maybe that person will know there's more
to the world than just pain. Hopefully...well, hopefully, he'll know about
hope."

"Mulder, you sound like..."

"A character from 'Touched By An Angel?'"

She sighed, then laughed. He laughed, too.


Susan laid in bed, her room dark. She was wondering about the future.

The Hosteen family had been taking good care of her. Albert had been
especially kind to her. As much as she tried to convince him to feel
otherwise, she couldn't take away his guilt. He had been mistaken
about Howard. He didn't want to make the same mistakes with his child.

Yet the burden was really on her. What could she tell her child? How could
she explain who Howard was and what happened to him?

She didn't have the answers to that. She also knew that God wasn't going to
give them to her. It was time to stop looking for His influence in her life
and start looking for her own. That's what she prayed for. She also prayed
to be as worthy of this world as much as the next one.

She prayed for faith in herself. She also hoped that endings---happy or
otherwise---were strictly an earthly invention.

_____________________________________________________

"Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of
immediately drawing radii from my love---from my heart, from the tender
nucleus of a personal matter---to monstrously remote points of the
universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my
love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behavior
of nebulae (whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the
dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgable beyond the unknown,
the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and
interpenetrations of space and time. It is a pernicious habit, but I can
do nothing about it." --- Vladimir Nabokov