A REASON TO BELIEVE
Summary: A tabloid headline becomes the basis for an investigation that leads the
agents to witness the most powerful forces on earth.
Rated: PG-13 for a few bad words
Written for VS 15, 2 weeks exclusive to VS 15
Disclaimer: We all know the score.
Authors Notes: I should acknowledge the lyrics used here are from REASON TO
BELIEVE by Rod Stewart. My thanks to Vickie for the beta and Martin and Lisa for
their wonderful artwork. And Chris, the Explorer is for you. May you all find your
own reason to believe.
“If I listened long enough to you
I’d find a way to believe that it’s all true”
Craig Fleming sped down State Route 16. His cargo had been purchased illegally,
he was only 19 but the gang was expecting him to deliver the goods, six cases of
beer, for Rachel’s party. It had been raining earlier and now with the dusting of
snow the roads had become slick. The ringing of his cell phone made him jump.
The LCD display told him it was Rachel. “I know, I know, I’m coming,” he answered.
“Where are you? Everybody’s gonna leave if you don’t get here soon, I promised
them beer,” she whined into the receiver.
Craig stepped harder on the accelerator. “I’m gonna be there in,” he started to say,
taking his eyes off the road to check the clock on the dash. “Fifteen…” He never got
a chance to finish his sentence. A deer bounded across the road in front of him. The
young man’s first instinct was to stomp the brake causing the car to swerve hard to
the right on the icy road. Craig fought to control the car, turning into the skid like
he’d been taught but the car swerved in the other direction, across the opposite side
of the road and before he knew it he was careening through the brush and down the
embankment. The vehicle flipped on its side, then onto its roof, tearing through the
brush at an alarming speed. Craig tried at first to protect himself, throwing his arms
in front of his face but when the car turned over and his head hit the roof sending
searing pain down his spine, everything went black.
At first he had no sensation at all. A moment of euphoria swept over him and then
he opened his eyes to find he was lying in the brush outside his vehicle; something
warm and wet was trickling down the side of his head. Terror like he had never
known swept over him when he realized he couldn’t reach up to wipe it off. He
couldn’t feel or do anything. He had no sensation from his neck down. Craig stared
up into the falling snow and prayed for God to let him go.
“You must go back.” It was a gentle, soothing voice that caught his attention then
and a man he had never seen before came into his line of sight. The man had long
blond hair and a clean-shaven face; he leaned over the young man and pressed his
hand against the side of his neck. Something Craig could only describe later as an
electric shock ripped through his body and then suddenly he could feel his limbs
again. He tried to sit up but the man pressed his hand against his shoulder. “I have
a need for you,” the man told him.
“Ah – ah need for what?” Craig stammered.
“You will soon see,” the man told him as he stood up and somehow disappeared in
Craig shivered and looked at his crumpled car. Sirens in the distance told him he
soon would be in deep trouble.
9:20 AM, TWO WEEKS LATER
Scully found her partner amidst a sea of newspapers. His sleeves were already
rolled to his elbows and the tie he had neatly tied at the breakfast table that morning
was already askew. She smiled silently to herself; it reminded her of their earlier
years. He was obviously on a hunt. “It looks like you’ve got us something…”
When he didn’t reply she dropped her coat on the chair in front of the desk and
moved around it to stand beside him. On the monitor in front of him was a website
dedicated to “Miracle Cures and Miraculous Recoveries”. As he clicked through the
stories she began to sift through the papers on the desk. It didn’t take her long to
realize that they were all tabloids with headlines proclaiming ‘Miracle Cures in the
Heartland’, ‘Miracle Man’ and even the absurdity of ‘Is This The Second Coming?’
“Mulder?” she questioned as the momentary thought that he was researching this for
personal reasons crossed her mind. She knew he was still certain that Krycek had
made off with whatever it was he and the bastard had found on that remote island
off the coast of Washington. Mulder would look for her cure until the day he died she
realized. If only she could prove to him he’d already found it, deep in his own heart.
“Are you going to let me in on this or not?’ she finally asked.
“Yeah,” he looked up at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was
just trying to get my ducks in a row here in hopes I could win you over.” He reached
over and started to sift through the tabloids that littered the desk. “Read some of
these and tell me what you think,” he told her handing her several of the rags and
then turning his attention back to the computer.
“Please tell me you’re not looking for a case for us in these,” she commented,
accepting the papers from him and then resting against the counter behind him to
look through them. Visions of monkey babies and fluke men came to mind as she
scanned the articles. When she finally looked up she found her partner looking at
her, his right eyebrow slightly raised. A look she could only equate to the skeptical
look of Mr. Spock.
In a condensed version, three different articles in three different tabloids told a story
of what appeared to be a faith healer who had stirred up the local population of
eastern Nebraska with his miraculous cures. She’d been there before with Mulder,
Samuel Hartley, the young man in Tennessee who was eventually murdered. Her
partner had seen something in the young man’s claims. Certainly this wasn’t the
same thing. “What is it you think you have here, Mulder?” She finally asked.
“Did you read those?” he asked, turning his chair to face her fully and nodding at the
tabloid she still held. He reached up and tugged the STAR away from her, “Residents
in Fairbury, Nebraska and people as far away as Springfield, Illinois have been
flocking to a barn on Redmond Road where Billy Ward has been performing weekly
healing rituals,” he began to read. “Malcolm Tucker, crippled in an auto accident in
1987 is now able to walk without the help of his crutches…”
Scully watched his eyes scan the article.
“Halley Emerick, a leukemia patient now shows no signs of the disease…” he
“Mulder,” she huffed in annoyance and tossed the remaining tabloids on her
partner’s desk. “The stories of miraculous cures go all the way back to the Old
“Kara Micak, blind since birth, Scully, is now able to see. Helen Redmond, owner of
said barn says Billy showed up in Fairbury just after the first of the year looking for
work. Her husband passed away last year, she needed someone to help with the
farm,” Mulder went on seemingly oblivious to her attitude.
“Too bad he didn’t show up last year then, her husband might still be alive. I don’t
know what you want me to say, Mulder.” Her partner turned his chair to follow her
as she walked around the desk to stand in front of it. “This man just lays his hands
on someone and voila, they are cured.”
“Jesus did it.”
“Don’t start with me on that, this is not the work of God, Jesus or any of the
“Actually the Church has very specific criteria on what is or is not a miraculous cure,”
She watched the corner of her partner’s mouth curl again and realized at that point
that he was just egging her on. “All right, what do you think is going on in…” she
reached across the desk to snatch the tabloid back from him. “In Fairbury,
“Thought you’d never ask,” he smiled and leaned forward to type something on the
keyboard. “Billy Ward just sort of materialized overnight according to the local law.
They’ve even done some background checks on him and can’t find a thing. He hasn’t
really done anything that would warrant them bringing him in so for now they just
sort of show up at his ‘meetings’ for crowd control. Funny thing is,” he paused to flip
the Weekly World News back to its cover to a photo of Billy Ward. “The same story
was reported in early 2002 in Wheatland, Wyoming and in 1996 in Dickinson, North
Dakota. Look at this…” he finished motioning for her to step back around the desk to
see what he was looking at.
Three photos populated the laptop screen. One matched the photos of Billy Ward,
who even she had to admit, bore an eerie resemblance to Jesus Christ. The other
two were completely different people. “Skinner’s never going to sign off of this,
Mulder, not unless you come up with some viable evidence…” she never got to finish
as he waived the 302 folder at her. Her shoulders drooped, what had he told him.
“I just sort of suggested it could be Jeremiah Smith…” he admitted.
“But you don’t think…”
“I don’t know, could be a relative,” he mocked before he leaned towards the desk
and tapped the monitor. “I think what we really need to find out is who this guy
back here is because he’s in every one of these photos.”
Scully leaned in for a closer look. Behind each of the alleged healers stood a tall
man in a long coat with long light colored hair. Even in the poor quality news photos
there was an eerie look about him. “When do we leave?”
Mulder had flown them into Lincoln. From there it was normally an hour and a half
ride to Fairbury. Their flight had been late leaving Reagan as was the connecting
flight from Chicago. They were now trying to beat the darkness heading south on
Route 77 in the midst of wind driven snow. Scully was at least thankful Mulder had
pulled out a personal credit card and upgraded their vehicle to a Ford Explorer when
he saw the conditions at the airport.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“136 west, should take us right into Fairbury. The Capri Motel is supposed to be
right on 136.”
“Sounds like a swell place,” she commented pulling her coat more tightly around
“There weren’t a whole lot of choices,” Mulder confirmed.
“There never are.”
His eyes flashed at her in the darkness of car but she smiled to acknowledge she was
only ragging on him.
Mulder bit his bottom lip and grinned. “Turn the heat up if you’re cold,” he told her.
She was cold; fact was she hadn’t been warm since they got off the plane. The snow
that swirled around their vehicle probably blew all the way down from Canada.
There was nothing between Canada and Nebraska but open prairie. She reached
over and turned the heat indicator up a couple notches.
The sign for Route 136 loomed out of the snow and Mulder made the turn. Forty
minutes later they were turning into The Capri Motel, a one story brick structure
obviously popular with the truckers as evidenced by the numerous rigs parked in the
lot. Scully was not impressed. At this point however, she could only hope that the
place was clean and warm.
Mulder tried the door to the office and found it locked. A hand written notice on the
door instructed him to ring the bell. A few minutes later a middle-aged woman
wrapped in what looked like a hand-knit sweater appeared. “Can I help you?” she
asked through the door.
“Fox Mulder, I have a reservation,” he replied digging into his coat pocket to produce
his badge and then pressing it against the glass.
The woman smiled an apology, “Oh yes, I’m sorry, it’s late. I lock the door after
nine,” she told him as she opened the door for him.
“Sorry, we were a little late getting into Lincoln and the drive down’s been an
adventure,” the agent told her, stepping into the office, thankful for the warmth. His
ears were already red from standing out there for just a few minutes. Scully had
stayed in the car. He rubbed his bare hands together to get the circulation going.
“Oh yes, nasty evening. I’m glad you made it okay. My name is Andrea Wheeler,
welcome to Fairbury,” the woman acknowledged as she stepped behind the counter
to retrieve his reservation. “I have you and Ms. Scully in the end units away from
the congestion. It will be a little quieter for you there.”
Mulder handed her the bureau card, signed in and grabbed the key cards. “Is there
a place for breakfast nearby?” he asked as he stepped towards the door.
“Oh well, you’ll find most of the locals at Smitty’s, that’s on the square. Griffey’s is
on 4th, you can get a full breakfast there. And there’s always McDonald’s.”
“Yep, there’s always McDonald’s”, Mulder acknowledged.
“There’s a coffee pot in the kitchenette in 40,” she told the agent as he opened the
door. “Coffee, tea and hot chocolate packets in the cupboard over the sink.”
Mulder hefted his bag onto the luggage rack in his room, tossed his wet coat over
the desk chair and opened the connecting door and tapped on its mate. Scully
opened it almost immediately. “You know, Mulder, I think by now the Bureau knows
you and I don’t use two rooms.”
“Yeah, well, wouldn’t want the American taxpayer to know we’re fraternizing on their
dollar,” he told her as he slipped out of his equally wet shoes. “Besides, gives us two
bathrooms, we can sleep a little longer and we don’t have to fight over the mirror.”
He wandered into her room heading towards the kitchenette. “Andrea said there
was coffee and hot chocolate in the kitchen, you want some?”
“Hot chocolate would be nice,” she replied. The room was clean, warm and appeared
to have been recently redecorated. Not bad by Mulder’s standards. Her room had a
king, the other room, two doubles. There was no doubt which room they’d be
sleeping in. Her partner appeared a few minutes later with a couple of steaming
mugs. “It’s only water and coca mix but at least it’s hot,” he told her handing her
one of the mugs.
“So, what do we tell the locals about why we’re here?”
The snow had stopped by morning but the frigid temperatures had coated the SUV
with a layer of crystals that took Mulder a good five minutes to scrap off the windows
with the miniature scraper the rental car company had provided. It was a good thing
he was tall or he’d never have been able to reach the center of the windshield with
it. He left the car running and went back inside to thaw out his fingers.
“So, breakfast?” he questioned his partner who was still in the bathroom.
“Anywhere but McDonald’s,” came her reply.
Okay, he thought to himself, I guess that left Smitty’s or Griffey’s.
Griffey’s was located in one of the oldest buildings on the square. In fact the entire
downtown area was filled with historic buildings the agents discovered during their
drive from the small motel to the square. It was like passing through a time warp
and finding yourself in the 1920’s. However, as evidenced by the well-preserved
condition of the buildings, the town took great pride in their historic nature.
The sign inside the door said ‘Seat Yourself’ so the agents found a booth on the far
wall away from the door and sat down. A young woman with a ponytail and the
name ‘Katie’ emblazoned on her nametag approached with a pot of steaming coffee.
“You folks look like coffee people,” she acknowledged as she turned over Scully’s
“Yes, please,” Scully confirmed.
“Where you folks all from?” Katie asked as she then filled the cup.
Mulder reached for a copy of the breakfast menu that was tucked behind the
condiments. He figured they were screaming ‘out-of-towners’ by their attire.
“Obviously not locals, huh,” he joked.
“Nope, everybody knows everybody around here,” the waitress smiled.
Several minutes later Scully was staring across the table at the enormous omelet
that had been set down in front of her partner. She had even noticed his eyes grown
large when it had arrived. There must have been a dozen eggs involved in its
creation. She watched as he chopped it up with his fork and then reached for the
ketchup bottle. The first bite was inches from his lips when they were interrupted.
“Excuse me.” A man in a plaid shirt, barn jacket and worn baseball cap had
suddenly appeared at their table. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, there. But your
name wouldn’t happen to be Mulder would it?” he asked.
Mulder consumed the bite of omelet anyway, swallowed, glanced at Scully and then
up at the man standing at their table. “It is.”
“Travis Stark, I talked to you over the phone…” Travis extended his hand which
Mulder accepted. It was the call that had sent him on the hunt in the first place.
The agent glanced at his partner again. She had that ‘what else haven’t you told me’
“Sit down,” the agent said; starting to slide over in the booth so that Travis could sit
next to him. Instead Travis grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table, slid it over
and straddled it.
“I’m sorry to approach you here like this, it’s probably not a good place to talk,” he
began, his eyes scanning the other patrons in the restaurant. “Lot of believers here
who wouldn’t want me talking unkindly about Mr. Ward.”
“Believers?” Scully asked.
“Oh yeah,” Travis addressed the agent. “Ward’s got a regular following around here,
holds a revival in Helen’s barn every Friday evening. Half the town will be there
tonight hoping to be the next one cured.”
“You don’t sound like you’re one of these ‘believers’ Mr. Stark,” Scully commented.
“No offense m’am,” he told her, nodding in recognition of the cross she wore around
her neck. “I don’t put much stock in faith myself anymore. I’ve had everything I’ve
ever loved taken from me in the past year or so to believe that anything — or
anyone, for that matter can make miracles. They just don’t happen.”
Scully caught her partner’s eye across the table, he looked away immediately and
they both turned their attention on Mr. Stark.
“So how do you explain Billy Ward then?” Mulder questioned.
“I can’t, not so you would believe me either, but I can point you to someone who
thinks he does know what’s going on.”
ST. JOSEPH’S CATHOLIC CHURCH
Mulder held the door open for his partner. As they had left the restaurant Travis has
explained how Charlie Berne, custodian at the church had been cleaning up last
Saturday evening before Sunday services when he had experienced his ‘miracle’.
Charlie, in his late 60’s, had been on a ladder dusting the statue of Jesus that
adorned the alter when to his amazement the statue had begun to weep. Charlie
had a form of palsy; he shouldn’t have even been on a ladder. When he reached up
to touch the tears he lost his balance and tumbled off the ladder onto his back. He
told everyone afterwards that something like an electric shock had passed through
his body moments after he impacted the floor. As it turned out, Charlie not only
suffered no ill effects from his fall, all the symptoms of his palsy had disappeared.
He felt like a new man.
“You must understand. You are being deceived by evil…” Father Dohnal was
addressing a small group of residents seated in the first several rows of the church.
The agents approached them and then slid into one of the pews to wait until the
priest had finished.
“How can you call the work of God, evil”! A woman shouted from the second row.
“This is NOT the work of God! Billy Ward does not promise you a miracle without a
price! These people who have been cured – they are not who they used to be… ” the
priest went on. “These healings are an illusion. I implore you to walk away…”
“Look!” the same woman who had spoken up before shouted as she pointed to the
statue. “He weeps at your bitter words!”
Gasps erupted from the group and they rose almost in unison, stumbling over each
other to reach the alter. “This is a deception!” The priest bellowed.
Ignoring him, the group crowded around the statue, straining to reach up and touch
the liquid that now trickled down its face and arms and had begun to drip off the
Mulder turned to his partner, she sat momentarily mesmerized by what they were
witnessing as the towns people dabbed themselves with the liquid, some even
touching it to their lips. Whispers of “Praise Jesus” spread between them. Two
“I’ve seen enough,” Mulder said under his breath. Something was going on here, but
it didn’t involve Jeremiah and it certainly wasn’t anything divine. He picked up his
partner’s hand and pulled her with him, heading towards Father Dohnal who had
been pushed aside by his parishioners.
Mulder fumbled his badge from his pocket and flipped it at the priest, “Fox Mulder,
FBI, this is my partner, Dana Scully.” The agent flashed a glance at his partner.
She was still studying the group of parishioners. “May we speak with you a
moment?” he asked, touching the priest’s shoulder to steer him towards a doorway
that led from the sanctuary.
A few moments later the three of them were standing in the rectory office. Father
Dohnal, a tall dark haired but slightly graying man a few years Mulder’s senior
seemed visibly shaken by what he had seen as did Scully. “You don’t believe what’s
happening here is in any way caused by some divine intervention, do you, Sir?”
“Mulder…” Scully cautioned her partner before she turned to the clergyman. “Why
don’t you sit down, Sir,” she suggested.
The priest didn’t say anything for a moment and then he turned to the agent. “No —
no, I’m alright,” he said and then looked at both agents as if noticing them for the
first time. “I’m sorry, you said you’re from the FBI?” he questioned.
“Father,” Scully began before Mulder could respond. “My partner and I investigate
cases of what you might call an ‘unexplained’ nature. Travis Stark contacted our
office about a man named Billy Ward whom he believes could be responsible for
some unethical practices here in Fairbury.”
Mulder had to admire his partner’s tact.
“Reverend Stark? I’m sorry, the ‘former’ Reverend Stark?” the priest asked seeming
to awaken from his former funk.
Mulder caught his partner’s eye, “Mr. Stark is also clergy? He asked.
“Travis was the minister at the Presbyterian church across town until about a year or
so ago, when his wife and daughter were found dead in the pond on Helen
Redmond’s farm,” the pastor began. “From what I remember autopsies found they
had both drown but no other explanation could be found for their deaths. Travis
stepped away from the Church, abandoning God. I must admit I find it rather odd
that he would be drawn to something like this.”
“Maybe he doesn’t believe it either,” Mulder suggested.
“I’m sorry, believe what?” Dohnal asked.
Mulder slipped his hands into his coat pockets. “From what I gathered from your
message out there when we walked in. You were advising your parishioners not to
be taken in by what they’re witnessing.”
“Mr. Mulder — is it?” the priest asked suddenly seeming uncomfortable with the
subject matter. “We all want to believe in the possibility of miracles. They’re a part
of a larger picture that is referred to as faith. Would you not agree?”
Mulder looked at his partner again. “I’m probably not the one you want to be asking
that question of, Sir” he admitted.
“You don’t believe that what’s been reported here can be classified as miracles?”
Scully asked, taking over the conversation.
“God would not ask for payment for performing a miracle,” the priest replied.
“Billy Ward is being paid? The agent asked.
“Not in the sense that he’s receiving cash, no. But everyone in this town who has
been ‘cured’ by his touch have now become his servant and those who have not
been picked by this servant of the devil are suffering from what they feel is his
“So, you believe they’re selling their souls to the devil,” Mulder commented.
“Not if I can help it,” Dohnal told them, glaring at Mulder.
“Father?” Scully asked, pulling the priest’s attention away from her partner.
Regardless of who or what Billy Ward was, or was involved in, there was something
she needed an answer to. Moments ago they had all witnessed the crucifix in the
sanctuary weep. History was filled with such instances across the globe but she had
never actually witnessed it herself, it was unsettling. “May I ask what you believe
caused the statue to weep?”
Mulder turned to his partner but respectfully said nothing.
“I have no idea,” the priest told her.
Mulder pulled their Explorer in next to Travis’s truck. They had followed the former
pastor out here from his home after questioning him about the death of his family.
Gail Stark and her young daughter had disappeared from their home and had been
found two days later hidden in the pond reeds that surrounded Redmond’s pond.
Case photos the agents had obtained from the local police files revealed the same
tall blond man that had been visible in Mulder’s photos had been present when their
bodies were found.
Travis was out of the truck and heading for the local sheriff who was at the moment
directing traffic in the chaos that surrounded the Redmond barn. “Frank!” Travis
barked at the sheriff who made no attempt to draw his attention away from his
present duties. “Dammit! I need to talk to you now!” Travis grabbed the man and
spun him around waving a photo of what appeared to be himself and the sheriff
speaking to each other at the scene of his wife’s death, the mysterious blond man
obviously visible in the background. “He was there! Look at this!” Stark demanded.
“Dammit, Travis, get away from me! I can’t look at that now. Don’t you see I’m
occupied here?” The sheriff argued wrestling himself from Travis’ grip.
Travis made a lunge for the sheriff. “Will you just look at the picture! This man,”
Travis shouted, pointing at the image of the blond man behind him in the photo. “He
was there when they found my wife!”
The sheriff finally grabbed the photo from Travis and studied it briefly. “I don’t see
anybody but you and me in this picture, Travis. What the hell are you talking
“You don’t see three people in this picture?”
“No I don’t. No get the hell outta my way!” The sheriff turned away to survey the
“You’re a fuckin’ liar Hank!” Travis shouted, once again reaching out to grab the man
but someone pulled him back.
“Hold on!” Mulder’s voice boomed in his ear as the agent spun him around. “Take it
easy,” the agent tried to verbally subdue the man. Scully took the photo and turned
to the sheriff.
“Sir? My name is Dana Scully,” she began opening her badge for his inspection. “I’m
with the FBI. Can we have a moment of your time?”
Sheriff Hank Kleinworth turned and eyed them all. “Okay, you got one moment,” he
“This is you in this photo, correct?” she asked. “The other gentleman is Mr. Stark
here. Can you identify the third man?”
Kleinworth grabbed the photo from Scully. “You’re all nuts, there’s only two people
in this photo,” he told them, shaking the photograph at them. “Me and Travis. Now
let me get back to my work.”
Scully turned to her partner who subtly shook his head indicating that there was no
point in pursuing the matter any longer. She took the photo back from the Sheriff.
“He’s lying! They’re all lying!” Travis argued. Mulder reached out and touched his
shoulder turning him around as they made their way to the barn.
“We know that. Now we have to find out why,” he said.
Inside the barn chairs had been set up in rows. Lights had been strung back and
forth from the overhead rafters. A small stage built on bails of hay was at the far
end. Despite the chill, most of the seats were already filled with those anxious for a
miracle. On their way through the parking area Scully had noticed plates from as far
away as Minnesota and Kentucky. Word spreads fast evidently. She had mixed
emotions about this whole case. While her analytical mind told her that realistically
there a more logical explanation for what was going on here, her heart yearned for
They were met at the entrance to the proceedings by an elderly woman in a worn
coat. Her hair was tucked neatly into a bun at the back of her neck. “Oh, welcome!”
she said extending her hand to Scully who took it in a warm shake. “My name is
Helen. I’m so pleased you could join us. You’re here to see Billy of course.” Her
voice trailed up into a questioning tone.
Scully glanced at her partner, “Yes, we’ve heard he’s done some amazing things…”
“Billy’s been just a wonderful help to me,” the elderly woman went on. “He’s
changed my whole life. Come, please sit down…”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Scully released the woman’s hand, motioning to her partner who
had stepped aside to stand against the wall. “We’ll just stand back here.”
A young man stepped up to the microphone on the make-shift stage and cleared his
throat. The crowd turned their attention forward. “I know your all here for a reason
so let’s not keep you waiting any longer. Ladies and gentleman, Billy Ward!”
The barn erupted in a chaos of cheers and applause. Billy Ward was a stocky young
man dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt like most of the men in the audience.
His hair was dark and curly; about shoulder length that combined with the short
beard gave him an unsettling resemblance to Jesus Christ. Something about his
eyes made Mulder shudder; he turned to his partner and noticed the blond man who
had been present in all the photos was standing near the entrance to the barn
dressed in a long black coat. He gave Mulder a cold stare and the agent glanced
away. When he looked back the man had disappeared.
“I know you’re all here because of the signs and wonders you’ve seen around town,”
Billy began. “You’re here because you’re hoping for a miracle. I’m here to show you
all it takes is a willing spirit and an open heart.” Billy scanned the crowd, his gaze
stopping momentarily on the group standing in the back that included Mulder, Scully,
Travis and now Sheriff Kleinworth. “Markus Baker,” he said, stepping down from the
stage as an elderly man in glasses stood up. “You can’t see without your glasses can
“No, sir, I’ve worn them all my life,” Baker replied.
Billy stepped up to Markus and reached out, pulling his glasses from his face.
“Hey, I can’t see without those!” Markus exclaimed.
“Yes you can,” Billy told him, his voice almost hypnotic. Billy reached out and
touched Markus’ forehead with is right hand. Everyone watched as Markus’ head
snapped back as if struck. The man staggered slightly, a man sitting next to him
reached up to steady him.
Markus looked around the barn, an expression of amazement spread across his face.
“Carl,” he said pointing to a man across the aisle. “I can see you! And Bob Wherle,
I can see you too! Hank,” he said turning to the Sheriff who still stood with the
agents at the back of the barn. “I can see you”!
Travis pushed past Mulder to confront the young man. “I know what you’re trying to
do! You’re trying to make these people believe you’re Jesus Christ!” he burst out.
“You’re a fake and I’m going to prove it!”
Billy walked down the aisle until he was standing in front of Travis and the rest of the
group. He unbuttoned his sleeves and raised his arms above his head to reveal the
scars on his wrists. “Does this make me a fake?” he asked in the same methodical
voice he had used when speaking to Markus his eyes scanning the group before
finally settling on Mulder. It was then that the agent realized where he had seen
that look before, in the eyes of a young boy named Charlie. The words “It knows
you” danced through his memory. Billy then turned around to face his audience.
The entire assembly gasped in unison. Some of them close to the young man rose to
reach out and touch him. Others joined them until almost everyone in the barn was
crowded around Billy.
A woman who had come to stand next to Travis turned to him. “I want my son out
of here, Travis,” she told him as she pushed past them and into the crowd of people.
“Craig!” the woman yelled over their heads. Pushing her way through she reached
the boy who had introduced Billy. “I want you to come home!”
“I’m needed here!” Craig yelled back.
“You’re needed at home!” The distraught woman yelled back. Suddenly someone
touched her arm; she turned to find Travis pulling her out of the crowd of people.
“Carol, let it be,” Travis told her, guiding her back to where the agents were
“I’m not leaving him here, Travis,” she insisted.
“Will you just listen to me for a minute!” Stark barked. “These are the FBI agents I
told you about,” he told her turning to the agents.
Carol Fleming had long ash blond hair, probably in her mid 40’s. She was the town
veterinarian. “Can you help me get my son out of here?” she asked them.
“How did your son get involved in this Ms. Fleming?” Scully asked. Behind them
people still crowed around Billy, gasps and screams of delight could be heard as he
touched one of them after another.
“Ever since his accident. He claims he was dead and he was saved for a purpose. I
guess he believes this is it.” Carol did not sound convinced.
“I think we should get out of here,” Mulder told the group. “I don’t think your son is
in any danger right now, Ms. Fleming.”
“Mulder?” Scully studied the scene before her, it was reminiscent of the revivals she
and her partner had seen elsewhere but something was different here. She wasn’t
sure that her partner was correct. He reached over and took her elbow, motioning
for her to follow him outside.
“We’re outnumbered in there, Scully,” he told her once they had exited the barn. He
turned to Carol. “If we try and pull him out of there against his wishes then you’ll
have the entire town against you. That’s not what we need right now. Billy seems
to be taking care of his disciples. I think it’s better if we keep it that way.”
According to the database Mulder was currently searching through, Billy Ward’s last
place of employment had been a garage in Western. He decided that they would
start there in the morning. Scully had been unusually quiet on their trip back to the
motel. She was currently snuggled into bed, her back to him. He shut down the
laptop and went into the other room to change.
He returned a few minutes later and lifted the covers on the other side of the bed.
“Am I welcome here or not?” he asked with a slight teasing tone.
“If for nothing else than I can use the warmth,” she chided back patting the pillow
next to her.
“Nice to know I’m good for something,” he replied easing himself in beside her.
“Something’s bother you, you want to tell me what it is?” he then asked.
“Billy Ward is not who he claims to be, Mulder,” she stated flatly moving over against
her partner and then turning her back to him so they could spoon together.
Mulder pulled her close. “I know that and I’m glad to hear you know that.”
Puzzled, Scully push away and turned to face him. “What makes think I believe any
“I don’t know,” he admitted pushing the hair off her face. “You seemed pretty
mesmerized in the church. I know you believe in the possibility of miracles,
something I’m not honestly ready to accept. I’m not sure what you think of Billy.”
“There have been many instances of stigmata throughout the centuries Mulder.
We’ve both witnessed it.”
“Billy is not Kevin Kryder.”
“I don’t think he’s Billy Ward either,” Mulder finally confessed. He watched as the
puzzled look returned to his partner’s face. “I want to drive up to Western
tomorrow. Talk to the owner of Parker’s Garage. That’s the last place Mr. Ward held
Not by chance the agents had met up with Travis and Carol Fleming at Griffey’s and
followed them up to Western. Mulder pulled the photo of Billy from his breast pocket
as he exited the car. An elderly man in a greasy jacket was already talking to Travis
as the agents entered the old garage. Even with the overhead door open, the smell
of axle grease and oil was overpowering. Like everything else around here, the place
had probably been here for sixty years. “Mr. Parker?” Mulder asked.
“You folks are from the FBI? Look, this ain’t no chop-shop if that’s what you’re
thinking,” Parker told them defensively.
“I’m sure it’s not, Mr. Parker,” Mulder assured him. “You wouldn’t be here for as
long as it looks if your customers weren’t satisfied with the work. My name’s Mulder,
this is my partner, Dana Scully. We just want to ask you a few questions about a
Mulder handed the man the photo of Billy Ward. “Can you identify this man as Billy
Ward? I believe he used to work for you.”
Parker took the photo from Mulder and held it close to his face. “Can’t see too good
without my glasses,” he admitted. “But I can tell ya, I don’t know who that is, but it
ain’t Billy Ward.”
“Do you recognize this man?” Scully asked, accepting the photo back from Parker.
“No ma-am. I don’t know who that is,” Parker told her, pointing an equally greasy
finger at the image. “But I can tell ya, Billy used to work for me some years ago,
went home one night and never came back. Heard they found him shot in the head.
Everybody sorta felt he did it himself.”
“Travis,” Carol said, turning to Stark. “If this man is not who he claims to be I want
to go get my son now!”
“I think it’s a good idea, Mulder,” Scully suggested.
Mulder eyed his associates and then addressed Parker again. “Billy Ward, did he live
After a few minutes of weighing their options the group headed back to Fairbury, via
the Ward residence. Travis led them to a small secluded house off road 725. The
wind had picked up again blowing the snow around the yard as the four of them
waded through the more than ankle deep cover and up to the house. Mulder cursed
under his breath. He had no boots and Scully’s ankle boots were of little help.
There was no answer when Travis knocked on the door; in fact the house was dark.
The lack of any tracks in the snow, human or otherwise indicated that the place was
probably unoccupied. Travis and Carol went around back. Mulder pulled the collar
up on his coat and turned to his partner who gave him an icy stare. “Don’t say it,”
he told her disgustedly already feeling the melting snow in his shoes.
“Agents!” Travis called from behind the structure.
Mulder jogged around the back with Scully following as best she could in his leggy
“Back here!” Carol’s voice echoed off to his right. The agents turned and saw her
at them through the trees. Tramping back through the heavy snow, the agents
Carol and Travis standing over the open grave of Billy Ward, the date on the simple
read 2002. “Who would have done this?” the woman asked.
“Maybe the question we should ask is what were they looking for?” Mulder admitted.
He stooped down with Scully who was already squatting down to get a closer look.
With the newly falling snow it was hard to tell when or how long the grave had been
opened. “Is it a practice around here to bury the dead in your backyard?” the agent
looked up at Carol and Travis.
Something danced in the side of his field of vision, a figure in a black coat he
thought. Carol must have seen it too because she turned with him. “What was
that?” she asked. The wind made an eerie sound as it stirred the scrubby pines
“What was what?” Scully questioned.
Mulder felt that shudder again. “I don’t know,” he told her, taking her elbow again
and beginning to stand. “But I don’t think we should hang around and find out.”
Within minutes they were back in their vehicles and heading back towards Fairbury.
The wind blew the snow across the highway but they kept a brisk pace. Shortly after
making the turn back on to 15 Mulder caught the lights of an emergency vehicle in
his rearview mirror. As the vehicle got closer he realized it was a patrol car and
before he knew it the car was right on his bumper, the headlights flashing to indicate
he should pull over.
“What are you doing?” Scully asked as she felt the car slow down. Mulder pulled off
the road to the right and came to a stop. They both watched Travis’ taillights
disappear into the blowing snow ahead of them.
“We have company,” he told his partner his eyes fixed on the mirror. “What he
Scully turned around and watched Kleinworth exit the vehicle that had pulled them
“Stay in the car,” Mulder warned her as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the
“What the fuck are you doing out here!” Kleinworth yelled, shoving Mulder against
the side of the car his fist wrapped around the lapels of the agent’s coat before the
agent could even close the door. Scully burst out the other door almost immediately
and circled the vehicle.
“We’re investigating a lead,” Mulder spat back, pulling Kleinworth’s hands from his
“You’re out here snooping into things that are none of your concern Agent Mulder,”
the sheriff warned pulling his gun on the agent.
Scully studied the man; he seemed even more agitated than the previous evening at
the revival. “Sir!”
“Shut up!” Hank shouted, turning his gun on the female agent. Mulder watched his
partner spread her arms in submission indicating she was of no threat.
“Billy wants to see you,” Hank finally admitted, still waving the gun around.
Headlights broke through the blowing snow and Travis’ pickup came back into view.
He pulled up on the other side of the road and both he and Carol got out. “Hank,
what the hell is going on?” Travis crossed the road without even looking.
“I was sick in the head, but now I’m better ’cause of him,” the sheriff told him.
“Billy’s not doing anything wrong and I’m not letting these people,” he waved the
gun at the agents again. “Interfere with what he’s doin’.”
“You’re not better, Hank,” Carol spoke up. “Billy just has you and everyone else
brainwashed into thinking that. You need treatment and if you don’t get it you’re
going to die! You’re being used, don’t be a fool!”
“You’re the fool because you don’t believe him!” Hank turned the gun on Carol and
Travis jumped in front of her.
“Hank, listen to me,” Travis held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “These
people are here because I contacted them. I’m worried about you, Carol’s son and
everyone else Billy’s been in contact with. There’s some question about Billy’s
identity,” Travis tried to appease the officer. “How about we all go see what he has
to say about that.”
Hank studied his friend for several minutes; the manic look seemed to ease on his
face. He shook his head as if trying to shake the cobwebs away. “Well, fine, because
he wants to see these people anyway.” Hank finally holstered his weapon. “Trav,
you lead the way and I’ll follow these people so they don’t get any funny ideas.”
Mulder, Scully and Travis exchanged glances and then got back into their vehicles.
“You have any funny ideas?” Scully asked when she and Mulder got back into the
Mulder turned to her, a wry grin touching the corners of his mouth. “You sure you
want to ask me that?”
“Forget it, it’s too cold out here,” Scully came back. “Seriously, you have any kind of
a theory brewing in that head of yours?”
“Not exactly,” Mulder admitted as he eased the car out of park and began to follow
Travis. “I think that we can both agree that what we’re dealing with here is most
certainly not anything divine and in my opinion, probably just the opposite.”
“Evil forces?” Scully mocked.
Mulder flicked on the wipers, when the snow blew across the road it was hard to see
Travis’ taillights ahead of them. “You jest, but we both know evil exists. I think
what we’re dealing with here is a need.”
“So, what, Billy is possessed by something evil?”
Mulder turned to his partner, his eyes going wide. “Did you just say — possession?”
he mocked back.
“Isn’t that what you were alluding to?”
“Not exactly, but I like the way you think.”
Mulder wasn’t surprised when they ended up at Helen’s farm. The woman had
seemed enamored with Billy. She had opened her home to him and his followers
without so much as a second thought, trusting him in much the same way as
everyone else the man touched.
A woman that Carol obviously recognized answered the door. “Where’s Craig,” Carol
The woman seemed taken aback by the abrupt exchange. “He’s here,” the woman
“I want to see him now!” Carol again demanded bursting into the front hall of the
stately old home.
Travis reached out for her. “Carol, dammit, hang on. Donna, where’s Helen?”
“Helen’s upstairs resting comfortably,” Donna told them.
“I want my son, Donna, now tell me where he is.” Carol started down the hallway.
“Resting comfortably from what?” Scully asked.
“Helen, is fine, she’s under Billy’s care.”
“I want to see her,” Scully told the woman as she grabbed the banister to head
upstairs. Mulder stepped up behind her in an unnecessary show of masculinity.
Donna stepped aside.
Travis followed Carol into the drawing room of the old home as the agents went
upstairs to look for Helen. The upstairs hall was dark, the only light emitting from
under the door of a room on the right. Mulder tried the handle several times and
then glanced at his partner as if asking permission before he used a powerful kick to
force it open. The door banged back against a piece of furniture but Scully caught it
as Mulder stepped into the room.
Inside the room an unmade bed was empty. The agents stepped into the chilly room
together, Scully heading for the empty bed, Mulder making his way across the room
to close the French doors that opened onto a small porch. Something in the
shadows to his right made him turn, “Mrs. Redmond?” he asked in a soft voice, his
eyes straining to see in the dim light. The figure who stepped from the shadows was
unrecognizable as Helen Redmond. She was clothed in only a nightgown, her gray
hair was in disarray about her face and as she came into the light the agent could
see her eyes had a hauntingly familiar wild yellow look to them. “Helen?” he asked
“We’re here to help you, Mrs. Redmond,” Scully tried to assure her, stepping across
the room. Something wasn’t right here.
“NO!” the woman screamed, darting across the room to latch her hands around
Mulder’s throat. “You’re not wanted here!”
Stunned, Mulder stepped back with the impact of the woman, he reached up,
attempting to pull her hands from his throat but her grip was unnaturally strong.
They staggered backwards toward the French doors. In his peripheral vision he saw
Scully moving across the room to his aide. In what seemed like a split second the
woman turned to his partner, her look sending Scully airborne against the far wall
and in the same moment propelling him backwards, out onto the porch and over the
He could feel himself falling backwards into nothing, his arms instinctively reaching
out for anything that would break his fall. The flash of gunfire lit the room above
him and then he crashed, rather ineloquently into the shrubbery.
“Mulder!” Scully was peering down at him from the porch above, gun in hand. “Are
you alright?” she asked as she watched him struggling to free himself from the mass
of broken limbs.
“Oh yeah,” he told her looking up. “Once again, my ass broke the fall, “What about
you? Where’s Helen?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“She’s dead, Mulder,” Scully replied as she watched her partner struggle to his feet.
“Get out of there,” he yelled up, looking for an entrance back into the house. When
he hit the front porch he was met by Carol, her arms wrapped around Craig, his face
damp with tears. “Where’s Travis?” he asked.
“Inside, he needs help…” Carol told him almost dragging her son away from the
Scully met him at the bottom of the stairs when he entered. “Travis,” was all he said
as he headed down the hallway. A young woman was kneeling on the floor just
outside the drawing room, weeping hysterically. A quick glance from her partner
told her that she should attend to the girl. Scully stooped down and put her hands
on the girl’s shoulders. “My name is Dana, let me help you…”
Blood ran from the girl’s hairline when she looked up, “All my scars are coming back,
he doesn’t want me!” the girl cried.
“He doesn’t want you?” Scully asked confused.
“Billy! He asked me to do some terrible things and I said no. Now he doesn’t want
Inside the drawing room Travis was struggling to help a man from the floor. “Come
on Malcolm, we have to get out of here,” Travis was trying desperately to get the
man to stand. Mulder recognized the name Malcolm from the STAR article. It
appeared that his legs, which had been healed, would no longer hold him. The agent
stepped over to help. “Heal me!” the elderly man screamed. “I’ll do anything! Help
me walk again!”
“If I gave you a gun would you kill this man?” Billy rose from the table by the
window, a glass of red wine in his hand. He pointed to Travis. “Would you kill this
man?” he asked, pointing at Mulder.
“I — I…” Malcolm stuttered as Travis and Mulder pulled him to his feet.
“I thought not,” Billy concurred stepping closer. “You tell me you’d do anything but
when I ask this of you — you can not. You have no faith. That is why you can not
walk. You don’t believe!”
Mulder followed Travis to the door of the drawing room where Scully was trying
desperately to stop the blood flowing from the young girl’s head. The girl’s eyes
were growing glassy. He bent down and scooped the girl up and headed for the door
as Scully and Travis guided Malcolm from the home.
Once outside, Travis’ truck was gone, Carol evidently had taken Craig and driven off
in it. The sheriff was no where in site. He headed for the Explorer. When they
reached the car Scully popped open the back door and Travis guided Malcolm into it.
Mulder lowered the girl onto the seat next to him and then stepped out of the way
while his partner administered to her. “We have to get her to a hospital, Mulder,”
she told her partner raising from the car and turning to face him.
Mulder pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them to his partner. “Then go,”
he told her.
A look of puzzled fear spread across her face. “Mulder — you’re not staying here…”
“Get them to a hospital, Scully, I’m not alone here …” he looked away for a moment,
over at Travis who stood waiting for him.
Scully looked at Travis. “Take 15 up to 80, it will take you right to Lincoln,” he told
her starting to walk away. Mulder stepped closer, bending down to kiss her. He
didn’t need to say anything when he stepped away.
Scully stood for a moment watching her partner’s back as he and Travis jogged back
towards the house. She didn’t like the feel of this nor did she understand why they
were going back but she got into the car anyway and started the engine, glancing
into the rearview mirror at Malcolm who was trying desperately to help the girl. A
sudden thump on the driver’s window startled her, when she turned around, Sheriff
Kleinworth was glaring at her “You can’t leave here!” he yelled through the glass.
Scully didn’t answer, she stepped on the accelerator and the SUV lurched forward,
spewing dirt and snow out behind as she struggled to pull it onto the slippery road.
Once she had control of the vehicle she pulled out her cell phone to dial the state
police. Her partner was going to need more help.
Mulder found Travis in the drawing room of the house. Billy stood before him,
swaying slightly, the glass of wine still in his hand. “Blood of Christ” he offered,
wobbling back over to the table to offer them a drink.
“I hope you choke on it,” Travis answered back.
“Don’t you understand!” Billy burst out. “I was left alone by an unloving God. He
abandoned me, just like he abandoned you!” Billy staggered back across the room to
stand in front of Stark, “And you!” he stated turning to Mulder. “What has he given
either of you but grief?” Billy tossed the wine down his throat and threw the glass
across the room. He swirled the wine around in the bottle. “He doesn’t bleed for
any of us! That is why they all come to me!”
“All you offer them is fear, Billy,” Mulder told him.
“No! I show them the way when they’ve fallen off the path,” Billy corrected the
agent. “I can help you.”
“What happens when they won’t serve you?” the agent asked, ignoring Billy’s offer.
“You take back what was given to them don’t you.” It hadn’t taken the agent long to
understand what he was seeing. “We know you aren’t Billy Ward,” he confessed to
“Ha!” Billy swankered. “That name sounded much more impressive than Norb
Gookin — who the fuck names their son Norb Gookin?” Billy spat. “I’ll tell you who,
the father that beats you while the rest of the town and your church,” he continued
his eyes piercing into Travis’. “Look the other way!” Billy saw recognition pass
across Travis’ face. He smiled and evil smile. “You remember now, don’t you? You
forced me to put my faith in another… Maybe your wife died as a payback for what
you refused to see!”
Travis lunged at Billy who sent him flying across the room with a sweep of his hand.
The man slammed against the bookcase and lay motionless. Billy turned to Mulder.
“That redhead cost me a death. Helen was mine…”
“There won’t be anymore deaths, Billy,” Mulder stated, pulling he weapon.
“And who is going to stop me? You?” Billy asked his gaze directed over Mulder’s
shoulder at something behind the agent.
Mulder felt a chill pass through him and turned around. The blond man and two
other men clothed in black stood behind him.
“Not all angels serve God, Agent Mulder,” Billy sneered. “Six years, every six years,
there must be a death by my hand or they take my life — I guess you will have to be
the one now…”
1996, 2002, and now 2008, six, six, six, Mulder thought to himself. It was then he
realized that not only was this man not Billy Ward, it probably wasn’t Norb either. It
was something that had continued to find a path of existence throughout time. The
thought turned him cold. Billy’s disciples weren’t the only ones living in fear. It was
evident now that Billy was also frightened of what he suddenly realized might be out
of his control. Mulder made an attempt to step away but the three men were on
him, disarming him and wrestling him to the ground with a heavy thump that sent
He came too a few minutes later lashed to what he morbidly realized was Helen’s
kitchen table. “Welcome back Agent Mulder,” Billy’s voice had returned to the
mesmerizing tone he had used in the barn. “This is much more fun when I can hear
you scream… You see we all have to pay for what we believe are miracles Mr.
Mulder. This is how I pay for mine.” Mulder watched Billy raise his hand above him.
In it was a ten inch kitchen knife. “Say your prayers, Agent Mulder…”
The agent found he couldn’t take his eyes off the blade that now descended on him.
Moments before it would have penetrated his chest something heavy landed on him.
The blade which continued its motion downwards in Billy’s hand ended up deep
within the object.
“NO!” Billy yelled. Lifting the knife up along with the object, a book, the inscription
on which Mulder could now read THE HOLY BIBLE. Travis was on Billy in an instant,
pulling him back away from the table until they tumbled to the floor in a heap.
Travis rolled Billy onto his back, pinning his shoulders to the floor.
“Demons can not enter where they’re not welcome and they can not stay where
they’re not allowed. Get out of our town! Release this man!” Travis yelled, shaking
Billy against the hardwood floor. Mulder struggled against the bindings as the three
men advanced on him.
With a gust of wind and a loud bang the kitchen door blew open swirling snow about
the room. The agent could feel the table shaking; in fact the whole house seemed to
be shaking around them. He watched in amazement as the three dark figures
seemed to vanish before his eyes.
On the floor Billy emitted an unearthly scream, his face distorting into an ugly image,
Travis didn’t recognize. He jumped up and backed away. In the commotion of the
shaking house he and the agent could here the sounds of others as they scrambled
out of the dwelling. Cracks appeared in the walls and ceiling, the floorboards began
to split apart. Travis staggered over to the table attempting to release Mulder. The
bindings that held the agent were tight. Travis was shaking so badly he couldn’t
make his fingers work around the lashings. Plaster dropped on them from the
ceiling above as a hole in the floor opened up threatening to pull them both in. “I
can’t untie these!” Travis finally confessed. “In here! Help me!” he yelled at anyone
who might hear him.
“Get out of here!” Mulder yelled wrestling with the bindings himself in an attempt to
get free. What he did only made them tighter. Suddenly the table lurched, dropping
several feet as the floor gave way beneath it. “Go!” Mulder yelled again at Travis.
Stark hesitated for a moment, the house rumbling about him and then in an instant
everything was crashing down around him. He leapt through the open door and out
into the snow as the entire house collapsed in on itself and into the gaping hole in
Stark staggered to his feet, dust and snow billowed all around him. Behind him he
heard the sound of emergency vehicles. As they pulled into the yard their headlights
lit up the scene around him. He glanced around at several groups of people that had
been inside the house, some of them now stood weeping. Eventually a deputy from
the state police approached him. “What the hell?”
“I think that explains it,” he told the man and then stepped away.
ST. ELIZABETH MEDICAL CENTER
Scully stood on the hospital’s heliport and looked off into the darkness of the
southern sky searching for a light. All she had heard from the local law was that
Mulder had been found in the rubble of Helen’s home and that he was being med-
evacted to Lincoln. The wind whipped her hair about her face; she didn’t bother to
button her coat. The hospital staff waited for the chopper’s arrival in the comfort of
the hospital’s trauma center. She needed to see him before they whisked him away
When a light in the distance grew steadily brighter she knew it would only be
moments before she would know his condition. In those moments she found herself
thinking about the existence of miracles. While Mulder believed her unexplained
remission from cancer years ago was due to the chip that still lay beneath the skin of
her neck. Her faith told her that her being here was nothing short of a miracle, a
miracle of which both God and her partner were an integral part.
She thought about the statue they had both seen weep in the church in Fairbury.
While Father Dohnal said he didn’t know what made it weep she couldn’t help but
feel that he thought that was the work of evil also. But perhaps the Christ had wept
because those that stood before him were so willing to place their faith elsewhere.
Now as she watched the light growing brighter like a shining star of hope she found
herself putting her faith in a God she believed in and in the knowledge that he would
bring her partner home safe.
The chopper landed in a whirl of wind and snow. The emergency staff was out the
door as soon as it landed, rushing past her to accept the cargo. She wanted
desperately to run to his side with them but she was lucky they had agreed to let her
on the heliport at all. The door to the aircraft opened and for a moment no one did
anything. One of the emergency technicians looked her way and in that moment she
was certain her heart stopped. Then they all jumped into motion. It took them only
seconds to pull the gurney off the chopper and pop it up, heading towards her and
the door the wind whipping at them. Mulder was wrapped in a warming blanket; an
IV ran down underneath the blanket, an oxygen mask covered his face. Scully
stepped towards the gurney, thankful that no one stopped her as she dug his left
hand out from under the blanket. “Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me?” she almost
The trauma door opened and she followed them through, still holding her partner’s
hand. “His vitals are good,” one of the nurses assured her. When she looked up to
see who had spoken to her she felt Mulder squeeze her hand, she looked down at
him immediately. “Mulder?” His eyes opened then, an easy grin spread across his
face from beneath the oxygen mask going all the way to his eyes. She breathed a
sigh of relief and squeezed his hand tightly as the doors closed behind them.
Early the next morning as she sat watching her partner sleep she thought about
what the state police officer who had been on the scene had said. If they hadn’t
found him when they did he certainly would have been crushed to death as the
rubble of the house continued to settle on him. As it was, other than some bruising
and a few cracked ribs he had escaped relatively unharmed. “Somebody was sure
lookin’ out for him,” the officer had said.
She shook her head sadly, for all Mulder’s belief in the paranormal he still would not
acknowledge that God could have a part in what could not be explained. His faith
was and would forever be in the truth. In the end she thought, what did it really
matter, as long as it gave them a reason to believe.
Three dark figures stood on a low rise just south of Fairbury. Below them lay the
rubble of what had once been Helen Redmond’s home. The wind whipped a tattered
sign that still clung to the fence proclaiming a revival of a different sort had been
held there. None of them spoke. The tall man with the mane of blond hair knew
what the others knew, that a force more powerful than their own had laid waste to
the property, putting a stop to what was transpiring within its walls.
They would regroup, find another to instill with the power that continued to grow as
long as they found those who would believe.
“If I gave you time to change my mind
I’d find a way just to leave the past behind…
Still I look to find a reason to believe.”
A Reason to Believe by Traveler